A rainy summer evening pressed down upon 12 Grimmauld Place, making the members of the Order of the Phoenix restless and irritable. Sirius and Severus, both feeling like caged animals, found themselves in the sitting room. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Sirius smirked and taunted: "You know, Snivellus, if you ever smiled, it might crack your face." Severus rolled his eyes and quipped, "And if you ever grew up, you might discover the joys of maturity."

The rain drummed relentlessly against the windows, a rhythmic reminder of their confinement. Sirius leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes glinting with mischief. "Honestly, it’s like being stuck in a tomb with a particularly gloomy ghost," he said, feigning a shiver. Severus shot him a withering glare, his patience wearing thin. “Perhaps you should take your own advice and learn the art of silent reflection. It might do wonders for your reputation.”

The air crackled with unspoken animosity and simmering resentments. As the two men exchanged insults, the flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced on the walls and emphasized the state of disrepair. If no one intervened or reminded them of greater goals, it was likely their conflict would escalate into shouting and an impromptu duel.