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yellow-berrys · 1 year

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he's like that | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: Sirius Black is colder than ice, and you are not. where you slowly melt down his cool physiognomy and find your way into his heart. all good things come slowly, and surely. fluff.

warnings: references to an abusive household, disowning, alcohol, food.

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Sirius Black was not the friendliest person you had ever met. In fact, his general disposition was somewhere middling carelessness and ice, a combination many people found irresistible. Sirius did have emotions, though. You had seen him laughing with Marlene, one of your best friends. When you had bounded up to her to talk with them, he vanished.

Oh, he was an enigma, that one. One time, he was in the library, laughing with Remus. You had waved to Remus and he had stopped laughing. You frowned and Remus rolled his eyes, walking up to you.

“He’s like that. I’m sorry.”

You had waved him away, “It’s okay, Remus.”

And that time in Charms left you bitter about him.

Flitwick had ordered you to partner up with Sirius, and you had. He hadn’t spoken a word to you, never.

“Now, class,” Flitwick had noticed your very one-sided conversations, “Remember that no matter what, you must all get along. I don’t understand, we’re all from the same house here. Well, except me. But not all of us can be intellectually gifted. Now swivel and tap!”

Sirius still didn’t spare you a glance. Shrugging, you remembered Remus’ words.

You were great at Charms and socialising anyway, you didn’t need some no-good, high and mighty aristocrat to excel. You caught the eye of Lily, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Sure.”

“Professor,” you raised your hand in the air, “May Lily and I be excused for prefect duties?”

Flitwick was very kind, “But first, please show me the Protego charm.”

You both casted it flawlessly and he nodded, “Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

Sirius just rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry about Sirius, he’s like that.”

“Not your fault, Lils, I don’t mind.”

“It’s never personal.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Early start on Transfiguration?”

“Sounds good.”

“He is just like that, you know.”

“I know,” you said as you sat into your Transfiguration seat, taking out some parchment and beginning to write. People filed in soon enough.

Sweeping a glance of your whereabouts, you caught the eye of Sirius Black seated close to you, who was currently grinning at the mess of Lily’s hair he had just made casting a spell to straighten it. Immediately his grin was wiped off, replaced by an indifferent stare, but your eyes kept moving. They found the deep brown of Marlene, who just smirked at you in an attempt to look cool as a cucumber for Dorcas.

The class was usually interesting– McGonagall always had the most rigid and demanding lesson plans, but she filed in with a murderous gaze today.

“Jeez, she looks like she’s on a warpath,” James whispered to Sirius.

“Yes Mister Potter,” McGonagall drawled, “In fact I just found a sixth year frolicking in the corridors, they had the nerve to talk back to me! Nice to see you Miss Smith, how’s the knee?”

“Well, thanks Professor,” Gertrude Smith adjusted her cast underneath the table.

“Right, page 679 of Transfiguration Advanced, I want you to pair– would you stop causing that ruckus, Mister Malfoy! And Miss Brathburt, please readjust your tie! Where was I at, yes, I will put you into pairs seeing as you, Miss Holt, cannot stop chatting. We can talk about Potions later, yes I can hear you Mister Crabbe. Your goal is to turn a piece of the other person’s hair curly and turn it back. Make sure to flick, not swish, contrary to Charms, Mister Black, we don’t want to cause a static mess. I dread to see what your Charms work is like.”

As she spoke, she flicked her wand in the direction of Lily and her hair went impossibly tidy.

“Mister Potter and Miss Mckinnon. Mister Malfoy and Miss Meadowes. Mister Pettigrew and Miss Brathburt. Miss Holt and Mister Lupin. Miss Smith and Mister Gerard. Mister Black and Miss L/n. Miss Evans and Mister Diggory. Mister Samson and Miss Perdentio. Miss James and Mister Gideon Weasley. Mister Fabian Weasley and Miss Rembrandt. And Miss Kane and Mister Rembrandt. Chop chop now, let’s get a move on. I don’t want to see pink hair or any frizz or trust you will be staying in next period.”

You grimaced. You turned to Lily, and asked her only half jokingly, “Wanna swap?”

McGonagall shot you an amused look, “No swaps, Miss L/n. We must all learn to get along.”

“Funny,” you snarked to Lily, “I remember Flitwick saying that too.”

Huffing, you point your wand at Sirius, who was taking his sweet sweet time talking to Peter. You muttered the spell under your breath and Sirius felt his hair coil up. Then you turned it back.

You turned to the professor, a small smile playing on your lips and she looked approvingly at you. “Page 256 for extension work, class.”

Sirius was apathetic, and continued his conversation.

You had already completed the work on page 256, so you chose to take out a piece of parchment and continue your Potions homework, glancing at Marlene occasionally to see her gazing fondly at Dorcas.

“Mister Black,” McGonagall warned, “Mister Pettigrew.”

“Minnie, you know my hair’s already perfect.”

“This is not about the charm,” she drawled back, “It’s about the practice, discipline…”

“And skill,” Sirius finished.

“Well, show me then.”

Sirius waved his wand casually and your hair turned impossibly curly, more curly than it had ever been. Then he waved his wand again and it was normal. You were grinning at Marlene, mouthing encouragement as she glared back.

McGonagall frowned. He shrugged and returned to his conversation.

The bell rang and she strode out, stopping at the threshold, “Class dismissed. Homework is three feet of parchment,” groans rung from all around the classroom, “on the use of Transfiguration within the cosmetics industry and its impact,” more groans, “It will count for your final grade, and it is due next lesson.”

“But the next lesson is in two days, Professor!” someone called.

She gave them a scathing look, “And whose problem is that? See you all in two days.”

Lily was furious after class. She stormed into Sirius’ dormitory, a whirlwind of ginger and red.

“Sirius Black,” she started calmly, “You are acting like the biggest grinch since Christmas,” her top lip curled, “I don’t want to say this but, you’re mean, Sirius.”

Sirius startled. He sighed. “Am I really?”

“She thinks you’re mean. I would say that’s a pretty good indicator.”

Sirius knew exactly who Lily was talking about.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. Sirius, you can’t keep on doing this,” she replied softly, “You’ve gotta let people into your life.”

“I can’t, Lily.”

“You can. And you will. I hate to do this to you, but you have to, Sirius. People are inevitable.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are, love, but you won’t be any less scared if you ignore everyone for the rest of your life. And I know it’s hard, but you’re strong, Sirius.”

“I don’t want to turn into them.”

“You’ll never, Sirius. You’ll never be them. Just, don’t be mean.”

“Where should I start?”

“Be yourself, but be nice, Sirius. You’re a great guy.”

Sirius started trying harder. When you bumped into Remus and him at the library, he didn’t glance past you, but nodded at you, like men did, he said to Remus. He started looking passively gentle, less cold. There were a few changes, but they became bigger.

He was headed to Potions after smiling at Flitwick in the courtyard. Flitwick, with his usual assuming nature, which came with being very very advanced intellectually, had seen right through him.

You had your arms linked with Dorcas, going the same way.

“So much homework,” she sighed and you nodded, catching sight of Marlene in your peripheral vision.

“Marls! Over here!”

You offered your free hand to her and she snorted. “I don’t do physical contact, remember?”

Dorcas’ head peeked out on the other side. “Really?” she asked softly.

Marlene went red and you smirked to yourself. She stuttered, “I guess I could make an exception.”

Dorcas hummed. You wracked your brains, trying to figure out how to leave them alone. You spotted Lily and James walking, swaying in a romantic embrace. I’m gonna break it up, loverboy and girl.

“Lily, where are the Muggle Studies notes?” you clashed Dorcas’ and Marlene’s hands together haphazardly, running to her.

You had never seen Marlene so flustered. Dorcas just looked surprised, doe eyes looking up at Marlene in confusion. It made Marlene shudder, but she regained her composure and linked their hands together.

“Awwwhh!” you heard Sirius, walking with his group of Marauders bar James, “You guys are so cute!” he teased Marlene, making kissy faces at her. Dorcas blinked innocently.

Marlene unleashed her most gnarly vocabulary at Sirius, glaring at him.

“He’s a little confused,” she smiled at Dorcas, “He means that we are both, individually, cute.”

Dorcas nodded, “Makes sense.”

You were busy chatting to James and Lily, “This older lady came up to me, and I was looking for mothballs for my wardrobe, right?”

“Huh?” James frowned at the same time Lily said, “You could’ve just asked me, I have heaps,” she turned to her confused boyfriend, “They’re the little jasmine balls you were juggling with the other day, remember?”

Realisation washed over James, “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, okay, continue.”

Sirius was stone-cold on the outside.

“So, Pads, you got an eye on any ladies?” Peter asked.

He laughed, “Don’t think so, Wormtail.”

“Any gentlemen?”

“Nope.”

“Shame. Well, Mary and I went to the ice rink the other day.”

“How was it?”

“I’m not really good on land, who was I kidding to go on frozen water?”

Sirius guffawed.

“I was waddling like a fricking penguin whilst Mary looked like the snow queen.”

