Hello! I'm still alive! So sorry for the delay – my computer broke and I've moved to University so it's all a bit hectic at the minute. But I have been writing still, and this chapter is a pretty long one. It's also a little random, so just for help I'll give you a few pointers...

"type in here" is speech, as usual. From any character.

'type in here' is Sirius' thoughts. That's right, he does have some!

'type in here' is the thoughts of Libido (you'll understand). Technically Sirius' thoughts, too.

Oh, and a Jarvey is (according to the Hplexicon, where I check most of my info) a creature resembling an overgrown ferret hat can talk – although only in insults or rude speech. Quite like the idea of that.

I'll get on with the story, you guys have waited long enough...

Sirius' heels drummed an impatient beat on his stuffed suitcase. Where was James? It was early, he knew, but James was usually here. Sirius' parents liked to be at the platform before most other people arrived, the idea was to be able to glance haughtily at other parents and passengers, treating each to their own individual frown of contempt and superiority as they crossed the barrier. The superiority of their noble blood was evident by the fact they were on the station when you were not, which they somehow believed to contrive that they had special access and therefore more influence and better breeding. It was a ridiculous and arrogant ritual that Sirius despised, not least of all because it left him alone on the station. Not that the station was totally deserted, but when the choice of company was his family and their gossiping, egotistical clique (all Slytherins his mother never failed to remind him) Sirius was just as alienated. Where was James? James understood the situation perfectly, and since second year had made sure that he was also at the station obscenely early in order to give Sirius some much needed company, and distraction from the glares of disappointment shooting from the other end of the platform. Except today he wasn't here. There was a large James shaped hole at the station. The lack of a James where there should have been one made the loneliness of his situation worse than if Sirius had simply been on his own – then he would have been neutral, blank, zero, but now there was a negative to the power of James. Where the hell was he?

Sirius stared at the wall, willing James to burst through, full of smiles and apologies, but no amount of wishing produced a spectacled friend. Sirius gave up, and facing the motionless train heaved a defeated sigh. Every bone in his body insisted the cessation of searching should instantly produce his saviour, but the platform remained ungraced by James' prescence, in contempt of convention and cliché.

He risked a subversive glance at the pack of Slytherin parents and carnivorous offspring haunting the opposite end of the station. Like a pack of vultures, they glared haughtily down their beaks at anyone who dared encroach their private space – anywhere within a three-mile radius – but his mother's eyes were fixed on him. He glared defiantly at his feet, but he fancies he could still hear her bitter words from here. Sirius ... the traitor ... Sirius ... such a disappointment ... Sirius ... never amount to anything worth the pity of a house elf ... Sirius ...

"Sirius? Sirius?" James blew in his stiff friend's ear, hoping to dislodge whatever was stubbornly blocking his cries. "Sirius, you ignorant son of a Jarvey, are you there?"

Sirius snapped out of his gloom with a surprised thump as he hit the platform. The flushed face of James was grinning at him with the content grin of one who has just enjoyed pushing their best friend over and frightening them half to death.

"Back with us then? Sorry I'm late, we had to go back because I left my broomstick." Guilt assembled in dark clouds over James' smiling face as he looked over at the band of hyenas still prowling the platform.

"You what?" Sirius wished James could have picked a better excuse. Satan would have driven a snow plough through the fiery vistas of Hell before James forgot his broomstick. Snape washing his hair was more likely.

"I did," admitted James, his tortured face the image of a devout Methodist who has woken up with a hangover, a traffic cone, a lorry driver named Bill and, most importantly, without a Bible. "I had packed it, first thing I did," Sirius nodded here, this was James, he would come without clothing rather than without his Quiddich gear. "But then, I decided to get some extra practice in this morning and ... " here James cut off and fumbled with his jacket.

"And?" urged Sirius.

"Ilfitytshd" was the indistinguishable muttered response.

"Sorry Prongs, didn't catch that."

"I left it by the shed. Alright?" snapped James irritably.

All resentment to his late friend was instantly melted by the laughable discomfort of James betraying his life's purpose. Sirius' bark laugh rang through the air for the first time in over a month, and the tingle of mirth escaping his throat felt clean and good.

"Shut up." mumbled James, only half serious as he knew Sirius needed this relief. "I had to get the extra practice in."

