A/N: Sirius as a semi-awkward teenage boy? No leather? No hordes of Hogwarts students as his subjugated sex slaves? What is this atrocity that I'm writing? A semi-realistic Sirius love story, or at least trying to. I am probably going to fail horribly. Fail or not, I am going to have a blast writing this. Also, the current M rating has not yet been earned; it will be, though. Due to the nature of ffdotnet and their rules, when that M rating is thoroughly earned, if you want to read the truly naught bits you will have to read them on my LJ. The link to which is in my profile.

A giant, overwhelming flood of thanks to Project Team Beta. This chapter would still be sitting in a corner picking it's nose if it weren't for the amazing beta job I received from the betas I was provided. (I am totally not sure if it's kosher to thank them by screen name since we aren't, you know, going steady, so I'm not. Unless I should. Holy crap, beta etiquette is something I fail at.) So any mistakes you find here are mine from my last minute tweaking, because the beta job this chapter received was flawless.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter One

1973

It's not so much that either of them lose their virginity, like it's something they misplace and spend time searching for afterward; it's rather more of a cheerful bon voyage, mon vieil ami! with kisses pressed to palms and then tossed carelessly outward, caught by strangers or falling into the sea. They're both fourteen; she with half grown hips and nervous fingers, he with a cracking voice and the faintest sprinkling of fresh new hairs on his chest.

He finishes almost directly after she thinks oh well, this is rather pleasant now, isn't it? So there is a double ache between her legs, pain and something that is not-pain but feels very much like it, so for days she will be crossing-uncrossing-crossing-uncrossing her legs and shifting awkwardly in her seat during classes. He rolls to the other side of the bed, but it's small, so they're touching right down the middle; shoulders and elbows and ribs, hips and thighs and her leg over his.

"You're bleeding," he points out, looking quite leery of it. She shrugs - oh well - and smiles.

"I'm fine." She assures him, before she's sitting up and then leaning over, her curls like spun gold in the afternoon sunlight. They tease the side of her breast, her stomach, her hip as she kisses the corner of his mouth; it's not sexual or romantic, this kiss. It's friendly...trusting. He likes it - trust, that is. It's an intoxicating thing to have. "Thank you, Sirius. I'm glad it was you."

"Yeah?" He grins, hair sticking to the sweating line of his long neck. "Good, then. You'll let me know how it turns out with the other bloke?"

"As long as you promise to be nice."

"When am I ever not nice, Riley?"

She snorts, he laughs, and they're both relieved, because in the back of their minds there was a fear that the second they were naked in bed together, giving and taking each other's virginity like gifts (it was only convenience, really, that's all), that everything would be different. Like maybe they wouldn't be allowed to be friends anymore, because friends don't shag.

Except maybe they're the kind of friends that can. And that's alright.

When Sirius Black finds Wynne Riley hiding in the little room behind Penelope Devereox's portrait on the seventh floor, mascara ringing her wet eyes and her nose red and raw from use of the tissues littering the floor near the rubbish bin (a Chaser in the rough she obviously is not), Sirius knows something is wrong. Not just because of the tears, but because she isn't put together; most the third year girls fall into hysterics when they think something has smudged.

"Are you trying to flood the place?" asks Sirius in a mixture of concern and discomfort, dropping his bag in the floor and hovering at the end of the sofa. What is he supposed to do? He wonders, and then tries to surmise Remus's actions in Sirius's position...probably offer her chocolate and a shoulder to cry on.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sirius pulls out a half eaten bar of Honeydukes' Best and a few Bertie Botts; he plucks the lint off before thrusting it all towards Wynne, a bit of an peace offering.

"S-s-shut up," she stutters, gulping back tears in an effort to appear fine, just fine. Sirius is rather proud to note, though, that she accepts the Honeydukes with something like gratefulness in her eyes. "Why a-aren't you in c-c-class?"

"B-b-because it's b-b-boring. Bloody Binns."

Taking a bite of chocolate, Wynne nods in agreement, even smiling a bit at his friendly mocking as Sirius falls on to the sofa with her. He is reminded of several months ago, when they were pressed together down the middle; except now it is just their thighs, their shoulders, with far too much blank space and clothing in the middle to truly mimic that winter afternoon.

"Alright," he sighs, "What's happened, then?"

"It w-wasn't Donovan Slaughter," Wynne admits, plucking a new tissue from the package in her lap. It takes Sirius a minute to realize what she's talking about, but it clicks, and he realizes she's talking about the shagging. The reason she asked him - she'd said, then, I really like Donovan - oh, you know, the Ravenclaw keeper? But he's so much older than me, I don't want him to know I'm still a virgin...so I thought you could help me with that. Alright?

"Shove off," Sirius elbows her with only moderate force, curiosity lighting his gaze. "You're always with Slaughter. Thought you two were going to break up, or at least have a duel after the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match in February, though."