You kept a firm eye on Marlene and Dorcas. It was a magnificent contrast, Dorcas so quiet and tidy and sweet and Marlene so fiery and hot-headed and rude. Dorcas made Marlene more mellow and more open to love, and Marlene helped Dorcas to be heard more often. You smiled to yourself. What a pair.

The cohort swarmed into Slughorn’s potions class, who was smiling that same old pretentious grin.

“Please,” he held out a top hat upended, with little slips of paper, “It’s random tuesday!”

The whole class were used to his antics by now and put up with him begrudgingly. You reached in, and pulled out a slip of paper.

It read, “34E” so you sat in the seat. James Potter was behind you, and he tried moving a spot to his right but he was glued into the seat.

“I know he’s beyond cooky, but this is madness,” he whispered.

You laughed, “I think it’s funny.”

Marlene walked in and you crossed your fingers she would sit next to you, but she sighed and sat next to James.

“Seat buddy!” James put his hand up for a high five that was ignored.

You giggled, and saw a hint of a smile on Marlene’s face. She herself began to smirk slowly as you caught sight of Sirius, nonchalant and handsome.

You had a general disdain for his aloofness, though you did secretly hope he would treat you like he did his friends.

“Hi,” you greeted him and he gave you a nod, taking out his quill and parchment. He swore under his breath when he realised he had forgotten his textbook. You glanced at him in confusion, half concern and apparently he’d been looking at you too. Inwardly, he melted. He loved nice people. But as he had come to learn, some nice people weren’t nice at all. Remember what Lily said, he thought. His eyes remained a cool, distant grey.

“Textbooks to page 420,” Slughorn boomed, “Ha! Get it?”

You laughed, he was more childish than any of you, flipping open your textbook. Surprisingly, Sirius enjoyed the sound. It was certainly different to James’ big loud laughter, Remus’ quiet chuckles or Peter’s hysteric giggles, but it was a good change.

Beginning to copy down the notes, you looked to the side to see Dorcas with her head in the clouds, as it usually was. Dorcas was the dreamer of the year. You finished writing and look around. Sirius was glancing at your textbook casually and you made a startled noise.

“Here,” you whispered, moving the book more to his side than it stayed in yours. He was unmoved, nodding again. Maybe you were worth letting into his life.

“Dorcas,” Slughorn called, “Tell me what the main component of the Healing Draught is.”

Dorcas looked at him glassily, “Pardon?”

Slughorn repeated the question, tapping his fingers on the table in an impatient rhythm.

Dorcas looked around, relieved as you mouthed “Wrathspurt,” scribbling it discreetly on your hand and showing it to her.

“Wrathspurt, sir.”

Slughorn looked sceptical. “Very well.”

Sirius admired you a little more after that. He was close with Dorcas, who was best friends with Regulus.

Slughorn dictated what you were to do next, which was to make a simple Healing Draught. You popped up quickly, retrieving ingredients, hauling a cauldron and juggling a knife, which you ordered Sirius to carry for you. He did so compliantly.

He was impressed. You were complete competence mixed with modesty and a little charm, good humour. You made jokes which he found very funny but only ever smiled slightly at. He wanted you around more.

Once the healing draught was made, you gave it a sniff and stared at it satisfiedly.

“We did it, partner!” You held out a high five but then remembered that like Marlene, he didn’t do physical contact either, retracting it awkwardly and giving him an awkward smile to match.

It’s the first time you’d seen him smile wide. It was the prettiest smile you’d ever really seen, his teeth flashing dashingly and his eyes lighting up. His aristocratically poised face turned into something boyish and warm.

“Okay stop smiling now, it’s getting weird,” you laughed and he shook his head.

You bottled up the potion and handed it to Slughorn, who approved.

“Best of the lot,” he murmured and you bounded back to Sirius.

“Sirius, he said it was the best of the lot!”

He smiled again.

It was a few hours later, with him and James lying on their beds.

“Hey Prongs?” he asked James, who was flipping through a Quidditch playbook, swinging his legs, like a Muggle girl in a rom-com.

“Mm?”

“Can I invite someone to our Friday night funnights?”

James peered at him, surprised, “Of course, Padfoot! Who is it?”

Sirius told him and James raised his eyebrows.

“I thought she might be a good friend.”

“Okay, whoever you like, Pads.”

“Will Remus and Peter mind?”

“She’s in Remus’ book club and Peter, well, as long as Mary’s there, Peter doesn’t notice a thing.”

“Cool. Cool. I’m excited, Prongs, I think she might want to be friends.”

“I’m proud of you, Pads.”

Friends were good for you, Sirius came to learn. James was there for his brotherhood and support, Remus for his knowledge and his wisdom, Pete for a sense of innocence and boyhood. They were his closest friends but he had Lily, a kind, furious, motherly addition to his list of friends. Marlene for his ability to relate to whatever situation she had going on at home and how they both hated love, and Dorcas for her ditsy humour, and dreams. Dorcas inspired Sirius. There was also Amos Diggory, he was the golden boy and on the rare occasions he and Sirius met, they got along like a house on fire. Maybe you, too.

And here that opportunity sat opposite him, head leaning on Mary’s shoulder as you giggled. You had complimented his choice of music and the questionable room decor that consisted of two broomsticks and a suspicious stick. It was Sirius’ night, James had insisted, toasting his glass of orange juice to new friends and enemies.

Truth or dare was being played, though by now it had turned into Truth or Truth, a bottle of Veritaserum sourced by Lily half empty. Red cups of orange and apple juice were sitting all around, Firewhiskey discarded. It had been because you opted for orange juice, and everyone else had joined you, not wanting to keep you responsible for all of them when they were past their limits drinking booze. You were sticky with joy and warmth, laughing and crying.

“Prongs, what’s your hot take on Lily?” Remus asked. James took a swig of his orange juice, dosed with Veritaserum.

“She’s secretly a world-class ballerina.”

Sirius snorted, “Evans? No way.”

“Thanks, idiot. I would be offended but I remember that you have less than two brain cells and pity you.”

Sirius pouted.

“Y/n, who’s the prettiest person in the room?” James asked.

You sipped your orange juice, “Marlene.”

“Awh, love you my little hermit,” Marlene smiled at you and you smiled back.

“I didn’t need orange juice for that, Marls.”

“Okay, quit it.”

Sirius began to see why Marlene hung around you so much. You made Marlene happier, more rounded. She was grinning into her cup of apple juice.

“So, Y/n, you gonna hang out with us more often?”

“One question only, Potter, but I guess. I already spend lots of time with Lily and Marls and Dorcas. If it’s okay with you.”

“It’s great.”

“Yay! New friend!”

“What about me?” Peter blinked at her and you smiled, “You’re my friend too, Peter.”

“Do I get a ‘Yay’?”

“Yay! New friend!”

Laughing. Sirius looked weirdly meek, weirdly emotional. You noticed, and he was surprised.

“You too, Sirius.”

He nodded, grateful. Inside, he was elated. His walls were coming down slowly.

The night began to wear away after the clock hit 11 and Lily had to go, so James had to go. Then Remus went down to pack away the common room. Peter and Mary sneaked off to her Ravenclaw dormitory. Dorcas fell asleep on Marlene’s shoulder, leaving her stunned.

“That means she feels comfortable around you,” you whispered and Marlene broke into a wide smile.

Sirius was sitting, and he was quiet.

“You alright, friend?” you asked him.

“The orange juice is warm,” he made a face at you and you laughed.

“It’s better than hot cola.”

“Cola?” he asked.

“What? You don’t know what cola is?”

“He lived a restricted life,” Marlene chimed in.

“Oh no, no, Merlin, no,” you replied and Sirius thought for a second that you were rejecting his whole existence. His heart dropped, “That simply won’t do.”

You left and re-emerged with two cans of something red. They were cool against Sirius’ skin and he smiled at you.

“What do I do with these?”

It was opened, and let out a strange hiss. You passed it to him, and he took a sip.

“Oh.”

You warmed one up by the fire and passed it to him.

“Ew.”

“Here, give me a sip.”

You poured it into a cup, took a sip and grimaced. “Gross. That’s really gross.”

Marlene laughed, “Me next.”

You were about to pour her some, but she just grabbed yours and chugged, shrugging, “It doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

“Marls, it’s Coca Cola.”

“What? You mean rum and coke.”

“I keep a family friendly household. I don’t drink.”

“Prude,” Marlene retorted.

“Dependent on alcoholic substances.”

“She isn’t wrong, Maroon.”

“Maroon,” you said, thoughtful, “That’s nice. Mar is kept and it’s her favourite colour. Maroon. Maroon. Maroon,” you tested. Dorcas stirred, eyes bleary as she blinked up at Marlene.

“Someone kept saying the names of random colours in the dream I was having,” she mumbled and Marlene shhed her, “It’s okay baby,” you looked at Sirius and faked gagging which made him chuckle. It was a deep and pleasant noise.

Marlene looked annoyedly at you and you giggled, “Think I’ll stick with Marls.”

Dorcas drifted off again.

It was a few days later and you were sitting in the library, legs crossed over each other as you lounged, reading a book. Dorcas sat opposite you, sketching a picture.

“So, Sirius, huh?” she asked, tone far away and feather light.

“We’re friends,” you said happily.