"OK Prongs, I've shut up." snickered Sirius. A heavy silence indicated something more was expected from him. As he looked at James he saw the scruffy haired boy was bobbing excitedly up and down, and his lips were twitching as though he was barely managing to restrain words of joy.

"Oh," said Sirius, "Well done on getting captain, although there really was no surprise."

James' restless lips spread into a great, toothy grin. "I thought you had forgotten."

"How could I?" Although it had slipped Sirius' mind it was bewildering how it could have. Every owl that managed to reach Sirius past his family's censorship contained the same three magic words. 'I'm Quidditch Captain.' The little badge was already pinned to James' chest gleaming and winking in the last scraps of summer sunshine. Sirius looked for the equally tended and polished broomstick, but it was nowhere to be seen. In fact, James was empty handed.

"Prongs? I think you may be missing a few effects. Like an entire years worth of luggage? Broomstick included – again."

James smiled and nodded to the barrier through which a smiling Mr and Mrs Potter were passing, bags, and broomstick, in hand. "I rushed on ahead to make sure you were OK."

"Well thanks, and I am," said Sirius, as a cold pressure on his back reminded him that he was still sprawled on the floor. "I don't suppose you fancy helping me up here do you?"

James grasped his extended hand and pulled his friend to his feet. Sirius was about to pull his hand from his grip when James pulled him into a tight hug.

"Good to see you again, you stupid mutt."

Sirius nudged the bespectacled boy playfully as he lifted his bags and arranged them carefully under his arms, in his hands and balanced precariously on his shoulders. James finished saying goodbye to his parents and returned the gesture with a well placed knee to the back. As Sirius shoulder barged James onto the train he knew he was going home.

............

The train was still motionless in the station as the toilet door swung shut behind Sirius. He was about to whistle his traditional post-urine melody in three parts when the presence of another person in the corridor caused the embarrassing tune to die in his mouth and crawl back down into his lungs.

His heart played pinball in his chest as he recognised the unruly mane of dark blonde hair in the train doorway. Laina was turning the air blue with curse words as she straddled the gap between train and platform, struggling with a bag twice her own size.

"Need a hand?" Sirius asked. However, the actual words came out more like a hoarse squeak. Sirius thought this unusual, but blamed the fact he had spoken very little this morning.

"Need a hand?" he repeated. Laina's head snapped up, her cheeks were flushed with frustration and her eyes glinted with anger and defiance.

"No." came the short answer.

Taken aback by such a hostile reply Sirius raised his hands in mock fear. "Sorry, just asking." he remarked.

While Laina would never dream of apologising, a slight flicker of guilt was allowed a quick flicker across her hassled features. "I mean, I can do this stuff on my own."

This assertion was betrayed as she returned to pulling at the suitcase, but to no avail.

Sirius smiled at the stubbornness, and grasped the handles despite an angry grunt from Laina.

"It's fine," she growled, fiercely attempting to guard her independence and snarling at those who dared to try to snatch it from her.

"I'm sure it is," Sirius grinned, "And while I agree it looks wonderful positioned here, I wonder perhaps if it might look even better here."

Sirius hefted the bag fully onto the train. He had planned to lift it easily, giving Laina a perfect opportunity to marvel at his muscled honed by intensive Quidditch practice and admire his intense masculinity. However, the bag was exceedingly heavy, and he didn't manage the transfer with quite the ease and finesse he had hoped for, instead he made some rather unattractive grunting noises he would rather were erased from existence. Laina did not seem to be impressed, and rather looked scandalised at this invasion on self-reliance, her small hand still fiercely gripping the bag as though it were an incarnation of her independence.

'Don't worry about it. You've been charming and gracious, she can't ask for more.' a small voice piped up from the recesses of Sirius' brain.

'What the hell?' he thought, disturbed by the intrusion

'I'm your sex drive, your charm, your attraction. Name's Libido, to my friends. Here to help you with this romantic dilemma you find yourself in.'

'What romantic dilemma?'

'The fact the girl you think you thought you had in the bag does not seem too happy to see you.'

"Thanks," Laina said, grudgingly, the very word sounding forced and unwanted. She did not want to thank anyone. Not through being ungrateful, but rather she did not want to be in a position where she owed anyone thanks.

"No problem." said Sirius. He scrabbled for words to say next.

'And because you seem to be having problems communicating yourself. I though you liked the girl?'

