Harry Potter Character Smuts and Oneshots

Sirius Black-Sadness

Sirius sighed, bringing the cigarette up to his chapped lips, and taking a long drag.

He looked up, light grey clouds littering the dull sky.

Exhaling the smoke, he could almost feel the rush of nicotine in his system, but maybe it was just the idea of smoking, after all, he has been doing it for so long that he felt nothing.

He pulled off his sunglasses with one hand as he snuffed a cigarette on the rocks which made up a fence of sorts, with the other, now looking ahead.

The waves crashed together, creating an almost ringing sensation in his ears. The sound of the seagulls blending into the background.

He inhaled deeply, a mixture of cigarette smoke and salt. Something he got used to over the last few years.

Kids played in the coarse sand, with brightly coloured buckets and spades, their parents overlooking their marvellous creations. Some were running in and out of the frigid water in board shorts and bikinis.

But there stood, Sirius, a black leather jacket, black jeans, combat boots and a white T-shirt. He did look out of place.

From afar, he looked like a goth-wannabe teenager, or even worse, a pervert.

But, if you happened to venture closer, you would see much, much more. The dark circles under his reddening eyes, the dampness on his cheeks and the unmistakable bruising on his left cheek and an old split on his lips. His hair moved lifelessly in the wind. He had a few days of stubble on his jaw.

She would be here any minute, he knew that for sure.

As if on cue, he heard you calling his name.

"Sirius!"

Straightening his posture, brightening his eyes and putting on his signature smirk, he spun around, greeted by the sight of you.

"You can't live without me, now can you, neighbour?" 

"Don't inflate your ego, Padfoot. Just came to check on you," you provided.

"And what prompted your 'check-up', hmm," he sings.

I paused.

"I heard them. Yelling."

He doesn't respond, the silence between us is filled with the sounds of the waves crashing in the distance and the wind against our ears.

I grabbed his hand, pulling him down onto the sand.

"I fucking hate sand," he grumbles.

"Then why do you come here, genius?"

He scowls.

We look out onto the grey waters of the ocean, a few seagulls overhead. It was peaceful, the sand was warm, from the earlier sunshine, contrasting the bitter sea wind.

I take a long look at his face, studying the soft lines.

"Come back to the house and I'll put some ice on it."

He looked at me, a tired expression on his face, making him look years older.

"I-I..."

"Don't worry, I'll sneak you through the back, they won't see you, I promise." I looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," he softly said.

—————

We materialized from thin air into my back garden, the sprinklers were on.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm so sorry." I curse as I thrust open the door and pull him into the doorway.

He seemed to be least affected, a few strands of hair plastered to his face, a couple of drops visibly running down his leather jacket.