The endless stark brick facades of London's row homes were not unfamiliar to Marlene, but there was something intimidating, imposing, and downright wrong about this particular home. For one, it was a shade darker and grayer than the warm taupe brick of its neighbors. Also, it had only become visible to her after she'd stared at its neighbors and pondered why the number she'd been looking for had been missing - and she figured it wouldn't have appeared for just anyone. But the real reason the house unsettled her was because she could only wonder how intimidating and imposing its residents would be.

Well, most of them, anyway.

Lingering on the sidewalk outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Marlene fidgeted with the strap of her school satchel, which hung limply at her side. Its sole task was to hold the few papers she wanted – and had already tried - to give to Sirius: a schedule for the upcoming Quidditch tryouts, plus a strict practice regimen that she'd spent an entire week devising. She'd been charged with the role of captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team at the end of her fourth year, after half of their current players had graduated. She was determined to rally the remaining players early - in August, right before their fifth year began. She wanted the team to be as cohesive and prepared as possible, since they'd have to fill so many spots, and since they were already at a disadvantage, being unusually young for returners. She hadn't anticipated any snags in her plan; there were only two other players to coordinate with, and she knew them both well. How difficult could it be to send owls to two people?

Evidently, somewhat difficult, because she'd only had a fifty percent success rate.

James had written back the very same day she'd sent out the schedules, his message overflowing with eagerness, plus a few (admittedly insightful) suggestions for improvement. Marlene had to smirk at his enthusiasm - and she'd rolled her eyes at the way she could so clearly imagine him saying every word of his letter. Her cousin could be a bit cocky sometimes, but no one could say he didn't know what he was talking about when it came to Quidditch. And the boy was a magnificent Chaser - or Seeker, if the need arose.

Her lone Beater, on the other hand, had gone M.I.A.

Of course, she hadn't taken the Knight Bus to his doorstep right away. First, she'd asked James about Sirius's unusual radio silence - they were best mates, after all, and she figured he'd ought to know something. James's response that time around had been less than helpful. In fact, it had been downright vague. He'd mentioned something about Sirius having a row with his parents, and that Sirius's freedoms may have been limited at the moment. Then he'd promised to pass on her message.

Marlene didn't buy that last bit. How could James pass on a message to someone who wasn't able to use owl post, and who was (presumably) forbidden from seeing friends? The two of them were known for working their way around school rules, sure – but she doubted that they were bold enough to try sneaking around their own families for a measly quidditch schedule.

There was also the unsettling fact that this second letter from James had sounded robotic, as if he'd been dancing around a sensitive topic and decided to write only as much as he thought it would take to appease her. Compared to his first brilliant and straightforward letter, this one felt stiff and uncomfortable. Her favorite cousin – who she'd spent a good deal of her childhood with – had abruptly closed himself off to her. Marlene hadn't liked that at all.

She thought she understood the reason for it, though. It wasn't news to her that Sirius didn't see eye to eye with his parents. Apart from hearing stories from Sirius himself, she'd heard plenty of rumors about the Black family ever since he'd come to school - since he'd been the first Black in recent history to be anything other than a pretentious Slytherin. His family was as famous for its wealth and diplomacy as it was for being made up of pureblood supremacists. Although Marlene was a pureblood herself, the very thought put a scowl on her face.

But she'd never been one to involve herself in everyone else's problems. She was just a simple Quidditch captain. Her Beater's family drama was none of her business.

That was all the more reason why she hesitated to trek up those five stone steps and knock on that foreboding black door. But then she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and did just that. She hadn't gone through all this trouble to turn around and go home at the sight of a bloody house. She was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake.

Surely the Black family would be civil enough. Surely she was overthinking things. She was only there to drop off a letter, after all. She was merely trying to ensure success for her Quidditch team. This was nothing more than a quick business trip.

And if she was worried about the boy whose clever pranks and sarcastic quips had grown on her over the years…well, that was completely irrelevant.

