Sirius kept winning Quidditch matches. And every time, he threw a party.

It was always the same. Loud music in the common room. Butterbeer bottles lined up like trophies. The wireless on full volume. Girls laughing too loudly. James showing off with a broom still in his hand.

And Sirius standing near the fireplace, grinning like he didn’t care.

But he always cared. Because he always looked at the door.

You had broken up months ago. Quietly. No dramatic shouting, no tears in the corridor. Just a quiet conversation after a full moon, your voice tired and his hands in fists. You told him you couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t say much. Just watched you go.

After that, the parties started. Always after a win. Always with the unspoken hope that you’d show up.

Everyone else thought he was just celebrating. That Sirius Black partied because he loved being the center of attention. But James knew. Remus knew. Even Lily figured it out eventually.

He threw them for you.

Just in case you decided to come.

Sometimes he’d leave a note near your books. Nothing obvious. Just a folded scrap with “Tonight?” written in that sharp, lazy script. Sometimes he passed you in the library and asked if you were coming. Always with that crooked smile, pretending it was casual.

You never did.

Until one night, you stood outside the portrait hole. The music was already thumping through the stone walls. Someone inside shouted your name.

And then his voice, louder than the rest.

“Hey—i uh..are you going to the party?”