The dorm room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards as the building settled for the night. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco, the window cracked open just enough to let the smoke drift out into the cold. The bedside lamp cast a warm, flickering glow, barely reaching the far corners of the room.

You were draped over Sirius, your head resting against his chest, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. His arm was slung lazily around your waist, fingers tracing absentminded patterns along the fabric of your sweater. The cigarette rested between his other fingers, burning slowly as he took a drag, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling.

The silence between you both was comfortable, yet there was something unsaid in the air. The kind of tension that lingered just beneath the surface, like the unspoken agreement you had—no labels, no promises, just the quiet understanding that this, whatever it was, existed in the in-between.

You shifted slightly, resting your chin on his chest, your fingers trailing along the edges of his shirt. You’d never quite figured out what to call this—this—between you two. It wasn’t quite a relationship, but it wasn’t just casual either. Maybe that’s what made it feel both so simple and so complicated.

Sirius felt the shift and glanced down at you, the cigarette still between his lips. His expression was a mix of quiet curiosity and something else—something less easily named. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice low and soft, like he knew there was more you weren’t saying.