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You never fixed him. Or tried to change him. Maybe that's why Sirius could never let go of you - ever since fifth year. Always crawling back to you.

It all started back at Hogwarts - Sirius would break up with just another short girlfriend, crawling into your arms, you dorm for comfort in ranting about all the flaws in that relationship; after serious arguments with his family, when the scars went deeper than flesh, when they reflected in the deep of his grey eyes; after the pranks; after he got publicly disowned.

Now, years after graduation, Sirius still crawled back. You weren't surprised when you came home to a black dog, Sirius' animagus form, sitting on your couch, or when you came in on him rummaging through your kitchen.

Sirius whispered his fears about the war into your hair; voiced his concern over a mission James and Remus had to go on for the Order as he munched away on dinner; cursed his mother out as he watched a muggle movie, his legs tangled with yours under the warm blankets that usually resided on the couch.

Same couch that was constantly covered in black dog hair.

Your relationship was...something. A mutual understanding, a judgement free sanctuary.

Sirius knew his way around your body well. What made you whisper his name in that tender and pleased tone; what helped you come down from your high; what you needed right after.

Maybe there was nothing to the relationship besides sentiments both of you wordlessly agreed on - but for now it was enough.

War was ranging outside this place - technically your townhouse, but Sirius still called it his home, and you never felt the need to correct him.

Just like how now, you sat on the couch, some muggle show playing in the background as you read, Sirius' head in your lap as he half paid attention to the telly, half engrossed in his new fascination of the night - a muggle toy called Rubix Cube.