the girl who forgot the stars ; sb

ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK! REDUCE THAT GODDAMN VOLUME!"

Walburga Black's voice pierced through the wooden door as she stormed into her son's room, fury burning in her eyes. Sirius fumbled with the remote in his hand, trying in vain to lower the music blasting through the speakers.

"Ever heard of knocking, Mother? Where are your manners?" Sirius asked, his tone dry and unapologetic.

Walburga scoffed, eyes narrowing. "I wonder who wrote to you for Christmas at all."

Sirius froze. His hand shot out, snatching the envelope from her grip, his fingers curling tightly around it.

"Ever heard of privacy?" he growled, but before he could turn away, her hand struck him hard across the cheek.

The sting flared through his face, but Sirius didn't flinch. He had long grown numb to her wrath. Physical pain was nothing new.

"Behave yourself!" she snarled. "You are a disgrace to this family. Gryffindor? Gryffindor? And spending time with filthy-blooded trash!"

"You don't have the right to talk about them," Sirius snapped, each word coated in venom. He hated the way the word mother tasted in his mouth. It wasn't familial. It was foreign.

"You think they care for you?" she spat. "You will come back to your real family whether you like it or not!"

Sirius laughed, a cold, bitter sound. "This? This isn't a family. It's a fucking prison! And you—you're the warden. Don't talk to me about family."

"Then get out!" Walburga screeched. "Leave and go rot with your mudblood friends! You are no longer a Black!" She pointed her wand to the tapestry in the hallway, and with one angry flick, Sirius's name was scorched off the Black family tree.

Sirius stared at her, empty and unmoved. "I'm not Regulus," he said flatly. "And thank Merlin for that."

He turned without another word, grabbing his trunk from the corner of the room. For a second, he hesitated—his thoughts flickering briefly to his brother—but then he reminded himself that staying would destroy him. And tonight, for once, he was choosing himself.

⸻

Meanwhile, in a very different house, Ruby was humming softly under her breath as she decorated the Christmas tree with a string of twinkling lights and little golden stars.

Outside, Remus balanced precariously on a step stool, trying to hook the glowing star to the Lupin family porch.

"Almost done!" Ruby called cheerfully.

Hope and Lyall stood nearby, warm mugs in hand, watching their children with fond smiles.

After a couple of hours filled with laughter, tangled cords, and a near-fall from Remus (who blamed gravity again), the house was finally glowing in full festive cheer.

Ruby clapped in satisfaction. "Perfection."

"I want food. And sleep," Remus deadpanned, brushing snow from his sleeves.

"You're the definition of a buzzkill, Remy," she teased.

"Thanks for the compliment."

Dinner was warm and filling. Afterward, Ruby changed into her softest nightwear and curled beneath her covers, fully ready to drift into peaceful sleep.

But what awaited her was anything but peace.

⸻

She stood in a dimly lit room, the silence suffocating. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as her eyes scanned the scene in front of her.

A man lay on the ground, unmoving. His wand still clutched in his hand. His glasses shattered, the lenses cracked and stained. His lifeless eyes stared at a room he never reached.

Her breath caught.

She knew him.

Red hair caught the light—soft, beautiful, but stained with blood. A woman, eyes still open, her fragile body curled protectively. Her gaze never left the man beside her.

And then—

A baby's cry.

High, desperate, piercing.

Ruby didn't want to move. Every cell in her body screamed not to. But her feet betrayed her, dragging her toward the cradle.

A single, small figure wailed within.

⸻

Ruby jolted awake with a gasp. Her chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm. Cold sweat clung to her skin. She pressed her face into her hands, biting down the sob that threatened to escape.

She couldn't cry. Not loud enough for her parents to hear.

So she let the tears fall silently.

One after another.

Until a soft tap came from the window.

She flinched, eyes darting up.

Goldie.

The owl swooped inside and landed on her desk, tilting its head at her as if sensing her distress.

Ruby wiped her cheeks quickly and walked over. "Thank you," she whispered, gently stroking his feathers.

And then she saw it—a letter tied neatly to his leg.

She frowned, untying it and unfolding the parchment.

⸻

Dear Ruba,

I'm glad you liked the gift. That's why they call me the ladies' man, after all.

She let out a tiny chuckle through her sniffles.

But on a serious note (get it?), credit goes to my cousin Andromeda Tonks. Just... don't call her Andromeda. She'll rip your hair out. Kidding. She'll just use the Killing Curse.

That earned a real laugh from Ruby—quiet, breathy, but genuine.

And lastly...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUBA!

With love,
Sirius

⸻

Ruby blinked.

Her birthday? In the whirlwind of dreams and decorations, she had completely forgotten.

She felt warmth flood her cheeks, a blush rising in tandem with the sudden flutter in her chest.

Smiling through the soft sting of leftover tears, she climbed back into bed, pulled the blanket to her chin, and nestled into the pillow.

No nightmares haunted her this time.

Only the soft glow of silver anklets beneath the covers, and the echo of a boy's messy scrawl, reminding her—someone out there remembered. And that made all the difference.

⸻

Author's Note:
Here's your update—hope you love the angst, softness, and a sprinkle of birthday magic.