'I do. Sort of. She's alright.' Sirius thought, refusing to admit even to himself any strong feeling for anyone. That would be weak, and leave him open to disappointment.

Laina began to fidget. The silence in the carriage was uncomfortable and restless.

'Come on, say something. Really, this has never bothered you before.'

"Did you have a good summer?" asked Sirius lamely, her parting words still floating round his head, where they had echoed for the entire holiday.

"It was OK," said Laina, distractedly. Sirius wished she'd stop re-arranging her hair, she was pulling it out from its disorder agitatedly whilst subtly fiddling with her clothing. Sirius didn't know why she was doing it, but it was making him nervous, an emotion so unusual he didn't like it and didn't know what to do with it.

'Hello?' waved his libido, 'Boring. Say something sexy, winning, charming.' Sirius found hat a mental picture attached itself to the voice, his face, his body, but black clothes and sunglasses even in the dark completed by a cocky grin of the unfazed and self-assured. He probably had a really posh car too, with tinted windows. 'You do realise you've been silent for 12 seconds? That's officially an awkward silence.'

Sirius forced his mouth into gear. "If you ever need anything else carrying for you, you know where to find me."

'Lame.' Libido rolled his eyes behind shaded lenses. 'What happened to your famous charm. At least give her the 'grin'. That should make up for some of this appalling mess.'

Sirius did as he was told and unleashed the 'grin'. The 'grin' deserved the speech marks, they encased it, providing a cage for the protection of others. The 'grin' was Sirius' party trick; when unleashed nobody was safe. Friendly, charming and just the right hint of upper-class arrogance; if bottled the grin's powers would be explosive.

But Laina just ignored it and continued to fiddle irritably with her collar, pulling it down into a more pleasing shape and gripping her bag expectantly.

Sirius was staggered. Even people who barely knew him, or knew him too well, could never resist making a suggestive comment after the grin. But Laina still just stood there, radiating nervousness, irritation and above all, discomfort. This welled up into a void of silence, clawing for words to break it; but none came.

"Well ... thanks ... I'll see you later ... I guess."

'Idiot. Idiot!' cried his libido. 'There were three points for interruption, three gaping holes of silence begging for words and yet you're still silent with a lead tongue blocking your usually unstoppable mouth. Talk. It's a simple function – open your mouth and let the words flow. Preferably smart or witty ones.'

'Still not speaking? OK, any words. And damn thing at all.'

"Yeah, sure"

'Right – well done. Continued contact. Now -'

"OK". The words stole into the air so timidly Sirius barely caught them as Laina turned towards the door.

'Stop her! Idiot, reach out ...'

To Sirius' relief his lazy neurones fired with life and provided the basic motor functions necessary to allow him to stretch his heavy arm out and block Laina's path.

'So now what?' he asked internally.

His libido shrugged metaphorical shoulders. 'I hadn't thought this far, you normally manage well enough on your own.'

The moment stretched like his arm, tense and wavering. Laina looked expectantly at the hovering limb in front of her but made no move herself to encourage or remove the offending appendage.

'OK, I've come up with some action plans:-

1. Stop her, kiss her and tell her that you're quite keen to ravish her on the compartment floor.'

'No – too many opportunities for embarrassment, or being kneed in the bollocks. And anyway, this floor's hard and cold.'

'Alright,

2. Wait for her to make a move – you've made yours.'

'She's not making one though, and I've been stood like this for too long. Quick, I'm starting to look stupid – I need a third option.'

'Well...'

Shifting slightly and grinning helpfully Sirius placed his palm to the door and pushed it open.

"Here you go."

Laina nodded her thanks, but as she heaved her heavy bag through the opening Sirius saw a distinct look of disappointment blight her face.

'There! You saw that expression! Call her back!'

'And do what?'

'Ask if she wants to meet up somewhere. Ask if she wants to do something Forbidden in the Forest.'

'No! That's terrible. It's so cheesy, it would never work.'

'It did, Jane Trough. April. A saturday night.'

'Oh yeah.' Sirius and his libido shared a fond recollection of warm spring nights and the ample cover of trees before snapping back to the present attempted conquest.

'Not that then, but just ask her. Use your reserves of wit and charm.'

'Can't. They've dried up. Gone away.' moaned Sirius unhelpfully.

'So will your chance if you don't hurry.'

