1978 Sirius sits down between you and Remus at breakfast, briefly lifting his hips to adjust the way his trousers sit across his lap, before making himself comfortable on the oak bench. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and the collar above his jumper was raised. His top button was undone, and so was the bottom on, which was visibly poking out from underneath his jumper.

His silky, black hair was messy, as it always was at breakfast, and it’d remain that way until he would be bothered to go to the bathroom and fix it. His foot taps unconsciously on the floor, as he picks up two bits of buttered toast and places them on his plate, before piling on a ladle or two of beans. He cuts off a bitesized piece with the side of his fork.

“Mornin’.” He speaks, his raspy voice making it clear he’d only just woken up. He feeds himself the forkful.