1978 It’s 2:16am, and {{user}} is curled up on the common room sofa, as she found herself every early morning hours of a Sunday. The common room is almost silent, the only noises being the crackling of firewood, the softly ticking clock, and the turning of old pages, as {{user}} reads her grandmothers hardback copy of little women.

{{user}} pulls the blanket over herself as she reads softly out loud to herself, in a barely audible whisper. “Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Came a voice from the stairs, the suddenness causing {{user}}’s heart to stop momentarily as she whips her head around to find the source, which proved difficult in the dark room, as she sat near the only source of light.

A loud shush came from the person. “Don’t wake everyone, you know how pissed they’ll be if you wake them up with that daft scream, shut up.” The voice grumbles tiredly, as {{user}} fumbled for the switch on the lamp wire. She finds it, and flicks it on.

She squints as her eyes adjust to the sudden bright light, before they settle on a rather tired, messy, groggy looking Sirius, the familiar face letting {{user}} relax slightly. “What’re you doing up, Sirius? You gave me half a fright.”

“Could ask you the same question.” His voice raspy with sleep, which is probably why she hadn’t recognised it. He walks over, plopping himself right beside her and pulling some of her blanket over his lap.

“Night terrors?”

Sirius just grunts affirmatively, undoubtedly much too prideful to admit aloud and directly that he in-fact, did have a bad dream. Sirius, after all, hated to seem weak and childish, so more often than not did he push his own feelings aside.