Author's Note: I adore the Harry Potter series beyond all reason, but if I could change one thing, I would make it different for Sirius. I think he is a compelling and complicated character and I thought he deserved a little joy. So I took it upon myself to provide some. Inspired by the scene of he and Harry at King's Cross, those astonishing tattoos, that wink, and my appreciation for all things magical.

Disclaimer: Fiction with one original character and one that is the creation of J.K. Rowling who I could not admire more. Information on Runes absolutely accurate and in fact quoted verbatim, with all due respect, from Ralph Blum's Book of Runes.

He simply could not, would not go back yet. He'd done what he came out to do – seen his godson off on the Hogwarts Express - but was there anything worse than a train station for underscoring restlessness? All those people, thousands of them, headed off to interesting places. Moody was right, he was taking a risk – Merlin's knickers, that had once been his middle name, but really, really there was a limit, and he had reached it…. If it weren't for Harry, he'd have told the lot of them to sod off a long time ago.

One night off from the Order's bickering and arguing and the crushing boredom of Grimmauld Place and then he'd go back to doing whatever ever he had to to send old snakeface to hell. The wizarding world was off-limits but he had all of muggle London around him and he would make the most of it. There'd been quite a few muggle girls in his early years – what better way to say a big 'fuck you' to his family and plus it was rather a joy back then to be anonymous. They knew nothing of his reputation or his despicable relatives or the size of his Gringott's account. It gave him an amazing freedom and shite, but life was ironic. These days he wanted to stand on a table and shout, "I'm Sirius Black!" but anonymity was the key to freedom once again and he would take it. There was a pub he'd been to a few times in Camden - not so far from King's Cross – that would do.

The man who slipped into her bar between the raindrops – how had he stayed so dry? she didn't see an umbrella – turned every head in the place, a phenomenon she guessed he was ambivalent about as he took a seat at the far end, against the wall. Right between the portrait of Yeats and the poster she had never quite grasped, a picture of a turtle with a big dark frothy pint on his back, offering a cure: "Have a GUINESS when you're tired." Was that supposed to be like the Tortoise and the Hare? He'd have won the race if he'd just stopped for a pint or two? It made the stranger smile as well and the effect was heart stopping. Grey eyes that seemed to smoke and spark at the same time. He leaned back against the dark wood wall with a sigh that said he wasn't just glad to be here but…relieved, she would have to say, and she wondered the whys and wherefores behind it.

"You look like you've ducked in out of a hard day more than a rain storm," Clare smiled at him. "Like to take the turtle's advice, then?

"Sounds fine for now – I am thirsty. I'm also starving. "

" I'd recommend the scotch eggs and the shepherds pie. I was just about to grab the board out of the kitchen…but I recommend the eggs and the pie." Her expressive face, with a furtive glance at the door to the kitchen behind which was likely an employer who might not appreciate such honesty, left little options open.

"You know I find I have a craving for Shepherd's pie…" He watched her draw the pint with practiced and lovely hands that clearly knew what they were doing and he felt a bit of a kick in his stomach that said that was a compelling thought in itself. The pint slid in front of him with just the perfect balance of smooth and foam and not a drop was spilled though it was full to the brim. What was she doing here?

"You're American."

Well at least he said it more as a question and less like an accusation, like some did.

"Yup. I've got the pedigree though," she smiled wryly as she pulled at her hair – a dark red rather than Weasley bright. "Scotch-Irish on both sides, as my parents would say, though I know it's not the done thing anymore since the SNP."

He'd no idea who the SNP was, but he understood the jist. The last thing he wanted to talk about was family heritage but it seemed rather different with muggles and Yanks in particular seemed utterly obsessed with where they were no longer from. When he'd met American girls in the past – well there was no challenge at all. Cheekbones, accent…mention an old family castle in the highlands and they'd jump right out of the water and into the boat, no magic required. God, he'd been a smug bastard then.

"Family tree aside," he practically winced at the words thinking of the horror at home, "what are you doing working here?"

