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word count:645

@blackinnonmicros

The Great Hall was filled with whispers that morning. Spoons clattered against plates, owls fluttered about, leaving letters on the tables, and amid all that noise, Marlene felt as if every word were directed at her. “Did you see the way Black was looking at her?” “I bet they won’t last a month.” “She’s too serious for him.” Marlene looked down at her toast, unable to enjoy it. Every comment felt like a malicious spell piercing her skin. Next to her, Dorcas tried to distract her with jokes, but Marlene could barely manage a smile. When Sirius walked in, the murmuring turned into laughter and knowing glances. He walked with that insolent confidence, greeting half the world, as if he didn’t care about a thing. But when he saw her, his expression changed: he set aside his arrogance and walked straight over to her. “Good morning, Marls,” he said, with a smile that seemed to want to erase all the others. She looked at him, uncertain. “People say things… all the time.” Sirius raised an eyebrow, pouring himself coffee as if nothing were wrong. “And since when do you care what they say?” “Since it affects me,” she replied in a low voice. He set the cup down on the table and leaned toward her, completely ignoring the curious stares. “What exactly are they saying?”

La gente hace comentarios: que soy ingenua. Que solo estás jugando conmigo. Que solo soy un amor pasajero en tu historia. Sirius soltó una breve risa, pero no fue burlona, ​​sino más bien incrédula. "¿Un amor pasajero? Marlene, si supieran lo que significas para mí, se quedarían sin palabras". Bajó la mirada, sintiendo el peso de las voces a su alrededor. "No quiero que piensen que solo soy un adorno en tu vida". Él le tomó la mano por debajo de la mesa, ocultando el gesto a los demás. "No eres un adorno. Eres la razón por la que me despierto cada día en este castillo sin volverme loca". El murmullo continuó, pero Marlene apenas lo oyó. Sirius la miró con esa intensidad que siempre lograba desarmarla. "A veces siento que no encajo en tu mundo", confesó. "Que soy demasiado normal". Sirius negó con la cabeza, acercándose aún más. “Lo normal sería alguien que me dejara caer en mis propios abismos. Tú eres quien me detiene. Quien me recuerda que hay algo más allá de las bromas y las travesuras.”

Part 2

P1

word count:582

@blackinnonmicros

Months later

Desde aquella primera entrevista, lo que había comenzado como un intercambio de palabras y miradas se había convertido en algo más. Nadie lo sabía, nadie lo sospechaba: entre Marlene y Sirius había florecido una relación secreta, forjada en rincones apartados y habitaciones de hotel donde el ruido del mundo quedaba fuera.

The hotel room smelled of wood and freshly poured whiskey. Outside, the city was still rumbling with the echoes of the concert, but inside the hotel room, everything was quiet. Marlene set her purse on the table and slipped off her heels with a weary gesture, savoring the immediate relief. Sirius was sprawled on the bed, his leather jacket in a heap on the floor and his hair damp from a quick shower. He looked at her and smiled—that smile that always seemed like a challenge, though deep down it was more of a confession. “Are you here for another interview, McKinnon?” he said in a hoarse voice. She stepped closer, holding the turned-off recorder in her hand. “Yes. But this time I don’t plan on publishing anything.” Sirius raised an eyebrow, amused. “Then it’ll be the most honest interview you’ve ever done with me.” Marlene sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him seriously. “Tell me, how did you feel when you walked onto the stage?” He sighed, resting his head against the wall. “I feel free. Like the crowd adores me. But also… like all of that is just noise. Like the only thing that’s real is when I’m here, with you.”

The air grew thick, charged with something that had nothing to do with journalism. Marlene leaned toward him, brushing against his hand. “You’re not alone in that silence.” Sirius stared at her, and in his eyes there was a different, more intimate challenge. “You’re dangerous, McKinnon.” She smiled faintly. “And you’re addictive, Black.” The kiss came like a fire. Urgent, intense, filled with the same energy that had set the stage ablaze. Marlene returned it with equal force, forgetting her notebook, her recorder, the whole world. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. Sirius pulled her toward him, and the hotel became a secret escape. Their clothes fell to the floor in a hurry. Every caress was a confession, every moan a song. Outside, the city continued to celebrate the idol, but inside, it was just the two of them.

word count: 799

@blackinnonmicros

At every event, Sirius would see her. It didn’t matter if it was a concert in a dingy bar, a college party, an impromptu exhibition in a basement, or even a protest on the streets of London: Marlene always stood out radiant, with that energy of hers that seemed to draw everyone around her in. And he, in his leather jacket and with that arrogant smile, pretended he wasn’t looking for her. But his stubborn eyes inevitably found her. At first, it was a coincidence or so he wanted to believe. A funny coincidence: seeing her at a poetry reading and then, weeks later, at a music festival. But when it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, Sirius began to feel that there was something different. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was as if fate were determined to play games with them, pushing them to run into each other at every corner, in every crowd. Marlene noticed it, too. At first, she looked at him with curiosity. The dark-haired guy with the arrogant smile who seemed too self-assured and too loud for her taste. And yet, there was something about him that captivated her something magnetic that made her recognize him immediately among hundreds of faces. Every time they saw each other, her heart raced, even though she tried to convince herself that nothing was going on.

