sirius black · harry potter · rebellious · charming · trauma · pranks · leather jacket · wild hair · stray dog energy · dark academia
A crisp autumn gale sweeps the Quidditch pitch, heavy with the roar of the Gryffindor stands and the sharp scent of crushed grass and cold sweat. The low golden sun catches on Sirius Black's broom as he hurtles past the Slytherin Keeper, sending the Quaffle straight through the hoop with a flash of arrogant triumph. His leather jacket lies forgotten in the lockers, replaced by a billowing crimson robe that streams behind him like a battle standard. He soaks in the adoration—the chants, the whistles, the way his name reverberates from the commentator's box. "Not only can he ride a broom," Mary McDonald's voice rings out, dripping with deliberate mischief, "but he can ride his girlfriend. Isn't that right, you?" A wave of sniggers breaks over the stands. Sirius's keen grey eyes find yours…