THE LOST DOG ' s. black

[11] return

   I SAT cross-legged on the edge of the bed, biting my thumbnail as the minutes dragged on. Waiting wasn't my thing-especially not waiting like this, not knowing where Sirius had gone or if he was even okay. Every worst-case scenario ran through my head like a never-ending nightmare.

I tried to distract myself-reading, pacing, even reorganizing my things. None of it worked. After an hour of unbearable silence, I gave up and decided to do something, anything, before I lost my mind.

Downstairs, the common areas were empty, the house dimly lit by flickering candlelight. I raided the kitchen, hoping some mundane task might keep me sane. There I stood, elbows deep in a sink of enchanted dishes, scrubbing furiously, like each plate was an outlet for the frustration building inside me.

The clock ticked relentlessly in the background. Midnight had come and gone. Still no sign of him. My hands trembled slightly, and I forced myself to breathe. He's fine, I told myself. He's Sirius Black-reckless, yes, but not stupid.

Well, not usually.

By the time I hauled myself back up to my room, exhaustion and worry weighed me down like a lead cloak. I left the door ajar, just in case, and collapsed onto the bed, kicking my boots off with a huff. I stared at the ceiling, heart heavy with irritation and something that felt uncomfortably close to fear.

Then, without warning, the door creaked open.

I bolted upright, every nerve on edge, prepared for bad news-or worse, no news at all. But instead of danger, in stumbled Sirius, grinning like a fool, looking completely unbothered.

"Was just tryin' to see if my local pub's still 'round..." he slurred, swaying slightly as he leaned against the doorframe.

For a second, all I could do was stare at him-messy hair, reeking of whiskey, and a smug grin that screamed trouble. Relief surged through me, hot and overwhelming-but it was quickly followed by disappointment.

This was what I had been losing sleep over?

"You absolute moron," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him.

Sirius blinked, confused by my lack of enthusiasm, and gave me a lopsided grin as if he'd just solved all our problems by showing up alive.

"Don't look so cross," he said, stumbling into the room. "I made it back, didn't I?"

"And you didn't even bother to tell anyone?" My voice sharpened as frustration bubbled to the surface. I stood up, glaring at him. "What if Death Eaters were out there? What if you'd been caught?"

Sirius waved a dismissive hand, nearly toppling over in the process. "Didn't see any Death Eaters... just some bad whiskey..."

I stopped dead, my eyes narrowing. "Is that a lipstick mark on your collar?"

Sirius peered down at his shirt, squinting at the pink stain like it was some great mystery. "Ah, yeah. Just some old lady thinkin' I was charming."

"Yeah, and I'm bald," I snapped.

He snorted, a lazy grin creeping across his face. "You'd look amazing bald."

I was too annoyed to laugh. "You are unbelievable. Do you have any idea how dangerous this was?" I hissed, stepping closer. "Stop acting like you're untouchable, Sirius. You're not. Your older self is locked in this house because he knows better. What makes you think you can wander around like it's 1977? You're a walking liability."

His grin faltered-just for a second-before he covered it with a shrug. "I needed some air."

"Air?" I threw my hands up in frustration. "And air just happens to smell like whiskey?"