After a few seconds, the heavy door swung inward. The boy who'd answered her knock looked remarkably like Sirius, only a bit shorter, younger, and much more…well, proper. His black hair was cut neatly, with only a short fringe creeping down his forehead - as opposed to Sirius's shoulder-length mop, which was so often spilling along the sides of his face, nearly obscuring his sharp gray eyes. (He always pulled it back when he played Quidditch, though, which never failed to make Marlene smirk at the rabbit's tail tuft that formed on the back of his head.) But this boy didn't fit Sirius's image of cool, casual rebelliousness at all. His wide eyes were nearly as dark as his hair, and they combed over Marlene with the intensity of a lion watching a herd of gazelles.

Undeterred, Marlene put on her friendliest smile. "Hi! You're Regulus, right? You're a brilliant Seeker. I've seen you around Hogwarts, and I've played matches against you, but I don't think we've ever properly met." She held out her hand. "Marlene McKinnon. I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch captain this year."

Regulus seemed taken aback, and Marlene silently cursed her tendency to talk more when she was nervous. Thankfully, he recovered quickly, and he shook her hand. His hand was surprisingly warm for someone so thin and with eyes so cold. "I know who you are. You're in the same year as Sirius." For a moment, his bewildered frown twitched into a devilish smirk that reenforced his resemblance to his older brother. "You gave Mulciber a black eye last year."

Marlene felt a mix of pride and irritation at the thought. "Pretty girls like you are only easier to knock off their brooms," echoed a low, smug voice in her head. The slimy Slytherin git had been taunting her before a game once, trying to get under her skin. She hadn't punched him right then, of course - but she thought the Quaffle she'd launched at the burly Keeper two minutes later had gotten her message across.

"I didn't realize I was famous," she said lightly, quelling a smug grin.

Regulus's smirk faded into a frown again. He was scrutinizing her - probably wondering what business the Gryffindor Quidditch captain had being on his doorstep. "If you're looking for Sirius, it would be best if you leave. He's not exactly allowed to have guests right now." He frowned a little more, and she had a feeling he'd finished the thought differently.

Especially a guest like you. A blood-traitor. A Gryffindor. A girl who's too stubborn and nosy for her own good.

Marlene just managed to hold back a sigh. Regulus was the one member of Sirius's immediate family that she thought she'd have the most luck with, and even he was shooing her away. She plastered her polite tone back on and fetched the envelope from her bag. "Could you at least make sure he gets this? It's for Quidditch practice. I know it's a bit early, but I want to make sure we were all on the same page. Only, I'd hoped to hear back from him…"

Regulus scowled at the envelope as if it was infested with maggots. Then a resigned look softened his features, and he accepted it from her. "I'll make sure he gets it," he told her, in a starkly honest tone that didn't seem fitting for a Slytherin. He said it like a solemn promise, which made her wonder why he'd seemed so daunted by her request at first.

Probably because he doesn't want to be caught helping a blood-traitor…

Marlene pushed down the tension itching at her fingertips. She had always been rubbish at hiding her emotions. The quiet, open curiosity swimming in Regulus's dark eyes made it a little easier to relax. He may not have been very welcoming, but he hadn't shown any hostility toward her either. Maybe he doesn't think like that, Marlene told herself soothingly. He's only my age, after all.

She mustered a smile again, before she could dwell on those thoughts too much. "Thanks! I'll be going, then. Tell Sirius I said hi, would you?"

Before she could make her escape, another person appeared behind Regulus - someone taller, more somber, and much more regal-looking than the young Seeker. Marlene swallowed. This dark-haired, tight-lipped woman in billowing dress robes could've been no one else.

Sirius's mother.

Marlene had heard him tell a few stories about her on lazy days in the common room, in a cheery tone as thin as tissue paper, masked with his characteristic dark humor. And she'd heard that awful Howler his mother had sent after the Sorting - everyone had heard that.

