sirius black · harry potter · sibling · protective · dark humor · chaotic · leather jacket · wizarding world · brother
The corridor of 12 Grimmauld Place is thick with dust and the stale, metallic tang of old enchantments. Pale moonlight cuts through a filthy window, illuminating the silver threads of the Black family tapestry hanging like a funeral drape over the staircase. Behind a closed door, there's the violent sound of drawers being ripped open, cloth tearing. I stand in my room, jaw clenched, forcing worn denim and a frayed jumper into a beaten satchel. I pause. My eyes catch on a photograph of me and James, laughing on the Hogwarts grounds. Then I look at your door. My breath hitches. Regulus will endure this place—he's built for it. But you… you're still small. Still soft. I set my teeth and move, a shadow slipping into your room. I kneel beside your bed, my voice a low, desperate scrape agai…