“Really? He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“We’re friends,” you repeated.

“He’s different.”

“We all are.”

“When you met him, what did you see?”

“He’s detached to everyone outside of his bubble. Cold. But when you do see him start to open up, he’s very warm. I wonder what he’s seen.”

“Interesting. You feel the temperatures. I see colours. He’s a purple to me, deep purple.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s royalty. He’s a mix of blue, for his calm and cool, and red for his emotions and pain. A dash of yellow, because he’s soft when you get to him.”

“What am I?’

“You’re so nice you can be whatever you want to be.”

You laughed. Dorcas flipped her sketchbook around and there was a picture of you, sitting peacefully.

“Wow. Wow.”

Suddenly the wind, as if heaven sent, gushed through the window in an urgent rush. It blew the pages of Dorcas’ sketchbook, which were mostly filled with one particular face. Marlene.

Dorcas blushed and you smiled to yourself. Again, the weather changed. Heavy droplets of rain began to fall through the open window and you and Dorcas squealed as she shut it. You both giggled and laughed as you ran back to the dormitories through the corridors. Thunder crashed as Dorcas began to look a little scared. Then a strike of lightning hit not far away, and she shrieked. She was scared of thunder. You felt out of your depth here, but were relieved when Marlene came thudding down the corridors with Sirius.

“Hey!” you called, “Marls! Over here!”

Marlene took care of the situation. Sirius was standing, observing, quiet.

Marlene turned and gave you a very specific look, which made you start walking back to the common room. Sirius followed.

“Is she okay?”

“Marlene’s got her. She does like Marls, you know. And guess what I saw in the library?”

“Mm?” His eyes peeked over to you.

“A whole sketchbook. Filled with Marls’ face.”

“I wonder why,” Sirius smiled.

“Marls is very pretty, Sirius.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Anyway, they’re gonna be at least two hours, I’m going to head to the Prefects’ common room.”

“Hey,” he stopped you, “Marlene usually watches the game with us on Saturday afternoons, which is where we were headed. Do you want to come?”

“As her replacement?” you shook your head, amused.

“Well- I- no, you’re our friend. And I heard you went for the Cannons. They’re playing tonight.”

“I’ll come.”

A pleased look came onto his face. It was warm and interesting.

You followed him to a small little nook where James and Lily were huddled around a wizard’s television, bright colours flashing.

“Pollarck!!!!!” you squealed as you sat down on a beanbag, admiring the Cannons’ Seeker.

“Pollarck?” James looked bemused.

“I know, he flies under the radar a lot and is such a humble sport, but he’s my favourite ever made.”

“Um?” Sirius looked at you, confused.

Lily translated, “He’s got a boyish quiet charm that she admires.”

You nodded, “He gets the job done, no fuss, no bravado.”

Sirius smiled, “I’m a fan of GK myself.”

“He’s funny too.”

“Butterbeer- never mind. Apple juice?” James offered and you accepted.

“Thanks.”

“We always keep it around now,” James smiled warmly at you.

“You’re nicer than Lily lets on, Jimmy.”

“She’s just in denial.”

You learned that an afternoon of watching quidditch whilst taking tiny very noble sips of coca cola was the way Sirius enjoys spending his Saturday.

“Pass the coke,” James said, and Sirius passed the red bottle. You choked a little on your apple juice as Lily and you shared glances.

“Sweet,” Lily began, “That phrase isn’t what you think it is.”

After a quick explanation, you started laughing at James’ bewildered face.

“What’s-”

“Nevermind.”

Sirius was looking just as confused.

Eventually, the game did end, with your favourite player collecting the Snitch very quietly and hurrying into the changerooms just as soon as he did, the rest of the team trampling in after him to pour electrolyte drinks all over him. You winced.

“The crudeness.”

“Marlene plays,” Sirius smiled at you.

“The crudeness.”

“She’s been scouted for the Holyhead Harpies.”

“I know. The crudeness.”

“Sirius and I have been scouted for the Cannons,” James said. Lily was smiling.

“Really?” you clapped your hands, “That’s wonderful!”

“They don’t even need to sit NEWTS,” Lily grumbled and you raised your eyebrows.

Sirius was quick to explain, “Pollarck and Jeffreys are retiring next year.”

“Noooooooo,” you cried, “Pollarck!!!”

“He’s well beyond his peak,” James grinned, “He told me.”

“And after our careers, a commentating or coaching job is practically guaranteed,” Sirius joined in. He didn’t sound like he was bragging at all. “Want me to get Pollarck’s autograph?” he asked softly.

“Oh, please!” you grinned at him, “Pretty please!”

“I’ll get everyone else’s too for you.”

You squealed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!” Sirius smiled. Being nice was nice.

And that’s what he told Minerva McGonagall, lying back in her sturdy armchair in the living room of her quarters.

“That Lily Evans does have a way about her, doesn’t she?”

“Prongs did fall in love with her, I’d say she’s a great lady.”

“What about you and Y/n?”

“C’mon, Minnie, I just made a friend and you want me to start falling in love. Impossible.” Sirius did not get it. Neither did you, really. He thought there was nothing and wouldn’t ever be anything between you and him. Right now, he just really wanted to be friends. He wasn’t looking for more.

“I know, but you both work.”

He shrugged, “I work with everyone, if I try hard enough.”

“That is true. How’s the Cannons?”

“Excellent, Minnie, I think I can get you a broomstick that once belonged to Heather Proud.”

“Really? Oh my Merlin, that is exciting,” she lilted.

“Oh yes, and it only comes off my fantastic charm.”

She rolled her eyes, sipping her tea, “I did receive a letter from your parents the other day.”

Sirius’ face dimmed. He turned tense.

“They paid out your tuition here and left you the trust fund from your, I quote, ‘greatest grandfather who enclosed that all grandchildren must have access to the fund, bound legally and within familial bonds.’”

Sirius blinked confusedly.

“Basically, you’re financially steady, which is guaranteed by Perseus Black,” Minerva spoke softly.

“Why do you seem so uptight though, Minnie? Isn’t this good news?”

“Sirius,” she choked up, handing him the letter. His eyes skimmed the words.

“Oh Merlin,” he leaned back into his chair, “They’re disowning me!” He chuckled, before burying his head in his hands, “They’re disowning me.”

Minerva put her arms around him, “Oh son.”

“Why am I still sad about it?” he sobbed.

“Son, no matter who they are, they’re your family. That’s not going to change. You’re bonded to them. It’s normal. It’s completely normal.”

There was one thing that was not completely normal though, Sirius thought, much happier than he had been a week ago. It was Sybil Trelawney. She was strange, odd, elusive. Her big eyes bore into Sirius’ as she examined him.

He gulped, widening his eyes at James. Something was about to happen.

“Sirius, my dear,” she stared off into the distance, “Is there someone new in your life?”

He shrugged, “Depends. What do you call ‘new’, Professor?”

“A young lady. Lovely smile. Ooh, she looks rather like that girl who dropped out of my classes. I understand. She told me she had bigger priorities, and with that lovely smile I could not be mad. We all tend to go our own ways…” Trelawney drifted off.

She recollected herself. “I see, paths will collide and never separate. Interesting, interesting.”

All Sirius saw was that the tea leaves had drowned underneath his tea. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should’ve dropped this class too.

“Ooh, professor, I think I see a heart! Oh, now it’s a gigantic 65 headed monster that has red hair. Merlin it looks like Lily,” James giggled from opposite Sirius.

“Lovely, Potter,” she sighed, “I do not get paid enough.”

Sirius smiled at her awkwardly.

“Well, Sirius, there are open ends in your life currently. But I foresee– I foresee a feminine force.”

She moved on to another pair.

Sirius facepalmed and James laughed. “Bro, I don’t know why I signed up for this class,” Sirius groaned.

“Eh, don’t complain, you barely try and you’re first.”

“I made up all of my homework!”

“You know Trelawney likes imagination!”

“Surely there should be a limit to how much freedom of speech someone has! Feminine force, my foot. I have you and Lily, that’s enough feminine force to last me a decade.”

They both laughed.

“Maybe she was talking about, about your new friend,” James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sirius laughed.

“No way she would.”

“Paths converge, never to diverge again,” James mocked.

“I’m done,” Sirius sat back in his chair, eyes flickering around the room.

“Well, Sirius,” Trelawney observed, “You may be dismissed.”

Sirius “Yippee!”d and James muttered something that sounded like, “Handsome old teacher’s pet.”

He strode out of the room and into the corridor, immediately blasted with the sound of quiet wailing. It was a first year boy, looking so very distressed in his too-big cloak and clutching his wand. Sirius felt very sad, so decided to approach the kid.

You were clicking through the halls, from the library to your next class. You heard his voice, it ricocheted through the walls, and stopped, sneaking your head around the corner. Sirius was bent down, talking hushedly to a young boy. You could piece together their conversation.

“Little guy, what happened?” Sirius asked.

