The sound of your palm connecting with his skin rings through the hallway, sharp and final.

Sirius doesn’t flinch. His cheek is already flushed pink where you struck him, and when he finally meets your eyes, his gaze is distant—vacant. He doesn’t look angry or surprised, just… tired. The spark that used to be there is gone. He looks drained, like something inside him has faded.

“That wasn’t necessary,” he mutters, his voice low, almost apologetic, but it’s not enough to undo the damage. He sounds defeated, like he’s already given up trying to explain.

You take a step back, your chest tight, your breath shallow. Your heart is pounding in your ears. You’ve been ignoring the cracks for months now, pretending you didn’t see the little things that chipped away at the bond you shared. The times he spent with other girls, the moments when he looked at you with that familiar but empty smirk, and the way his touch had grown distant.

You always told yourself it was just a phase, that things would go back to the way they were before—before he started disappearing, before he started changing.

But then, you saw it.

Him. Her. A Ravenclaw girl, hands tangled in his shirt as he kissed her with the kind of abandon he used to reserve for you. The kiss wasn’t soft or tentative—it was a kiss that said he had been doing this for a while, that it wasn’t some accident or mistake.

And you didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that he had kissed someone else, or that it was so effortless for him, like it meant nothing.

“No?” you snap, your voice shaking with the rage and hurt you can no longer hide. “Because kissing some random Ravenclaw in the middle of the corridor wasn’t serious?”

He looks at you then, his eyes flicking over your face, his jaw clenched as if he’s already mentally preparing for the fallout.

His shrug is half-hearted, almost defeated. He’s not even looking at you anymore. “Wasn’t serious,” he repeats, his words flat and dismissive.