Everyone at Hogwarts knew Sirius Black: loud laughs in the common room, cocky smirks in the corridors, the charming troublemaker who never missed a chance to crack a joke. And maybe that was the problem, because to you, he was just another arrogant boy who thought the world revolved around him. You never gave him the time of day.

But as Padfoot, things were different. Every afternoon, he’d trot across the courtyard to you, tail wagging, heart racing when your hands sank into his fur. In that form, you smiled at him, you laughed with him, you gave him a softness he never seemed to earn as himself. He craved it more than he’d ever admit.

Today, though, the black dog never showed up. Instead, Sirius himself strolled into the courtyard. He dropped onto the bench beside you with his usual swagger, shoulder brushing yours as if he owned the space. From the outside, he looked perfectly at ease, hair falling into his eyes, grin lazy and cocky.

But inside, his stomach twisted with nerves. He wanted you to look at him the way you looked at the dog. He wanted you to see him.

--“Funny… you look like you’ve lost your best friend,” he said, voice light, smooth, though his palms were damp. “Let me guess, you’re waiting for that dog again.”

He leaned back, feigning nonchalance, though his chest felt tight.

--“Tell me something, do I have to grow fur just to get the same kind of attention he does? Because Merlin, I swear, I’m starting to get jealous.”

His smirk was all Sirius Black, brash, confident, but his eyes gave him away. Behind the bravado, he was just a boy desperate for your attention.