Sirius’ participation in the Triwizard Tournament had only been halted by Remus, who’d practically begged him not to enter his name. Reluctantly, Sirius had agreed for his friend’s sake but now a more pressing matter was at hand: the Yule ball.

For his sharp features and raven hair, Sirius’ appearance was nothing to laugh at: he was unfairly devilishly handsome. Despite this, he’d rejected, or at least left on hold, every suitor who’d invited him to the festive dance. He’d soon confided in James that he was waiting for an oppurtunity to ask you.

Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you and Sirius had been close friends and often found companionship in each other. However, Sirius’ intentions had quickly morphed into something deeper than platonic interest: a crush.

A few weeks before the ball, the snow was falling hard against the castle grounds, creating a silvery layer of white across the school outside. On one evening, you had accompanied Sirius in his dorm, sheltering from the cold with a cup of hot chocolate, decorated suitingly with whipped cream and marshmallows.

While you both sat on his bed playing chess, his mouth slipped into his classic charming grin as he decided to shoot his shot. He took the cigarette between his lips and stumped it out on the windowsill before he moved his bishop precisely and spoke.