The door was swinging shut, severing the opportunity and it slid softly but surely into place.

"Hey Laina." his strained vocal chords finally managed but his only reply was the quiet but final click of the door, and a unsettling jolt that signalled the beginning of the journey.

Shoulders drooping dejectedly, Sirius turned to return to the Marauder's compartment. He banged his knuckles in a frustrated beat against the walls. At the end of last year he felt he had finally made some progress, in fact he had congratulated himself on a positive leap forward, but now – well now it felt like he had advanced in the wrong direction.

His libido was extremely puzzled. 'It's not your fault,' he consoled 'you did everything you could. You initiated contact, did the charming, valiant gentleman act – even the grin.' His libido was shocked and continued, scandalised, 'someone is immune to the grin!'

Sirius ignored the inner voice the best he could, although he couldn't help but silently agree with the irritating idiot. He had tried, he had done all that could be expected of him. If Laina wasn't biting the readily provided bait then he would be damned if it was going to be his loss. He remembered the disappointment etched on her unusually unresponsive features and decided she could well be disappointed. She had herself to be disappointed in, he'd given her plenty of opportunities and if she wasn't going to make the effort then it mattered little to Sirius Black, did she think he was going to do all the chasing? She could have even got in contact over the summer if she'd wanted to – he knew she could have easily got his address from Remus.

' Erm, it may be said, in all fairness, that the same applies to you,' ventured a treacherous tentative voice as his objectivity nervously stepped forward, 'if you weren't so ner -'

The weak voice was halted terminally as his body was flattened by his libido and his sleek black Lambourghini. Sirius shook his head. It was getting crowded in there.

Last year he had found her challenge exciting, but to come this far and stall? Well, that was just irritating. The Black sense of pride rose in his chest, he wouldn't do any more running around. Why did Laina think she was so special that he had to make all the effort? There were plenty more fish in the sea willing to swim into his highly attractive net. Sirius shoved a compartment door aside and nearly sent a petite girl torpedoing in the other direction.

"Oh!" the small cry of alarm was light and sweet, marshmallow tones of surprise.

Sirius stepped back and smiled as he recognised (quite intimately recognised grinned Libido) the owner of the melodic voice as an extremely pretty fifth year – Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, he couldn't quite remember – Fiona Heath.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, smiling sweetly and batting long, thick lashes. Her whole stance radiated shy embarrassment, but in such an accurate manner that Sirius easily saw through the facade with an experienced eye. He almost scoffed at how obvious she appeared to him, but big hazel eyes and rippling brown locks caused him to reconsider.

As he released the grin for the second time in a morning he was pleased to see its desired effect; a slight pink in soft cheeks and an increase in the action of eyelashes were the only encouragement he needed. It was amazing how naturally flirting came, as simple as breathing; a smile here, slight contact there and the girl's knees were weaker than American beer.

He needed no instruction from his libido, or sex drive, or anyone now, as with a practiced ease he angled himself so his back was against the wall and gestured for her to pass. Of course this would mean passing him, too, and his body was positioned so that while he allowed Fiona passage, the way wasn't entirely unobstructed by his body. The maximum amount of courtesy with the maximum amount of touch. Sirius was sure in his own mind which was the most important.

The false embarrassment surfaced once more. "Thankyou," she giggled, "so polite."

"It's beauty's privilege." Her pretty nose wrinkled prettily, crumpling pretty freckles as she tried to establish this as a compliment.

Not Ravenclaw then, sneered Sirius. He ignored the surge of contempt and focused instead on chestnut curls bobbing daintily by at chin height. As he inhaled a hint of vanilla he pondered whether it would be too much to find her hand as she passed, then fate threw him a golden opportunity, or rather the jerk of the train taking a corner threw the unstable, but willing, Fiona into his ready arms.

"Wow," said the younger girl, grinning openly now, pulling away form his chest, but not his embrace, "Great reflexes."

"Qudditch," shrugged Sirius, in the carefree modest tone that only the naturally arrogant can achieve, "You should come watch sometime."

"I will," she promised. "I heard you're really good with your broomstick." She added, all pretence at coyness thrown out the window at the last bend.

This was just too easy. To think he was even slightly concerned by Laina's response, or rather, lack of it. She could remain a stuck-up bitch if she felt so inclined – it made no difference to him. Not even at Hogwarts yet and he already had as good as a date, an achievement even for him.

