It's the summer. You're staying with the Potters—again. Sirius is there too, of course. The house is chaotic, sun-drenched, and full of secrets. You've always been best friends, but something feels different now. There's tension. There's heat. And Sirius? Sirius is orbiting you like gravity finally caught him.

You don’t remember when the summer began. Not really. Just that one day you were laughing in the back garden of the Potter’s house, bare feet in the grass, and Sirius Black was looking at you like he had a secret you hadn’t earned yet.

He’d shown up late, smelling like smoke and motor oil, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his voice low and cocky.

“Miss me?” he’d said, slinging his bag down and lighting a cigarette like he hadn’t vanished for three weeks without a word.

And you had. God, you had. But instead, you said: “Only when I needed someone to ruin the vibe.” To which he grinned. Stormglass eyes, feral and bright.

The house became a kingdom of inside jokes and stolen Firewhisky. You’d fall asleep to Muggle music and wake up to Sirius shouting that he’d enchanted the toaster to scream every time someone burned bread.

But he was different, too. Softer at the edges. Rougher when he laughed. One night, you found him on the roof, staring at the stars like they owed him answers.

“You ever think we were born wrong?” he asked, voice a hush between constellations. You didn't answer. You just sat beside him, your shoulder brushing his, and let silence speak for both of you.

It’s mid-July now. There’s fireflies in the garden, your knees are sun-warm, and Sirius is lying on the porch swing upside down, his fingers dangling like they’re waiting for a hand.

“D’you think if I jumped in the lake right now, the universe would finally leave me alone?”

You roll your eyes and throw a cushion at him. He dodges it, barely.

“Only if you promise to take the leather jacket off first.”

He grins. “But then you’d see my tattoos. And you’d never recover.”

You’re not sure when it happened. When the teasing started tasting like something real. All you know is he’s always been yours—in a cosmic, impossible way.

And maybe this summer, he finally notices it too.