She held up a finger to indicate she'd be back as what looked like a cluster of college boys arrived and fairly fell over themselves trying to impress her with who was more manly or funny or smart. He didn't even need to hear the words to see it all unfolding. He felt a wave of acrid heat flow up him. What were they, 19 or 20? They didn't look like they had a sodding care in the world. At their age, he and his friends were fighting and…fucking hell. Give it a rest, man. A night off, remember? He drank off the first pint rather quickly and she had a reason to come back.

"Architecture," she told him as she slid another glass across the mahogany. He looked dubious to say the least – nothing distinctive to his eye – and his face showed his skepticism. She laughed. "No, not the bar! I'm leaving a week from Saturday, " she told him with obvious delight, in fact she might have actually been bouncing on her toes, "to start a graduate program in architecture at Edinburgh. The pub I've been working in for the summer so I could explore London. Make enough money at night and my days are free to wander the streets and go to museums, look at buildings – it has been Clare's most excellent adventure."

Damn but the woman is happy, thought Sirius. She's like an anti-dementor. It just radiates off her in waves.

"It was obviously the right choice. You seem incredibly happy."

She looked at him a long quiet moment. He wasn't just chatting – he was really paying attention. In her mind, she took a step past just how good looking he was and thought he seemed genuine. So she went on.

"You know how there are times you talk about with your friends, and think ' if only we'd known then how good we had it'?

"I do, indeed," and he tried, he really did, to make that sound as neutral as possible so he didn't scare her off.

"Well this is one of those times that you do know. When you are right in the middle of it, and getting up and making your toast in the morning, you can just feel it. I can feel it. It's this amazing, fantastic gift and it's like you can't wait to see what magical thing will happen next."

He looked at her for a very long moment. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. A body that looked as though she had, in fact, spent her days walking all over town as well – long and lean but with some lovely curves. Her intelligence and enthusiasm shone on her face and in the half smile, half 'I've got a secret' grin formed by a truly enticing mouth. Who was he to argue with fate, and she'd given him the perfect opening if ever he heard one. "Well now that would be me, I expect," he said finally, and the smile he gave her actually made her toes curl inside her boots. He took a battered old spoon off the bar and it disappeared for a moment. "Your next magical thing." She didn't quite catch what he murmured next and leaned forward just as he brought his hand back into view and handed her an almost-black red rose.

Stunned was certainly not too strong a word. She ran a tentative finger around the petals feeling the softness and spring you would expect in a real rose. Her eyes flickered back to his face and he did look quite pleased with himself really. Her expression narrowed and she stood on her toes, leaning over the bar in front of him and looking for a bag or something he could have smuggled it in with. Something under the bar? Unfortunately, this line of inquiry had her in a very awkward spot and decidedly close up.

"There may be plenty to see but I promise you won't find any secret compartments…"

She blushed scarlet as she slid back and maybe it was just as well that she was saved from answering. "Clare – handsome though he is, there are other customers…." Shit, Claudia had started her shift and Clare hadn't even noticed.

"I'll be here…and I think the service has been quite fine indeed." He winked and her stomach flipped over, and she was appalled to see just how crowded the place had gotten.

At a loss for what else to do with it, she tucked the rose behind her ear and went back to work.

Sirius sat and sipped through musicians tuning up, arrivals of chatty regulars and a dining companion from the old country who was likely born there when it was still young. They shared pints, drams, laughs and several rousing choruses of "I wish I was back home in Derry" before her shift was even half over.

At the other end of the bar, Claudia was has having a delightful evening finally being able to take the piss out of her co-worker. "He's got something on his neck."

Clare frowned and Claudia had the frustrated look of the second-language speaker.

"His head was back – that old fellow he is buying drinks for made him laugh and I could see it. One of those things." She had no idea what the word was in English. "One of those little stones that you keep in that little bag that you showed me at your house."

"Oh, runes!"

"Yes, well I think it's the same. We had drunk a lot of wine that night, but I think it's same."'

"He comes with instructions? I think that might not be a bad thing. He seems awfully…"

"Mysterious.

"Yes, that word I could think of and I was going to say. He hasn't taken his eyes off you all night though. So that's not too mysterious."

The flush of heat that made her face turn pink again went right through her.

They walked home along the canal. She liked this walk each night along the water – not exactly crashing waves, but still, it was water and it was her walk home here in Camden Town, London, England, several thousand miles from the coast of Massachusetts and thus something to write home about in her book. It was even more impressive with a gorgeous man next to her….

