𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 ☆ Sirius Black ✔️ *slowly editing*

t w e n t y s i x

The scolding summer breeze drifts through Robbie's flat as I lounge on the plush sofa, listening to a new record while reading a letter from Lily. She has joined James and his family on their holiday and has sent an image of them cheerfully posing in front of the Eiffel Tower, while describing the sights and their adventures.

My mind can't help but wander to Sirius and what he is doing. I have penned a few letters to him, receiving only a single one in return weeks ago, before James and Lily set off for France. I suppress the urge to ask Marlene or Remus, knowing they would read too much into it. Maybe he is just busy. Or maybe he has met someone new.

A knot tightens in my stomach at the thought of Sirius being with another girl. "What's wrong with me?" I mumble, rising from the sofa and heading to the adjacent makeshift room - my room. Because Robbie's flat only has one bedroom, my room is essentially a corner of the living area sectioned off by a curtain.

I have decorated the walls with posters, a few pictures and Christmas Lights in multiple colours to make the space feel more like home, even though I only spend a few months there during the year.

The space is only just big enough for a bed and a small dresser; all my other belongings are stashed in the attic. I grab a pair of shorts and a crochet top from the dresser and throw them on. After brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair, I leave the flat and head to the music store.

The temperature remains well above average, and despite wearing minimal clothing, I am burning up, feeling the sweat forming on my forehead. Luckily, the store is close to the flat - unfortunately, the heat is even more unbearable inside.

The shop, nestled between two larger establishments, sports a quirky sign that reads "Haven Vinyls." The interior is indeed a haven, with walls adorned with album covers and an array of instruments from guitars to ukuleles. I love it.

My colleague, Mick, greets me with a friendly smile. Mick isn't his real name, but he insists everyone call him that because it sounds more rock 'n' roll. He has shaggy brown hair, a collection of band T-shirts, and a laid-back attitude that endears him to everyone.

Mick's real name is Maximilian Wright the Third. Despite his family's immense wealth, he currently resides in a small two-bedroom flat with two others, even though he could easily afford a townhouse if he wished.

I head to the back room and greet Kit, my boss, who is on the phone as I enter. He waves and points towards a cardboard box containing new records that need shelving.

Grabbing the box, I return to the storefront and place it down behind the counter.

"So, what do you think?" Mick asks excitedly as I flip through the new records.

Mick has made it his personal mission to 'broaden my musical horizon,' as he puts it. This means him lending me records from his extensive personal collection-mostly bootlegs he's acquired from one of the girls hanging around his flat, working at a record label. She would snatch recordings that aspiring bands sent in and make copies. Apparently, their group of friends would bet on which bands would make it. I wasn't in on the bets, but Mick would lend me his copy if he wanted a second opinion or found a band he thought I would like.

"A little too anti-authoritarian for my taste, but I loved the energy," I state and greet a customer before adding, "they were too much like that new band you showed me, though."

"Sex Pistols? They're alright." Mick sidles up, a mischievous grin on his face. "Have you ever been to a proper gig?"

I look up, intrigued. "Define 'proper.'"

Mick laughs. "None of that radio and mainstream stuff. My band's playing tomorrow at a small venue nearby. You should come."

I consider his invitation. "Your band? What's the vibe? Convince me."