A small voice sniffled, “I got lost. And- and my term hasn’t started well. Mrs McGonagall glared at me today, my potion blew up in my face and Mrs Trelawney said I might fall ill. All my friends ditched me to go play Quidditch and when I was tying my shoelace, none of them waited for me. So I’m here now.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. But let me tell you, Mrs McGonagall has this thing- have you heard of it? It’s called a resting,” here he swore and the small kid laughed, “face. Don’t worry about Potions, it hasn’t mangled you up at all. I don’t know what you looked like before but you’re very handsome,” he said, tender, “As for Trelawney, why today she said that I would have a feminine force in my life. You don’t take her for real, my dude. Your friends? They’re not nice, little dude, you shouldn’t put up with them. You deserve someone who will wait for you whilst you tie your shoelace. I can show you to where you want to go, which would solve your last problem. I can be your friend too.”

You felt something swell in your heart. It was earnest and deliberate, warm and you wouldn’t ever live the same way ever again. Oh no, you thought.

This is how you would justify it- this impending crush on Sirius Black. He was so sweet and very beautiful, with those gorgeous eyes. You couldn’t help yourself. And it would be kept aside, you’d leave it alone. You wouldn’t harass him, no, you would continue on building your friendship with him. You wouldn’t act on your feelings. You turned on your heel, nearly crashing into Professor Trelawney.

The last time you had seen her was her crying over your departure from the Divination class. It had been a lachrymose affair. She looked jumbled, all over the place. Her eyes widened, larger than you thought they could ever get.

“Ah! It is you!”

“Yeah, afternoon! I’ve got to rush, I have Arithmancy, professor, bye!”

“The very Arithmancy you left my class for!” she yelled.

“I regret it!” You smiled back. You didn’t.

“You don’t, dear, good luck with your NEWTs.”

Your NEWTs did come and go, and after them you and your friends went out to celebrate. A Bacchanalian affair, and even you had decided to take a tiny sip of Butterbeer, recoiling in disgust and viciously trying to drown the bittersweet taste with your orange juice.

The mood was joyful. Basically everyone had been offered a job after graduation, despite their NEWT outcomes. There were a lot of people crowding in the tiny bar, most being seventh years. Sirius was sitting with James at a counter, cautiously drinking his orange juice. Like always, everyone was staring at him. It wasn’t his dress- he had just put on a simple crewneck sweater with the little triangle under the neckline and some sweatpants. It was his whole physiognomy, you thought. Every day you had spent with him meant he became more and more stunning. He had the loveliest face, sculpted true to Aphrodite. Where did I come from? you smiled to yourself.

And he was observing you, through his hair. He had a cool enough disposition to offset the amount of staring he was doing. Like him, you weren’t dressed up at all, but you were still pretty. Sirius had forgotten exactly how beautiful you could be whilst he was busy being friends with you.

Pretty? he thought, Am I out of my mind?

James tapped him on the shoulder, “You okay, Pads?”

Sirius blinked, hard. “Yeah.”

“Right, well I’m going to go talk to McGonagall. You’ll be okay?”

“Excellent.”

Sirius played with the handle of his cup. How does Prongs do this love thing?

He felt the seat next to him shift and turned. It was a girl, upon a closer glance at her, it wasn’t you. Why does that even matter? You dolt.

“Hey baby,” she shuffled close to Sirius. Her arm came to hook around his tricep, “You know, you’re really hot.”

He was physically pained by the interaction, prying her arm away. If she felt rejected, she didn’t show it.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. He glanced at his fingers, placing them under the table and shifting one of his rings to his ring finger. You caught sight of the strange sight before you. Sirius looked uncomfortable.

“A drink for the hot man,” the girl declared to the bartender, “And then you can come back to mine.”

He grimaced, “I’m sorry, but-”

“No buts, handsome. I know how to have a good time.”

She went to touch his face but he caught her hand.

“Stop.”

“Will I? You’re far too manly of a man to really make me.”

“Stop,” he repeated.

She trailed her hand down his chest and he shifted back.

You were quickly shuffling through the crowd and he felt relief as you approached them. His eyes flickered to yours. They very obviously flashed in discomfort.

“Hey!” you rushed over to him, hugging him very lightly. He whispered a thank you, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, gosh. And who is this?”

The girl supplied her name.

“Sorry, but we have to go, don’t we?” you tilted your head at Sirius. He knew this was all a ploy, but he melted, nodding, dipping his head down to whisper another thank you in your ear. You laughed and shook your head. Outside, he enveloped you in a hug. It was lovely and mellow.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “Why?”

“I’m supposed to be strong. I’m a man.”

“No, you aren’t supposed to be strong all the time, Sirius. No one is. Men are manly even when they cry and it doesn’t make them any less if they are girly or like pink or any of that. She was forcing herself onto you, and it isn’t fair that if it were a girl, people would be all over it.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s warranted. Does this happen all the time?”

He nodded.

“Gosh that is terrible, Sirius!”

“You’re right. I need a bodyguard. You up for the spot?”

“Of bodyguard?”

“Of course.”

“Not cut out for it, I’m ‘fraid,” you grinned. You were already friendzoned, you were sure of it, you didn’t want to be bodyguard-zoned too.

“Shame.” He didn’t know why he felt disappointed.

–

Sirius was struck with the burning revelation the day after. With no NEWTs to worry about anymore, you were always with him, some way or another. He liked you. More than he should, maybe. He thought you were gorgeous and so, so, good to him. Good for him, too.

“Minnie, I think you were right.”

“Mm?” McGonagall barely looked up from her newspaper.

“I do like her.”

The woman let out a triumphant ‘ha!’

“I like the way I feel with her.”

“What are you going to do about it, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t think she knows, Sirius.”

“I know. Do you think she cares, though?”

“Oh, definitely.”

You peeked your head around the open door of McGonagall’s office. Sirius could recognise you from anywhere. He slunk down in his chair but McGonagall gave him a nod. From the angle you were at, you couldn’t see him.

“Hi Professor!”

McGonagall smiled at you, “Well, good afternoon!”

“I was just here to ask if you could switch Lily and I’s Prefect Duty for tomorrow. I know it’s a short notice, and I’m sorry for that.”

McGonagall swivelled to the calendar on her wall, flicking her wand.

“Your shift?”

“8am with Connors.”

“Her’s?”

“8pm with Reginald.”

“Why the switch?” McGonagall’s blue eyes pierced through you.

“There’s a dance tonight.”

“Aren’t you going to be attending?”

“Oh, it’s a couples event only.”

“Aren’t you- Don’t you have a plus one?”

“Unless you can find me one,” you joked, “But no, it starts at 7 and Lily has to be there. You know how James gets.”

“I do,” she said curtly, “He’s terribly pouty most of the time.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And mine is nice and early! And I don’t have anything on in the evening. You do know, Professor, Dorcas and Marlene got together so that wipes out half of my dormitory. Alice is with Frank, Mary with Peter. Oh gosh, I must sound so miserable. Anyway, enough about me, are you going?”

“I’m supervising,” McGonagall laughed.

“Exciting! Right, so we can switch shifts, right?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you so much! Have a great day!”

“You too, sweetie.”

Sirius waited for your footsteps to recede to huff, “How come you call her sweetie?”

“That is beside the point. Young man, she doesn’t have a date for tomorrow’s dance. Do you?”

“No. I was just going to flirt my way in.”

McGonagall rolled her eyes, “Now you don’t need to. Go.”

Sirius rose, unsteady, making his way out already. He stopped at the door, turning around and flashing his million dollar smile, “Thanks, Minnie.”

Then he sauntered out.

He found you in the common room, laughing in a corner as the girls showed you their dresses from above the stairs.

“Oh my gosh Mary that’s so stunning! I love the detailing. Oh let me go up there, you are so hot, gosh!”

He heard vaguely a voice, a dreamy one, “So, you’re really not going?”

“Yep.”

“You know Diggory well, he’s hosting. I’m sure you could get in.”

“And be the only single around? I’d be third wheeling everywhere. Cas, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Let’s see your dress.”

Sirius assumed that Dorcas stepped out, and you squealed.

“You are so pretty, Marlene will be stumped when she sees you. Oh my golly let me take photos.”

And Sirius was left smiling at you, as you rushed to get a camera. He remembered he needed to make a move.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” he stepped in, “Do you want to go with me to the dance?” he asked, gentle.

You whipped your head around.

“I noticed you didn’t have anyone to go with, and all your friends are going.”

You beamed, he was so sweet, sacrificing his own time for you.

“You are very kind, Sirius, but you should be asking someone you actually do want to go with instead of putting up with me just so I don’t feel left out,” you laughed.

“Actually, it’s killing two birds with one stone. I get to ask someone I actually do want to go with and you don’t feel left out.”

“You want to come with me?”

“Yep.”

“As friends?” An opening. Sirius took it.

“Nope.”

You looked at him, unreadable and quiet.

“As more,” he said.

“Okay then.”

That was it. Sirius smiled, so brightly at you, so warm and lovely that you blushed and turned your head away. He climbed up the stairs.

–

Oh he had never seen anyone more beautiful. He offered his arm to you and you took it happily.

“We never talked about what we were.”

“Sirius, do we need to?” Your lips were ghosting his, so close.

“You’re right. Can we go slow?”

You tippy-toed, pressing your lips to his. He's like that, you thought.