There was quite a crowd spilled out in front of The Dev, Camden's most famous or notorious pub, depending on your point of view. A sea of doc martens and black leather or long black coats Anne Rice would be proud of. A young woman with spiky black hair with a few brilliant red bits broke into a grin at the sight of them.

"Wotcher, Clare!"

"Hey, Nina."

She didn't stop to chat though and Sirius was relieved – no point pushing his luck talking to too many strangers -although he did glance back over his shoulder with a smile.

"Flirting with a woman, Sirius, while walking out with another? Very bad manners," she teased.

There was a time, but this was hardly one of them. "No. She just reminds me of someone…my cousin. In fact, those clothes of hers make Tonks look a bit tame in comparison, and there is something I never thought I'd have to say." They turned left onto Kentish Town Road and crossed over the canal, the city a low happy buzz all around them and Clare waited for more. "'Wotcher 'is her standard greeting for all occasions. Heart of gold, and trips over her own two feet when she's just walking around but wicked in a d…ifficult situation." He was going to say something else there, she was sure of it. Curiouser and curiouser, this man named after a star.

You are way too comfortable with her, old man. Came damn close to saying duel and how would that sound - pistols or swords at 30 paces? She'd decide he was mad as a hatter. Misdirect…

"Hey if you think I got stuck with an odd name…"

"Different. I didn't say odd. It suits you – you are not exactly, er…an everyday sort of person."

"Thank you, I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment. Well, Tonk's first name is Nymphadora and her mom's name is Andromeda."

"My God! Your family IS nuts. I didn't think people in those days named their kids weird stuff like that."

No reaction except tacit agreement to the first part of that but she saw him wince at the "in those days". Shit. Nice one, Clare. Very seductive, you just called him old. Since they were at her door now, and she wanted to make amends somehow, she did the first thing that came to mind, and kissed him.

All right, he'd admit that hurt. That tingly feeling of anticipation suddenly damped down by her comment but oh, it was certainly back now. Her lips were soft and tasted a little sweet, like she'd been drinking mead or something, and he was suddenly very aware of her breasts pressed against his chest, his hands coming up to find her hips and all his instincts telling him to step into it and pull her tighter while he explored everything he could reach. Well not quite all his instincts. He shuddered slightly but stepped back instead and chanced a glance up and down the street. She didn't miss it. He saw the flicker of concern on her face and he sought to smooth it, just brushing over her mouth and then kissing her neck as his arms reached around her to the key she'd left dangling in the lock.

"Now is there really a fine single malt in there," he breathed into her ear, making her shiver, "or did you just use that to lure me here so you could ravish me on the doorstep?" The tumblers clicked and the door pushed open.

"Both," she hoped that sounded more sultry than squeaky, but she really couldn't be sure. "Though we'll at least need to go inside for the whiskey."

"So this is what goes for student housing then," he asked wryly, looking about at the beautifully appointed room. It was, in fact, one room. But one beautiful room. A wall of oversized windows opposite the little entrance hall. A beautiful fireplace with a wide mantle at one end, and all the rest of the wall space filled with art and books. A lot to explore in a little space.

"All part of my good luck." She disappeared into what he'd bet was a kitchen you couldn't swing a house elf in, in search of the elusive whiskey.
"My dad has a professor friend. She's on sabbatical for a year sailing around the world or something and so I got to live here for the summer and keep an eye on things. Very taxing. None of the walls or windows has moved since I've been here…"

Sirius grinned at this. He didn't see much point or wisdom in making them move but what could he get away with? A quick scan told him she had a thing for candles – that would do nicely. A whispered "inflamare" with a swirl of his wrist and a dozen or so candles glowed around the room, not to mention a three-log fire. He'd have loved to have some candles floating midair, but then she'd have dropped the whiskey. He just had time to snap the electric light off and tuck his wand away when she came into the room and froze.

"How…" she barely got the word out. There was no way he had time to do all this.

