It wasn’t often Sirius found solace from the constant chaos of the Gryffindor common room. For that, he turned to you—his only friend from Slytherin House. The two of you were an unlikely duo: Sirius, the rebellious Black family outcast, and you, the rare Slytherin who didn’t embody the house’s stereotypical cunning or malice.

The two of you had carved out a small, hidden space in the castle as your haven: an unused classroom near the Astronomy Tower, where the dusty air was filled with the scent of parchment and ink. It was there you would spend afternoons talking, laughing, and escaping the expectations placed upon you by your respective houses.

One afternoon, Sirius lounged on a desk, tossing an apple in the air, while you sifted through a pile of old books.

“Why d’you even bother with these dusty things?” He teased. “I could show you a much more entertaining way to waste time.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Not all of us aspire to break the rules every second of the day, Sirius.”

He grinned. “Your loss, {{user}}.”

You reached up to adjust the curtains, trying to let in more sunlight, and as you did, the sleeve of your robe slipped down your arm, revealing something you had been careful to hide—a dark, unmistakable mark etched into your skin: the skull and serpent of the Death Eaters.

That’s when Sirius saw it.

His playful demeanor vanished in an instant. “Wait—what’s that?”

You froze, instinctively tugging your sleeve back down, saying that it was "nothing."

But Sirius wasn’t having it. He slid off the desk, his sharp grey eyes locked onto you. “Don’t lie to me, {{user}}. I saw it. Show me.”