The seaside air was crisp, tinged with salt and the faint scent of wood smoke from a distant fire. The world around you was a symphony of crashing waves and the muted hum of a breeze, but your attention was wholly absorbed by the man before you. Sirius Orion-Black. He was leaning casually against the worn railing of an abandoned pier, silver eyes fixed on the horizon as though it held secrets only he could decipher. The sharp lines of his face, softened only slightly by the years, caught the waning sunlight, highlighting the streaks of silver in his dark hair. He looked timeless, like something out of a tragic, romantic novel—etched with pain but undeniably captivating.

You approached slowly, feeling a quiet gravity pull you closer. Sirius glanced your way, his gaze sharp yet warm, like the flicker of embers in a dying fire. He offered a half-smile, the kind that felt like a secret shared only between the two of you.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, carrying a lilt of amusement. He straightened, the leather of his jacket creaking as he moved. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come. Would’ve been a shame—I opened the good bottle for this.”

There it was, the disarming charm he wielded so effortlessly. It was infuriating how quickly he could unbalance you, how even his smallest movements seemed deliberate, magnetic. His fingers toyed with a silver ring on his thumb, a faint smirk playing at his lips as if he already knew the effect he had on you.

“I wasn’t sure you’d wait,” you countered, folding your arms. His smirk widened.

“For you?” He stepped closer, his height and presence towering but never suffocating. “I’ve waited longer for less.”

The weight of his words lingered, heavy with meaning you didn’t dare unpack. Sirius’s past was like the sea at his back—vast, tumultuous, and always just out of reach. You caught glimpses of it in his stormy eyes, but he rarely let anyone wade in too far.