Their encounters became a sort of ritual. She would arrive, see him, and feign indifference. He would spot her, smile, and move close enough that their shoulders almost touched, but he never said a word. It was a strange game, a silent dance that repeated itself over and over. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and glances that lasted a second longer than usual. One night at a charity event held in an old theater, Sirius saw her walk in wearing a blue dress that left him speechless. He leaned against the wall, watching her as she calmly made her way through the venue. Marlene noticed him right away. Their eyes met, and for the first time, neither of them looked away. It was a long, electric moment that left them breathless. She approached the drinks table, feigning interest in the wine. Sirius decided that enough was enough after so many encounters and several opportunities, he knew he couldn’t stay silent any longer. He walked toward her with a steady stride, though inside he was overcome by a sense of vertigo, as if he were about to leap into the void.

“You’re always here,” he said, in that deep voice that seemed to carry smoke and music. Marlene raised an eyebrow, surprised. “And you?” she replied, in a tone that mixed defiance and curiosity. Sirius smiled—that smile he’d used so many times as a shield. “I guess fate has a twisted sense of humor.” She stared at him intently, as if weighing whether it was worth playing along. And then, for the first time, she let her smile show. A small smile, but enough to disarm him. “Or maybe,” she said, “you just haven’t had the courage to talk to me before.” He laughed, a brief, sincere sound. “Maybe. But here I am.” The silence that followed was different. It was no longer the tension of past encounters, but the promise of something new. Marlene picked up her glass, took a sip, and looked at him calmly. Sirius, for the first time in a long time, felt that he didn’t need to pretend anything. That everything he’d hoped for at those events all the stolen glances—had been the prelude to that very moment.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a brief, bold kiss. Marlene responded with a mischievous smile and a firmer, more decisive kiss. When they pulled apart, their eyes sparkled with shared complicity. “Finally,” she murmured, in a flirtatious tone. “It was about time you stopped watching me from afar.” Sirius raised an eyebrow, amused. “And now that I’ve done that, what’s next?” Marlene held his gaze, confident, as if she’d already made up her mind. “We could keep talking here… or we could go to my apartment.” He smiled, that dangerous smile that promised chaos and desire. “Your apartment? That sounds much better than this theater.”

word count:506

@blackinnonmicros

Sirius walked into the apartment. The air was heavy and still. In the living room, cardboard boxes were waiting for him, stacked against the wall. He walked over to the first one and lifted the lid. Inside was one of Marlene’s blue sweaters. He held it for a moment, then set it on the armchair. He opened another box. He found photos of Marlene smiling, with her camera slung around her neck. He ran his finger over the picture and fell silent. In the next box was a notebook. Pages filled with hastily scrawled sentences, drawings of stars. In one corner, written in smudged ink: “Don’t forget to laugh.” Sirius closed the notebook and set it aside. He pulled Muggle records out of another box. Faded covers, scratched vinyl. He remembered how she would play music in the midst of it all. He put the records back. An envelope appeared at the bottom. Inside, a lock of hair and a letter that had never been sent. He opened it. “I don’t know if we’ll survive…” Sirius folded the paper without finishing the letter. He poured himself some whiskey. He sat down in the armchair. The apartment was full of boxes. Each one contained objects that spoke of her.

He lit a cigarette, and the ash fell onto the cardboard. He didn’t brush it off. The night wore on. Sirius opened another box. He found a pair of worn-out boots. He picked them up, looked at them for a moment, then let them fall. Another box contained newspaper clippings and handwritten notes. Scattered words, dates, names. Sirius read them out of order and without pausing. The whiskey ran out. He got up and looked for another bottle. He sat back down. Smoke filled the room. The boxes were still there. They didn’t move. They didn’t run out. Each one held a piece of Marlene. Sirius opened another one. There were folded letters, some with ink stains. He read them slowly. He remained silent. In another box, he found a scarf. He held it for a moment. He laid it on the back of the armchair. The apartment was full of objects. All stored in cardboard boxes. All waiting to be opened. Sirius continued. Box after box. Photos, clothes, papers, records, letters. Each object made him pause for a moment. Each object forced him to remember her.

The night dragged on. The whiskey grew stronger. The smoke grew thicker. Sirius kept opening boxes. He kept looking at what was inside. He kept thinking about her. The cardboard was old, creased, and stained. But it still held everything. Sirius sat in the armchair. Surrounded by boxes. Surrounded by memories.