Mrs. Black examined Marlene like a perplexing stain on her rug. "Hello," she said, suspiciously but with masterful poise. "I don't believe we've been acquainted." Her critical gaze shifted sideways to her son. "Regulus, do you know this young woman?"

Marlene noticed that Regulus had tucked the envelope into his robes at the first sign of his mother's approach. That confirmed her earlier suspicions that acting as his brother's delivery boy was not something his mother would approve of. She resisted a dry chuckle. Well-played, little Seeker.

"Marlene McKinnon. She's one of Sirius's friends from school."

Marlene tensed at Regulus's description. It was true, by all means - but she didn't like the way Mrs. Black was now staring her down like a snake preparing to strike. Her gaze was a blend of protectiveness, disapproval, and suspicion. Goosebumps sprung up on Marlene's arms as the woman's dark eyes combed over her every feature: her favorite Beatles t-shirt, a little faded from overuse; her ripped denim jeans; her beat-up trainers; and her shoulder-length auburn hair, which was more frazzled than usual from her recent trip on the Knight bus. She straightened her posture, willing herself not to blush or look away under the intense scrutiny.

"Why don't you come inside, Miss McKinnon? I'll make us a cup of tea."

Marlene's stomach flipped, and she let slip a little chuckle which she hoped made her sound politely flattered and not at all panicked. "Oh, no, that's alright. I was just stopping by to ask Sirius something," she lied. "It's nothing important, really. I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense. You must have had quite the trek to get here. Do stay and chat for a moment. I insist."

Her expectant gaze told Marlene that she didn't have much of a choice. Ignoring the icy dread trickling down her spine, Marlene managed a smile. "Well, if you insist. Tea sounds lovely."

As Marlene stepped woodenly into the foyer, Regulus slipped past her and up the stairs without another word. Even he seemed to sense the true meaning behind his mother's offer - and it seemed he wanted to escape as much as she did.

Which left her all alone with Mrs. Black.

Marlene drank in a slow breath to calm her nerves. This woman was an adult and the mother of one of her classmates. Surely there was no need to be this unsettled by her company. But there was something about the Black matriarch that made it very difficult to look her in the eye. Maybe it was the way her dark eyes had narrowed when she'd first seen Marlene on her doorstep, and the way they had been narrowed ever since. Or maybe it was that perfectly crafted mask of prim self-importance on her face. Only her eyes showed her emotion - but even now, she was much harder to read than a moment ago.

Even so, Marlene understood one thing clearly: she was not as welcome in this house as Mrs. Black may have wanted her to think.

"Come, settle down in the kitchen."

Rigidly, Marlene sat down on a hard wooden chair at a large mahogany table. "Will Sirius be joining us?" She found herself asking, in a mild, polite tone that felt strange on her lips but all too fitting for this scenario.

"No, I daresay he'll stay in his room. He's been quite busy with summer homework this week," Mrs. Black answered as she magically prepared two cups of tea.

Marlene stared blankly at the back of Mrs. Black's head. Summer homework? This late in August?

Despite his roguish appearance and laid-back attitude, Sirius Black was not a procrastinator. He had never showed up late for a Quidditch practice, not one. Marlene had learned, during her nights in the common room, that Sirius was typically the first one of his friends (besides Remus, maybe) to complete an assignment just for the sake of being done with it. She had always figured it was less because he was studious (though he still earned great marks) and more because he felt he had better things to do than classwork - like sneak dungbombs into the schoolbags of some sorry Slytherins, or practice charming his friends' quills to randomly burst into song. She supposed timeliness was one of the few areas where Sirius hadn't been able to diverge from his parents' influence.

So, she figured if he'd waited this long to start his summer homework, he was more likely not to do it at all.

Which meant that someone in this house was lying.

"So, Miss McKinnon, your father works for the Ministry, correct?"

"Yes, for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"And what does he do there?" Mrs. Black set a steaming teacup in front of her and sank gracefully into the seat across from her.

"Oh, thank you. He's an Obliviator for the Muggle Liason Office."

