No Promises | Wolfstar AU

Fifteen

Sirius has never liked Ravenclaw parties.

Nothing wrong with Ravenclaws—other than the fact that they're not Slytherins, obviously—but they spend so much of their time being stressed out that when they let loose, it's so intense. Too intense. 

Simon would probably be waiting for him, too.

And one thing Sirius doesn't like is playing into people's expectations. Sure, he likes Simon. But only in the same detached way he likes strolling along the corridors at night after curfew, or watching the moonflowers in bloom. None of them are essential to his happiness. Not that he feels much of it anyway.

Auguste and James have both gone to the party—not together, no—which means that Sirius is stuck in the Common Room with Regulus and Bellatrix. Severus is nowhere to be seen, but he's probably brewing some Potion like the old hag he is. Sirius loves him, but the man wouldn't know fun if it smacked him in the ass.

"Shouldn't you, like, sleep before detention?" Regulus pokes Sirius' side.

Sirius jerks away from his touch. "Shouldn't you, like, get a life?" He rolls his eyes.

"Aw, come on, Siri," Regulus pouts, "you're not mad at me still, are you?" 

Sirius sighs. 

"Bella," Regulus whines, making her look up from painting her nails. She's gone for a dark red today, a pleasant deviation from the usual black. "Tell Sirius to stop being mad," Regulus says.

"Stop being mad, Sirius," Bellatrix says, voice completely flat. She goes back to painting her nails.

"Ugh," Regulus groans. "Is everyone going to ignore me now?" 

"This is why you need friends your own age," Bellatrix replies. "And I didn't ignore you, I did exactly what you asked," 

"Okay, first of all, I have loads of friends, thank you very much," Regulus huffs, crossing his arms.

"Literally name one," Bellatrix challenges. "Other than Severus," 

"Okay, fine, but you're always preaching about how family comes first," Regulus argues. "And you have like, zero friends yourself," 

"That's because I don't need any," Bellatrix says simply. "Unlike you weaklings," 

Regulus sighs loudly, standing up. He walks away from the table, leaving Sirius and Bellatrix in a not-entirely-uncomfortable silence. 

"Why are you fighting?" Bellatrix asks after she's finished with her left hand. 

"We're not," Sirius sighs. He watches her blow on the paint to dry it. "Will you do mine, too?"

"Do it yourself," Bellatrix shrugs. Then, a moment later, she sighs, "Fine. What colour do you want?" 

"I'd say pink but I know you  don't have that," Sirius grins at her, flattered that she's agreed. 

"Do you want to match?" Bellatrix offers. 

Maybe it's because she's noticed that Sirius isn't in the best of moods. Salazar forbid she show any explicit concern, but it always manifests in little ways like this. An offer for a cup of tea, a packet of biscuits, maybe a new flower for Sirius to press, if she's feeling particularly touched. 

"Okay," Sirius clears his throat. "That would be great, Bella, thanks."

Bellatrix has finished his left hand and moved halfway through his right when Regulus reappears, a tray of tea and biscuits in his hands. "Well, isn't this so precious," he places the tea on the table. "I'd be touched if I weren't offended that you two are doing this without me,"