#actually he does

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yellow-berrys · 1 year

Text

december boy, losing joy | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: rockstar!sirius black proposing to you, and the show that made him realise he would do it. established relationship.

warnings: none, allusions to a rough childhood and mention of cigarettes

(a/n: song in this drabble is original <3, really just a bit of prose italicised!)

“This next song is about a girl,” James fiddles with the knobs on his guitar, his voice cracking through the microphone. The crowd screams.

“That’s right, Prongs,” Sirius grins from his place at the piano, “My girl. My biggest motivation and even though she might not be my biggest fan, I certainly am hers,” he takes a swig of water.

He sweeps a glance around the arena, girls at the front drinking beer, some girls waving their undergarments at him, some guys drinking beer, some guys waving their undergarments at him. Some look envious and disappointed. Some are “awhhh”ing.

He catches your eye in the VIP box, you grinning, barely visible as you stare at him.

“And you’d be surprised that Sirius did pick up a pen and a book for this,” Remus drawls from his position at the bass.

“She’s certainly special enough,” Sirius looks up at you and winks, “Many of you might’ve heard it on the radio. Remus likes to call it “a lover’s musings” but I call it “December Boy, Losing Joy.” Yells and shouts echo as Sirius removes his earpiece. His eyes widen as he hears the noise and he puts it back in. You smile. You love seeing your boyfriend in his element.

A bra is thrown onto the stage and someone yells, “Pick it up!”

“Sorry people, but I’m taken. Remember, I haven’t done it since ever.”

“No need to be jealous either,” Remus quips into his microphone, “Loving a two year old is harder than it sounds.”

“Hey!”

“Right, boys. We good to go?” James asks.

“Ready.”

James taps a hollow beat on his guitar slowly. The audience is quiet for once, as if instructed to do so. Remus starts strumming his bass, pick moving slowly as the sounds reverberate around the room. The tune is sweet and pleasant. You tap your foot slowly to it up in the box. Unknowingly, Lily is filming your reaction to it. You look down and follow the lyrics on the little card given to you by Sirius, waiting for him to begin. His eyes are closed, light illuminating his high cheekbones. You look at him like he’s your whole world and more.

He starts playing too. The melody is a toned down version of the Pop-esque one that you’ve listened to on Spotify so many times. You never knew the song was about you, thinking it was Remus’ penning or James’ tribute to Lily. But it’s beautiful. It’s also acoustic, you think, it gives the song a certain ethereal, timeless quality. Combined with your boyfriend with his hair up, eyelashes so long, eyes sparkling, you think this must be heaven.

Sirius’ deep voice is angelic. “I was a December boy / Losing joy,” he sings. The crowd wave their phones to and fro, “Pretending I smoked cigarettes / Pretending I had no regrets.”

“Never one to be semantic / Always crude, brutal, unromantic,” The lyrics, now that you’ve thought about it, are undeniably Sirius’.

“I was stone cold / And standing on my future’s threshold,” he smiles, “I was an incorrigible man / Shortening lifespan. My excuse was that I’m young / In years I haven’t spoken my mother tongue,” the crowd sings along.

You hope the photographer they’ve hired is taking photos, because the warm spotlight illuminates where happy tears stain his porcelain skin.

“December boy / Losing joy / Saying I’ll leave this town / Never wanting to settle down / December boy / Cast iron alloy / Wasn’t one who loved enough / Always trying to call your bluff.”

“You were picture perfect / An idyllic circus,” you smile, idyllic, you had taught him that word, “Sweeping December clean / Smothering my burning gasoline / Never condescending of my ways / Lustrous, beaming gaze / What more, you cherish my past / Saying you don’t mind being my last / And you love the parts of me which I don’t / You tell me you will never leave me, you won’t.”

“I was a maximalist before I knew you / Rings on every finger, clouded world view / But you became my everything and now I need nothing more / And I told you this when you were unsure / Pretty thing / Please never leave me wondering / Where you are / I’m just a man without you, not a rockstar.”

“December boy / Losing joy.”

You sing along, reading the words, until there’s a diversion of them. You flip the card, but there are only lyrics to other songs there. The mood turns brighter.

“I was a December boy / Wearing black corduroy / Never one to be semantic / Now I’m a hopeless romantic / Not afraid of drowning in love anymore / Because my boat has arrived at your shore.”

“I tell everyone I’m going to marry you / Down Pleasant Crescent near Lover’s Avenue,” The crowd yells and shouts, “And this isn’t a proposal / You deserve one that is more than ambrosial,” he grins up at you, eyes smudged with adoration.

“And I cannot believe / Heart stealing thief / That I was once a December boy / Losing joy.”

The song goes viral. Everywhere on the internet you can see the tag #decemberboy, and the Marauders, however popular they already are, grow their fanbase tenfold. Sirius records the alternate version of the song again and he names it “December Boy, Losing Joy (Her Version)”.

The PR manager is very impressed, and gives all the boys a holiday. Remus goes home to see his old flame, James takes Lily on a trip to Honolulu and you and Sirius stay home. You’ve talked about getting married, and both of you are very keen on it. It’s just that Sirius is busy most of the time and the opportunity hasn’t ever arisen. But Sirius secretly has a ring picked out for you, one that he’s seen you look at when you think he wasn’t watching you at the mall. Lily has sent him the video of you beaming when marriage came up in his song, so he thinks you definitely like the idea.

Lily and James should arrive the Sunday after, you learn, but they’re coming home earlier. Remus is already back but re-doing his house.

Sirius comes into the room where you’re tapping on your computer, “Do you want to go on a date, pretty? The restaurant near the beach?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Now?”

“When else?” He laughs, and he’s already wearing a suit. It clings to his body in all the right ways and makes you flustered and hot. His eyes gaze at you intensely.

“Everything okay, lovely?” He stoops down to curl a stray lock of hair back. You’re still a blushing idiot in front of him, after all these years.

“Yeah,” you choke out, leaving quickly, “I’ll get dressed.”

You had bought a new dress just a few weeks before, Remus’ old flame begging you to go date night shopping with her.

You slip it on, getting ready with the aim to look date-able. Grabbing your things, you meet Sirius in the walk-in-closet, where he’s studying his ties intricately. He turns in greeting and he smiles cheesily, “Wow.” He’s blushing now too.

He picks out one that matches your dress.

“You’re really, really beautiful,” he says as you tie his tie for him.

You look up at him bashfully, “Just tryna catch up with you, handsome.”

“You don’t need to catch up with me, beautiful.”

All the way to the restaurant, he’s tense. He feels your small hand on his thigh, patting him.

“You okay, Siri?”

“Yeah.”

His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, and his knuckles turn white.

“Are you sure, honey?”

You’re so sweet he almost wants to ask you here. Even though the ring is still in Remus’ pocket. But he forces a smile, “Great.”

Sirius is not normally this tense, but the meal is nice and he’s perfect. Instead of leading you back to the car, he pads onto the sand nearby, “You coming?”

“Shoes, Siri, shoes.”

You sit down and he takes them off for you, holding them.

“Why are we here?”

“The view is nice, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“It is.”

You bask in the worldliness of it all. You miss Remus approaching quietly and handing Sirius the ring, having mastered the art of slinking away. It’s only when you see all of your friends approaching, a camera in every second person’s hand, when you frown. You turn to Sirius. He’s looking at you like he’s infatuated, and shakily gets down on one knee, dropping your shoes and taking your hands into his. Is this really about to happen?

“My love, I love you with all my heart and I promised to give you a proposal more than ambrosial so here it is. These last few years have made me realise that I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side and let everyone else know that too. I want to love you as much as I can, and I want you to be with me in everything that I do, everywhere I go. Will you continue making me the happiest man in the world and marry me? Please?”

The delivery is short and sweet, Sirius’ way of doing things. You grin, throwing your arms around him.

“Yes. Yes!”

Sirius breaks out into a big smile, and slides the ring you had been marvelling at the other day on your finger.

He lifts you and kisses you, deep and passionate and loving. Your friends cheer.

You spend the rest of the night on the beach with your December boy, finding joy.

#tysm

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yellow-berrys · 1 year

Text

dote on me | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: you are completely oblivious to the way sirius black dotes on you, and think that the way you're infatuated with him is completely one-sided. but he begs to differ.

warnings: mentions of a bad childhood, mentions of smoking, drinking and illicit substances

navigation | masterlist

Sirius Black makes you nervous and he darn well knows that. He uses those consuming grey eyes of his, filled with enigmatic interest, to his advantage. He only needs to focus them on you for a considerate amount of time for you to start burning up like a wildfire. And his nose, it’s pointed and perfect, leaving you wondering just how unfair life can be. His cheekbones are high and structured, light hitting them at glorious angles. His lips are devoid of much red. They’re this cool plum colour that looks like it’s lip gloss all the time but really isn’t. His skin is framed by smooth black hair, and the layers in his haircut are so pretty it prompted every other guy in his life to get the same one. It drives you mad that he was born with this face and that hair. It’s simply unjustified.

It would be fine if he was just a pretty face. But it’s not. It’s simply unacceptable just how nice he is. Sometimes you wish he isn’t a gentleman and that all the rumours about him being a player with a million tattoos were true, because you’re envious and adoring of him.