Judging by the crease that appeared between Mrs. Black's eyebrows, this was the wrong thing to say. Marlene knew that her father was in a bit of a controversial position, being charged with wiping Muggles' memories of magical incidents. Anyone who used the Memory Modification Charm on a daily basis was likely to be frowned upon, so she was used to people judging him. But her father's role was necessary to preserve the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy - and relative peace between wizards and Muggles as they knew it.

Which was maybe, she thought uneasily, the real reason why Mrs. Black disapproved.

The regal woman paused to sip at her drink, and Marlene did the same. The tea was fragrant and rich, quite nicer than the kind she was used to at home. But at the moment, it tasted as bland as the look that Mrs. Black was giving her. "And your mother?" She went on.

Despite her growing discomfort, Marlene felt a smile pull at her lips. "She's a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies."

This seemed to catch Mrs. Black by surprise. "The international Quidditch team?"

"That's right."

"For how long?"

"A little over eleven years now. Since I was four," Marlene said, unable to hold back a grin. It had been her mother's lifelong dream to be part of an international Quidditch team, and she loved watching her play.

Her smile went sour when she noticed that Mrs. Black's frown had deepened. "Hmm," was all she said, and she sipped at her tea again.

Her obvious disapproval hit Marlene like a slap - especially since she hoped to follow her mother's example someday. Defensiveness momentarily overrode her will to keep the peace. "Is something wrong?" Marlene asked with forced lightness, trying to come off as innocently concerned, when truly she wanted to slam her teacup down and snap, What's wrong with that?

"Oh, I was only thinking that it must have been hard on you, not having your mother around as a child," Mrs. Black responded, eyeing her with a cold, calculating look that was devoid of sympathy. It almost seemed like she was waiting for an interesting reaction - as if she was wondering whether Marlene would pick up on her insinuation.

Marlene understood very well what Mrs. Black was getting at - and she decided not to give her a notable reaction. She forced a smile, took another long sip of tea, and said, "Oh, she was around plenty of the time, especially in the off season. And I love going to her games. She's quite the inspiration for me. I'm one of the youngest Hogwarts Quidditch captains there has ever been, you know. The last captain chose me over the others because I was the most levelheaded."

"Is that so?" Mrs. Black sounded a bit bored now, and there was a slightly scathing note in her tone, as if she didn't believe a word of what she was hearing.

Marlene gritted her teeth and continued sipping at her tea to maintain her so-called levelheadedness. If this is what Sirius had to deal with growing up, she thought around a stab of anger, it's a wonder he turned out half as well as he did. Although, she was starting to fear that Sirius might not be as well as he seemed, given that he was supposedly hiding away in his room right now. She wondered if that was how he spent most of his summer vacation, and the tea turned acidic in her throat.

"Miss McKinnon—"

"Call me Marlene," she inserted abruptly, not caring if she was being impolite. Every time her last name left the woman's lips, it sounded more and more bitter. It was one thing to hear her own name twisted with that undertone of disapproval. It was another to sit here and let this woman insult her entire family.

Mrs. Black blinked and gave her a cold, tight-lipped smile. "Marlene, then. What is your relationship to my son?"

Marlene stiffened. She'd been expecting this question to come up in their little "chat" (i.e., interrogation) at some point, but she hadn't expected the haughty woman to be so blunt. "We're friends," she answered simply.

"That's all?" Mrs. Black raised her eyebrows, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. Her gazed flitted over her clothing again, no doubt recalling of her son's appreciation for Muggle outfits.

Marlene gave in to a small defiant smile. "Well, I'm his Quidditch captain this year. And I'm his best mate's cousin." She smiled a little wider as Mrs. Black's fingers curled tighter around her teacup. After those quips about her parents, the temptation to rile her up was irresistible. The anger churning inside of her was finally materializing - not in volatile shouting, like Mrs. Black seemed to expect, but in knowing smiles and calm challenges, as it often did when opposing players tried to get on her nerves.

Two can play at this game.

