"Sirius Black, are you hitting on me." A sly smirk seeps onto her lips, scooting over to the chair next to him. It was worth a shot to see if she could get some gold coins out of him, but she'd settle with his company. "Then it was distinctly, you offering to buy me a drink, since I am such great company."
Sirius Black raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "Hitting on you? Well, it seems I've been caught red-handed," he replied, a roguish grin spreading across his face. "But can you blame a man for appreciating good company?"
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "As for that drink, consider it my pleasure. After all, I wouldn't want to miss the chance to spend more time with you. I feel like we hardly know one another, let's put that right." He motioned to the bartender. "Whatâll it be then? Name your poison."
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Despite having broken up a couple of years ago, the two remained close, friends or more. It was easy around him, just like it was that simple to fall back into old habits. "It was the selective hearing, sorry about that." The blonde teased, mirroring his playful grin. A giggle went past her lips when he came closer, her body leaning in towards him as well. "You know, you've always had a thing for my kind of disaster anyway." Marlene offered, a wink of her eye meant to steal a laugh from the wizard. "I'm not the one who needs to keep up." She mouthed in a whisper, a coquettish grin finding its way to her lips, a flirty banter, a challenge of sorts. "You've never been one to hold your liquor, babe."
Sirius laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between them. "I suppose there could have been worse qualities of mine you could have picked out." he admitted, his grin widening. He felt a spark of the old chemistry, the easy connection that had always been there, even when things were complicated.
"Oh, I've always been a sucker for your kind of disaster, Marlene. You know that." He matched her wink with one of his own, his eyes glinting with mischief.
Her challenge ignited a familiar fire in him, the one that thrived on their playful competitiveness. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Well, then, let's put that to the test, shall we? Don't be too disappointed when I drink you under the table."
"I mean you're a prick. Dick. Penis. Lovestick. Whatever you want to call it," he said, voice dripping in mock seriousness before his face split into a grin to match Sirius'. "No, it really won't, will it? We should look to remedy the situation at once." The quaffle was back in his hands before he fully realised he'd caught it, and then back in the air, being tossed between his hands again. James had known he wouldn't get a straight answer, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes when he replied, "I love a mysterious man."
"Well, James, I'm flattered by your array of compliments," Sirius said, his tone matching the playful mockery. "But you're right, this situation is dire. It's harder to keep up with it all with everything that is going on with but now is a great time to put that right, I'm sure everyone could do with a laugh." Sirius began to stroke his chin as he mulled over the possibilities. "The question is, what do we do?" He asked a playful gleam in his eye. "A mysterious man, you say? Then I suppose it's my duty to keep you guessing." Sirius gave his friend a wink.
"Hey..." Andromeda swatted him playfully across the side of the head. "Honestly you're as bad as Dora...and she's six." She pointed out, though her smile was amused. "I was saying it's nice of you to finally grace us with your presence. It's been a while, I've missed you." She'd also worried about him, but she wasn't about to admit that little snippet of information.
"Hey, now! You know better than to touch the hair! Can't disrespect the merchandise like that! Merlin, woman!" He exclaimed with exaggerated gasp and look of offence. "And how is my favourite Tonks? " he questioned, dodging her remark about how long it had been.
The former hufflepuff sat down with two firewhiskey shots and some concoction drinks that were on special, eyes narrowing at Sirius across the table. "You just said you would give me twenty gold coins for being this beautiful." She smiles sweetly at him, holding a hand out.
"Where as I won't deny your beauty, my dear lady." Sirius smirked, his eyes giving her a slow obvious once over followed by a wink. "I can guarantee without a shadow of a doubt, I did no such thing. Doesn't sound like me at all."
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âSee? Thatâs one of the reasons we broke up, you never listen to me.â The blonde teased, a genuine smile on her face, one that only came natural when around him these days. âI was asking you out for drinks, but apparently a round of firewhisky with your ex isnât good enough for you babe.â
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh, so thatâs how it is, eh? Blame it on my selective hearing," he chuckled, the twinkle in his eyes revealing his amusement. "Firewhisky with you? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen⌠in the best possible way."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "You know, just because we broke up doesn't mean Iâve stopped enjoying your company. Drinks it is, then. Letâs see if you can still keep up with me."
"I said that Emmental is one of the few cheeses I don't like. It just tastes bland. And before you say it's versatile, it's got nothing on Mozzarella. I'd pick that over Emmental ten out of ten times."
"Well, I must say, that's quite a passionate take on Emmental! I never realized cheese could evoke such strong feelings." Sirius replied feeling a little baffled, but hey who was he to judge what made people passionate. "I quite like a Red Leicester."
âYouâre a prick, you know that?â James said, throwing the quaffle he was idly playing with at Siriusâ head. âPass that back. I was saying weâve been too well-behaved for too long. I fear weâre becoming soft in our old age, Padfoot.â And then, out of concern that he wished not to show too evidently, added, âWhat were you thinking about thatâs more important than me?â
"Who, me? Whatever do you mean my dear Prongs?" Sirius caught the quaffle with practiced ease, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I fear you might have a point, good Sir. We can't have that, it just won't do." He replied tossing the quaffle back to James with a bit of a spin. Siriusâ grin softened slightly as he added, âAnd as for what I was thinking about⌠maybe I was just enjoying a rare moment of peace. Or maybe I was plotting our next grand adventure. Guess you'll never know, will you?â
Dark stern hues met his gaze, a stoic expression written across her features, a complete contrast to his, canting her head at him. "I find it rather intriguing that you are bold enough to assume I would say anything to you." He was a traitor, therefore, dead to her. It was a tragedy to lose another Black to the wayward side, their blindness leading them down a path they would one day regret following.
