Petrificus Totalus

The noble house of Black is not characterized by being an affectionate family. As the eldest son, Sirius did not know what it felt like to be cradled whenever he was upset or frightened. He did not know what it felt like to feel the comfort and security of a parental figure. Such as a motherly hug or a chaste kiss on the cheek before boarding the Hogwarts Express. He did not know what it felt like to receive praise and compliments from family members, nor did he ever stop to think it was unusual.

He never realized how different his family was from others. Not until he met his friends, met their families, and was introduced into the warm hugs of Euphemia Potter. That was when Sirius caught glimpses of what family was supposed to be. The first time he got back from Hogwarts, he never looked at his family quite the same.

Most of all, he did not know what it felt like to have a support system back home. He had no shoulder to cry on: he had to be his own rock, his own therapist, and his own glue. He had to hold himself together and stuff away any emotion he might be experiencing, not wanting to burden his friends with anything. He had to muffle his own sobs as he laid awake at night, pondering about life and feeling like he should just give it all up.

He often thought about giving up on life, wishing all the pain and hurt would simply stop. And although he came close to ending it on more than one occasion, he never followed through. It was the moments of momentarily panic, the moments where he snapped back to reality in a brutal fashion. It did bother him he never followed through, but there was always something clinging onto him, telling him not to do it.

At times it was knowing he would not ever be able to smell freshly baked cookies again. Other times the faces of his friends haunted his memory. Sometimes it was the lingering smile of a stranger that kept him from making that decision. The kind of act of a stranger is all it takes to save a life sometimes.

Sirius did not talk about these problems, afraid to burden his friends with what seemed like insignificant problems. That he was overreacting and wasting their time. Sirius feared to be judged, to be rejected and scowled at. He feared they would leave him if they found out what was wrong with him. His problems seemed insignificant. After all, they only took up a small part of a world filled with worries. He was insignificant.

Similar to his problems and worries, he rarely spoke a word about the noble family of Black. And if he did, he buckled underneath the polite smiles and sorrowful eyes. He kept it short and bittersweet, speaking with calculated words and emotionless eyes. He had started to resent his family, hating how they treated him, and he hated what they stood for. Going to Hogwarts made him realize how much he truly despised 12 Grimmauld Place.

The Marauders accepted his decision about not wanting to open up. They respected his need for space, but they would also steal mugs of hot chocolate if he had been in his room for too long. At times, Remus would pluck a particular childhood book from the library's shelves, disguised under James' invisibility cloak. On more than one occasion had James lend out a knitted blanket he got from home. It brought comfort to Sirius, a slight reminder that the Potters would always be there for him. And even Peter pitched in, even if Sirius did not notice at first.

Apart from the Marauders, there were few people who Sirius let into his life. There was something about you that felt comforting and radiated trustworthiness. He could not exactly figure out what made you stand out. But if he did, he would express eternal gratitude for it. Maybe it was the atmosphere of security that followed you wherever you went. Or maybe, it was the comforting scent that rolled over him every single time you were nearby. Perhaps it was just you. And everything about you.

The evenings spent at the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling over the edge while the two of you talked. Sometimes it was nights of you talking about lessons or passionately sharing whatever caught your eye that day. Other nights you spent listening to Sirius, opening his heart and pouring out all he had ever kept in. And you always knew when to give him space, when to let the silence fill the air, or when to comfort him with words.

Despite everything, all the worries, the never-ending self-doubt, and the apprehension to let himself grow close to people, Sirius Black loved his support systems.

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The soft rumbling was something you recognized from miles away. The faint bass, rolling over the hills and valleys of St Ottery Catchpole, caught your ears. 

Despite all the enthusiastic chatter and clattering of cutlery, you recognized it. None of your other companions seemed to have noticed the shift in the atmosphere and the faint breeze that was picking up. 

After days of the scorching heat, you should have known it was bound to happen. After all, the heat never left its companion far behind. Where the sun went, so did the rain, the thunder, and the striking lightning. ⋅

"Right? I don't know what's wrong with Norberta, but she's been feisty lately. The other day, I almost turned into dinner," Charlie laughed. Subconsciously he rubbed his left arm, littered with scars. He rocked a new fresh, shiny burn on his forearm.

"Have you ever tried to not let it get so far? After all, I don't think any dragon is waiting for you as dinner," Fred smirked slightly, taking another bite of Molly's infamous potatoes.

"For the record, Frederic, they should be honored to have me as their dinner."

The Weasley siblings never failed to make you chuckle or laugh, whether you wanted to or not. The so-called ‘Weasley charm’, as George repeatedly called it. It was something all the Weasleys possessed: a charming personality that worked miraculously. With the twins, it came in handy when trying to talk their way out of everything.

"Charles-" Molly started, a detectable glimmer in her eyes, the beginning of a  smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.

The moment the second oldest Weasley was named, a flash lit up the late-night sky. A cloud-to-ground lightning bolt struck the ground with such a force the glasses shook. There was a collective moment of absolute silence among the Weasley family, shocked to see nature react in such a violent way. 

You looked around, stunned for a little too long as you could feel the electricity dance around you, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. 

"Come on! We don't want to wait for a re-strike," Ginny snapped everyone out of their thoughts, running towards the Burrow in a hurry.

An audible gasp left your mouth as you felt the first drops of water fall down on your skin. Your eyes averted upwards, the sky significantly darker than mere 10 minutes ago. Heaven cried out as George swiftly grabbed you by the hand, dragging you to seek shelter.

The earth shook under the heavy thunder crashing down upon the dilapidated home. Someone slammed the door shut, blocking out the howling wind and pouring water as they gathered their breath.

"The food is unsalvageable," Charlie muttered under his breath, wet locks framing his face.

Ron made his way over to the window, disappointedly looking outside. "Such a waste of those potatoes," he moaned, his shoulders slumping before he turned around. He leaned against the windowsill, lifting the cup of tea he managed to take with him to his mouth.

"No use in standing around here and waiting for the rain to subside. Let's just go our separate ways," Molly sighed, a hint of disappointment clouding her face.

George's hand clasped around your wrist, gently tugging on it while his eyes hinted towards the stairs. You suppressed a soft chuckle but followed him regardless. George loved the rain, loved the clashing of lightning, and the deep bass of thunder. The sound of rain as a lullaby, lulling him to a peaceful sleep as you thread through his hair. It was a routine at this point.

At Hogwarts, if he wasn't sneaking off to see the thunder engulf the Astronomy Tower, he loved spending the nights with you. Head on your lap, staring up at the ceilings, listening to the rain, and your voice as you read in a random book. He never made it past the first few pages, but it was a routine nonetheless.

The two of you hurried off to his bedroom, laughing as George, eager as he is, tumbled over his own feet. He threw open the door to his old bedroom, plopping on the bed, before rummaging through the drawers to find the book you had once gifted him. 

"Got it!" he exclaimed, turning to you with a grin as he plucked a pillow from his bed. He handed you the book excitedly, waiting for you to take place on the bed. You looked at the book in your hands, hands tracing the title as you smiled slightly. Pride and Prejudice. 

"Never took you for a romance kind of reader," you smiled. 

"It was gifted by a particularly special person.”

You shook your head slightly, your hand moving his hair out of his face as he laid his head on your lap. His eyes instinctively closing, a faint smile on his lips. You pressed a swift kiss to his forehead before flipping to the first page.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged  that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." 

George suppressed a snort, eyes fluttering open. "I regret to inform you, sweetheart, I'm not in possession of a good fortune, but I am looking for that partner." 

“George-"

"And I found them already". 

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