"You're related to the Potters?" Mrs. Black asked, and Marlene was gratified to hear that her polite tone was starting to slip.

"Yes. My mother is his father's sister. They were very close growing up, so James and I were at each other's houses pretty often. We've known each other since we were kids."

"I see," Mrs. Black said snippily.

Marlene knew she was only digging herself deeper - she was keenly aware how Sirius's family felt about his choice of friends - but she was having too much fun to stop now. "Our dads were childhood friends, too. They both went to work for the Ministry - they wanted to make the world a better place, you know. Make it a little easier for Muggles to live their lives, with all the Dark wizards around today."

"Indeed." Mrs. Black sniffed pompously and stood to place her empty teacup in the sink. Then said sat down, folded her hands on the table, and looked Marlene straight in the eyes. But her gaze was no longer filled with disapproval. Beyond the cold fierceness, she seemed almost…desperate. Concerned. The weight of her stare wiped the smile off Marlene's face and stunned her into silence.

"Mi—Marlene," she caught herself with a barely audible sigh. "If you know anything about Sirius, you understand that he is…shall we say, misguided. His experience at school has caused him to stray from his family's values - and from choices that will be best for his future. I simply cannot allow that kind of nonsense to go on. That is why I must ask you to stop speaking with my son. It isn't healthy for him to have so many negative influences in his life."

Marlene bit her tongue to keep her jaw from dropping. I'm pretty sure the negative influences aren't coming from school, she thought, fuming.

"Especially," Mrs. Black added, scowling as she scanned over her for the third time, "young women such as yourself. I worry that any attraction branching beyond friendship, be it with the wrong sort, may push him too far from the path that has been laid out for him by our family for generations. I refuse to let my son take up with anyone of questionable lineage. Do you understand?"

This time, Marlene couldn't keep her mouth from falling open.

The truth was out. This was why she had been invited inside, only to be interrogated and then cast out. Mrs. Black saw her as a threat. Apparently, her calculating gaze had detected something frightening in her - something that warned her that her son could develop feelings for her beyond friendship. Maybe it was simply the fact that she was a girl and his friend. Or maybe there was more to it than that.

The audacity of her words were burned into Marlene's mind: Questionable lineage. The wrong sort. Negative influences.

And the most ironic part was that she and Sirius weren't even dating. They had never even spoken about it - and never even hinted at it - beyond a few lighthearted jokes or the occasional friendly shove during Quidditch practice.

Heat rushed to Marlene's face, and she wasn't even sure which emotion caused it. This unexpected shift in their conversation had erased her confidence as well as her desire to test the woman's patience. She felt trapped and jittery. She couldn't help but wonder what Mrs. Black had seen in her that had caused her to resort to such a disturbing plea for understanding. Had Sirius mentioned something about her? Did his mother have any reason to suspect that there was something between them, apart from their shared fashion sense, the red-and-gold trim on their school uniforms, and a penchant for sarcasm?

Before she could begin to think of a response to all that, she heard thumping footsteps on the stairs, as if someone was running down them three at a time. The flash of annoyance that crossed over Mrs. Black's face confirmed her hopes.

Oh, thank Merlin.

It wasn't his most graceful entrance, Sirius admitted. But when Regulus had handed him a letter from Marlene just moments ago, he couldn't have cared less about maintaining proper manners. (Not that he usually cared much about that anyway.)

Their conversation had gone something like this:

"How did you get this?"

"She just dropped it off herself. And you're welcome, by the way."

"She was here?"

"She still is. Mother offered her some tea."

Sirius had responded with some sort of involuntary expletive - he didn't even remember which one - and hurled himself out of his room, barreling down the stairs like a thunderstorm.

Offered her some tea, my arse!

