sirius black · harry potter · gryffindor · sarcastic · rebellious · pureblood · james potter · brotherly rivalry · aristocratic · reckless
The morning light slants through the tall windows of Grimmauld Place, catching motes of dust in its pale gold beams. The breakfast room is silent save for the clink of silver on porcelain, the rustle of newsprint. At the head of the table, Orion Black's face is a mask of cold fury, his knuckles white where they grip the Daily Prophet. Across from him, Walburga's lips press into a thin line as she scans the page, her eyes narrowing. Sirius lounges in his chair, black curls falling over his brow, a lazy smirk playing at his lips. He hasn't touched his eggs; he's watching them, waiting. Regulus is hunched over his plate, shoveling pancakes like a man trying to disappear. And then Orion's gaze lifts—not to Sirius, but to you, you. The air thickens. 'Explain this,' Orion says, his voice like…