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siriously_black

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BOYS GOSSIP TOO. [Sep. 9th, 2005|06:23 pm]
siriously_black
[mood |amusedamused]

In the boy’s wing of the Gryffindor tower, Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew sat on their respective beds, quietly finishing up Potions homework. The clock read 5 minutes before dinner and the only thing making any noise was the dainty scratching of quills… and Peter's stomach.

"Where is Remus," interrupted Peter.

“Probably stalking that dark-haired Hufflepuff girl,” said Sirius, sliding his quill behind one ear.

“He’s probably sorting things out with Dumbledore about the whole…you know,” James made a gesture with his hand.

“Snivillus,” chuckled Black, “Oh Remus, I didn’t think you had it in you…”

James shot a dirty look to the boy, “Not funny, Sirius, he’s in loads of trouble. Who says he’ll even recover from it? The Ministry will have a word-”

“I thought he has,” said Peter almost to himself.

“What?”

“I thought he already was cured,” Peter repeated.

Black slammed his book shut and jabbed his quill into the ink well balance atop his nightstand, “What ever the case may be, poor Lupin is stuck with him as a peer tutor.”

“We shan’t mock him about it,” instigated Potter.

“Oh no no, course not,” Sirius refrained from laughing.

“Can we eat now?”


Clare, darling, so sorry to use Peter. If you don’t like, tell me I’ll change it.
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(no subject) [Aug. 11th, 2005|09:33 am]
siriously_black
[mood |blahblah]

It was torture to be stuck inside all day. Sirius longed to go out and visit his friends but Black Senior was strictly against, and showed no sign of budging. This left the young boy in his room to his own devices and on this particular day, he stood on a ladder pasting articles from The Daily Prophet about TheWorld Quidditch Cup onto his wall.

Stepping back to admire his handy work, Regulus slouched into his bedroom’s doorframe.

“Your room is looking awfully tacky, Sirius,” he said dryly.

“See what I care,” said Sirius tossing his bangs off his face, “I rather like being surrounded by things I love.”

Regulus snorted.

“You want to go tease the goul in the North wing?”

Sirius sighed, “Maybe some other time. I have a few chapters of Potions to read up on before school starts.”

“Suit yourself.”
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THIS IS LIKE HELL. ONLY LESS FUN. [Aug. 3rd, 2005|07:43 pm]
siriously_black
[mood |bitchybitchy]

MY FATHER IS MAKING ME WEAR PURPLE.
PURPLE DRESS ROBES.

CLEARLY I WANT TO DIE NOW.
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Buying Time [Jul. 19th, 2005|10:21 am]
siriously_black
[mood |gloomygloomy]

A very bored Sirius Black stood in the entrance hall to number twelve Grimmauld Place clutching a black nap sack and waiting for his father to finish giving the last minute orders to Nana, the head maid. Sirius sighed and shifted weight to his other foot. There was a noise like the shuffling of bricks at the top of the stairs; Sirius looked up to spy Regulus glaring between the banister railings. Sirius gave his brother the same icy gaze he was receiving.

After a moment of stare down, Black turned his attention to the hallway where a very tall, attractive looking man with black hair, two strips of gray ran from either side of his head to the back, entered. He was managing a pair of black leather gloves over his broad hands. Sirius shifted his weight again and sighed.

Mr. Black didn’t pay much attention to his son as he took his robe off the peg next to him and brushed passed into the doorway.

“Come, Sirius, much to do,”

“I don’t want a dress robe,” said Sirius under his breath.

“Sirius, please,” Mr. Black warned, “It’s tradition.”

Tradition, thought Sirius, annoyed with the word use of it. Whenever an argument arose, the upper hand always went to the one who mentioned how ‘tradition’ did this. ‘Tradition’ holds that, as if the word solved every possible situation. Sirius was beginning to loathe the customs his family came to uphold with fierce pride. His father walked in front of him with honor in his in step. Cloak dramatically billowing out behind him. Sirius cursed him under his breath, threw the nap sack over his shoulder and followed suit, taking extra care to avoid stepping in the damp footprints his father left behind.
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GAG GRIMMAULD - GAG [Jun. 26th, 2005|01:23 pm]
siriously_black
[mood |boredbored]

Safe in my room.

Clipped out some interesting pictures from a magazine today. One showed a man eating 11 patties on a sandwich, the other a very pretty girl licking a four scope ice cream.

I do say that all sounds a bit arousing.


Where are my friends?!
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"WORKING" [Jun. 12th, 2005|04:46 pm]
siriously_black
Sirius took to his favorite chair in the library after Transfiguration. Opening his leather bound notebook that his father gave him earlier that year, Sirius pulled out random papers in hopes of making the illusion that he was deep in studying.

However, his eyes wandered from the page to the restricted section of the library. Now sporting a freshly painted sign that hung above the entrance.

Restricted Section.
Licensed to Staff Only


That was a lie.

Everyone knew that if you were smart enough, obtaining a note from a professor would easily grant you access. Be as it may, though, Sirius was not a highly intelligent child. His strength lie in other areas, but I’m getting a head on myself.

The boy kept a keen eye on the bookshelves behind the fence. He would need to be familiar with the area for later affairs.
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I'll kill ya' if I catch ya' [Jun. 6th, 2005|08:30 pm]
siriously_black
[mood |crankycranky]

WHO TOOK MY GREEN WIDE-TOOTH COMB?
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Working. [May. 28th, 2005|08:48 pm]
siriously_black
Sirius peeled the label off a bottle of spring water with care so the entire paper came off in one piece. The Great Hall dinner rush was over, but many students still lingered over their sausages and potatoes. Talking, making idle gossip, copying each other’s notes. Rumor had it McGonagall was going to give the 3rd years a quiz on chapter 11 tomorrow, covering material that was only mentioned today. Those who heeded the warning were now pouring over their texts. Those who could care less were no where to be seen.

Sirius was in either crowd.

On his own accord he choose to stay at the dinner table to finish up his shepherds pie. A piece of parchment laid in front of the dish. Spots of grease from the meat accented the page while a bottle of blue ink sported the right hand corner. With his left hand, Black forked food into his mouth. With his right he scribbled.

10 Reasons to Charm your Enemy

He got all the way down to number 6 when he was interrupted by an annoying voice.

“You never stop don’t you?”
“Bite me, Redmond.”

Alice Redmond planted her hands firmly to her hips.

“I didn’t see you in History today,” she said, echoing the owl from Remus.

Sirius picked his head up as if the statement was offensive.

“You’re the second person to tell me that,” he said.
“Well?”
“Well it’s true.”
“No, well; where were you?”
“I was around.”

Wow she can be bossy.

“Do you need my notes?” she said, suddenly switching the conversation from accusation to support-system-101. In a mild state of disbelief, Sirius stared at the roll of parchments she extended out to him.

“Why are you letting me copy your notes?”

Alice’s face looked like a thermometer rising in degrees.

“Because," she stuttered,"Because...you’re so ungrateful!” she snapped. Pulling the papers back into her robes she turned on heal so fast, her ponytailed frizzy hair spun round like a whip crack. When Alice reached the door Sirius called out in a calm, mild-manner;

“...BUT THANKS FOR THE OFFER.”
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