Poison Ivy [Sirius Black]

IVY AND A MORAL DILEMMA

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𝕚𝕧𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕕𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕞𝕒

      EVERYBODY HAD AN OPINION ON how a person should act. Ivy's mother always said that evil begins when one treats a person like an object. But her mother always treated her objects better than she ever treated Ivy, so the girl was taking those ideas with a grain of salt and a bottle of wine.

      Said wine currently was being drunk profusely by one Sirius Black, who was currently lying backward, feet up against the wall. Ivy had thought she would walk back in with him sleeping, but instead, he was singing lyrics to some 80s muggle song that she didn't recognize. It played from the radio she vaguely remembered buying. It hadn't been for listening, as Ivy rarely did that, but rather for practicing a communication spell she had been working on. She dipped her head, watching the music blared from the speakers in vibrations that filled the room, surprised to see it play at all. Muggle technology was certainly resilient, considering she had performed a manner of spells on it that would have broken many other things.

      Sirius rolled over with a clumsy groan, taking a long gulp from the wine in a position that wouldn't make him choke. He had shaved, thankfully using the items she had left for him. He looked just as he had in Hogwarts, plus a few years, and she inspected him from the doorway. She saw the color had returned to him, plus a healthy weight instead of just skin and bones.

       His clothes were changed, and now he wore a white, loose V neck that showed his lean muscle. Over it was a blue, twine button-up with the sleeves pushed up. He looked just as he had in all her fantasies. Ivy would certainly never admit choosing many sexual partners based on his face. Perhaps she should have given him a less effective potion.

      She walked into the room fully, watching him turn towards her with a scowl. "What's with the wine?" Ivy asked, and he snorted.

         "There was no more whiskey," Sirius announced, standing up, his shoulder-length black hair messy and yet so beautiful. As he turned to her, his eyes heavy with what he had drunk, his feet and posture clumsy, he pointed at her with the bottle still in his hand. "You, Miss Ivy Evans."