Chapter Two:
Do Not: Be Unfaithful
An hour or so later,
Sirius Black,
Sirius slammed the door behind him, swearing profanities at men in general, and one man in particular to the dark, empty room.
"Get into a fight with your boyfriend?" a voice called from the shadows, making Sirius jump. The owner of the disembodied voice stepped into the faint light from the street bellow that was being filtered in through the tall window, and it took Sirius's muddled brain a moment to recognize Asherah Morrigan, the Quidditch player.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked, staring around the dark room. It looked like a spare bedroom, sparsely decorated, but with all that was needed for a short term guest.
"Hiding. I can't deal with fans and reporters when I'm this drunk," Asherah said nonchalantly.
Sirius smirked. "So you hide out in dark bedrooms instead?"
"The light doesn't work, and most of the other rooms are otherwise occupied," she said.
Sirius reached over to the wall next to him, running his hand along it until he found the light switch. He flicked it up and down a few times, but to no avail.
"I do know how a light switch works, thank you," Asherah said derisively.
"Just checking," he said, taking a swig from the firewhisky bottle in his hand. He could try casting Lumos, but with the amount he'd been drinking he stood a better chance of blowing a hole through the wall than illuminating his wand.
"What's your name again?" she asked.
"Sirius Black," he said, offering her the bottle of hard liquor.
"Asherah Morrigan," she said, taking a long gulp and handing it back to him. "Pleasure."
She'd taken her heels off, and he noted with mild distress that even barefoot she was still taller than he was, although it was only by an inch or so.
"Did my friend ever get around to talking to you?" he asked as she stumbled down onto the edge of the bed, groaning slightly.
"Which one?"
"The specky git with the disastrous hair."
She snorted and it turned into a throaty laugh so contagious that he started chortling along with her.
"No, he did not," she said after she'd caught her breath. "He tried after you left, but I'm not sure what he was attempting to say, it sounded more like a braying donkey."
"Poor Prongs, finally meets his hero and turns mute for the first time in his life."
She sniggered. "What kind of a name is Prongs?"
"It's his nickname," he explained.
"What? 'The specky git with the disastrous hair' was already taken?"
"Too long," he said, plopping down on the bed next to her.
"Fair point. What's your nickname?"
"Padfoot."
"And the redhead?"
"Doesn't have one, she wasn't part of the group when we decided we needed top secret code names. We call the little blond guy Wormtail."
She laughed again, it was a nice sound. "What did he do to deserve that? And if it's so top secret, why are you telling me?"
"You seem trustworthy," he said nodding solemnly and bursting out in a grin.
"What's the tall one's nickname?"
Sirius paused, he didn't want to talk about Remus. "Moony," he said quietly.
She snorted. "Subtle."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked cautiously.
"Those scars speak for themselves," she said. "I've never met anyone with lycanthropy before."
Even through the haze of alcohol alarm bells were ringing in Sirius's head. "Remus isn't a werewolf."
She gave him a funny look and rolled her eyes. "Okay."
Silence fell and Sirius tried very hard to get the part of his brain that wasn't so heavily affected by the booze up and working. She knew Remus's secret. She'd barely spent five minutes with him and she'd figured it out. But she didn't seem all that bothered by it. When Sirius had figured it out he'd been curious and excited, he hadn't been afraid, not even a little, because it was Remus and nothing about Remus could ever be bad or frightening. James had been very James about it, of course, he'd taken it in stride and reassured Moony that they were still his friends and that they still loved him no matter what. Peter had been a bit nervous at first, but he'd gotten over it quickly enough. Lily, who had found out a few years later than the rest of them, had been more concerned for Remus's well-being than anything else. But this woman, who didn't know Remus, who didn't love him unconditionally like Sirius, and James, and Peter, and Lily did, had not only figured out what he was, but wasn't batting an eye at it.
"No one's ever figured it out so fast," he said eventually, very quietly. "It took me over a year and I shared a dorm with him."
She shifted until she sat cross-legged and shrugged. "It's easy when you know the signs. I had a teacher at Ilvermorny who was a lycanthropy expert. A good man, very open-minded…" Her brows knitted together in a look of extreme concentration. "Pretty sure my mother slept with him."
Sirius had to laugh at the look of utter horror and complete disgust on her face.
"I won't tell, if that's what you're worried about," she said once he'd quietened. "The prejudice against people with his condition is ridiculous and completely unfounded, but it exists nonetheless. I get why he wouldn't want people to know."
He stared at her as she stared off into space. She'd surprised him, and people so rarely surprised him that he wasn't sure how to react. So he changed the subject.
"Why can't you deal with fans and reporters when you're drunk?"
She looked over at him and smirked, dark eyes twinkling. "I'm naturally prone to honesty, and alcohol destroys the few filters that I have. It's gotten me into trouble before."
Sirius grinned mischievously, he desperately wanted to forget about Remus, at least for a little while, and he knew that James would go green with envy when he found out that Sirius had had a long, one-on-one conversation withthe Asherah Morrigan. "What kind of trouble?"
"The kind where I ended up spending the night in a Muggle jail cell," Asherah said, reaching for the bottle. Sirius handed it to her.
"That's a story I want to hear," he said.
Asherah sighed.
