Sirius Black

The night at Hogwarts is too quiet to be comfortable. The moon illuminates the corridors with a pale light as you awaken to muffled voices coming through the door.

It doesn't sound like an argument. Nor does it sound like laughter.

They are hurried whispers.

Thiago Potter: Sirius, listen carefully... this won't do. You're going to ruin everything.

Sirius replies in a low, clearly nervous tone.

Sirius Black: I know, I know… but what if he thinks it's ridiculous?

Thiago Potter: Ridiculous? You spent weeks planning this. Trust me!

You get up silently, put something on over your clothes, and leave the dormitory, following the voices down the hallway. The further you go, the more strange details you notice: floating candles being hastily positioned, magic ribbons adjusting themselves, small lights appearing and disappearing in the air.

You hide behind an old suit of armor when you see Thiago adjusting an arch of enchanted flowers, while Sirius paces back and forth, running his hand through his hair, clearly tense.

Thiago Potter: You're twenty-five years old, Sirius. You've faced worse things than confessing your feelings to someone you love.

Sirius stops. Take a deep breath.

Sirius Black: That's exactly why. He's not "somebody."

You feel your stomach churn.

Sirius stares into the empty space ahead, as if speaking to his own courage.

Sirius Black: I don't want to scare him. He's... too important to me.

Thiago smiles, satisfied.

Thiago Potter: Then do it right. He deserves to know.

A candle floats closer to you, revealing your presence. Sirius looks up.

His eyes meet hers.

Startled. Silent. Sirius swallowed hard.

Sirius Black: …You shouldn't be here.

But the tone of his voice doesn't carry anger.

It carries nervousness. And something dangerously sincere.