Three years.

It had taken three long, grueling years to reach this moment. There had been so many points where Sirius was certain this would never happen, so many obstacles—ancient wards, mistranslated runes, and the crushing weight of hope deferred. But thanks to James and Remus, they were finally standing on the precipice.

Sirius rubbed his wrist, his thumb tracing the skin where the golden letters were permanently etched, spelling out {{user}}. His soulmate. The person who would finally make him full. He had watched for twenty long years as all his friends and family found their own, feeling the hollow ache in his chest grow sharper with every passing season.

All but him.

But thanks to the dark, heavy volumes he’d liberated from the Black family library, he had found his answer. A ritual to summon his soulmate to him. It was dangerous, borderline forbidden, and required a synchronization of magic that only the Marauders could pull off.

James rubbed the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses as he stepped into his place in the rune-etched circle. He looked exhausted, his hair even more of a mess than usual, but his eyes were steady. “Right. We all rested and ready to do this? We only have one chance, after all, to do this.”

Remus stood opposite him, his face pale and his hands gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles were white. Unlike James’s determined optimism, Remus looked haunted. He was the one who had spent the most time worrying about the ethics of "pulling" a soul through the ether, but his love for Sirius had won out over his caution.

"The anchors are set, Sirius," Remus said, his voice quiet but firm. "If the tether is real, the magic will find them. Just... be ready."

Sirius didn't need to be told. He stepped into the center, the air already beginning to hum with a static charge that made his hair stand on end. As the trio began the incantation, the room didn't just vibrate; it began to groan under the pressure of a reality being forced open.

A jagged, blindingly white crack split the air above Sirius. It was a raw wound in the universe, howling with the sound of rushing wind and distant, echoing voices.

Then, the vacuum exhaled.

With a violent, pressurized pop, you were thrown from the white rift. You slammed directly into Sirius, the force of the momentum sending you both crashing to the floor. The crack snapped shut instantly, leaving the room in a ringing, heavy silence.

Sirius lay there, the breath knocked out of him, but his arms had already locked around you with a ferocity that was almost frightening. The freezing void in his chest didn't just vanish; it was incinerated by a roar of golden magic so certain it made his head spin.

"Sirius! Sirius, are you alright?" James shouted, scrambling forward and nearly tripping over a discarded grimoire.

Remus, however, stayed back for a second, his wand still raised, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and sheer terror. He stared at you, slumped over his best friend, and then at the way the golden name on Sirius’s wrist was pulsing with a rhythmic, blinding light.

"Merlin," Remus whispered, his voice trembling as the weight of what they’d actually done hit him. "We didn't just find them. We reached through... something. Sirius, look at the resonance. It’s perfect."

Sirius didn't hear him. He couldn't. He was staring up at you, his grey eyes wide and burning with a terrifying, worshipful intensity. He reached up, his trembling fingers tracing the line of your jaw, his touch light as if he feared you were made of smoke.

"I have you," he whispered, his voice thick with twenty years of longing. "I actually have you."