Harry Potter One Shots

Style // s.b.

summary — you're the only one for sirius black and the thought overwhelms him.

word count — 3.3k

warnings — smoking cigarettes, intimacy issues, but lots of fluff.

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Y/N's bare feet padded along the wooden floor of her home as she shuffled towards the kitchen, the small, cozy home lit by a single lamp in the corner of her living room. Her eyes squinted as the light from inside her fridge illuminated the small space as she opened the door. She pulled out a pitcher of water and a glass from the cabinet, downing the cool liquid as it soothed her sore throat.

Her black heels had been discarded by the door, her hair that was once styled to perfection fell lazily along her shoulders. Still, she was clad in a tight, baby pink skirt that clung to her hips, a sliver of her skin showcased between the top of her skirt and the bottom of her black tank top. Last but not least, a leather jacket hung from her shoulders, too large to have been bought for herself, but a gift, a memory, that kept her warm.

Her girlfriends had dropped her off just moments ago before they continued on to their next club of the night, they insisted she come along, claiming, "the night is still young, Y/N/N" but the absence of a dark haired dream at her side the past two weeks plagued her more than she would like to admit it.

She was taken from her thoughts as a low engine hum sounded outside her door, her brows furrowed as she set her glass down on the marble countertop and glanced out the window facing her front yard. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, a black motorcycle with none other than her handsome, dark haired dream.

He shrugged off his helmet as she watched. Locks of dark hair fell perfectly as he removed the helmet, falling into place, a singular strand dancing closely between his dark eyes. His stark white tee shirt was a sharp contrast to his other strictly black clothing; dark jeans, a leather jacket and a pair of boots.

She rushed quickly to the door, opening before he could even knock softly. His eyes widened as he saw her, where once was a characteristically accurate straight lipped blank expression was now a gentle and charming grin, where his lips turned upward at the sight of the girl he longed to see.

He stepped forward, assuming the open doorway was a direct invitation, one he'd received many times before with how often he stayed at her house. But his brows quickly furrowed as the door moved to close, the gap between the two of them narrowing subtly. He immediately looked to her again, his eyes flitting between her own, searching for any discomfort or pain.

Her body was hidden behind the doorway, the swoop of her loose hair falling behind her shoulder, the black strap of her tank top being the only indication of her outfit. She swallowed when he made eye contact with her, finding it difficult to refuse him when he pleaded so softly to be with her.

The truth was, he hadn't stopped by in weeks. The last time he saw her he was leaving her bedroom in the early hours of the morning, she chased his lips for a trail of kisses as he reluctantly left for work, promising her he'd return that night; he never did. She spent the next week and a half in a pit of sorrow, his lively personality and euphoric touch being her favorite source of dopamine.

It wasn't until her girls dragged her from her bed that very day and convinced her to go out that she was able to regain balance on her own two feet. She was a confident woman, a strong character who held her own, and while she was perfectly capable of a life without such an intoxicating lover; she would rather not live without him.

"You were gone for two weeks, Sirius." She raised a brow, the slow hint of anger in her chest slowly unravelling, overshadowing any sorrow that she held on the frontlines.