Oops! Această imagine nu respectă Ghidul de Conținut. Pentru a continua publicarea, te rugăm să înlături imaginea sau să încarci o altă imagine.
𝐭𝐰𝐨
Oops! Această imagine nu respectă Ghidul de Conținut. Pentru a continua publicarea, te rugăm să înlături imaginea sau să încarci o altă imagine.
no.12 Grimmauld Place, London, England, 2015
"You should have seen the look on Mr. D's face, I don't think I've ever seen it turn that purple, and he's the god of wine." Sirius barked out a laugh, he hadn't felt this carefree in years. Sitting on this couch, listening to the stories Lyra was telling him about her childhood at camp, he felt normal again.
"And you were how old when this happened?" He asked, referring to the small accident with Lyra's charmspeak she'd just described
"Seven!" Lyra chirped, a bright smile on her face.
"You really are my daughter," Sirius ruffles her hair like he'd done when she was a child, "using your gifts for mischief."
Lyra rests her head on his shoulder. It had been so long since she'd spent time with him, all of her memories of their time together were vague. She was glad to have him back, yet something had been weighing heavily on her mind. Staring into the fire, she finally plucked up the courage to bring it up.
"Dad?" Her voice was hesitant.
Sirius hummed quietly, stroking his daughter's hair, "yes, Little Star?"
"Why-"
The sound of a door opening and closing cut Lyra off, jolting the father-daughter duo out of their little world. Muffled voices could be heard from downstairs, barely carrying up toward the sitting room, a floor above.
