Marauders One Shots

To be lost, to be found // S.B. [blurb]

warnings: female reader, she/her pronouns, mentions of blood and injury. It's fluffy, I promise!

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In just under thirty years, Sirius Black had only ever known true panic three times. The first was at Hogwarts, when Sirius came to know that Remus was a werewolf and he panicked over the state of Remus with every full moon.

The second was when James and Lily Potter went into hiding; telling only a handful of people their location. Sirius panicked then over the safety of his beloved friends, and whether they would see the end of the war whole.

The third time Sirius knew true panic was when she landed on the doorstep of the Order's headquarters, bleeding from a nasty wound. Her pallor had paled and she had sagged against the wall; lacking the strength to hold her body independently. At that moment, blind panic froze Sirius' veins and the only thing in his mind were the words 'not her'.

He's there when she wakes. Having passed out from the blood loss, Sirius had been the one to carry her to a spare room, refusing to let anyone else touch her until she had been patched up. He had sat by her bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest, counting the breaths almost obsessively. He couldn't lose her, not when he had lost so much already.

He hadn't even told her. He hadn't confessed that she was all he seemed to think about lately, that she occupied his every waking thought. He hadn't told her that he wished to know what she looked like on a morning, on a night and every hour in between. He wanted to know a lot of things about her.

"Sirius..." Her voice sounds; the tone confused as she glances around the unfamiliar room.

"You're awake," Sirius comments pointlessly; his tone relieved. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'll be out of commission for a while," She murmurs, her lips twisting in displeasure.

"Good thing too," Sirius chides. "You scared me half to death."

"Not my intention."

"I know," He reassures. "Still," He continues, eyes closing as the memory of her and her blood dripping onto the hallway floor washes over him, "It's not something I want to experience again. You mean far too much to me."

"I'm sorry, Sirius." He releases a shuddering breath, finally meeting her eyes. Their usually shrewd gaze is filled with concern and upset instead. Sirius moves to the bed, setting himself down beside her as she manoeuvres into an upright position.

"I don't like feeling useless," She murmurs, her gaze landing on the bandage now wrapped around her arm.

"You never could be."

"You're too kind," She laughs. "It's why I like you."

"What?" Sirius asks, the breath leaving him in one almighty rush.

"Come on," She deadpans. "You have to know."

Sirius shakes his head. She raises an eyebrow in disbelief but continues. "Since we first met - that very first handshake. It feels like it's meant to be."

"Meant to be," Sirius agrees, reaching for her uninjured hand.

"Kiss me... Kiss me like you mean it," She pleads, tilting her face up, her eyes sliding closed.

Sirius doesn't let himself think about it twice. He grabs her by the waist, tugging her ever closer to him as he presses his lips to hers. She melts underneath his touch; her body becoming pliant and wanton. She gasps at the feel, but folds under him. She tastes of earl grey tea and the sugar dusted over the shortbread biscuits that sit eternally on the kitchen table. He smiles into the kiss; losing himself to her just as he knew he was always going to do.

From the very first meeting; from the first smile and handshake - Sirius knew. He knew was to lose himself to her; to find himself wrapped up irreversibly in her that he would struggle to find where he ended and she began, but it was a battle Sirius was happy to lose.

The kiss breaks; their chests heaving, their smiles wide. The war continues to rage around them; lines being drawn and plans being forged, but he's found her and he's found himself in her. He won't lose her now.