Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, since I don't make money, you don't sue! (Or something of that nature)

Author's Note: Oi! Well, I finally finished Year Two of college and moved into the place I'll be in for summer work. So now I'm finally able to update now that three shows, five papers, and moving into a very ugly dirty space isn't eating my brain (and now that my betas are done with school as well).

For the record, the next chapter will be kicking the plot into overtime and a lot of things will be set into motion. This chapter is a bit lighter and more fun ;)

For everyone who reviewed, who I couldn't respond to because you signed anonymously, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and remember that if you want me to respond, just leave your email, and I will respond to your review that way. If you have any questions, or anything at all, feel free to email me directly.

Okay everyone, no more to read from me – enjoy!

Chapter Ten – Pubs, Shanties, and Showers

Guinevere had developed a way of calling on Sirius whenever she needed to talk to him. She simply stamped her foot hard on the floor. Sirius would hear the stamping through his ceiling and know that she needed to speak with him. She would then stick her head out her front window and wait for him to do the same. And he would look up and she would look down, and they would yell back and forth about whatever they needed to discuss.

Sirius and Guinevere had brought home a vast amount of groceries a few hours ago, and Sirius was now sitting in his flat, and debating on whether or not he should go to Hogwarts to check on Remus and Ivy. He would hate to find out tomorrow that they had divorced, and he hadn't come over to stop them. Not that he could really think of anything he could do if that were the case.

And then he heard stamping above his head. He wasn't sure what Guinevere wanted, but he really needed to talk to someone at that moment, so he walked over to the window, threw it open, and stuck his head out.

Looking up, he could see Guinevere staring down expectantly.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"We're going out," she stated firmly.

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"We're going out tonight. This has been a bad week, and you're going to take me to a bar. I need to drink ungodly amounts of alcohol, right now."

Sirius tried his best to hold in a grin. "And when did you suddenly decide that I was the best person to go out drinking with? Have you forgotten what happened the last time I got drunk?"

She cocked her head sideways. "No, but I'm counting on you to be the responsible one, and make sure that I don't put myself in a coma."

He blanched. "You're counting on me to be… responsible?"

Guinevere rolled her eyes, avoiding the long conversation that would undoubtedly stem from this if she pursued it. "You won't screw this up. If you let me down when I needed your help, you'd feel guilty."

"Wow, I suddenly moved up in rank from heartless-manipulative-bastard to man-with-a-conscience-who-will-take-care-of-me-while-I-get-sick-on-huge-amounts-of-alcohol.."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You owe me."

Well, he couldn't argue with that one. Especially not after the display Remus and Ivy had made. It was his fault that she saw that.

Guinevere smiled in triumph. "Besides, I'm already dressed for it. We're going out."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Dressed for it? What did you do, slip sexy lingerie on under your trousers?"

She laughed. "You wish, Black. I'll be downstairs in five minutes."

She pulled her head back in and shut her window. Sirius did the same, impressed with the saucy comeback (well, saucy for Guinevere) she had delivered, and already wondering what sort of evening this was going to turn into.

He changed his shirt, slipped on his leather jacket, and stepped outside. She was waiting out by the street, wearing a violet dress that matched her eyes. It fell to her knees and clung to her figure, and the fabric seemed to ripple naturally when she moved, like water.

She was wearing a black sweater over it, and clearly the neckline of the dress was still a bit too low for her comfort because she had the sweater pulled closed over her chest, even though it wasn't very cold outside.

Sirius' eyes wandered instinctually to her legs since, as he had noted before, the woman did have great legs, and now they were showing more than usual. He thought to give himself a good mental slap, but then he decided that there certainly wasn't anything wrong with finding the woman attractive. After all, Ivy was attractive, and he could admit that to himself without seeing anything wrong in it. It had been the same way with Lily. So he had no reason to worry about that at all.

She turned to him as he approached, and smiled awkwardly. "Good. Let's get going, shall we? You pick the place, since I have no idea where we should go."

"All right," Sirius agreed. He turned toward the street, feigning thought about where they should go, then side-glanced her and said, "Nice dress."

Guinevere shook her head self-consciously. "Ivy talked me into getting it today. I don't really own any dresses anymore, so it's probably good that I got it. I mean, I still hate wearing dresses, they can make you feel like produce in the supermarket, everyone staring so they can grade you – "

"And we're back to the supermarket…" Sirius muttered in amazement. Something traumatizing must have happened to her there as a child… Guinevere was still babbling at full speed, so he held up a hand to stop her. "Can I make a suggestion? Promise you won't get angry?"

Guinevere nodded hesitantly.

