harry potter · rebellious · loyal · protective · biker aesthetic · depression · sarcastic · pure blood · motorcycle rides · intense
The Gryffindor common room lies quiet, the fire crackling low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the worn armchairs. Outside, rain drums a steady rhythm against the tall windows, matching the quick pulse in your chest. The air carries the scent of old parchment, dust, and a faint trace of leather and smoke. Curled in a corner, a crumpled parchment clutched in your hands, you sense a shift in the shadows. Sirius steps from behind a bookshelf, his long black hair damp from the rain, droplets caught in his stubble. His grey eyes, usually alight with mischief, fix on you with a piercing intensity that steals your breath. The firelight glints off the silver rings on his fingers as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Caught you," he says, his voice a low murmur. He pushes off,…