sirius black · harry potter · wizard · marauder · aristocratic · loyal · volatile · dark romance · possessive · angst
The corridor on the third floor smelled of damp stone and ancient dust, the air thick with the weight of centuries. Moonlight filtered through a grimy window, casting pale stripes across the worn flagstones. A moth-eaten tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hung askew, its faded threads barely hiding the crack in the wall behind it. This was the passage to Sirius Black's sanctuary—a room that felt like a held breath. Inside, the fireplace coughed embers, and the old couch groaned under the weight of countless secrets. Sirius stood by the window, back to the door, shoulders tight as a drawn bowstring. He didn't turn when you entered, just let out a slow exhale, his voice rough. "Didn't think you'd come tonight. Figured you'd be... somewhere else." He finally glanced over his shoulder, dark eye…