He walked around behind her. "This is the kind of dress that makes a woman feel good about herself," he explained. He then reached around her shoulders and pulled the sweater down her arms. "Show off," he insisted, settling on draping the sweater around her shoulders in case it did decide to get cold.

He turned her around to face him, watching as her hands moved to her wrap around her stomach. Clearly, she didn't know how to carry herself in clothing like this. Sirius tsked at her and grabbed her hands, holding them out to the side so he could see the full picture.

"Have some self-confidence," he said, nodding in praise. "You look great."

She cleared her throat uncomfortably and stared off to the side. "Er, thank you."

He smirked good-naturedly. "Are you always this awkward when people try to be nice to you?"

"It's… something I have to work on," she sighed. "With you around, I have no doubt that I'll be given lots of practice at dealing with people in general."

"Undoubtedly," Sirius decided. "So should we get going now?"

"Yes, I think so."

"How are we getting there?"

Guinevere blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, walking would take a long time," Sirius explained. "So that leaves us with Apparation or the bike."

Guinevere laughed, backing away from him. "Oh no, you're not getting me on that thing in a million years. Are you out of your mind?"

He grinned. "I'm just kidding, Gwen. We're not going on the bike." He paused for a moment, then shot her a mischievous glance. "Although, I will teach you how to drive it some day."

"You most certainly will not!" Guinevere said exasperatedly. "I mean, really, drive it? Like I was one of those two hundred pound women with no hair, and massive tattoos, and a nose ring."

Sirius chuckled, taking hold of her arm so they could Apparate. "Well, I think you could do without the nose ring."

She pointed a finger at him, huffing like she was going to tell him off, before the look melted into a grudging smile. "Everything's a joke to you, isn't it?"

"Only when you're around."

"What, because I'm a joke?"

Sirius rolled his eyes at her attempt to turn everything into a possible argument. "No, because you need to laugh more."

"Oh."

"Ready?"

"Yes."

A few moments later, they were standing in front of a pub that Sirius went to quite frequently nowadays. He hoped a certain person would be working the night shift.

He gestured to the door. "After you."

Guinevere gave him a nervous look. He smiled reassuringly.

"Too late to back out now."

She nodded resolutely and stepped inside, making sure that he was right behind her.

Sure enough, Sirius was pleased to find the young man standing behind the bar as he stepped inside. His pause caught Guinevere's attention and she followed his eyes to see what had made him so happy.

"Harry Potter?" she exclaimed. "Harry works at the Three Broomsticks?"

Sirius raised a finger to his lips. "I think it's best that we refer to him as 'The Best Bartender in Europe' instead. Don't want to draw too much attention to that scar, after all. He gets enough flak about it as it is."

She gave a single understanding nod, although her confidence seemed to be diminishing by the second. "So now everyone's going to see me get totally smashed, including your godson?"

Sirius shrugged. "This was your idea."

"I know, and now I'm beginning to realize how crazy it is."

"You won't once we get a few drinks in you," Sirius insisted, placing a hand on her back and leading her up to the first two empty barstools he could find. "Bartender! Do your job, and get over here!"

Harry glanced down the bar and spotted him. The young man rolled his eyes and made his way over to where his godfather sat.

"Sirius, you need to learn to drink at home with friends."

Sirius pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Guinevere. "Halfway there, I brought a friend."

Harry glanced over at Guinevere, quite surprised. He soon smiled, though, and gave her a heartfelt, "Hello," reaching over the bar to shake hands.

"We haven't met properly, but I saw you at Remus and Ivy's wedding," she said quickly, trying to talk as though she wasn't terrified of her surroundings. "I'm Guinevere, Sirius' partner at work."

Harry's eyebrows went up to the top of his head, and he looked back at Sirius for a moment, trying to gauge his temperament. Well really, he was checking to make sure that his godfather was quite sane.

When Sirius showed no signs of abnormality, Harry looked back to Guinevere with an apology in his eyes. "I hope he hasn't been giving you too much trouble."

"Some damn grateful godson he turned out to be," Sirius muttered loudly, gazing at the ceiling.

Guinevere smiled at Harry. "Well, I'm sure you know better than anyone how impossible he can be."

When Sirius removed his eyes from the ceiling to shoot them both 'what the hell did I do to deserve this gang up?' looks, Guinevere smirked and revised her statement – "But he's been behaving himself."

Sirius literally pouted as Guinevere swiveled on her stool to look out over the bar and its patrons.

Harry leaned forward so he could speak to his godfather alone. With the rather large crowd providing substantial surface noise, he knew Guinevere wouldn't hear him.

"So that's – ?"