"A couple of years ago, after a big victory celebration involving a lot of drinking, I went for a run at some ungodly hour. I jogged past this Muggle residential area where some paranoid little homeowner woke up to take a piss, saw a tall, dark figure running through his neighbourhood, panicked, and called the cops. They show up and get really patronizing and misogynistic, saying shit like how beautiful women shouldn't be allowed out after dark for their own safety. It pissed me off, I got snarky, they didn't like that, and suddenly I'm handcuffed in the back of their car and then unceremoniously thrown into an already crowded cell. They let me out the next morning because they had nothing the charge me with, but it was an interesting night."
"Sticking it to the Man," said Sirius, the slightest slur creeping into his voice after another long chug from the bottle.
"Now your turn. Why are you hiding out in a dark room with a bottle of firewhisky?" she asked.
"Because I couldn't find anything stronger," he said, avoiding the question, and taking another gulp of the hard liquor, enjoying the feeling of it burning its way down his throat, and remembering a time when he'd spluttered and gasped after every sip.
"They hide the good stuff in the basement," she said, clearly unbothered by his lack of an answer.
"Where's the basement?" he asked, looking over at her.
She frowned. The expression made her nose scrunch up, and Sirius had to admit that she really was very attractive. Too tall, he thought, but at that moment they were both sitting on the bed so it wasn't noticeable.
Her expression relaxed as she said, "Down," and flopped down on the bed.
Sirius smirked. "Thanks, I couldn't have figured that out by myself."
"Fuck off, and find it yourself then," she said, pushing herself up onto her elbows.
"Nah, I can't be bothered," he said, reclining on the bed as well. "Can you?"
"No. I'm not moving any more," she said.
"Neither am I. Guess that makes us roommates," Sirius said, taking another drink.
Asherah shrugged. "Fine, but I get the bed."
"How come you get the bed?" he asked, frowning, and yes, pouting too.
"Because I was here first, and chivalry dictates it," she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Screw chivalry, I'm not sleeping on the floor," he said stubbornly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Isn't one of the defining qualities of Gryffindor chivalry?"
"How'd do you know I'm a Gryffindor?"
She waved her hand derisively above her head. "It came up when I was talking to the redhead." Another thoughtful pout. "She was pretty."
"That's my best friend's girlfriend you're talking about." He was prepared to defend James's honour if he had to.
Another derisive wave. "It's not like I said I want to shag her brains out."
Sirius accepted this and moved back to more important matters. "Back to the sleeping arrangement -"
"The bed's mine," she interjected. He ignored her.
"As you so brilliantly pointed out earlier, we aren't picked for our Hogwarts Houses based on the traits we possess, but the ones we value. I may value chivalry, but I am not necessarily chivalrous."
She snorted. "You're so full of crap."
"Because I'm using your words against you?" he smirked.
"Don't you have a boyfriend to annoy instead of me," she said.
Sirius tensed. "Remus and I are not currently speaking," he said, his voice clipped.
"Yeah? What did you do?" she asked.
It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her. "Why do you assume I was the one who did something?"
"Because Remus looks like a nice guy, and I've been talking with you for maybe ten minutes and I can tell that you are not."
"I am nice!" he said, his voice rising.
"If you were nice you'd let me have the bed," she said.
"We'll play for it," he said.
She tilted her head to the side. "Play what?"
"I don't know… That Muggle game 'Rock, paper, scissors'."
"And rely on chance?" she said, shaking her head. "I don't think so."
"What then?" Sirius had a thought, and smiled devilishly. "Do you want to fight for it?"
Asherah smirked. "If I didn't already know I'd win, then yeah, sure," she said arrogantly.
He snorted. "You won't win."
She laughed. "Of course I will, I'm in excellent physical shape."
"So am I," he said defensively.
Her eyes glided over him, and she snorted. "Yeah, right."
He dropped the bottle and it crashed to the floor, contents spilling on the rug, as he pounced on her. She was taken aback by the surprise attack, but she reacted quickly enough. They grappled for the upper hand for all of five seconds, before she came out on top, pinning him to the bed.
"How did you do that?" he asked, his breathing uneven, staring up at Asherah, her eyes bright, and her hair wildly escaping the neat twist it had been trapped in.
"What were you expecting?" she smirked, her breathing just as erratic as his. "I'm an international Quidditch player with a strict exercise routine, and you're a pretty little high society boy. The odds were not in your favour."
"Don't call me that," he snapped.
Asherah cocked an eyebrow. "Pretty? Little? High society? Or boy?"
"All of it," he growled.
She leaned down closer to him, he could smell the firewhisky on her breath. "Or what?" she whispered mockingly.
He reacted. He didn't think. If he had he would never have done it. But he didn't. The firewhisky warped his brain, and the chaotic look in her eyes drove him over the edge, and before he knew what he was doing, his lips had crashed into hers. He felt her gasp, felt her hesitate, and he felt her give in. She kissed him back fervently, and he fumbled with the pins that were holding up her hair until the dark locks were free. There was a part of his brain that was screaming at him to stop, that was throwing up images of Remus's face, but Sirius ignored it, and pushed the images away. He wanted to forget: about the war, about the deaths… and, yes, in that moment, about Remus.
Items of clothing were being hastily removed, and now he was on top of her, pushing into her, searching for release… It didn't last long, and when it was over, he collapsed next to her, and he was unconscious by the time his head hit the pillow.
