#flehtcher

tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as she inspects him closely. she’s watching him as if he’s an item on an auction that she’s considering whether or not to purchase. a clawed finger tips up his chin, and she peers into his eyes, her own midnight hues narrowing slightly as their gazes meet. “so how did you break in?” she asks, mere curiosity in her words, no trace of anger. “because i am assuming that no one invited you here.” a bit of a smile slides onto her lips, tugging the corners of her mouth upwards, making her look just as soft as she is deranged.

A STARE NOT SO UNLIKE THE ONE OF DEATH HERSELF is currently drilling holes in mundungus fletcher’s head. though her gaze is dull, never giving away any other emotions than boredom, she still looks like she just might... snap. sharp fingernails close around his arm, and she drags him into an alleyway. out of sight, out of mind. “don’t approach me in public, jesus,” she says ( and of course immediately sends a mental apology to god for taking his son’s name in vain ). arms fold across her chest, and she gives him a long questioning look. as if he would suddenly be able to read her mind, like certain other criminals she has been known to deal with. “ so? do you have it or not? “ an impatient foot taps against the ground and an eyebrow raises, teeth digging into mauve lips. you’d think that by now, rita skeeter would be much more comfortable with stepping over the lines of what is... strictly legal. after all, she does it all the time.

“ soldiers don’t enjoy war, “ he says, but the smile on his lips tells a different story. missions that make his blood pump are like a high to him, a drug that he is dangerously addicted to. it’s what he keeps coming back to, no matter what. one day, it might be his undoing. smile shifts into something more mischievous, becoming a little lopsided, grin widening ever so slightly. it’s almost as if he has forgotten what the meaning of war is ----- what horrors they’re truly facing. maybe it’s because he grew up in it. has never known anything else. groomed to be a soldier from the day the war began. “ but will you come along, next time? promise to have your back. if you got mine.”

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     yes, that “goddamn leather jacket” as his mother would call it. he got it as a way to piss his parents off in the beginning. something that was a success. they despised the piece of muggle clothing and many times tried to burn it. but, sirius was clever enough to know that they would and often protected it. besides the scorch marks made it look all that much more TOUGH. but, over time, he grew to like it more and more. now, he honestly feels a bit naked if he leaves anywhere without it. and well, you really won’t find him any more without his trademark “goddamn leather jacket”.

answered here.

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