"Yes," Sirius finished for him. "We've been doing better. We're friends now."

"Friends?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Friends with the woman who you wouldn't shag if she were the – "

"Hush up, you," Sirius hissed, moving his eyes obviously toward Guinevere. "She's sitting right there, need I remind you. Besides, I'm not here to shag her. She's had a bad week, and she told me that she wanted to get drunk off her arse. And then she insisted that I be the one to look out for her."

Harry blinked. "She did realize that she was asking you to look out for her at a bar?"

"I'm two seconds away from boxing your ears, boy," Sirius threatened good-naturedly. "Yes, she asked me because we're friends."

Harry sighed, looking unconvinced. "Well, as the bartender I have the conflicting job of trying to get you to purchase as much alcohol as possible, but not drink yourselves to death. So I hope that you're really going to look out for her, because there's not much I can do if she loses it."

Sirius waved an unconcerned hand. "We'll, be fine. I'm not planning on getting drunk, and you know I can hold my liquor."

"So you say…" Harry muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Sirius growled. "Try to be a little glad on my behalf, will you? This is technically the first time I've been out with any woman, as friends or otherwise, in years."

Well, that was a cheap shot way of making me feel totally guilty, Harry thought, as he felt waves of loneliness stinging him instead on Sirius' behalf.

So Harry took a moment to look at the woman who had commanded Sirius to take her out to the bar. She was very beautiful and clearly uncomfortable and awkward. Then he noticed something else.

"I thought you said that she never wore anything besides trousers."

Sirius smirked. "A side effect of spending too much time with Ivy in a clothing store. Apparently the first dress she's had in years."

Harry's mind traveled again at the mention of Hogwarts' Headmistress. "How are Remus and Ivy doing?"

Sirius winced. "Don't ask. They were terrible today, but I don't want to get into it just now. We'll talk about it later."

"Talk about what?" Guinevere asked, swiveling back in her chair and becoming part of the conversation again.

"How I'm going to have my way with you in the bathroom," Sirius deadpanned.

"Ah."

Harry laughed and shook his head simultaneously. "So what'll you have?"

Sirius looked to Guinevere for the verdict.

She turned her gaze to Harry. "Firewhiskey. Straight up."

Harry's eyes widened, but he didn't argue. He began placing the shot glasses on the table.

Sirius, however, could not just let that alone. "Firewhiskey? Weren't you the one who said that one shot of that stuff makes you easy to take advantage of?"

She shrugged and retorted without missing a beat: "Well, if you're planning on shagging me in the loo…"

He gave a deep chuckle. "You're getting sharper by the minute, Guinevere."

"I know, you had better watch out. Soon I'll be too quick for you."

Harry reached toward the back of the bar and returned with the bottle of firewhiskey. As he poured it into each glass, he warned, "This stuff is really strong. I'd take it easy if I were you because it only takes a few shots for the room to start tilting."

Guinevere proceeded to ignore what Harry had said, and downed the shot in one gulp. And then she started hacking and coughing and gasping for air.

Sirius patted her back gently and pulled back some of her hair so he could see her face. "Easy now. You normally don't want to drink that fast unless you're used to it."

"That's hideous!" Guinevere managed to hack out. "Why would you drink this?"

Sirius shrugged, realizing that he actually didn't have a good answer for that one. Well, at least not one that she would find suitable. "Well, it's called firewhiskey for a reason, you know. It's supposed to burn everything out. That's what it's good for, I suppose."

She nodded. "In that case, keep it coming, Harry. I don't want to remember anything in an hour."

Harry bit his lip, but did as she asked, both he and Sirius watching in horror as she quickly knocked back another shot (coughing again terribly) and pointed to the glass for a refill.

"Slow down!" Sirius exclaimed. "At least wait for me to catch up to you a little!"

She looked at him quite seriously. "You have five seconds before I'll be on my fourth shot."

And then she downed shot number three and looked at Harry impatiently until he refilled the glass again.

Sirius put his hand over her glass before she could pick it up. "You shouldn't do more than three in one go like that. Wait a while for the next one. I promise that you'll be plenty drunk in a few minutes, just give the alcohol a chance to reach your stomach."

She paused and then nodded, sitting slumped and downcast as she waited for everything to take effect. Sirius took a relieved breath and sipped from his glass, shooting Harry a 'this was really a bad idea, wasn't it?' glance. Harry had no problem returning the glance with a 'yes, definitely' look of his own.

They waited for a few minutes in silence. Guinevere almost seemed to be asleep, and Sirius didn't want to wake her if that was the case. There were some people down at the other side of the bar that were calling for Harry, so he turned to his godfather.

