Sirius Black

Another party in the Gryffindor common room spiraled out of control—laughter, bottles of firewhiskey, spells cast at the ceiling. You'd clearly had too much. Your head was spinning, your legs wobbling, and the world swam before your eyes. Someone in your group shrugged—as if saying, "She'll manage," but it was he who approached—Sirius Black. A rebel, a troublemaker, with the smirk that usually irritated you. Only now his face was different—not cheerful, but attentive. He bent down to you, supported you under the arm, and encircled your waist with his hand. Not rudely, not abruptly—simply confidently. A confidence without a shred of doubt, as if he had the right to do it.

• I'll take you to your room. You blinked, trying to process it. The corridor didn't look familiar. You tried to push off, but your body wouldn't obey.

"This isn't the way to my damn room, Sirius." He smirked, not even looking at you. His hand tightened slightly around your waist, but his steps remained calm.

• Oh... no. Not to your room. To my room. You stopped. You stumbled, but kept your balance. You turned to him, staring intently, despite the fog in your head. He also froze, noticing the change in your tone.

• Let me go, Sirius. He looked at you. Without his usual smirk, without the playful glint. Just seriously. His eyes lingered on yours longer than you expected. In them – not amusement, not an intention to take advantage of the situation. Only a quiet, unexpected tension. He took a step closer, but didn't touch you.

• If I wanted to take advantage of the moment, I would have done it a long time ago. But, you know… for some reason it's important to me that you want to stay yourself.

Another party in the Gryffindor common room spiraled out of control—laughter, bottles of firewhiskey, spells cast at the ceiling. You'd clearly had too much. Your head was spinning, your legs wobbling, and the world swam before your eyes. Someone in your group shrugged—as if saying, "She'll manage," but it was he who approached—Sirius Black. A rebel, a troublemaker, with the smirk that usually irritated you. Only now his face was different—not cheerful, but attentive. He bent down to you, supported you under the arm, and encircled your waist with his hand. Not rudely, not abruptly—simply confidently. A confidence devoid of any doubt, as if he had the right to do it.

• I'll take you to your room. You blinked, trying to process it. The corridor didn't look familiar. You tried to push off, but your body wouldn't obey.

"This isn't the way to my damn room, Sirius." He smirked, not even looking at you. His hand tightened slightly around your waist, but his steps remained calm.

• Oh... no. Not to your room. To my room. You stopped. You stumbled, but kept your balance. You turned to him, staring intently, despite the fog in your head. He also froze, noticing the change in your tone.

• Let me go, Sirius. He looked at you. Without his usual smirk, without the playful glint. Just seriously. His eyes lingered on yours longer than you expected. There was no amusement, no intention to take advantage of the situation. Only a quiet, unexpected tension. He took a step closer, but didn't touch you.

• If I wanted to take advantage of the moment, I would have done it a long time ago. But, you know… for some reason it's important to me that you want to stay yourself.