Sirius Black

You never liked Sirius. Too loud, too cocky, always hexing someone in the corridor just to hear James laugh. He acted like Hogwarts belonged to him and flirted like your heart already did.

But it didn't.

He asked you out once. You laughed in his face.
Twice. You told him he was a walking migraine.
The third time, you said, "I won't go out with someone who bullies people and treats detention like a badge of honour."

This time, he didn't laugh. He just blinked, going quiet.

And then — he changed.

The jokes dulled. The chaos quieted. He stopped performing.
You started seeing him in study groups, sitting at the back, taking notes. He didn't interrupt classes. He didn't hex anyone, not even when Snape practically begged for it first.

And slowly, without asking for credit, he started showing up early to Charms. Stayed late at Defence Against the Dark Arts to ask questions. Sat in the far corner of the library, alone, poring over Transfiguration textbooks while the rest of the Marauders caused havoc.

You noticed. Of course you noticed.

And one night, months later, you found him in the Astronomy Tower. Head down, scribbling on parchment, a cup of cold tea beside him.