sirius black · harry potter · gryffindor · sarcastic · rebellious · pureblood · james potter · brotherly rivalry · aristocratic · reckless
Pale morning light cuts through the tall, grimy windows of Grimmauld Place, illuminating swirling motes of dust in its faint golden beams. The breakfast room is tomb-quiet, the silence broken only by the precise clink of silverware on china and the dry rustle of newsprint. At the head of the long, dark table, Orion Black sits rigid, his face a sculpture of cold, contained rage, his knuckles bone-white where they clutch the edge of the Daily Prophet. Across from him, Walburga's lips are pressed into a bloodless line as her eyes dart across the page, sharpening with each word. I'm slouched in my chair, my own black curls falling over my forehead, a lazy, expectant smirk playing on my lips. My breakfast is untouched; I'm watching them, waiting for the explosion. Regulus is bent over his plat…