"No, sorry, I missed it again. What did you say?" Of course he was now antagonising her but considering she had started it, he couldn't help himself. "I'm trying here but all I hear is incessant whining."
Sirius Black, a name that had been shared amongst the Death Eaters. A name that he knew brought shame to a few who shared the same name or used to. Cold azure hues glanced the wizard over. "You are in my way." He stated, bluntly, bemused.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed the wizard before him. "Am I, now?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His own grey eyes met the other's cold azure ones without flinching. "Or, get this, maybe you're in my way"
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âOf course Iâm listening. Iâm hurt that you think I wasnât.â He stated looking offended before a sheepish smile slipped across his lips. âWhat did you say again?â
The smell of leather and cigarettes - Rain falling onto windows - Long rides on a motorbike - A clear stary night - The sound of forced laughter hiding a broken spirits - Tattoos scattered across his body
We've all got light and dark inside us. What matters is the side we choose to act on. That's who we really are.
Sirius Black, born into the prestigious pureblood Black family on November 1, 1959, was burdened with privilege from the moment he drew breath. As the eldest son and heir to a family fortune, Sirius was subjected to unrelenting scrutiny. His upbringing was a carefully choreographed performance, each step dictated by his parents' rigid definition of respectability. Denied the freedom of childhood, he was moulded into the perfect heir, a role that suffocated his spirit. The weight of his family's expectations, far greater than those placed on his younger brother, felt like an invisible chain. He yearned for their approval, for a genuine sense of pride from his parents, but their harshness only pushed him further away.
Despite his constant efforts to conform, to remain the quiet, well-behaved child they craved, a flicker of rebellion burned within him. Though he never dared to truly misbehave, for fear of his mother's fury, his silences spoke volumes. His occasional snarky remarks were a testament to the suffocating pressure he endured, a subtle defiance that hinted at the rebellious soul trapped within the carefully crafted façade of a model heir.
The weight of expectations, the constant pressure to live up to his family's rigid standards, began to chip away at Sirius's spirit. He felt adrift in a crowd of his own kind, a gnawing emptiness replacing the camaraderie he once felt. His parents' disapproval, their ever-present disdain, fuelled his growing sense of inadequacy. He envied his brother Regulus, a shining example of everything their family valued. Sirius, despite his wealth and social standing, felt utterly lost.
He sought solace in solitude, retreating to the back garden, hidden amongst the tall hedges. Under the starry night sky, he found a brief respite from the suffocating expectations of his family. He yearned for something more, something beyond the rigid confines of pureblood society, yet he dared not voice his doubts.
The whispers of prejudice and superiority, once accepted as truth, now echoed with a hollow ring in his ears. He began to question the foundations of his family's beliefs, the inherent right they claimed to power and privilege. The books he devoured, penned by those deemed 'lesser' by his family, challenged his preconceived notions. He saw intelligence and talent flourishing in those ostracized by his own kind, and a growing dissonance within him resonated with the silent cry for freedom. He was a prisoner of his own lineage, yearning for a world where he could be true to himself, where his worth was measured by something more than the purity of his blood.
The arrival of his Hogwarts letter was a beacon of freedom, a golden ticket out of his suffocating life. For the first time, he had a semblance of control. Away from home, he could finally escape the constant scrutiny and belittling. His parents' disapproval, however, followed him even to Hogwarts, manifesting in a scathing Howler after he was sorted into a house that shamed them. Despite this, he found solace in the school's vibrant community. He made friends outside his pure-blood circle, discovering that shared interests transcended lineage. This newfound companionship, a luxury denied by his family, filled him with a joy he had never known.
His years at Hogwarts were a haven, a period of unprecedented liberation. But the summer before his sixth year brought a terrifying ultimatum. His parents, weary of his defiance, demanded he join the Death Eaters, aligning himself with Voldemort and fulfilling their warped sense of pride. This prospect filled him with a chilling dread he had never experienced. He couldn't bear the thought of betraying his own morals and succumbing to their twisted ambitions. Without a second thought, he fled, embarking on a solitary escape, leaving behind a life that had become unbearable.
Torn between loyalty and conscience, he was forced to abandon his family, especially his brother. He couldn't conform to their expectations, couldn't walk the path they chose. The love he held for them was not enough to justify the path they'd taken. The war was morally reprehensible, and he refused to stand beside those who harmed others for their very being. Leaving, even though it shattered him, was the only option.
He never revealed the true reason for his flight, though his friends, piecing together his hints about his family, had their own suspicions. He didn't deny anything, but the betrayal was too profound to share. He couldn't bring himself to expose his family's allegiance to the Dark Lord, the very act that had spurred his escape. Despite his resentment, his family pride remained strong enough to prevent him from revealing their secret, which could lead to their imprisonment in Azkaban. He loved them too deeply to witness their suffering.