He knew his mother well enough to know exactly what offering one of his friends tea would entail. He also knew that his parents had expressly forbidden any of his friends from coming to this house since first-year, on the basis that their blood status made them unworthy, or some awful nonsensical reason like that. Even James had only ventured to Grimmauld Place once, and that had been an emergency. At Sirius's request, he'd flown directly to his bedroom window and left a minute later, unbeknownst to his parents. But Marlene…

Marlene had showed up on his doorstep, an innocent messenger dropping off something for him. And she'd already been in his house for at least a minute or two. With his mother. Alone.

Dammit! Please don't let her hate me because of this…

He thought of Marlene as a friend, but not so close a friend that he'd felt the need to explain to her why he never invited anyone to his house, as he'd done with James, Remus, and Peter. He'd never could've imagined that she'd show up one day without warning, for a matter as seemingly trivial as dropping off a letter.

Although, he was starting to suspect that there was something else at play here.

Why wouldn't she just send an owl?

He suddenly realized he hadn't gotten much of any owls, recently - not from any of his friends, at least. And James had told him yesterday (in the two-way mirror) that the last few letters he'd tried to send to him had never arrived. They'd assumed it was something to do with James's owl, Iris, not feeling well, but if Marlene had tried owling him too…

Seething, Sirius skidded to an abrupt stop in the kitchen, catching himself on the doorway. His mother grimaced at the squeal of his socks on the hardwood floor. Ordinarily, she might have scolded him for making such a ruckus. But she tended to be less explosive when guests were over.

Only, those guests weren't usually pretty Gryffindor girls with wide brown eyes that filled with relief at the sight of him.

The flicker of happiness he felt upon seeing Marlene was immediately drowned by the rage and dread writhing in his gut. "What are you doing?" He snapped at his mother, not caring how harsh his voice sounded.

His mother raised her eyebrows at him, disguising her irritation with cold nonchalance. "I could ask you the same thing. You're not supposed to be out of your room."

Sirius scowled at the reminder. In the beginning of this summer, his parents had inflicted him with a completely unfair ban. They'd evidently decided that he'd been given too much freedom the past few summers, and that it had done no favors for his behavior. So, they'd declared that he wasn't allowed to leave the house all summer, unless he was with them. Essentially, he'd been cut off from seeing his friends until the next school year. And his mother had put such a powerful curse on his bedroom window that he couldn't even go near it, let alone open it.

At first, his three best mates had responded to the miserable situation by sending him letters every day, filled with clever jokes and stories and promises that things would get better. It had helped - not as much as seeing them would've, but it had helped all the same. But the communication gradually became less frequent, until the letters had stopped coming all together about two weeks ago. Since then, his only contact had been with James in the two-way mirror.

Sirius had surprised himself by lasting well into August without outright disobeying his parents' decree - though there had been no shortage of screaming matches about it. But once the letters had stopped coming, frustration, loneliness, and worry for his friends had prompted him to break the curse on his window. Seeing his three mates that night had almost been worth it - until he'd found his furious parents waiting for him the moment he'd returned.

He'd thought (or hoped) that there wasn't much else his parents could do to limit his freedoms. He'd been wrong. They'd relocked his window, ordered that he stay in his room for an entire week, and confiscated his wand. So, he'd spent the past few days storming around his bedroom, with his mood swinging from fits of rage to all-consuming despair to overwhelming boredom…

…until today, when Regulus had told him about Marlene. He figured that sparing the poor girl from the atrocity of his mother was worth facing a steeper punishment later, especially if it saved him from losing her as a friend.

"And you're not supposed to be harassing my friends," Sirius shot back furiously, "or keeping my mail from me, Mother. Where do you get off?"

By the way his mother raised her chin, he knew he'd been right in connecting the dots. He dug his fingernails into the wooden doorframe to keep from shouting - not in front of Marlene. The auburn-haired visitor was glancing back and forth between the two of them like she was watching a tornado take shape.

"I was not harassing her," his mother responded calmly, without a word of denial to his second point. "We were only talking."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she has somewhere much better to be." Sirius glanced at Marlene, and she instantly understood.

"Ah, that's right, I really should be going. I promised my Mum I'd be home for dinner tonight." She rose out of her seat and gave at his mother a sugarcoated smile. "Thank you for the tea."

