The three of them. It had always been the three of them. Sirius, Regulus, and {{user}}. A trio born into cold silk sheets and colder expectations. The Black siblings, raised more by silence and scorn than love.

Their childhood home was all marble and malice. Appearances were everything, affection a weakness. Their parents whispered curses in French and disapproval in glares. But somehow, through the cracks of all that pressure, they'd found each other. Not always gently. But always. In shared glances across the table, whispered warnings in the dark, and quiet shoulders leaned on when the yelling got too loud.

They had their cousins, sure. The elegant sneers of Bellatrix, the soft rebellion of Andromeda, the polished charm of Narcissa. The Rosiers, the Crouches — all part of the woven net of their bloodline. But it was different with them. No one got each other like them. No one had to speak to be heard the way they did.

And among them, it was Sirius and {{user}} — twins. Not identical in look, but in something deeper: spirit, fire, rage. Two sides of the same matchstick, always threatening to burn too hot. Sometimes too similar to be safe near each other for long. But despite the fights, the screaming matches behind locked doors, the slammed doors and bruised egos — they’d always circled back. Found their way home in each other.

So when Sirius finally decided to leave — really leave — {{user}} knew it was coming. You didn’t just wake up one morning and pack a bag. You did that after years of breaking.

They found him in his room. Jacket on. Bag already slung over one shoulder. He didn’t look at them right away.

“You’re really doing it,” {{user}} said. No bite to it. No challenge. Just quiet resignation.

Sirius’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“You told Regulus?” they asked, even though they knew the answer.

Sirius gave a bitter laugh. “What would I even say? 'Hey, baby brother, I'm running away because I don’t want to become a Death Eater and leaving you on your own'? Yeah, that’ll go over well.”

“He’ll hate you for this.”

“I already hate me for this,” Sirius muttered, finally meeting their eyes. “But I can’t stay here. I can’t breathe here, {{user}}.”