An: I wanted to write about Marlene McKinnon. And this is what happened. Fairly sure it's just me typing out my headcanon, but hopefully someone will like it. Enjoy
McKinnon
"What d'you want Black?" She'd drunk a lot; not nearly enough in her opinion, but she was well on her way to the point where she felt like she could do anything.
"You." In his Friday night best, Sirius managed, as always, to look handsome. She hadn't been the only one mainlining firewhiskey, and he sat down next to her, passing her a bottle. "Drinking alone, McKinnon?"
"Apparently not anymore," she drawled, downing the last of her drink, before picking up the fresh one Sirius had so thoughtfully provided. "What happened to your merry men?"
"They're taking Remus home before he starts to sing," Sirius grinned, sitting down next to her. "Last week it was awful. He was dancing on the table and everything before we managed to calm him down."
Marlene laughed. "Wish I'd seen that."
"I'm fairly sure someone took photos." Sirius swigged from his bottle, before leaning back in his chair. "So why were you drinking alone?"
"Because Houston dumped me and Lily refused to come to a pub where James would be, and Houston's in the Three Broomsticsk, busy telling anyone who'll listen that I begged him to take me back. So here I am. In the Hogs Head. Previously alone."
"He's a twat," Sirius said decisively, the chair legs coming back to the floor with a thud.
"I know," She replied, almost angrily, pushing her hair away from her face. "But what brings you to my lonely little table?"
"I told you," he grinned. "You."
She arched an eyebrow. "Sure Black. Whatever you say."
"Really?" He winked at her. "Because role play's a lot of fun when you commit."
She laughed, the sound turning into a cough as she spluttered. "Are you for real?"
"C'mon McKinnon," he murmured, moving ever so slightly closer. "You know you wanna find out if the stories are true."
She faced him, a challenge igniting in her eyes. "Are you sure you're not here just because you want to find out if the stories are true about me?"
"Well, there is that," he breathed, the warmth dancing over her face. "And the fact that you're very hot."
"Mmm, not too bad yourself," she told him with a smile. "But you are drunk."
"So are you," he teased. "But since when did that stop us?"
"I don't know Black," she mused, turning to swig from the bottle again. "How do I know you're any good?"
He snorted. "I know for a fact that I am talked about, extensively, in the girls' dorms." He placed an elbow on the table and then leant on his hand. "Scared, McKinnon?"
"Never." She looked at him, sizing him up, before resting a hand on his thigh. "You?"
"Gryffindor for a reason, darling," he drawled, before kissing her.
It was passionate and messy and ohmygod drunken, and she was pulling him nearer by his shirt collar and then his hand was running underneath her dress, and suddenly she didn't care about fucking Derek Houston because here was Sirius Black to kiss, caress and screw the pain away.