He reached out for the snifter in her right hand, letting his fingers slide slowly over hers as he did it and feeling the sparks jump through both of them. For good measure he took hold of that empty hand with his left, his thumb rubbing slowly over her knuckles before he kissed them. "Magic," he said softly and slipping his arm around her, steered her to sit down – truth be told, she looked a bit unsteady on her feet.

"Sirius.." she began. Her chest hurt and it was hard to breathe for the feeling that something bigger than she could take in was going on.

He reached out and touched her face and she couldn't help but lean into it, her whole body straining toward him. "There's a lot I can't say Clare. But what I do say will be the truth."

She was whirring. All her brain was filled with her normal curiosity that wanted to ask a million questions and understand everything and might just ruin it all. But there was something else going on inside her body. Not only desire, though God knows there was plenty of that. But that feeling like you've tuned into a higher vibration – like when she visited cathedrals that had been built on old places where the air just seemed to hum. That was coming off him in waves and she wanted to disappear into it and find out what would happen.

He could feel how on the edge she was and he let go of her for a moment to pick up her drink from the table. "You look like you might need some of this."

"I'm not sure I could get anymore intoxicated." The words spilled out of her mouth without thinking and fuck this was the third time he'd made her blush and she really didn't think she did that anymore. But the smile he gave her made her ache. Not just happy but…grateful, she'd have said. Though that seemed weird when he was completely overwhelming her and she was sure he could have his pick any day of the week.

"Well anyway, I can't wait to taste it," he said without taking his eyes off her and she was sure she did actually whimper out loud before taking rather a large gulp herself. "Mmmm. Delicious."

"Nectar of the Gods," she answered.

"Not quite," he told her setting their glasses on the table and pulling her legs up over his. "You're going to need to be a lot closer for that….", and he pulled her up onto his lap. They both looked a little startled for a moment, like neither could quite believe they were here and then his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on hers and he took every doubt and concern he had about being here and shoved them into a little room and locked the door.

He kissed her like they had forever. Light suckles of those sweet-tasting lips, nips that brought shivers, playful licks that teased her forward as they explored and coaxed, urging each other on. A surge of fire as her tongue pressed harder and he felt her hands slip inside his shirt. The first touch of her hands against the bare skin of his chest and a pulse of desire raced through him that ended in a thought that made 20 tiny black buttons on her sweater surrender simultaneously. The feel of a rough, warm hand sliding across her bare stomach as the other slid the garment from her shoulders and the thought just had time to flash that she didn't know how he did that either and then her bra was gone too and she thought she was going to die from pleasure.

Something between a growl and a purr rumbled against her throat as his palms slid over her breasts, and the intoxicating 'miew' she gave out made him smile against her skin as he licked his way down to a nipple and drew it into his mouth. She was full out moaning now, his fingers twisting and turning as his tongue swirled and lips sucked, the slight pressure of his teeth feeling like lightning bolts striking her breasts and racing between her legs.

A desire to see gave him the strength to pull back just a minute and really look at her. Mouth parted and panting, perfect, pink-nippled breasts that glowed in the candlelight and everything from the waist down swathed in curve hugging black. She was the one who looked like the magical creature to his mind - something too perfect to be real. "Merlin's beard, Clare, you are bloody fucking gorgeous."

She really was drunk with him, and when she found the presence of mind to open her eyes she found him looking with that same mix of lust and awe and appreciation all mixed together. She watched him as he watched his hands touch her and she thought he had that look of concentration as if he were the traveler, and she were the exotic foreign place he was trying to memorize before he had to go home. It made her ache to look at him and she couldn't move her eyes and she didn't know she had forgotten to breathe until she took in a gulp of air all at once and stood up, pulling him up with her where she could reach to pull cloth out of jeans so that her hands now slid over his chest - a canvas of muscle painted in mystery and she looked mesmerized by the symbols and script. Her finger traced the swirls and lines right over his heart. He could feel the question on her lips and his hands were on her face, tilting her up to look at him, "please… later." His voice was hoarse and made her shiver. "I just can't have a conversation with words right now."

