It was another of these Friday nights when Sirius just couldn’t sleep. Instead he was now leaning on the railing in the astronomy tower, a fag between his index and middle finger.

He often came up here when he couldn’t sleep or just wanted to think.

The wind blew through his inky curls and his grey eyes were focused on something in the distance. He lets out a small huff as he exhales the smoke of his cigarette.

He was so sunken in thoughts that he didn’t even hear you coming up the stairs.