"You going to be all right here for few minutes?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, we'll be fine."

So the young man walked down to the other end of the bar, and Sirius waited for Guinevere to do something that required his attention.

Eventually, she opened her eyes and stared around the room as though she couldn't understand why it was moving. Sirius watched her closely.

"Oh, that's fantastic," Guinevere decided, her words beginning to slur. "Makes everything a little blurry. I like that." She dipped her finger in her shot glass, raised the finger to her lips and licked it. "And it tastes like petrol and cleaning fluid."

"With just a hint of chestnut," Sirius added with a smile.

Guinevere turned her head slowly to look at him. When she finally did, she smiled back. "I'm so glad you're here. Drinking alone is an awful business."

Yes, it is, Sirius thought. But when you have to, you still do it.

"Do you think that Remus and Ivy will be all right?" Guinevere asked absently.

Sirius did not like the fact that this was the subject that kept coming up. "It's up to them, really. Why?"

"Nothing," Guinevere said. "I just know that feeling. That feeling of when it all goes to hell."

She immediately covered her mouth with a hand at what she'd said. Then she gave up angrily, and pounded her fist on the bar, sending drops of whiskey splashing down on the wood surface.

"Of all the places and times that I could have run into them!" she shouted. "I was so happy when they moved to Switzerland because I knew I'd never see them again!"

Sirius frowned, but couldn't think of anything he could say or do to make this better. Besides, in his experience, when someone needed to get drunk with other people around, it was usually to get everything out in the open with a clean conscience.

She dropped her forehead into her hand and turned her face to look at him through her tangled mass of hair. "He never wanted to take me to Switzerland. I never met his family, did you know that?"

Sirius shook his head.

"I don't think he wanted his family to meet me. They didn't come to our wedding. But when he married her, it was off to the snowy mountains! Come and meet my gorgeous, treacherous, blond-haired, big-breasted trophy wife! She likes to stay at home and shop all day, isn't she wonderful?"

She sniffed and lifted her head, gazing around the room. Then she turned back to her shot glass and tossed her head back with the next round of whiskey. She smacked the glass back down on the bar.

"And I'm so bad with people," she muttered. "I never liked having lots of friends when I was child, and then I got worse as an adult." She looked back to him. "Don't lie, I come off terribly awkward, don't I?"

Sirius couldn't deny that, and knew that she was drunk enough to get pissed off if he lied. "Yeah, you do."

She shook her head hopelessly. "I know. It's so sad. I just don't know what to do when people act funny, or playful, or friendly. I keep to myself, and I used to think that was all right."

She scratched her nails against the bar's wood surface and sighed. "And then I met Alec, and I didn't keep to myself anymore because there was someone who I wanted to share everything with. And he sure bloody well threw that back in my face."

"So he was an idiot," Sirius supplied. "So why should you care?"

Guinevere straightened up resolutely. "I don't care. Not one bit. I just wish that I could be better with people. Then I wouldn't be alone all the time."

"Well, getting better with people requires spending more time with them," Sirius reminded her. "That's the only way that you're going to feel more comfortable."

"I know, I know," Guinevere moaned. "I'm just so bad about it. I mean, I stopped going to the Christmas party at work because I would always end up talking about work, and they would always be talking about their families, and looking at me like they felt so sorry for me."

"You're a much more interesting person than that," Sirius told her. "You just have to learn how to show it."

Guinevere shot him a disbelieving glance. "How am I interesting?"

"You're sitting here in a bar drinking firewhiskey, for starters," Sirius joked.

She shook her head hopelessly and grabbed Sirius by his sleeve. "God, what is it about you? Everyone loves you, even when you're a complete arse! You've been that way since we were children!"

"And I'm alone most of the time too, in case you haven't noticed," he pointed out grudgingly.

"But everyone loves you! I mean, Sylvia's uterus almost dropped out when you told her we were going out, she was so jealous! And she's married! Besides, no one expects you to be married or have lots of friends over or anything, you've been in prison."

She clapped a hand over her mouth at the mention of the forbidden word, and shot him an apologetic look. And then she became depressed again as another thought surfaced.

"And now Sorsha's in prison. That poor girl." She fanned herself, feeling warmer from a combination of the alcohol and the large amount of people in the pub. "I hate that part of my job. I hate it when they get dragged off like that and caged like animals. I mean, can you imagine the kind of childhood she had? Growing up in sewers, the most dangerous werewolves in the United Kingdom raising her?"

She tugged at the sweater that was still draped around her shoulders. "Sometimes I think that the reason I don't do well around people is because I hate them sometimes. I hate them for what they don't do, what they decide not to understand."

