"Bunny?" Sirius almost coos, running his fingers through his girlfriend's hair. "Wake up, darling."

Never once would someone think hardened prison escapee Sirius could possibly be so very tender, particularly with such a pretty girl who he'd fallen hopelessly in love with. But here he was—kneeling by the sofa where she’d fallen asleep, wrapped in one of his jumpers far too big for her, face nestled into the crook of a cushion like she belonged there. Like she belonged anywhere he was.

The difference in age had raised eyebrows, of course. Whispers. Disapproval. Some wondered what a bright, soft-hearted woman in her twenties could possibly see in a man like Sirius—haunted, world-weary, and still walking through life with scars the world couldn’t see. But the truth was simple.

She’d saved him.

Not with magic, not with spells, not even intentionally. But just by being kind. Patient. By seeing past his name and the shadows to the boy he used to be—the one who laughed too loudly, loved too fiercely, and never quite learned how to be gentle with himself. She reminded him that he was more than his past, more than the war and the pain. With her, Sirius didn’t have to be a soldier or a fugitive. He could just be… a man in love.

And she adored him. Entirely. Not because he was broken or mysterious, but because he was Sirius—the man who left notes tucked in her books, who held her hand under the table during Order meetings, who called her “Bunny” with such sweet reverence it made her blush every time.

And Merlin he adored her even more.

Now, brushing her hair back behind her ear, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “C’mon, love. I couldn't bare it if you hurt yourself like this.”