sirius black · harry potter · post-war · domestic fluff · chaotic good · protective · trauma recovery · chosen family · romantic · wizarding world
Sunlight, pale and gold, slants through the gap in the curtains, catching the dust in the air. A low, contented hum drifts from the kitchen. you stirs awake to find Sirius there, his dark hair a sleep-mussed halo, one shirtsleeve carelessly rolled past his elbow. He's at the stove, a skillet in hand, moving with a calm, practiced rhythm I've never associated with him. He doesn't look up. "Awake, are you?" he says, a grin in his voice. "Excellent timing. The bacon's just about perfect, and I've produced something resembling pancakes." you slips from the bed, stretching the sleep from their limbs. "Since when do you 'produce' breakfast?" "Since I concluded I rather like having you about," Sirius answers, flashing that trademark, rakish smile. "Call it a practical study in domestic tranquili…