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Getting out of bed is hard. Breaking from sleep, moving, opening your eyes, it’s so tiresome that one usually falls asleep immediately afterwards. Sirius was having difficulty with getting up not because of sleep, but there was a very large object asleep on his left arm. It was curvy and naked and smelt an awful lot like gardenia mint. There, perched on its side facing away from Sirius, it rudely slept on. This matter was to be handled in the same fashion as removing a band-aid: quickly. So, with a “Hunn!”, Sirius yanked his left arm out from underneath the body.


It moved.

“Mmmmmm,” it groaned.

Fixing his hand around on the floor, Sirius located his pants and began getting dressed. This was always the hard part of leaving after a one-night-stand. In a way, getting dressed and leaving should have been a national sport. It was, after all, played every single morning in some households across the country. Sirius stood up, and the room fell backwards on top of him like a deflating balloon. Hang over. Wonderful.

Belt, shoes, shirt, other shirt, jacket, good; he made for the door.

“Mmmmm,” it rolled over, “…Jack?”

Sirius froze with the doorknob in hand, “Hey…”

The woman sat up on her elbows to look at him. A pleasant previous night experience was seen in her glowing face.


“I have work,” Sirius lied.

“I remember,” she smiled and clutched a pillow nearby, her eyes making their way up and down, “I’ll hear from you some other time I suppose?”

Sirius cracked an aristocratic smile, “Of course,” he waved.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

Sirius was halfway down the third flight of stairs when he realized his wand was not in its usual place inside his jacket. Cursing himself a storm, Sirius bounded back up the stairs, recalling all the times McGonagall scolded him for forgetting his wand. A bit silly for a wizard, but Sirius always saw magic as being a bit pompous. But just as Sirius landed on the right floor, a muted explosion came from the apartment he was headed towards. Leaving no time to guess what it could be, Sirius apparated into the bedroom. No smoke or fire greeted him. No signs of danger, or open wires. The only thing terribly wrong about the room he just appeared in was the woman in bed. Sirius’s wand clutched in hand, she sat straight up against the headboard - dead.
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