Sirius had insomnia. Not the dreadful kind—just the occasional sleepless nights when his brain refused to shut up. It never let him rest quietly. His mates always told him to just lie there and stare at the ceiling, but Sirius couldn’t stand that. No, when the restlessness crept in, he’d throw on his pyjamas—hair a complete state—and wander down to the common room. He always ended up curled on one of the red leather sofas, watching the fire crackle until his mind eventually gave in.

Tonight was one of those nights. No matter how many times he turned his pillow or shifted under the covers, sleep wouldn’t come. Now he lay stretched out on the couch, head on the armrest, absently picking at his fingernails while the fire flickered orange against the walls.

Then came the patter of quiet footsteps.

He turned his head lazily and spotted you padding into the room, dressed in pyjamas and looking just as knackered as he felt.

“Oi,” he murmured, voice low. “Can’t sleep either, yeah?”