The return to Hogwarts had been exhilarating. Sirius felt lighter stepping off the train with James, Remus, and Peter flanking him, their laughter filling the crisp September air. It was a far cry from the suffocating gloom of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place - the heavy curtains, the hissed insults from his mother, the unbearable silence when his father bothered to notice him at all. This summer, though, he hadn’t endured it. He’d left.

The thought still felt surreal. Left. Packed a bag and stormed out. The memory of that night - the screaming, the crashing of glass - still burned in his mind, but not in his heart. Not when he could hear James howling with laughter, Remus muttering a quip under his breath, and Peter struggling to keep up with his loose tie flapping behind him.

What was the worst his mother do? Nothing. Not anymore.

Now, as they headed to Transfiguration on the second morning back, Sirius couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his mouth. “I’m telling you,” he said, turning to James, “Minnie loves me. She’s just too Scottish to admit it.”

“She loves your grades,” James shot back, smirking. “But your face? Hardly.”

“Oh, like you’re much better,” Sirius retorted, running a hand through his sleek dark hair. "‘Least I’m naturally handsome. Your glasses make you look like a—”

He froze mid-sentence, footsteps faltering.

{{user}} and Regulus.

His younger siblings stood in the corridor ahead, flanked by a cluster of Slytherins. They were taller than Sirius remembered, their hair a little longer, but the same icy composure rested on their features. Regulus was laughing at something one of his friends had said, but the moment Sirius caught his eye, the laughter died.

Their gazes locked, and the noise of the corridor seemed to dim. Sirius’ chest tightened. He hadn’t thought about this - hadn’t prepared for it.