"That makes sense," Sirius said softly.

Harry was down at their end of the bar again washing glasses, and she reached over the bar and tugged his sleeve. "Fill it up again, Harry. I plan on not remembering anything that I've said tonight."

Harry looked to Sirius for the final judgment. Sirius looked at Guinevere for a moment, then looked back at Harry and nodded. Harry filled up the shot glass again.

As the amber liquid reached the top of it, Guinevere started crying. "They looked really happy, didn't they?"

"What are you blathering on about?" Sirius gentled, putting a hand on her back.

"They were really happy," she said quietly. "And she looked great, didn't she? They both did."

Sirius tried to smile. "No, from the way he was cutting his hair I'd say it looks like he's going to be bald in a few years."

She actually laughed at the comment, which made Sirius feel a little better, until she said, "But she looked good, right? I mean, you're a man, you probably thought she looked attractive."

Sirius shrugged noncommittally. "So-so, I'd say. Pregnancy did not agree with her. I mean some women look radiant, like your mum," he said to Harry, who was cleaning glasses again and trying to pretend that he wasn't listening in on their conversation. "But she looked really… tired and – "

"No, she didn't," Guinevere cut him off. "She looked beautiful. It was always that way, even when we were in school. I was a bookish, brownish Ravenclaw know-it-all, and she was the brash, blond Gryffindor beauty." Her eyes filled with tears again. "And now she's going to have a baby. She convinced him to have a baby."

"Yeah, and he's probably not too happy about it. The fact that she had to convince him should tell you that."

Guinevere shook her head. "But she's still going to have one…"

Sirius grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her a little to get her to look at him. "So is that what you think? You think that if you'd had a baby it would have turned out differently?"

She paused longer than Sirius would have liked and then said exactly what he didn't want to hear.

"Maybe…"

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "Guinevere, I want you to listen to me very carefully – there is no worse reason to have a child than that. It wouldn't have changed him or the stupid decisions that he made, and then you would have been left to raise that child by yourself."

"I wouldn't have been alone," she said softly.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. It just wasn't right. It wasn't right for her to sound so lost and helpless. No matter how alone she felt.

"And maybe I wanted to have a child," she added.

"You still can," Sirius insisted.

She laughed. "To most people I'm already an old maid, Sirius!"

"Who cares what you are to most people?" Sirius said, feeling angry for her. "You can still have children if you want them."

She leaned her cheek on a hand. "I'd probably be a terrible mother anyway."

Sirius sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, for God's sake…. You're just determined to think that you've let your life slip away. I want you to take a good look around this bar. Take a look." He waited for her to do as he directed. "There's no standard age group here. No class system. No specific kind of relationship you're supposed to be in. Just a lot of people here to have a good time. They all know they're not dead yet, but you seem to think that your life stopped after he left you."

As if someone had heard Sirius' little speech, the band that had been setting up in the corner all evening, finally started to play. It was a happy tune, sort of a jig, and everyone started to laugh and clap along.

He smiled at her. "Find someone to dance with."

Her eyes widened fearfully. "What?"

"Find someone to dance with. Someone you've never met. Someone who's a total mystery to you."

"I can't – "

"All right, now I hope I'm not being rude," came a voice over Guinevere's shoulder, "but you should be out there on that dance floor, instead of sitting here letting this fellow talk your ear off."

Guinevere turned around to find a nice looking man, probably younger than her, holding his hand out. "One dance?" he begged.

She looked back to Sirius for help, but Sirius held up his hands and said, "She's all yours. I wash my hands of her."

The man grabbed Guinevere's hand as she glared daggers at Sirius, and led her onto the floor. Sirius turned to Harry, who he could feel staring at him over his shoulder.

"So what was that breakdown about?"

Sirius took another sip of whiskey from his glass. "She had a really bad marriage that lasted for years, and ended in her husband running off with her best friend. And the other day we happened to run into the happy couple at the grocery store. Her former friend is now very pregnant, and it looks like they're moving back into town."

Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose. "That's horrible."

Sirius nodded in agreement, glancing out at the dance floor. Guinevere seemed to be tripping over herself, but she appeared to be having a fabulous time, bursting into hysterical laughter every time she made a mistake. The man she was with found her quite charming, and laughed right along with her as they made their way around the floor.

"She got the hang of that pretty fast," Harry commented.

"She's damn smart. She'd probably catch on to most things really fast if she'd just let herself. And she'd probably have plenty of men hanging around. This one seems to think that she's just fantastic. Doesn't know how neurotic she is yet, but that's a conversation that can wait for the morning."

Harry blanched. "You're not just going to leave her in the hands of some man she doesn't know?"