His mother's dark eyes glinted with annoyance as the two of them turned and headed straight for the front door, but she didn't protest - until Sirius had his hand on the latch.

"Miss McKinnon."

Sirius saw Marlene scowl beside him. He whirled around and opened his mouth, but he paused when a pacifying hand came to rest on his arm. Marlene flashed a smirk at him, as if to say, It's okay. I've got this. Her warm brown eyes gleamed with a mixture of defiance and self-assuredness. It was remarkably similar to the fierce look she always wore during Quidditch matches.

His mother was a challenge worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself, but Marlene seemed to have risen up to it.

And that was a good thing, too, because that fire in her eyes had surprised Sirius so much that he'd completely forgotten what he was going to say.

"It would serve you well to remember what we've discussed today," his mother called from the kitchen doorway, narrowing her eyes at the hand on her son's forearm.

Rather than remove her hand, Marlene responded with a smile. "Oh, don't worry, ma'am. I won't be forgetting that any time soon."

Sirius winced. That can't be good.

The next thing Sirius knew, he and Marlene were standing on the sidewalk in front of his house, watching each other uncertainly. "Er, I'm sorry about all that," Sirius muttered, running a hand halfway through his hair before catching himself. That was James's nervous habit, not his. He scowled and shook himself out of it. It's just Marlene. She's not going to hate you…probably.

The knot in his chest loosened when he saw the twinkle of mirth in Marlene's eyes. "You know, I'd always hoped you were exaggerating those stories about your Mum," she admitted darkly, "but she is a real piece of work."

"What did she say to you?"

"Mostly that my family is deplorable, and that you're misguided. Oh, and that I should stop talking to you, because I'm a bad influence."

Sirius let out a tense sigh. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Marlene huffed a laugh, and he managed a weary smile. Then she grimaced and pulled absentmindedly at the frayed sleeve of her jacket. "I'm sorry if I caused any trouble for you. I suppose I shouldn't have come."

"Don't be sorry," Sirius said firmly. "It's not your fault my family is so bloody difficult." He softened his tone and, thinking of the girl in front of him, summoned another smile. "I'm actually glad you came. I wish I could've shown you a better time, but it was nice seeing you anyway."

Marlene didn't smile back. Her eyes were fixed on his now, and she was wearing a troubled expression that looked vaguely familiar, although he wasn't used to seeing it on her. "I'm guessing you haven't seen much of anyone lately."

Sirius shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "I still see James pretty often." In the mirror, and that one time a few nights ago, before Mum took my wand.

His attempt at lightheartedness didn't fool Marlene. "Well, that's something, at least," she murmured, but he could tell she wasn't reassured. A flicker of that fierce defiance returned to her brown eyes. For a moment, Sirius could do nothing but stare. There were little red and gold flecks around her pupils that he'd never noticed before. Those earthy colors caught the afternoon sun beautifully, and they were much warmer than the grays and blacks that he was so used to seeing lately. He wondered why he'd never noticed how nice Marlene's eyes were until now.

Probably because I've never seen her stare down my mother like a Beater about to launch a Bludger into next week.

Sirius abruptly realized that neither of them had spoken for a few seconds. Marlene seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. Clearing her throat, she pretended to readjust her school bag as an excuse to look away. Sirius watched her uneasily. Marlene was never this awkward around him. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he'd seen her blush - but her face was clearly a shade pinker than usual now. The knot in his gut pulled tighter again, and he silently cursed his mother for interfering.

"It's alright if you don't want to be around me anymore. I get it."

Astonished, Marlene blinked and looked up at him. "What…?"

Sirius exhaled uncomfortably. His eyes wandered to a nearby car, an old lady walking her poodle, a flickering streetlamp - anything vaguely close to Marlene's face, but far enough away that he didn't have to meet her eyes. "You said my mum told you to stop talking to me. I just…I don't want you to feel like you have to do one thing or the other, I guess. So, you can go now, if you want to."

