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If anyone else had walked into the train compartment and taken a perfunctory look, they likely would’ve assumed that Sirius Black was sleeping. He was face down on the grimy bench, lips slightly parted, yielding to shallow but loud breaths, his hair splayed wildly across his back, clothed in layers of undershirts and robes despite the early September heat.
But James Potter was not anyone else, and he understood that Sirius was not asleep. Sirius was in pain.
OR
The boys take care of Sirius on the Hogwarts Express after a rough summer.
Bookmarked by argondezaoito
12 May 2024
