𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

6: 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔧𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔭𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 (𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 1 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔡𝔫'𝔱)

Sirius Black shoved his hands in his pockets, touching the tip of his ignited wand to a carefully rolled cigarette. He took a drag, inhaling the sharp smoke with minimal difficulty.

A habit. And a foul one, at that. Maybe if he pretended it was symbolic, the world burning like the tip of his spliff, slowly infecting the bodies of all who took an inhale, and many who didn't. He watched the smoke dance in the air, letting the bittersweet melancholy absorb him.

Remus liked smoking far more than he did, though was more gifted in the art of concealment. Whenever a professor was around, the cigarette was extinguished and had seemingly dissolved between his fingers. Thus, Sirius was always the culprit when the smell of tobacco filled the air.

Sirius loved taking in his wry smile, the crooked irony that stretched across his lips, sarcastic but not quite. Oh, the way he looked at you, like he was reminiscing about an inside joke only you were a part of. Eyebrow halfway quirked, as if to muse, how interesting.

He knew how much Remus hated his scars, but to him, the scabrous, ragged marks were the most beautiful thing in the world. Sirius had never met a braver soul than Remus Lupin.

He'd most certainly never met such a brave soul that only smirked, unperturbed when Sirius accidentally caught James's boxer shorts on fire. He'd never met such a beautiful heart, hardened by the world that treated him with such rough hands, its scar tissue staining the canvas, creating such a divine beauty.

It didn't help that Remus also happened to be insanely attractive. Sirius wouldn't have been surprised if ichor flowed, like torrents cascading from his wounds instead of mortal blood.

Sirius flicked the ash away, remembering Remus's nimble fingers, eager to light another once the last one died. He loved his sardonic Moony, always one step ahead, yet always eager to extend a hand when you needed it. He had much sympathy for those who lingered.

And he could always tell when you needed it.

Eventually, he stubbed the light out, vanishing the remains with his wand. It was no use, fantasizing about someone he knew he could never have, despite the jagged emptiness that impaled him in doing so.

He needed Moony to be happy, first and foremost. He deserved that.

*******

James Potter ran to keep up with her strides, ignoring her clear irritation.

Brigitte wasn't even sure why he was so irked, seeing as James had leaped, quite heroically, she might add, towards the metaphorical bullet.

Maybe that was why she slowed, just enough to allow him a few seconds to catch up. James wasted no time beginning his colorful, albeit discordant explanation, complete with violent hand gestures.

"I'm really sorry about the note thing! I mean, I thought it was cool at the beginning, but looking back I definitely should not have tried to commit arson in the middle of Flitwick's classroom. Although, it wasn't a bad idea, just unplanned, y'know?" He rambled, eyes alight with possibility. "Oh, also, Sirius really didn't mean what he said about-"

It was hard, keeping up a conversation with James Potter, his explanations were always so convoluted, taking unnecessary twists and turns. Brigitte cut him off with a look sharp enough to penetrate steel. "Do you ever stop talking?"

He shrugged, fixing his glasses, despite them not needing the fixing. He drummed his palms on his thighs, clearly trying not to overwhelm her. "I just- you seem nice. Like, obviously you haven't been especially pleasant, but I do this thing where I keep trying until I succeed. I'm persistent. You can't get rid of me now."