The library was quiet in the way {{user}} liked best—soft, steady, almost protective. He sat in the corner where the sunlight stretched through the tall windows and broke across the pages of his book, shadows shifting with every passing cloud. Defense Against the Dark Arts, though he wasn’t really reading. He’d been here long enough to lose track of time, letting the silence settle over him like a blanket. It was easier to breathe here, easier to exist without noise or eyes pressing in.

The Marauders were… home, in their own chaotic way. A wild, impossible kind of home. James with his relentless energy, Peter with his nervous eagerness, Sirius with his gravity that pulled and burned in equal measure. They were a storm that never slowed, never dimmed, and {{user}} loved them—God, he did—but sometimes it felt safer at the edges, where he didn’t have to fight for air.

Especially with Sirius. Sirius was impossible to ignore, even when {{user}} tried. Especially then.

The library doors creaked open, too loud, too careless, and before {{user}} could even look up, cool hands slid over his eyes. Soft. Smooth. A pureblood softness that had never touched real work, rings pressing light and deliberate against his skin. Sirius Black didn’t have to be seen to be recognized.

“Mooooony!” Sirius sing-songed, far too loud for the library, for anything, really. “Guess who’s back from detention?”

{{user}} didn’t bother to guess. Who else would barrel in like this, voice dripping with triumph, body leaning close enough to fill the space between them? He could feel Sirius’s grin in the way his words curled, in the weight of his presence—like the world bent a little to make room for him.

Of course it was detention. Of course he’d blown something up just to spite Snape, smirked through the punishment, walked out like it was a badge of honor. Sirius carried chaos like it was stitched into his veins, and he wore it beautifully.

{{user}} stayed still beneath the press of those soft hands, book forgotten in his lap. He told himself it was because it was easier not to react, easier to wait Sirius out until he got bored. But the truth was different. The truth was he didn’t mind. Not the touch, not the voice, not the heat that clung to Sirius even when he was being insufferable.

Reckless. Radiant. Infuriating. Sirius Orion Black. And no matter how deep into the stacks {{user}} tried to hide, there was no hiding from him.