I've recently become addicted to the random drabbles style of writing. And I adore the puppy love. So, even though I can't do any of the characters justice, I couldn't resist.

Being written by me, angst will creep in here at some point, but so far I am fighting it off with acceptable levels of success.

Just for the record, I (try to) write my Sirius as a lovably bonkers sex god and my Remus does not spend all his time running off to cry in corners. James is smarter than he lets on and slight unintentional Peter-bashing may occur.

Disclaimer: Do you get as bored reading these as I do writing them?

My name is Sirius Black. I always get what I want. This is because I am brilliant. I am also gorgeous, which doesn't hurt, and have enough charisma to drown in.

What? It isn't boasting if it's true.

As my dear mother likes to remind me, I am also a son of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. Cue the disdainful sniggering. Ancient is just about right, ancient and decrepit. Noble? By what fucking standards, if I may ask?

I knew from a very early on that I wasn't like them, with their narrow minded arrogance, their petty feuds and their prejudice. I love them because they are my family. That doesn't mean I have to like them.

When I told this to James he looked at me oddly and said that I was a raving lunatic. So of course I hit him, and then took great pains to explain how loving someone isn't a choice, while liking someone is. I think he gets it now. Actually, I think he got it from the beginning but was just trying to make me say it out loud.

Sneaky bastard.

James is the only person I can talk to about my family. I can talk to him about anything, and he always talks to me. We've been friends long enough to trust each other with our fears.

Except for the fear I have right now, as we sit together on our way to our first year at Hogwarts School of Magic. The fear that things will change when we get there. That he won't talk to a Slytherin (don't give me that old crap about it being a choice, there is no chance in hell a Black is going to be anything other than a Slytherin…) and that I'll become the kind of Black I spend my family gatherings glaring at and/or attempting to give food poisoning.

I haven't told him about that fear. That one mine and mine alone.

Mine alone…and mine to ignore for now, because life is too short to waste it worrying. Besides, it sounds like Jamie boy has a very interesting new hex he wants to try out, apparently involving tentacles. Maybe we can try it on the kid in the corner. Seriously, sleeping on the train is asking for it. I catch James' eye and jerk my head in sleeping beauty's direction.

James isn't looking so keen on the idea. Typical. Big softy. To be fair, the kid doesn't look too well. He's very pale, and very thin. He has a scar on his hand, too. I can just see it, running along his knuckles and onto his first finger.

Maybe we should find someone else - oh, James is going for it. Damn. It seems to be working, too, he's muttering and his wand is glowing and…

Shit!

No way. There is no way that kid deflected the hex without a wand. No one is that strong, no one our age. James is frozen in shock, staring at the scorch mark on the window. I can't break eye contact with the boy. His eyes are… they're almost like a frightened animal, wide and wary and ready to flee.

Well, this is very awkward.

The train chooses this moment to stop, and he's out the door before I can blink. Of course. So conveniently timed that it's just like a goddamn movie. I experience the interesting sensation of being simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

How odd.

My name is Sirius Black and I always get what I want. Right now I want to find out some more about the boy with the scar.