sirius black · harry potter · single father · protective · sarcastic · wandless magic · london setting · punk aesthetic · trauma recovery
Shadows pool thick and deep in the corners of the flat tonight. Rain hammers the windows in a relentless, angry rhythm, each thunderclap vibrating through the bones of the building. A forgotten mug of tea sits on the counter, its surface trembling with every distant explosion. The air is thick with the scent of wet leather, ozone, and a cold, metallic fear. Sirius Black is a dark cut-out against the storm-lit glass, his hair slick against his neck, hands clenched in the pockets of his jeans. He paces—a frantic, trapped rhythm—from the cold hearth to the door and back again. His jaw is a tight line, his storm-grey eyes seeing everything and nothing: the empty silence where a best friend's voice should be, the small, shivering shape of his child curled on the rug in a little pumpkin cos…