That she could inspire this in him, this wild and beautiful man - it made her head spin but it also made her determined. Determined not to get lost; determined to give everything she had. Her hands moved to the button on his jeans and then she heard a sound like a twig snapping and she was on the floor naked, her back against the elegant carpet and her front straining to press harder against all of Sirius, his cock already covered in wet just from brushing against her. Even as she cried out in surprise she was opening for him and there was nothing to ask, only bliss to feel as he disappeared inside her. He was still just a moment. Looked at where bodies met then with one hand traced a pattern over her abdomen and whispered to her body. She felt like he'd set her on fire, lit her up from the inside. Whatever there was before, now there was just more. When he moved this time she didn't know anymore where he ended and she began, only that she was shaking and fucking as hard as he was and then it all exploded and they were both yelling something not words and there was a sticky gold lake that she floated on that held her like honey and she lapped at it with her tongue to taste the sweetness.

There was water and whiskey and a hundred kisses before she got round to asking.

"Well of course I know a spiral," she began. He winced as her nail went round and round his belly.

"Right. The ongoing cycle of life and death and life."

"What's this one that looks like a sickle?" her brow furrowed in concentration.

"A sickle. Ceres or Kore – a rich harvest. Has to do with fertility too – and before you ask, yes lots of money for all the good its done me, no, no kids of my own." Way too sticky for a first whatever this was she thought. Stick to the tattoos.

"Crows foot thing?"

"Protection.

"This one's Mercury," she said with certainty.

"How do you know this stuff?"

"Tarot cards. Communication and swift action right?"

"Very good. Also alchemy."

"Ok the big one. Looks like horns with a funny cross."

"It's kind of horns with a funny cross." She bit him and none too gently either. "Ow! Viscious, insatiable woman." She pulled his mouth to hers for a kiss that said yes she was and no she was not sorry. "Alright. Union of male and female."

"Now that sounds promising…." Clare pushed herself up and slid her leg over so their hips were pressed together and she traced the design with her tongue.
"Mmmm… an altar," he swallowed but went on. "Arms open to receive from above and grounding it into the body." She shifted a bit and the breath went out of him.

"Better and better," she grinned as she brought him back inside her body and he pulled her down to feel her - all of her, against his chest and held on tight, her face nuzzled into his neck. She sucked hard on his skin and pulled her legs in between his as if right there, deep inside her center was indeed where earth and sky met. "I know this one," she breathed against him and pushed up with her hands, making him shudder even more. He held his breath and tried so very hard to listen and then her words gripped him as tightly as her body.

"This one on your neck. I remember it because I got it three days in a row before I left for England." He bit his lip and held still. "It's Perth –Initiation – Something Hidden. Powerful forces of change. Questing and Initiation. What is achieved is not easily shared." She felt a burst of sadness at that but she fought it and moved to hold him tighter. "Associated with the Phoenix – the mystical bird that consumes itself in fire and then rises from its own ashes." She was moving now and he with her. She had magic inside her whether she knew it or not and he was priest and witness both. "Soaring," she told him. "Letting go of everything."

A smoky sun was just showing its face on the surface of the Thames when he went from four feet to two at the door of number 12 and saw a crack of light through the open library door. Remus had waited up – or tried to. Sirius smiled at the thoughtfulness but grimaced in anticipation and he just did not want to hear it right now. One step back out into the hallway when the sound of his name called him back and setting his shoulders he walked in to take a seat as Remus moved his feet. Might as well get yelled at sitting down.

"Alright?" The face staring intently into his made it much more than the proforma greeting.

"Very." Sirius answered honestly and was stunned to get a grin rather than a lecture.

Remus pulled him into a hug that was so tight it hurt. "I'd get to your room before Molly shows back up and she and Moody have at it, but as far as I'm concerned you look like you again and its about bloody time."

Sirius smiled gratefully, thinking a quick escape was fine advice. Details could wait – he might actually share some he thought and that would be a change too but for now all he wanted was a shower and bed. In fact the shower could wait. Safe in his room, he stripped off his shirt, smiling to himself – she'd added a few new designs - and saw a bit of paper flutter to the floor. He unfolded it to see a large rune that looked like the capital letter R and the note that followed.

Sirius,

Raido. A Journey. Communication. Union, Reunion. The attunement of something that has two sides, two elements and with the ultimate reunion that comes at the end of the journey, when what is above and what is below are united and of one mind."

89 George Square, Old College, Edinburgh

Love, Clare