And like anyone, he definitely has a vice. People think it’s cigarettes for him but he definitely does not smoke. And he doesn’t drink. At parties, he’s cradling a cautiously poured glass of lemonade instead. And he definitely doesn’t do drugs, because he hangs around Remus Lupin and there’s no way he would be allowed to if he did. Remus is a little sickly sometimes, and his body is very sensitive.

He likes to say his vice is chasing things he’ll never have. Like his childhood. He thinks he has regained that. Now, maybe it’s some sort of romance. All his life he’s been mooned over. People love him, mostly because he’s beautiful, and they offer him burning hot love all the time. People think he’s one for angsty, fiery passion. But Sirius thinks that fires never last, they’re too easy to disturb and taint everything with the unpleasant smell of smoke. James once did one of his stupid Women’s Weekly quizzes on him, the one with the “Tell me your favourite colour, and it’ll tell you what other people think of you, tell me your favourite animal…” questions. Sirius had laughed, thrown his head back and answered in a complete stupor. “Black, maroon if black isn’t an answer, dog…” James had asked him what his favourite body of water was and Sirius had said “A lake.”

He had spent summers of his broken youth dipping his toes into the pretty lake by his family’s home in France, escaping from the whirlwind world inside the walls of Walburga and Orion’s chateau. It didn’t make him cry more when he cried, because it would welcome the tears into the gently flowing water.

James had smiled, “Why?”

Sirius had told him, “It’s gentle, relaxing, peaceful. The one in France was so enveloping and soft. I felt safe there.”

“Chateau?”

“Yep. I used to go out there as a little boy. It was so quiet out there and it felt like heaven, so fluid and open.”

“Hm,” James had studied the words underneath, squinting his eyes, “Ooh, that’s how you feel about love. Never knew you were the romantic type, Pads.”

He had laughed.

James had asked you too. You had giggled, “Did you steal Lily’s Women’s Weekly again?”

He grumbled, “Not again.”

“I like ponds with little koi fish swimming in them.”

“Why?”

“It’s calm in a joyful way. It’s safe and there’s always rays of golden sun and it feels so delightful and promising. Lucky too, I guess. Oh! And it’s so pretty by a koi fish pond.”

James had grinned and left promptly.

Sirius thought it was strange when he had first met you. He hadn’t ever had these feelings before, and it took years for him to shove them aside and focus on his studies, friends and mischief-making. But you were affiliated with Marlene, you were always around in some way. You and him became friends and Sirius felt those feelings resurface again.

He groans into his hands as he runs it across his face.

“Why?!” he asks Lily, who is watching amusedly.

“I’m sure you can’t help it,” she says primly, “But what if you could help it?”

He looks at her inquisitively.

“What if you acted on these feelings? It isn’t half-bad of an idea. You’re grown up, Sirius, and if you still like her that means it’s real.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What if bad things happen?”

“What’s the worst that could?”

“Death.”

“You’re already halfway there,” she rolls her eyes, “Give it a shot, maybe love will make you less sad.”

“I’m not sad!”

“Whatever, start loving, Sirius.”

She picks up her Women’s Weekly magazine and starts reading. “Ooh, there’s this quiz-”

Sirius groans.

–

“Hey darling,” Sirius strides into your apartment. Good start, he thinks.

You’re sprawled on the couch, grinning as you FaceTime Marlene and Dorcas. When you see him, you look up, surprised.

“Marlene’s in Vegas,” you say, “Didn’t she tell you?”

Marlene did tell Sirius, and even offered that he come with her and Dorcas.

You flip the camera to Sirius, and even in blurry, low quality, Facetime video he’s still very handsome.

Marlene screams, “What is that monster doing in my apartment?”

You grin, “Marls, he was looking for you.”

“Actually,” Sirius tilts his head, and if you weren’t so thick you might see the smitten look in his eyes, “I’m here for you.”

You frown, “For taxes? It’s only the start of the month. Besides, the IRS will never tail you, you’re too rich for that.”

“Can’t I spend time with you, pretty girl?”

It’s flattering, but it seems too abrupt to be genuine. You brush it off with a laugh.

“Get a load of you,” you roll your eyes, “What do you need?”

“I need you,” he attempts and the confession, although seeming flirtatious and joking, brings a smile to your face.

Marlene chortles, “Guys- I-I-I-I’m…cutt-ing…ou-ou-ou-t.” She fakes it and it’s obvious, but the FaceTime ends and Sirius sits opposite you now. He’s pretty even at seven in the evening and it makes you very nervous.

You stand up, uneased, and make towards your bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh,” you gesture to an old pile of clothes, “Marlene cleaned her wardrobe out before she left, so I decided to follow suit so then we can donate them.”

“Why’re you leaving me?” he pouts.

“You want to…stay?”

You’re so puzzled and your heart is beating far too fast for your liking. It goes pitter patter like the rain outside. It’s exhausting. The feeling might be addictive, like a good old fashioned crush, but it’s always playing with you. It feels avaricious to love someone out of your league, worth more than you have ever been.

His sudden showering of affections and doting on you, you think, is because he’s lonely. He doesn’t live with James anymore. You empathise with him, but only because you think you’ll know what that feels like in a month when Dorcas and Marlene move in together. But it really isn’t. Sirius actually thinks that you deserve all the heavy-handed loving in the world, and he always has. His apprehension towards him being the person to do the loving is slowly fading away as he sees the shy smile on your face.

“If you’ll have me.”

And you turn your head around so he doesn’t see you blush, “Okay, I’ve been meaning to get a second opinion. Whenever I do this I do it with Marlene.”

You try things on by the mirror in your bedroom, instructing Sirius to look away when needed. He isn’t much of a help at all, because he thinks you look good in everything. Which is just certainly not true.

On a whim, he suggests that because he isn’t aiding you successfully, you should help him on his own closet. In the end, you wind up in his apartment.

Sirius has never boasted about what he has at all, mainly because he isn’t proud of it. By what unethical means his trust fund has come from, he doesn’t even want to know, but he’s grateful for it. You’ve only ever seen his living room, kitchen and his small powder room, and they’re lavish and capacious to no ends. Everything subtly screams wealth and luxury. His bedroom is no different. A large bed sits in the middle, framed by expensive paintings. There’s a well made ebony table in the corner, spotless and tidy. The two armchairs in the room are, whilst clearly faux-leather, intricate and of the sort of taste cultivated only by time. A copy of the original Call of the Wild sits on a table. A bookshelf is on one side of the room, grey, stretching from the floor to ceiling. You run your fingers along the spines of the book. They’re all special editions. A simple chandelier (what an oxymoron) dangles in the middle of the room, and you find the ceiling is gilded with plaster and gold. Pictures of friends and family adorn the white walls.

His walk in closet is humongous. You gasp as he opens the door. It’s double the size of your living room. The clothes are organised by colour, style and season and there’s a considerable lack of colour. In the middle sits an accessory table, with dozens of gold watches and silver necklaces. Delicate rings and bracelets all are displayed. A glass cabinet with bottles of cologne and perfume stands next to it. The only ones you can recognise is something that resembles the Ralph Lauren logo and Dior, and then again it isn’t even the one Johnny Depp uses.

He smiles sheepishly, ashamed that he has such nice things, “I did use my own money on this. Euphemia helped me fix it up.”

“It’s beautiful, Sirius,” you’re almost afraid to touch anything. You don’t think you belong in such a gorgeous world. You don’t think you deserve it.

Sirius beams at you, “Guess there’s not a difference between it and you, then.”

Your face warms. Sirius is already taking clothes off the racks, whilst you stand awkwardly. He’s chatting, talking about where the clothes came from and who gave them to him and why he likes it so much. Your shoulders relax and you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. So far he’s through all the things he deems necessary for him to live.

“And this jumper,” he holds up a pristine Ecru crewneck, offering it to you, “Is from when I went to visit Machu Picchu with James. When we left, one of the ladies we had been staying with gave us both a handmade jumper.”

You hold the fabric delicately in your hands.

“It’s alright. It’s just clothes, darling, you can do whatever you like with them.”

He’s so nice it hurts and you grin at him endearingly, “Thanks, Sirius.”

An adoring smile finds its way onto his face as he turns to pick up the next item. You put the sweater in the “KEEP” pile.

“How did this get here?” he laughs as he pulls out a bright yellow crewneck, with a little emblem etched on the side. Immediately he tugs it on, grinning as he surveys the bright colour in the mirror.

You’re blushing away because the colour suits him so well and makes him look way softer than he usually does.

He sneaks a glance at you in the mirror, and when he sees your lack of eye contact with him he frowns.

“Are you okay?” he asks you.

“Yeah. Yellow looks really nice on you, Sirius.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm. I don’t know, it makes you look…cuddly?”

He doesn’t smirk like you expect him to, but swivels around and smiles at you again. He knows he looks like he loves you. He doesn’t mind. You’re just sitting there, confused at why he’s doing this. It’s weird and sudden and it’s definitely something he would do.

Maybe this is his new favourite jumper.

He throws it in the keep pile. You tut disapprovingly and rearrange it gently. Seeing a t-shirt, he takes his own shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. You cover your eyes, not wanting to intrude on his privacy.

