@evolviing liked this for a starter (Sirius and Danielle)
“What do you think?” Sirius, in an old habit of nerves, the only indication he let himself show now, brushed back the single curl of black hair that had fallen into his eyes, the rest tied behind his head. It was a windy morning on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, quiet but for the distant singing of birds and the scuffling of gnomes.
The house, like most in the area--the Weasleys down the hill, the Lovegoods a bit further North, the Fawcetts not well beyond that--was small but charming, built up rather than out, and tilted dangerously to one side, held up only by magic. But as there was only three of them living in it, it had more than enough space, and he’d thought the neighbors would be the selling point: not a lot of townfolk to gawk and gossip over “the chosen one” and the former escaped convict, and a handful of Harry and Danielle’s classmates and DA pals just a short walk away. The Diggories, from what Sirius had found out since leaving Number 12, had moved a few months back. He couldn’t blame them. He knew what it was like to live in a haunted house, and Mr. and Mrs. Diggory had lost a son they actually loved, not a mother, father, and brother they despised.
“We can get something bigger. Somewhere else,” he offered immediately. “Money’s not a problem. I just thought you and Harry might like to be close...but if you’d rather...” He trailed off. He had not felt this nervous since he’d first asked Harry to come live with him just after escaping Azakaban, the night Peter had gotten away, a few months before he’d found Danielle at that orphanage. He had had just enough time to see that she was alive--though hardly what he’d call “okay”--before he’d been spotted, a giant dog in the window the mistress of the place had chased away. And so he’d had to run again, once more leaving the last two people who meant anything--who meant everything--to him in this world.
By all intents and purposes, things were better now: Sirius had screwed his head back on (for the most part), healed enough to look human, to look a bit more like the handsome, promising young man professors had sworn would “go places one day;” and since the fiasco with the DA at the ministry, Sirius had been officially cleared of all charges (though thanks to Bellatrix, he’d very nearly died int he ffort). Not that that had spared them from filthy looks from everyone they’d passed in the town of Devon below: mothers grabbing their children by the shoulder and steering them in the other direction, muggles taking out their phones to call hotlines on instinct, witches and wizards fingering their wands nervously in their pockets. Another reason the quiet hill was appealing.
