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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BRIDGET HOUSE march, 1980
𝗗𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗔 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔 𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗔𝗨𝗥𝗢𝗥𝗦 who were increasingly sick of his witty comments and unserious jokes; they had gone ahead and fought in a death eaters attack which was initially planned in details, and Scarlet managed to decipher all the location and other information to snitch to Dumbledore. Thankfully, no Muggles or Order members were hurt that day. Success like those often put Sirius into a better mood. Thankfully, everything was improving. Sirius was less bitter, and he was finally learning to accept all the deaths he had encountered that previously left his in a turmoil of despair.
Regulus, Monty, Mia, even Orion, the devastation of the entire situation caused him crippling pain, and as the seasons went by, he was starting to come to terms with it all. The rage of it all twisted into sadness, finally, and he stopped refusing acknowledgement and assistance. At times, he would see a head of curly black hair in the chortling streets of London and think it might have been his little brother. Sometimes, there would be older couples by the lakes, feeding the ducks and he would get glimpses of Mia and Monty.
Somehow, all these people he loved and lost had a way to make their ways back to his mind —enveloping him with solace and warmth. In his head, the two people he chose to be his parents were still alive. In his crooked brain, Regulus was still alive. In the stars, brimming brightly down at him.
"Darling, I'm home," called out Sirius after entering through the wooden doors, shutting it and taking off his leather jacket in the abyss of darkness. "Lumos."
When the expanse lightened up, Sirius squinted his eyes to see Scarlet sitting in the living room silently, back straight and still figure on the sofa with a bottle of fire whiskey in her hand. He approached her softly, placed a palm on one side of her temple and kissed the other side of her head from the back. After moving around the sofa, and watching the light illuminating her face in glorious sadness, his heart felt alerted. His glance averted to the bottle in her hand, and it was not opened — as though she could not bear pouring the whiskey.
