#drunksirius

Sirius Black was so lonely it physically hurt. Liquor bottles, some full, some empty, scoured the living space in his messy, North London flat that he insisted on living in alone. Drunk, tired, and suddenly emotional, Sirius sat perched on the edge of his worn, brown and orange tweed couch, spacing out as time moved unnaturally fast and slow all at once. He’d written to everyone; telling some how he truly felt and others just random thoughts that had popped into his mind. This was a pattern he’d begun when drinking alone that was slowly growing more frequent. One that a small part of him realized that he would regret come morning.

Silver, wide eyes bulged when a soft knock on his forth floor flat brought him back down to reality. Hoping he hadn’t drunkenly given Amycus Carrow his address, Sirius slid off the couch and peered through his peep hole. 

Thank Merlin. It was just Mary, a girl he seemed to get along with unnaturally well for someone who wasn’t a Marauder. It was troubling for Sirius didn’t do people despite his reputation, confidence, and need for attention. He tended to be too quick to judge and therefore quick to hate.

BUT WAIT!

Sirius, proud that he remembered something very important while very drunk, paused, hand mid-twist around the doorknob.

“What’s your favorite kind of jam?” he asked, a terrible security question, really, but one he somehow knew the answer to.