"Like I was going to root for Ravenclaw," Wynne snorts, giving Sirius an outraged look. He's pleased to note she has stopped crying. "It's not like he was cheering when you lot scored."

"Might have made for an interesting match, though. Anyway," Sirius draws the word out pointedly, "It wasn't about Slaughter, then?"

"No, don't be mad - I thought everyone knew, really...Donovan is seeing Finn Talbot - he's a Hufflepuff sixth year. We're just good friends, Donovan and I. And Finn as well."

"Oh. My Uncle Alphard has a...gentleman friend of that nature - I understand. So alright, obviously you haven't been sneaking off and shagging Slaughter in the middle of the night - who is it, then?" A sudden, terrible thought occurs to Sirius, and he gives Wynne a sideways glance that is caught between fear and outrage. "It's not a Slytherin, is it?"

"Really, Sirius, you can't possibly think a Slytherin would be willing to shag a mud-blood like me." Tone dry, Wynne eyes Sirius as he grimaces at the slur - it always reminds him of his mother, straight backed and haughty and hateful.

"Riley," he snaps, a short warning. She shrugs.

"What? Its true. Certainly not a Slytherin - no, I've...I've been seeing Professor Molyneux."

Sirius is so startled he actually manages to choke on his own saliva, even flailing and jerking in sharp movements. It seems shock has caused him to lose control of his body.

"What?" Voice cracking mightily, Sirius gives Wynne a wide eyed stare. "Are you - a professor?"

"I - I love him. He said he - he loved me, too, and t-that - after I left Hogwarts, he was going to take me to F-France, and w-w-we were going to live in the village w-where he grew up, a-and -" Breaking into tears one more, Wynne hides her face behind her hands, curling in on herself like a crumpled piece of parchment. "

"Oh - hey, Riley, don't - it's okay -" Sirius isn't sure exactly how to go about comforting a girl who is obviously devastated over a bloke, but he figures tossing a dungbomb in her face to make her laugh probably won't work. (It generally cheers James up, though.) Instead he gingerly puts an arm around her, a bit surprised when she turns into his grasp.

She ends up with her face hidden against his shoulder, crying so hard he's going to have a great wet-spot on his jumper. She's got her arms around his waist, clinging to him like he's the last solid thing she's got in the world. Sirius just lets her hold on and cry, because really, what else can he do?

"We're third years. That's...that's pretty creepy." He feels the need to point out when Wynne's tears begin to slow. Sirius is all for daring acts and finding out the password to the Slytherin common room by dragging Regulus around in a headlock (and then giving said password to Peeves), but he is rather profoundly uncomfortable at the thought of a professor sleeping with his classmate.

Not just because it's Riley, who he's had a soft spot for when she hid him and James in a broom cupboard their first year (and proceeded to convince McGonagall that she hadn't seen either of them down that particular corridor). Not even because in January they fumbled their way into his bed, though he found afterward he had developed a bit of a proprietary air when it came to her. (Well really, if he didn't have the right to steal her Charms notes and ignore her threats of violence, who does?)

No, it is because the whole thing isn't very...loyal, is it? Professors take a vow to advance knowledge and protect their students; not to use an accent and position to lure girls in.

"I k-know!" She wails. "T-that's not even the w-worst, though! I - we were - we shagged, alright? We s-shagged lots, that's who I was s-sneaking out to meet at night - a-and t-this morning after Defense I sneaked b-back to the classroom to see him, a-and - he was in his o-o-office with stupid Millie Hollingberry! That s-stupid Hufflepuff with tits t-that are j-just -"

Wynne throws herself backwards, creating enough distance between their bodies that she can hold her hands out in front of her own chest.

"Engorgement charm!" She deplores loudly. "S-she has to be using a s-stupid Engorgement charm!"

Sirius takes a hold on the hand that is still gripping the chocolate bar, bringing it firmly to Wynne's mouth. She gulps back tears before taking a large bite, earning herself a comforting pat on the back.

"He's a wanker," Sirius announces, with no small amount of malice. "Don't cry over him anymore, okay? An idiot like that isn't worth it, Riley."

"I'm just - I f-feel so stupid!"

"You're not stupid. He's just a creep."

It takes a while, but Wynne does manage to cry herself out. Mind, her eyes and nose are raw, and when she first stands, she shuffles and then staggers like a drunk.

"Thank you," Wynne about half-whispers before they leave the little room. The hug she gives Sirius is tight and warm. "Don't let it get around and ruin your reputation, but you're a really sweet boy."

"Yeah, well..." Sirius shrugs uncomfortably, ruffling her hair.

Later, he sits behind her in Transfiguration, kicking the underside of her chair when McGonagall's back is turned. When the class ends, Wynne threatens to break his foot he ever repeats that particular performance, but her smile is genuine - though small - making Sirius feel as though he has accomplished something rather good.

