Hungry

Sirius was doing nothing, he was back in his damned house after he'd thought he'd gotten away from it forever and he was doing nothing. He wasn't supposed to be doing nothing, but he was because doing what he was meant to be doing wasn't really doing anything at all. His thoughts didn't seem to make any sense these days, they hadn't really made any sense any days but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was stuck in the godforsaken house that was Number 12 Grimmauld Place and he was bored.

The door of his room creaked open and a house elf he was not particularly fond of stumbled in taking no heed of him and muttering under his breath. Sirius couldn't make out the words bar a few mentions of 'half-breeds' and 'mudbloods.' He wasn't particularly in the mood for demonic house elves, not that he ever was, and he glared at it. "Why don't you go make some food and be useful for once?" he growled impatiently. The creature did not reply but merely went on another muttered rant about taking orders from blood-traitors. Sirius really wasn't in the mood for this and headed towards the elf proclaiming loudly, "I'm so hungry I could eat a house elf!" The house elf looked up at him, eyes wide, acknowledging his presence for the first time, and upon seeing his dark gaze he then promptly scrambled out of the room shutting the door behind him.

Sirius smirked smugly at the closed door before returning to his thoughts of nothing.