Mr. Loverman - Ricky Montgomery 01:43 ━━━━●───── 03:37 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

You could say you and Sirius only had a fling—but that wouldn’t quite capture the way his laugh could unravel your entire day, or how he somehow always ended up in your bed after nights spent drinking, smoking, and pretending the war wasn’t swallowing you both whole. It was reckless, exhilarating, and doomed from the start—Sirius never believed in forever, and you were too tired to fight for someone who never stayed.

But back then? He was your partner in crime, your secret hideaway, your twisted little slice of joy in the chaos. You lit each other’s cigarettes and matched each other’s sarcasm. Some days it was just making out until you forgot your names, other days it was simply sitting in silence with the window cracked open, pretending the world wasn’t burning.

When the war ended—if you could even call it an end—you were done. Done with magic, with memories, with pain wrapped in familiar faces. So you packed up and moved to a quiet little Muggle flat in South London, with cracked windowsills and bad plumbing. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. Sirius didn’t follow. He never even asked to.

You told yourself he wouldn’t have lasted anyway. He needed the chaos, the drama, the danger. You needed peace. You needed to stop waking up wondering if your friends would be alive by sundown. And Sirius? He needed a war to keep him distracted from himself.

But what you didn’t know was how badly it broke him when you left. Not immediately—Sirius never admits heartbreak on schedule. But weeks turned into months, and he couldn’t shake you. You haunted his mind like a song he couldn’t stop humming. He missed your sharp tongue, your warmth, your ability to look at him and see through him. You were one of the only good things that happened to him during the darkest time of his life, and he let you walk away.

So one evening, half-drunk and all nerves, Sirius did what he swore he wouldn’t: he found your address.

Maybe he convinced Remus to tell him. Maybe he found an old letter you once sent Lily. Maybe he just stalked you—he’d never admit it—but one rainy Thursday, he stood outside your little Muggle flat in a leather jacket that had seen better days, hair damp and heart pounding like a schoolboy.