(And when the day ends, and he and his friends are safely ensconced in their dorm room, where there are no ears to overhear, Sirius explains why Molyneux's life at Hogwarts is about to become incredibly difficult.)

Three weeks before the summer holiday, Bernard Molyneux storms into the Great Hall. A trunk and rather large case bob along behind him, clunking into each other at odd intervals.

He is covered in large, yellow boils and leaves behind him a strongly smelling trail of a thick, viscous liquid.

"I've had it!" He shouts, accent far less pronounced than it is when he is attempting to charm his students. "These students are left loose like mad dogs - at Beauxbatons, little monsters of this nature would have been expelled - non, they never would have been admitted!"

"Bernard?" Dumbledore questions, look rather stunned. His beard is flung over his right shoulder, and a fork is lifted halfway to his mouth. "I take it - er - there has been a...problem?"

"Problem? Problem?" So enraged he cannot speak, Molyneux settles for flailing in a violent expression of rage.

"Is that Bubotuber pus?" questions Professor Sprout, who doesn't look nearly as upset as she probably should after discovering a large percentage of her stores covering a fellow professor. (After the fifth year Ravenclaw and Slytherins witnessed a rather frightful row behind Greenhouse Six between the two professors, it became commonly theorized that the two had - at least briefly - been lovers. Sirius rather thinks it has more to do with the fact that Molyneux was caught leaving Mollie Hollingberry - or so Sirius overheard while lurking outside the staff room.)

Molyneux begins to rage in French. Remus and Sirius both gape a long moment, before Remus slants a glance towards Sirius and asks, "Did he just say - 'with a goat?' Really?"

"Forget the goat, did you catch the bit about teaching idiots like us being as painful as rupturing one's bollocks?"

James appears oddly flattered.

"It's so nice to have our effort recognized," he sighs, putting a hand to his chest. "I'm just - so overcome with emotion!"

"I quit!" shrieks Molyneux with a violent flail of his arms, sending undiluted Bubotuber pus flying. A little Ravenclaw first year shrieks as some splashes, thick and immediately painful, across the side of her face. "Find someone else to attempt and train these monstrous little dunderheads - I won't stay a moment longer!"

A massive blister on his neck breaks open, and begins to ooze foul smelling pus down his robes. The Hall is abnormally silent as their Defense Against the Dark Art teacher marches away, cursing loudly (and crudely) in a blazing mixture of French and English.

Once his ranting has faded, all heads swing to the high table. Professor Sprout appears oddly satisfied, nodding quite smugly at Professor McGonagall. She, in turn, seems to be profoundly unimpressed by her former colleague's dramatic departure.

The staff whispers amongst themselves for a short moment, before the Headmaster takes to his feet.

"It seems since Professor Molyneux has - ah - decided to leave us early, I will be filling in as professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm quite sure we will somehow muddle on, however. That being said, carry on - and Miss Jenner, please take Miss Lively to the Hospital Wing. Thank you." He takes his seat once more, and applies himself to the remainder of his lunch.

"Good job, lads." Remus lifts his pumpkin juice, much less concerned than usual about keeping a low profile after a successful prank has been pulled. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"Here, here!" Peter clinks his goblet against Remus's, grinning.

"Excellent table manners, boys," Professor Sprout takes care to remark while passing the Gryffindor table on her way out. (James has gravy on his chin, and Peter is bemoaning freshly spilled pumpkin juice staining his robes.) "Twenty points a piece to Gryffindor."

After lunch, while Sirius is simultaneously making his way towards Charms and finishing his Charms essay, Wynne slides up beside him.

"How did you boys manage to break into Professor Sprout's store room and get her Bubotuber pus?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Riley," Sirius assures her quickly, kicking Peter in the ankle to keep him quiet. Rolling her eyes, Wynne threads her arm through Sirius's, pulling him to a halt. Peter pauses as well, still holding Sirius's ink well aloft, looking rather confused on if he should remain or go ahead. Remus settles the matter by sighing rather heavily through his nose, taking Peter by the back of the robes and pulling him along.

"I know you told them," Wynne jerks her head towards James, who is waggling his eyebrows as he continues by. "About...what happened."

"Yeah, well," feeling vaguely uncomfortable, Sirius shrugs, not quite able to meet her gaze. "They won't tell anyone else. And they aren't going to...judge you, or anything."

"Seeing as Peter told me it didn't make me a slag -"

Sirius winces and mutters,"Pete, you idiot!"

"Oh, don't be cross with him - he was being nice. I know they won't go around telling everyone. I just wanted to thank you. I know no one else would believe it, but you really are sweet." Standing up on her toes to achieve it - Sirius has had a recent growth spurt - Wynne brushes a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a mirror of another several months before.

Brushing his long fringe out of his eyes with a grin, Sirius follows her to Flitwick's classroom.