Sirius is midway through putting the shirt on when he laughs. “It’s okay, princess, I didn’t ask you to look away. I don’t mind. Unless you do, then I’ll change over there.”

You peek your eyes at him, and Sirius hopes that he’s not imagining your pupils blown slightly.

And you didn’t think he could get more perfect, but he is. His muscles are toned and defined, and slightly strained as he slides his shirt on. Gosh, he makes you feel inadequate. He can’t know you want him, so you grin as if you’re unaffected.

“That’s cute,” you nod.

And the process repeats. Sometimes he takes off his pants too, leaving him to just his boxers that cling onto him in an ungodly way.

“Are you done?” you ask, eyes covered tightly by your hand.

“Yeah.”

Sirius is dressed in a suit, the tenth one tonight, “Do we like this one, or the grey one?”

“I like the way this one fits, but I like the grey colour more. But I think the dull dove blue one was the best because it brings out your eyes.”

Sirius makes a mental note to get the grey one altered. He chucks away some old sleeping tees, and a bunch of band hoodies he doesn’t wear anymore. He also gets rid of one of his expensive sweaters with a cable knit and a button up shirt, a bunch of sweatpants and this hideous sweater vest that his Aunt Thelma gifted him for his 17th birthday.

He thinks maybe you might like to wear some of the things he has in his wardrobe–Euphemia picks them out with him and she represents a small portion of women. He lugs the bag of clothes to his car, and when he’s back, he sees you cross-legged on an armchair, typing on your phone.

“Sweetheart, what do I owe you?” he asks.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, “For what?”

You put your phone down on the side table.

“For helping me?”

“Nothing, Sirius, nothing at all. It’s my pleasure, really.”

“Do you want to take some of my clothes? I have more than enough.”

You look inquisitively at him, “You don’t mind?”

“‘Course not.”

You go home that night with two of his fancy jumpers, he insists, and one big button up shirt, and a bunch of other stuff he is adamant you should take too. You call Lily. Her voice comes out muffled on the other end.

“Hey Lily!

“Mhm, I’m well, how are you?

“He’s not that bad, I’m sure. You do know he took your Women’s Weekly–

“I’ve already done that quiz.

“Right, well, I don’t think Sirius is fine, in his own right.

“No! As in the sad happy fine, not the cute handsome fine.

“Well- no- I- I don’t think he’s not fine- I mean - Okay whatever. Is he alright? He keeps on acting weird.

A long pause.

“You know something, don’t you, Red?

“It’s kind of strange. I mean, he offered for me to take one of his- I don’t know, the Ermenegildo Ze-

“Yes, that! One of those jumpers.

“Are you sure? That’s what he is normally? Isn’t he usually bad-boy cool guy? Not dorky weird compliment giver?

“Alright, fine.

“Bye, love you!”

You survey the pile of clothes for any trace of a prank. Nothing. You take out one and inspect it suspiciously. Then, your intrusive thoughts get the better of you and you sniff the material carefully. It smells really nice. You chuck them in the wash just in case Sirius has popped one of his silly prank gadgets into the pockets or beneath the collar.

The next time you see him, Lily has called you to tell you she and James are going to Vegas to join Marlene and Dorcas. They’re celebrating a championship. She invites you, but you decline, not liking the idea of tailing behind the two couples and intruding on the romantic atmosphere. Sirius is all alone, and Lily tells you to ‘please go and check up on him’.

The apartment seems okay. It’s spotless like it always is, smelling of air freshener and Sirius’ cologne. It doesn’t look like Sirius is going through something rough at all. Sirius might not even be home, so you’re about to leave when you hear music coming from a secluded area of the apartment. You sneak into the corridor and the door is ajar. A beautiful black grand piano stands, Sirius sitting at it, playing the finest tune you’ve ever heard. The sounds reverberate gently through the room, and it’s divine. It’s joyful and skips on merrily. His eyes are closed and his lips are turned up. It makes you think that maybe he’s thinking of someone.

He stirs a little at the noise and you pull back. He gets up from his chair and peeks his head around the door. You’re wearing his jumper over some sweatpants. It’s so pretty on you, falling oversized.

He laughs, which brings heat to your cheeks, “Do you want to come in?”

“You’ll let me?” you gasp, “But you don’t even let Dorcas come in, and she’s a cello-ist.”

“You’re special,” he winks and you blush. You must look like a motley of colours- florid and pink. But you don’t mind, he makes everyone nervous and you’re not special, which puts you at ease.

You perch on the cushy chair as he plays a lilting song. You hum, approving, “What’s the song called?”

“Love,” he says and you agree. The song plays like what love feels like.

It’s so soft, and warm. Combined with Sirius’ lavender and honey cologne, it makes you drowsy. He notices your eyes are barely open, and instead of ending the song, continues to play the same melody over a lighter bass. When your breathing becomes steady, he quietly rises from the piano and scoops you up, knowing it can’t be comfortable to sleep in a chair. He carries you to his own room, where he tucks you into his bed. You’re murmuring unintelligible things. He leaves and continues playing, before Lily calls and he knows he should be in bed, because it’s morning in Las Vegas. Thus, he shuts his piano and drapes a soft velvet across it. He falls onto the couch and listening to Lily’s calming method to waking up, he falls asleep.

In the morning, you’re in a vaguely familiar room. The sheets are silk and the ceiling is fancier than an art gallery’s. You yawn, stretching. The clock next to you detects the motion and flashes a dim white. Of course it’s an analogue clock, reading 5:00 am. You remember shutting your eyes slowly in the piano room, the news had been playing on the TV earlier. So you had fallen asleep at seven. 10 hours, more than enough. You quickly get up and make the bed. After using his fancy skincare products and brushing your teeth with a spare toothbrush you find packaged up, you hear soft snores coming from the living room. Sirius is there, phone by his side.

You pout at how much of a gentleman he is, retrieving a blanket and carefully placing it on him. Then you prepare a smoothie, with the fourteen-million ingredients he has in his giant fridge, and leave it in there with a note. But Sirius wakes. He’s always been a light sleeper.

He leans blearily over the couch, “Sweetheart?”

“Good morning!” you chirp.

“Why do you have to be so gorgeous at five in the morning?” he slurs. You raise your eyebrows. He’s really always very flirty, and you’re used to it not being genuine by now. He sways out of bed and into the bathroom. You hear the running of a faucet, and sit down on a kitchen chair, checking your phone. Lily has blown it up.

TO: REDHEAD

REDHEAD 7:31 p.m. sooo, how is he??

REDHEAD 7:43 p.m. hellooooo babes????

REDHEAD 8:00 p.m. are u ok ??

REDHEAD 8:05 p.m. ANSWER ANSWER ANSWER

REDHEAD 9:47 p.m. I’m calling sirius

REDHEAD 10:00 p.m. omg YES GO YOU OMG

5:30 a.m. what

5:30 a.m. he was playing the piano lils and i fell asleep

REDHEAD 5:31 a.m. ok keep telling urself that <3 i mean has he ever let us sit in when we asked???

5:32 a.m. i told u he was acting strange

You grin as you see some of the videos she has sent you. One is where James and her and celebrating, him beaming like he always does. She looks madly in love with him. You screenshot and send it to your email so you can print it out later. There’s another of Marlene and Dorcas doing the spaghetti thing at a Michelin star restaurant. They look as if they’re having a wonderful time. It makes you realise that you’re craving something like that too, only not in the wild world of Vegas. You already have something like it, but it’s so one-sided and your heart can’t stand it. You wish someone would just, dote on you. And genuinely, because there’s no way Sirius Black means it.

You express these feelings to Marlene when she’s back, moving boxes and taping things up.

“I want to love someone, Marls. Who loves me back, so don’t even say Sirius.”

“He doesn’t act like that around everyone else, you know.”

“He does! Besides, what makes me so special, Marlene? He could have anyone.”

She laughs, “Oh goodness have you got a lot to learn.”

–

Marlene and Dorcas invite you to their housewarming party in their house. They say it’s perfect for a family and they want to start one whilst they’re young. It’s quite a large gathering for a housewarming party, and the inside is buzzing with excitement. You’re talking to some of their colleagues- Alice and her boyfriend Frank on the couch.

“And we’re planning a trip to Ibiza for next month,” she blinks up at him lovingly and he does the same. It makes you subtly raise your phone as if you’re getting a message and type, before quickly flashing a photo of them whilst they’re gazing into each other’s eyes.

Sirius spots you grinning away, like you want what Alice and Frank have. He sidles in next to you.

“Hey darling,” he smiles and you smile back, “Hi.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Alice asks.

“Oh of course! I thought you would already know him,” you put down your drink, “Alice, this is Sirius. Sirius, Alice. Frank, Sirius. Sirius, Frank. They’re planning a trip to Ibiza and were voted Best Couple in high school.”

They’re both intimidated by Sirius, you can tell, but Sirius smiles, “Nice to meet you Alice and Frank. How long have you been together?”

They cheesily smile at each other, “Seven years and going strong,” Alice flashes her wedding ring.

Marlene calls you over to the kitchen island, where she is mixing drinks up, “Hey darl!”