"Sorry as I am that I must cut short this wonderful encounter in this extremely romantic setting," Sirius gave a small chuckle but the irony was lost on his cabin companion, who just smiled faintly – but prettily -, "but I really should head ..."

"Sirius?" His excuse was cut short by the appearance of Remus at the end of the cab.

"See you soon," she whispered as she continued walking in the direction she had headed before her path was blocked by a walking ball of charisma.

Encouraged by his an elated Libido, who was busy doing backflips in his hindbrain, he decided he timing was right to treat the fortunate girl to a quick wink before turning to face his friend who had advanced to his side.

"Moony," he nodded in cheerful greeting, "what brings you to this fine part of the train?"

Remus' made no remark regarding Fiona, and his face remained impassive about the scene he had just witnessed. Sirius had always found that intriguing about Remus; his face never betrayed the complex thoughts and feelings sliding through the cogs of his mind. Despite trauma, torment and torturing pain that plagued his friend's life Sirius had never once heard him complain, never heard his voice raised above it's gentle, carefully calculated tone and never, ever seen him cry. Of course, no boy cried, boys didn't cry, but everybody lost control and 'let go' every once in a while. Peter, stifled by an overwhelming fear of physical pain shed ashamed tears regularly after 'accidents' – self inflicted or otherwise, James rarely cried, but distressing circumstances overwhelmed even a man's man; the death of a grandparent, breaking his arm in a broom accident or losing a game of Quidditch. Sirius himself had once 'got something in my eye' after a particularly bad summer at home, when Remus had been there to console him and offer words of encouragement – oddly these words of advice had nothing to do with 'wash your fingers before you touch it' or 'blink rapidly'. Oh, James had helped, with his uncanny knack for finding just the right thing to make Sirius laugh, but when it came to listening no-one beat Remus. James would try, but you both knew he was listening in an attempt to make you better and help you get over it, an absolutely noble intention, but when Remus listened he listened. You were free to stutter, repeat, digress and wallow – none of it mattered but that you were talking and releasing the feelings that had been locked away and devouring you from the inside. For the time you were talking you were the centre of the universe, you were the universe, nothing mattered but you, for that moment to Remus you were everything and anything, just you and Remus, the gravity that held you together and stopped you spinning off in random directions. In fact, Remus was always there to comfort and advise, but never requested anything himself. He would not allow himself a moment of weakness, to expose himself purely and completely to another person, or perhaps, Sirius mused, he feared that that moment of weakness would stretch and expand and dominate his entire life. So Remus Lupin kept himself firmly out of sight, behind a solid wall of amicable, but indecipherable expression.

"Don't worry," said Remus, puzzled by the intensity of Sirius' gaze on him, "I'm not stalking you. I've got this," he pointed to the silver badge pinned to his jumper, "remember?"

Ah yes, Sirius remembered. The prefect's compartment. Sirius knew Remus was proud of his position, showing as it did Dumbledore's continued faith in what Remus still considered a dubious, yet wonderful, action of accepting the werewolf five years previously. However, Remus always spent as little time as possible in such meetings; loathe to leave his friends. He detested the separation from his friend's, fearing anything that singled him out from the group, and made him ... different.

"I did hope I'd find you though." Remus continued, "We were getting worried that you'd fallen from the train or something equally stupid. And typical."

"No, nothing that exciting, I was just chatting to a friend," Sirius grinned and tipped Remus a conspiritorial wink. Remus face was as blank as clear blackboard, however, Sirius fancied that at this the veil flickered. As previous scribbling, almost all removed, can leave cryptic traces of dust on a blackboard, so one slightly raised eyebrow revealed his surprise at Sirius' intimacy with another girl without resolving the Laina matter first.

"Well," Remus replied, poker face sidling back in as though pretending it had never left, "I'd better hurry up. Have fun." He waved back at Sirius as he disappeared through further doors.

"I intend to," promised Sirius, to himself, the world at large and spitefully to the girl who had her shot and ruined it.

Oh dear, we appear to have taken a few steps backward. It's necessary to try to capture the awkward, fumbling nature of fancying someone and not being able to say 'cause you're so crippled by fear. Sigh, I'm getting luckier in love but I do know how that feels. Anyway, got my laptop now, so next update should be a lot sooner.

R&R if anyone's still there!

Sham