Sirius smirked. "Have a little more faith in me than that, would you? I won't let her go home with anyone tonight. Next time, though," he decided, "she's on her own."

Harry grinned. "You're such a wonderful person."

"I know, I'm just full of protective instincts and loving gestures," he finished. "So how's everything going with Ginny?"

He was sharp enough to see the tiny rush of color to the young man's cheeks, and the way in which Harry found new interest in the glass he was cleaning.

Sirius leaned forward. "Come on, boy. I could read your father like a book, and you're no different."

Harry shrugged in a defeated manner. "Wish she was out of school. I could see her more then."

"I'll bet," Sirius replied. "Have you told her that you fancy her?"

Harry stared at the ceiling. "No, haven't really warmed up to that one yet."

Sirius tilted his head in a scolding sort of way. "You want to know what your father would say to that?"

Harry's immediately defensive body language said 'no', but he looked to his godfather curiously all the same.

"He'd say, 'Harry, no man ever scores one point in his life if he keeps letting bludgers knock him off his broom'."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please tell me he wouldn't use lame Quidditch-speak like that."

"Harry, I think you're forgetting who your father was. That man could relate anything in life to Quidditch."

"Why did my mum marry him, again?" Harry asked helplessly.

"Because he was a brave, selfless, and loving man," Sirius answered without missing a beat. "And he apparently was a very good kisser because your mother felt the need to mention that on more than one occasion."

"I'm so glad you're here to tell me all the important things about my family, Sirius," Harry sighed sarcastically.

"You've never asked me anything important about them," Sirius pointed out. "I keep waiting for all the interesting questions you'll come up with, but they never come."

Harry shook his head. "Not quite sure I'm ready for it yet."

Sirius gave his godson a look of sympathy. "I know."

The young man decided that it was time to change subjects again. "So I take it work is better now since she doesn't hate you quite so much."

Sirius was about to answer when he heard a lot of cheering and shouting coming from the dance floor. He looked over and saw a crowd of people standing around Guinevere shouting, "Song! Song! Song!"

Guinevere was blushing, still not quite steady, as she was not used to having to feel her balance when she was drunk. She shook her head and tried to make them stop, but they continued to shout, "Song! Song!"

Then one of the men grabbed her by the waist and carried her over to the band. "Come on, lass!" he cheered in a thick Irish brogue. "Let's 'ave a song from ye!"

"I don't know any songs! I can't really sing!" she insisted, hiccupping a second later. One of the men handed her a glass of beer so she could drown out her hiccups, and she took the glass, draining a liberal amount of it before handing it back to him and sheepishly saying, "Thank you."

"We heard you humming away with the band!" called the man who had been dancing with her. "Come on! Let's have a tune!"

She rubbed her elbow nervously with one hand, and glanced around the pub. Finally, she managed to ask, "Er, are there any sailors in the room?"

About five men in different areas of the room raised their hands and stepped forward. They were all stocky, large and menacing, but for Guinevere they all managed a smile.

She smiled back shyly. "Well, er… I'm going to need your help with this one. I hope you all know it, it's supposed to be a sea shanty or a drinking song."

And then she stood still as a rabbit trying to avoid a fox, not sure of how she would begin. It looked as though she would run off any second in a panic, but suddenly people started clapping a rhythm for her. She paused and watched them all, nodding her head to the beat they provided. And then she started singing in an unrefined, but charming voice:

"Cape Cod boys don't got no sleds"

"Heave away, heave away," the five sailors answered in heavy, booming voices.

Guinevere smiled at them as if she'd won first place in a school potions fair and continued.

"They slide down hills on codfish heads"

"We're bound for Australia," the men answered again.

Guinevere nodded at her sailors and they all joined in on the refrain:

"So heave her up my bully bully boys, now
Haul away, haul away! Yip!
Well, heave her up and don't you make a noise
And we're bound away for Australia"

Everyone in the bar began cheering, and others joined in on clapping out a rhythm for Guinevere. She laughed and looked back bashfully at the band, but they all smiled at her and picked up their instruments, adding to the fray now that they knew the tune.

Sirius was staring dumbfounded at the woman who was standing in front of the crowd drinking away, and singing sea shanties. Who exactly had he brought into this pub?

"I take it Guinevere doesn't do this often," Harry said, noting the look on his godfather's face.

Sirius shook his head. "Guinevere doesn't sing," he said dazedly. "She doesn't sing, she doesn't drink hard liquor, and she doesn't like being around too many people."

Harry smirked. "So who's that up there, then?"

