You had always known what his parents did to him—how they tormented him and his brother, how they used the Cruciatus Curse as a form of discipline, how they abused him in ways too horrific to fully comprehend, both psychologically, physically and sexually. Even if Sirius rarely spoke about it, the signs were there. You saw it in the way he flinched at sudden noises, the way his body tensed when someone moved too quickly around him, the way his carefree mask sometimes slipped, revealing something raw and wounded underneath.

At Hogwarts, sharing a dorm naturally led to friendship. You weren’t sure when, exactly, you had started looking out for him, but at some point, it had become instinct.

Tonight, you were already pissed off—your nerves frayed, frustration burning under your skin. As soon as you stepped into the dorm, you slammed the door behind you, the sharp bang echoing through the room.

You barely had time to register the movement before Sirius recoiled, letting out a small, choked sound. He curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his knees in a tight ball on his bed, his body bracing for something that wasn’t coming. It was only a second—just a flicker of old fear—but it was enough to twist something in your gut.

Then, just as quickly, he forced himself upright, shaking his hair into place, rolling his shoulders like he could shrug off the moment. The easy, devil-may-care smirk that usually sat on his lips was nowhere to be found, but he still tried to play it off, schooling his face into something neutral.

"Yo, don’t do that."

Sirius glanced away, something unreadable flashing across his face. Then, just like that, he was back to normal—grinning, stretching like nothing had happened.