𝒐. in which scarlet bridget is the epitome of everything sirius black hates.
━━━ ❛ somewhere along the way, I realised it's always been you ❜ 'ˎ˗
book I of the fatal flaw series
sirius black 𝒙 fem!oc
marauders era
rosyclarissa, 20...
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𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗬 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗦 nearby Hogwarts to get herself a new coat. Not that anything was wrong with her old one and not that she preferred a different one, she just wished for two of the same—preferably black leather that reached down to her knees.
Her black-heeled boots clicked against the cobblestone as she walked down the downtown, keeping her chin elevated.
Strolling past Borgin and Burkesf, a strange sight caught her eye. Allowing her curiosity to get the best of her, she peeked through, placing her sunglasses on her face and allowing the large hat atop her head to keep her face hidden to the best of her ability.
The customers in the shop seemed unusual, dressed in pitch-black head to toe. Despite her knowledge of odd individuals frequently attending the peculiar shop, it didn't seem like normal freaky people buying freaky artworks to conduct freaky experiments.
It seemed like a ritual of some sort. Some clapped, others patted the back of the individual at the point of attention.
Staring into the small shop, the ringing from yesterday intensified in her brain. She whipped her head to the front, averting her gaze and walking away from the scene. For a mere moment, she felt attracted to the place, as though the devil placed a magnet on her back.
Shaking herself away, she stomped forward, trying to stroll far away from the odd shop and the people it held.
There was a faint, musky fragrance lingering in the air, emitted from the swarms of flowers stacked into every crevice near the end of the road which consisted of a variety of flower shops.
Now, you know what sort of people you never expect at a flower shop, people like Sirius Black. Of all people she could have stumbled upon when she wanted to be left alone.
When he noticed her, he leaned against the shelves, an extravagant bouget of red tulips wedged between his clamped hands. As usual, he was wearing his signature smirk like a polished badge.
"What are you doing here?" She arched a brow, squinting her eyes and looking around to make sure she—in fact—was by the florists' shops.
Sirius gestured to the flamboyant bouquet in his own hands. "Oh, these old things... they are for Professor McGonagall."
Scarlet immediately spluttered at that ridiculous revelation, laughing dryly. But Sirius' expression remained rigid, indifferent. "Oh, you're not joking."