…but I really don't want you to. Please don't leave.

When he met Marlene's eyes, he thought she looked hurt, or guilty, or pissed off, or maybe all three - he really couldn't tell. He winced and looked away again, prepared for her to turn her back on him and march off.

Instead, she shoved him lightly, the same way she would've if he'd just told an inappropriate joke. But, rather than a begrudging smirk, she was pouting at him, and her eyes burned more fiercely than ever. "Sirius Black, you are such an idiot sometimes. Why the hell would I listen to your mother?"

He blinked, startled by her emphatic response. She rolled her eyes at him, and he thought he saw her smirking.

"You really think I'd stop talking to you? For one, that would make Quidditch practices much less productive. And there's also the fact that we're friends. I'm not going to ditch you just because your mother's got a—" She hesitated, biting her lip.

"A vendetta against everyone I like being around?" Sirius suggested dryly, but he was smiling now too.

"I was going to say, 'a pole up her arse'," Marlene admitted, letting loose a slightly guilty grin.

Sirius mirrored her grin shamelessly. "That too."

For a split second, they just beamed at each other again, in what might have been mutual appreciation. Then Sirius snickered, and Marlene covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. "It's really not funny," she said through a chuckle.

"I'd much rather you laugh than run away screaming," Sirius reasoned sardonically. "That's what I try to do, anyway."

"I guess," Marlene murmured, and her smile faded a little. "I should probably be going. I wasn't lying earlier; my mum does want me home for dinner." She gazed at him with knitted eyebrows. "I would offer for you to come along, but I take it that would be pointless. Are you going to be alright here? Your mum won't be mad at you because of me, will she?"

A small sigh escaped him. "She gets mad about pretty much anything. But I'll be fine. I'm used to her shouting at me." He scowled grimly. "And I've got some ammunition now that I know she's been hiding my mail. I bet she has loads of letters from my mates by now, providing she didn't burn them already."

Marlene's uneasy gaze pulled him out of his thoughts. He suddenly realized why that worried frown seemed so familiar, and he chuckled softly. "You look just like James right now."

Marlene's expression turned to horror. "I do not!"

Sirius laughed at her reaction, and she crossed her arms in mock-offense, wearing a comical scowl that was more adorable than anything James could've produced. "Alright, fine," Sirius conceded playfully. "You're much better-looking than him."

Marlene grinned again. This time, he glimpsed something else twinkling in those pretty brown eyes - something much subtler than that fiery bravery (which, now that Sirius thought about it, was also very resemblant of her cousin). Whatever it was, it vanished before he could decipher it. "I'm telling him you said that," she joked in a grave tone.

Imagining his best mate's matching pout, Sirius couldn't help but grin. "Ah, he'll forgive me."

Marlene chuckled again. Then, almost shyly, she looked at her feet and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "I really should be going. I doubt your mother will appreciate that I've kept you out here so long."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Sirius told her truthfully. Her responding smile warmed him to the core. This was the first interaction he'd had with one of his friends all summer (apart from a few nights ago), but it seemed like Marlene was just as happy to see him as he was to see her. That smile of hers made him feel invincible. Lingering out here with her was worth facing his mother's wrath twenty times over.

He just wished she could linger a little longer.

Then Marlene lifted her wand arm, and a double-decker purple bus materialized in front of them with a crack like a thunderclap. She looked over her shoulder as she boarded the bus, and he thought he saw a twinge of his own wistfulness reflected back at him. "I'll see you soon," she said bracingly, giving him that smile again. He mustered a smile for her too, ignoring an unexpectedly strong tug on his heart.

With another loud crack, she was gone.

Sirius loitered on the sidewalk for a few more seconds, drinking in the fresh air and collecting himself for what was to come. Just two more weeks, he told himself. Then I'll be back at school, and I'll see her again. I'll see all of them soon.

Clinging to thoughts of her warm smile and stubborn defiance, Sirius turned around and went back inside.