Sirius looked toward the crowd, the voices of Guinevere and everyone in the bar now answering her back causing a buzz in his head:

"Cape Cod girls don't got no combs
They comb their hair with codfish bones"

"So heave her up my bully bully boys, now
Haul away, haul away! Yip!
Well, heave her up and don't you make a noise
And we're bound away for Australia"

"I have no idea…" Sirius decided bewilderedly.

By the end of the song the whole pub was singing, clapping, and stamping around. They applauded Guinevere as she timidly stepped away from the band, and crowded her when she tried to leave the dance floor.

After a few minutes, she finally made her way back to Sirius and Harry. Heaving a heavy, high-pitched sigh, she shook her head and laughed. Then she looked up and saw Sirius' 'care to explain?' face, and started to laugh harder.

"This is a great place!" was the only answer she could offer. "Really, it's wonderful! It seems so different from when we were kids. Everyone's so friendly, and they just stood me up there and made me sing!"

"And?" Sirius prompted.

"And…" Guinevere clutched her head suddenly, still giggling. "And I think it's about time to go home."

Sirius nodded. "I think that's probably a good idea."

Guinevere and Sirius stood up from the bar, Sirius dropping some money down for the drinks. His godson smiled at him.

"Thanks for the eventful evening," he said.

"Always happy to oblige," Sirius shot back. "I'll see you at Ron and Hermione's engagement party, right?"

"Now why would you think that, Sirius? I mean, I'm only their best man."

Sirius glared at him with a grin. "Cheeky little bastard."

Harry shrugged and waved goodbye.

Before they got to the door, one of the men stopped Guinevere. "Do you need someone to escort you home, miss?"

Guinevere blushed and smiled, but shook her head all the same. "Thank you, but I already have someone taking me home."

The man grinned at her. "Shame. Hope we'll see you around again soon."

Guinevere nodded and ducked out the door, Sirius following behind her. He took her arm quickly to Apparate. "Ready?" he asked.

Guinevere looked around outside, taking a deep breath. She looked up at him hopefully. "How far are we from home?"

"A ways."

"Could we walk for a bit? It's so nice outside, and I have a funny feeling that Apparation will make me throw up rather quickly."

Sirius chuckled and started walking with her down the street. "You're probably going to throw up no matter what."

"I know, but I'd like to not do it front of anyone."

"I'm not the one you should be embarrassed in front of."

She shook her head. "I'm embarrassed in front of everyone."

He shot her an incredulous look. "Everyone? Does 'everyone' exclude all of the people in that pub that you just gave that lovely performance to? Or maybe I qualify as 'everyone', and you're really not embarrassed around anyone but me?"

She snorted. "You'd like to think you were that important."

"Oh fine," Sirius huffed. "I give up on trying to understand you. It's impossible."

There was silence for a moment, as if Guinevere was trying to figure out whether or not Sirius was angry with her. She walked along, staring at the lit windows in people's homes.

"Thank you," she finally said. "Thank you for doing this with me. I had a great time."

"I can tell you did," Sirius replied without a hint of anger in his voice. Guinevere calmed at his tone and rubbed her shoulders.

"Where's your sweater?" Sirius asked.

She glanced at her shoulders, as if she were expecting it to appear, then clapped a hand to her face. "It must have fallen off my shoulders when I was dancing. That was stupid of me."

"I'd wait until morning to go back and look for it," Sirius suggested. "Now it's too crowded, and if someone picks it up, they'll give it to someone who works there and you can get it tomorrow."

She nodded and continued rubbing her shoulders absent-mindedly. Sirius shook his head and shrugged his leather jacket off, but when she saw him do it, she stepped away from him.

"No, you're not giving me your jacket – "

"Not negotiable," Sirius stated firmly. "My family, despite all the terrible things they did teach, also taught my brother and I to be gentlemen. And a gentleman cannot be with a coat when a lady is without one."

When he moved to put the jacket on her, she reached out her arms obligingly and gathered it close to herself once it was on. After a few moments of walking in it, she pulled the jacket toward her nose and inhaled deeply. Sirius blinked perplexedly at her until she said, "I love the smell of leather."

His jaw dropped. "But you hate that jacket…"

She laughed in a maniac sort of way. "I hated the jacket because it was yours. And because it reminded me of certain aspects of your personality that I don't like." She took another deep breath with the black fabric under her nose, her eyes shutting briefly as she continued walking down the street. "But I love the smell of leather. I love the smell of this jacket. That's why it used to piss me off so much when you wore it."

"Anything else I should know?" Sirius asked, astounded. "Weird fetishes? Cult memberships? Dead bodies in your closet? Oh – you don't have a thing for handcuffing people, do you?"

