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Sirius never discussed his past. After over a dozen years in Azkaban, and the world outside of it must feel so foreign to him. Yet there were many things that made you wonder, about the man he was, the man he used to be, about how he’d grown and changed. The muggle posters are still on the walls of his teenage room, and he only took them down after you joked about them. He was a Gryffindor; yet secretive in talking about his school days. After the dementors, maybe not much was left. You had no idea what it was like, except that it was bad. And how could you, if he avoided the topic?
Sirius never talked about his family. They spoke for themselves, through Kreacher and through the paintings that yelled slurs at you as you walked by. He told you to pay it no mind. When you offered to burn down the painting, as it was stuck on with magic that neither of you seemed to be able to remove, he laughed it off. You wondered when he’d feel ready to face that part of himself.
He dressed like his old self, however. In rich velvet jackets, red hinting to a leftover of house pride, with a picture of his old friend group tucked in the inside pocket. The beard he kept. Once a rebel, always a familial disgrace.
When you started coming over more frequently, the two of you cleaned the entire place one day, in the spring. He lifted you in the air, and you laughed as he hoisted you up so you could reach the high chandeliers in the hallway. The finishing touch was a vase of wildflowers that you picked on the school grounds, enchanted to last longer. His eyes were fond as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you work your magic, bringing colour back into his old home.
Every time he revealed something new about himself, felt like a flower opening up in the light of a new day. That day, it was his old motorcycle. It was much like Hagrid’s one; an experiment of magic and muggle technology and felt decidedly unsafe. It was against anyone’s advice to take the thing out for a drive, but that didn’t matter as no one would know. Sirius was good at secrets.
He held you close to his chest, his breath tickling the top of your head, one arm around your waist, as he guided the enchanted vehicle through the air. You hoped the cloaking charms were strong enough, but tonight was not for worrying. If there’s anything Sirius encouraged in you, it was to live in the moment and forget about all but him.
He took you to one of the highest roof tops of London, a bank, or flat, or some other place no soul would go. The stars were high and bright, even with the light pollution of the city. You couldn’t decide what you’d rather watch, the stars in the sky or the twinkling city bustling below you. Sirius had already decided, though, and didn’t take his eyes off you.
“Did we really come all this way just for you to stare at me?” you joked. He grinned and leaned back on his elbows. “You can do that at home.”
“I’m sure it must feel like you have a strange husk of a man as your lover,” he started, out of the blue, and stared at the sky to avoid your eyes. “Azkaban was… it took so much away from me. Not just the time… but the memories. Everyone from my past is either dead or all grown up, has a life without me. There are few good things of my life before it that I can recall. And now, there is you…”
You shifted closer to him, pressing your head against his shoulder. “I don’t expect you to tell me, especially not all at once.”
He looked at you, pressed a kiss to your temple, his beard tickled against your crown. He smelled nice, comforting like a family dog.
“The wind up here is real nice,” he said, the gratitude thick in his voice. “It’s so good to be free again.”
You’re stunned at his vulnerability. This may be the first time he’s ever acknowledged the impact his captivity had on him to you. He lays back on the concrete, pulling you with him, flush against his chest.
“We’ll just have to make new memories,” you say softly, curling into him. “Better ones, ones so good you forget about the bad.”
“Is that a promise?” The baritone of his voice made his chest vibrate and you lift your head to peck a kiss on his lips.
“Of course.”
“Then, let’s swear together.” He sat up suddenly, rousing you, and you shifted to sit in front of him, cross-legged. He held out his hand and you gripped it, thumbs pressing together. “I, Sirius Black, swear that I will take you, Jasmine Daly, on many great adventures, and during these adventures I will keep you safe, and make sure that we will go home to each other.”
“I, Jasmine Daly, love you, Sirius Black, and I will be by your side for as long as you want me. I will do everything I can to fill your life with happy memories. Together we will share a most wonderful life.”
He pulled you closer and kissed you desperately. “My woman, my beautiful woman, what did I do to deserve you? You’ve already given me so much good in this wretched life.”
You laugh as he peppered your face and neck in tickly kisses.
“What did I do to deserve you?” you retorted, pressing his face close and kissing him properly.
The stars were witness to a love greater than most, on that high London rooftop. Once you returned home, the portraits were asleep. No insults before bed tonight. You slept easy in his arms, the arms of the man who cherished you unlike any other, who brought laughter into your life like no one else could. Every small moments spent with him carried you on wings throughout the week to come.