“Sup, Marls.”

“Need a drink?”

“Just pink lemonade,” you hold out your cup. A boy comes around the table, smiling at you. Marlene smirks a little.

“Y/n, this is CJ. He’s a footballer, and a damn good one.”

You grin, outstretching your hand, “Hi CJ, nice to meet you.”

He shakes it heartily, “Likewise.”

“What team do you play for?”

“Oh, just a local one,” he rubs his neck bashfully, “I’m not that good.”

CJ, whatever it stands for, is handsome, with bright green eyes and curly brown hair. He’s sweet too and has this shy air around him that’s impossibly good natured. He’s Emmeline’s to-be lover.

“Try me.”

“Liverpool,” he says meekly.

“Oh, you’re the Cruz Johnson! How’s football for a living?”

“It’s great, actually,” he chuckles, dipping his head to whisper secretly into your ear, “Though this beer is actually some recovery drink, so could be better.”

You laugh.

He grins as he takes a sip and makes a funny face, “So what do you do?”

You tell him and he nods, “Impressive indeed. How’d you meet Marls here?”

“She and I were classmates! I wore her down eventually, she used to hate friendship.”

“Oh tell me about it. I met her at the football club, where she was playing for the ladies’ team. And the first time the coach tried to congratulate her she just rolled her eyes. He was filthy.”

“Oh?” your eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“When he dislocated his cheekbone a few weeks later, she told him she could ski on them if she tried. Anyway.”

You purse your lips in amusement, “Am I allowed to laugh at that?”

“He looked like this,” Cruz makes a face and you giggle.

Sirius is watching this all with a very sour look on his face, feeling very jealous.

Cruz takes another sip of his drink, “So, who are you here with?”

You’re confused, “No one? I mean, unless you count Marlene, but she’s with Dorcas. And my friend Emmeline too.”

At the mention of Emmeline’s name, his eyes light up, “About her…”

“She’s single and she does like green eyes,” you pull him near the wily, tall Emmeline, who blushes shyly as she sees Cruz, “Besides, I think she has a thing for you. Ever since, you know, you crashed into her and spilled your coffee on her favourite shirt,” you joke.

He blushes, “Gosh, you still remember that? Will you send me the name of the shirt so I can buy her five more? I know I already replaced hers but I still feel so bad.”

“Awh. That’s very nice of you, Cruz. Here,” you hand him your phone, “What’s your number?”

Sirius is watching you, hands tense around his cup. He decides to go up to you.

“Hey darling,” he says lowly into your ear, making you jump and your cheeks heat up.

“Sirius!” you berate. Cruz is watching with a knowing smile as he hands your phone back. You quickly text him, “Okay, sent it.”

The two guys are sizing each other up. You can sense their hostility.

“Now, boys, be friendly. Cruz, do not worry, Sirius is only friends with Emmeline, and Sirius, don’t worry, Cruz won’t try to pick up Regulus.”

You feel both of them relax. Cruz grins at Sirius, “Nice to finally meet you, man.”

“You too!”

“And don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for her either.”

You’re silently eavesdropping on the conversation whilst texting Emmeline. You sneak a look at Sirius, who has an unnatural pink on his porcelain skin.

“C’mon green-eyes, aren’t I obvious about it?”

Cruz agrees, “Too much so.”

“Anyway, I’ll let you get to Emmeline, Cruz.”

He stumbles, grins at you and waves at the same time, “Thanks, mate.”

“No problems.”

You watch as he goes and makes a fool of himself in front of Emmeline, who likes it. You turn to Sirius, eyes still watching them. You’re still painstakingly lonely. Tonight you think you’ve third-wheeled at least three couples, and set up two. Even though Sirius is there, he’s just a constant reminder of what you can’t have.

Sirius can see it in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much more he needs to do. Lily wants to know though.

“Soooo, lovely,” she begins and you narrow your eyes at her.

“I swear I didn’t take your cookie cutters and destroy them whilst trying to make clay sculptures with Emmeline and Cruz,” you put your hands up. Lily raises her brows and you murmur a quiet, “Oh no.”

“My cookie cutters that you gave me?!” she yells.

“It’s fine, I’ll get you new ones.”

She sighs, “Right. Anyway, Sirius Black.”

“Sirius Black,” you say slowly.

“Mhm. Are you ever going to tell him you like him?”

“No, I don’t even like him.”

“You don’t?” Lily feigns surprise.

“Nope.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“He doesn’t like me like that, Lils,” you scold.

“Why does he call you ‘darling’ then? He has to.”

“If he did, that would be embarrassing for him. Gosh knows he’s too good for me. If he likes me, I would question why because he could probably do better,” you shrug, “I’m confident, but not completely blind.”

“Okay. So if he liked you, you would want to date him?”

You reply meekly, “Yeah.”

“I think you should tell him, though,” Lily sighs, “Better you than anyone else doing it.”

You ponder for a moment, “True,” you sigh, “He’ll be nice about it.”

Lily squeals, “I’m planning your wedding!!!”

You knock on his apartment door, reconsidering for the last time whether you want to do it or not.

Sirius opens the door, looking confused and handsome, eyes bluer than usual.

“Hi,” you breathe.

“Gorgeous, to what do I owe this sudden visit?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” his eyes are glistening.

“Yeah.”

“Come in then. Mind the mess, taxes.”

You hum, “Need help?”

“Actually, yeah. Should I write off…”

You sit down, distracted by the papers flying everywhere, taking a pen and starting to write. Your mission is almost forgotten after you finish helping him with his taxes, smiling satisfiedly at the hefty return he receives.

“Good,” you grin, admiring your work, “I’d say this is a successful tax file.” He swipes his tongue over his teeth, so attractively and seals the envelope, setting it down on his stack of things he needs to post.

“Package to Marlene and Dorcas, papers to…” he rambles, pacing out his thoughts, “Oh, and my portfolio. Can you check if they’re alright to send in?”

“Portfolio?”

“Oh,” he turns red, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “Someone asked me to model for them?”

“When?” you gasp. He hands you the envelope, and you carefully pry out some photos.

“A week ago,” he murmurs, “Can you check these aren’t too…much?”

They’re glossy between your fingers and smooth, candid shots, some staged and every single one of them belongs on the cover of Vogue. It’s strange, the pictures of Sirius should be in a magazine, famed and lovely, but he’s right here. Nervously fidgeting around. He’s so tangible right now. You reach out to skim your fingers over the photos, then stretch them out to touch the skin near his lips. He’s taken aback but leans into your touch.

“I think they’re perfect,” you fold the envelope over, handing it back to him.

He’s still looking incredibly ashamed of himself.

“Why do you look so sheepish?” you laugh, “Stop that! It’s alright.” You surge to hug him, “It’s amazing, Sirius.”

Sirius hides his face in your neck, “I feel like a show-off,” he mumbles and you laugh.

“Sirius, it’s honestly alright. You’re not, far from it actually. It’s okay to have nice things.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being a wimp.”

“It’s fine, I understand. These feelings are completely normal, but that doesn’t mean they’re true. If I had a staggering net worth of a few hundred million and never told you, would you think I’m a show-off?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly,” you smile at him, “Now do you want to go to the post office? It closes in half an hour.”

He nods, “‘Kay.”

The post office man greets him with some flirting, and he sets down his stack of parcels, ignoring him to go sign some of them.

He looks over to you, “You’re his…” he studies your face, “friend?”

It makes you feel small and judged. You chew nervously on your lip, unconsciously stepping towards Sirius. You know you couldn’t possibly pass off as his girlfriend, but it’s an ugly reminder you don’t need. Sirius smiles politely, “These three are in a letter card, but can we get them to be delivered…”

After he pays, you try not to make it seem like you’re in a rush to get out. He notices, of course he does. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say to you?”

You stay quiet and Sirius does too. He drives to his apartment and sits down on his couch. You follow. He’s silent.

“He said something about us,” you break the fragile silence, “About me.”

“What?”

“Well he looked at me and then asked if I was your friend after giving me a once-over.”

Sirius shrugs, “Aren’t you?”

Your heart falls, “Well–. The thing is–, look, I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I kind of– scratch that, I have this massive crush on you and probably more,” you wince, “Please be nice about this.”

He looks positively shocked. You can’t tell if it’s good shock or bad shock.

You grimace, “And please can we stay friends?”

“You think I’m rejecting you?” he almost scoffs, lifting you easily into his lap. He’s so close you could count the colours in his eyes. A charcoal, a light cerulean, a tinge of yellow ochre, “After all my countless advances, the gifts, even inviting you into my piano room whilst I played, I couldn’t, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“Haven’t you noticed I haven’t ever dated anyone since two years back? That I ” he continues, “All because I want to be yours. Because I couldn’t even think of wanting anyone else. I like you so much.”

“Hey Sirius?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

“Can I kiss you?”

You huff, and before you can do anything, he’s grinning as he presses his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. When you break apart, he's still grinning. He thinks he will be for the rest of his life.

“Whoa,” you say as you grin at him.

He hugs you tightly, “Please never say we should be friends again.”

You nod, “Never.”

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yellow-berrys · 1 year

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