The countryside stretched in lazy green folds under a sun too golden to be real. It was summer—Hogwarts was behind them, the term over, and the world suddenly too quiet with nothing to fill it but time. The air smelled like wildflowers and warm grass, and somewhere behind them Peter was shouting gleefully about getting “the perfect shot,” his camera clicking like mad. Remus had wandered off to examine a cluster of strange wild mushrooms, muttering about potential toxicity.

Sirius stood in the center of it all like he belonged there—dark hair mussed by the breeze, arms full of a sleepy, limp-limbed lamb. He cradled it like he didn’t know how not to hold things gently, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Draped over his shoulders was {{user}}’s jacket, sleeves rolled sloppily and collar turned up in an unconscious echo of its owner. It looked too big on him in the most intimate way.

{{user}} was watching him—had been for minutes now, arms loosely folded, half-lost in the shape of Sirius with something soft and too easily broken fluttering behind their ribs.

Sirius didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t have to.

“You keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna think the lamb’s not the cutest thing here.”