She laughed and looked over at him. "What was it you said to me on our first week working together: 'I don't think we know each other quite well enough for me to be telling you all of my secrets'? Yes, I think that was it…"

Sirius nodded in feigned understanding. "I see…. It's the handcuffs, isn't it? You probably have a pair in the drawer of your bedside table."

Guinevere shook a finger at him. "Ah-ah-ah. That is something which you, sadly, will never know."

"Sadly for me, or sadly for you?" Sirius inquired innocently.

"Nice try, Black."

"Oh no, no surnames between us while you're wearing my jacket that you can't stop sniffing."

"It smells good!" Guinevere exclaimed. "I can't do anything about that."

"Except pretend to hate it for the first few months because you hate me."

"We're friends now, Sirius. Let's try to use 'hate' in the past tense."

Sirius stifled a frustrated growl and uncurled his balled fists. He wasn't really angry, there was just something about their banter that was absolutely infuriating. More so because he didn't know what it was. There was something that he was supposed to do, he just couldn't figure out what.

"You're quiet," Guinevere pointed out all of a sudden.

"I know," he sighed.

"You can't go all quiet on me like that, it confuses me," she continued. "It makes me think that I said something wrong."

"You didn't, I promise."

Another minute of silence passed.

"Can we go home now?" Guinevere asked.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, sure."

He took her arm and in a few seconds they were in front of their flats. Guinevere clutched her head for a moment and swayed.

"You okay?" asked Sirius.

She took a couple breaths before answering. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little woozy is all." Another thought occurred to her, and she laughed cynically. "Oh, we have to work tomorrow. And I'm going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow, aren't I?"

"Probably," Sirius conceded. "If it's really bad let me know, I've got a great charm for nasty hangovers."

"I don't want to trouble you anymore than I already have."

"No trouble," Sirius insisted. "Just knock on my door. I'd say stamp on the floor or call down for me, but if it's a bad hangover, you won't want a noise that loud."

"Right," Guinevere agreed. "Well, then I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Sirius nodded, walking toward his door. He stopped when he saw that Guinevere was simply staring up the stairs at her door.

"What is it?"

She kept staring at the door. "It's just sad…. I don't even have a cat. Or fish. There's nothing up there but books and crockery."

Sirius stood in front of his door uncomfortably. Should he go up there with her? Should he tell her to wait down here with him for a while? Should he just let her think on what she'd said for a moment?

"But you remember that dog I told you about?"

"The big black one that you saw out back a while ago?"

She nodded. "He comes to visit me sometimes. When I'm sitting out there. He keeps me company." She finally pulled her gaze down from the door and looked at him. "Are you sure you haven't seen him yourself?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, can't say I have."

Guinevere sighed. "Oh, well. Maybe he's just a figment of my imagination too."

And with that, she trudged up the stairs, tried to unlock the door three times before succeeding, and disappeared into her flat. Sirius watched her go, feeling strangely heavier when her door shut.

Ivy felt heavy. Very heavy.

So when her brain began to alert her that she was now in the place between sleep and awake, she fought that feeling with all her willpower. She just needed a few more minutes. A few more hours maybe. Or, how about days? Days were good.

But things kept registering. She was becoming aware that it had to be morning because she could tell that it was light out through her eyelids. She knew that she wasn't in her bed because the surface beneath her was stiffer than usual. She felt warm, too warm, although she also realized that she was not clothed because there was no weight of fabric against her skin. There was weight against her hip, though, specific weight that was not normally there. Maybe she was eating too much chocolate lately.

And then all of these facts collapsed together at once, and the previous night came crashing back with a clarity that forced her brain into the back of her skull.

But she wouldn't panic. She still didn't know what was going on in the world outside. And though she wasn't sure that she wanted to know, she forced herself to open her eyes.

She felt her heart slow down and speed up a second later. Definitely the result of drowning out realization with relief.

Because he was still there.

He was awake already, his eyes open and lazily alert. She was thankful that he was not looking in her eyes, though, because if she had seen that first she probably would have gone stiff as a board and then lurched back into the wall like a nervous rabbit.

But he was letting his gaze wander over her hair, her ear, her shoulder, her hand on his chest. Eventually, he made it back up to her eyes. When he found them open, he blinked quickly and smiled.

Ivy managed to speak first. "You're still here."

He nodded.

"You stayed."

He nodded again.

"You didn't let go."

"You told me not to."

She bit her lip and allowed her thoughts to come forward in a rush.

"What time is it?"

He glanced above her head toward the window. "Morning."

She smirked. "Oh, brilliant, professor."

He gave an exaggerated sigh and began to pull away ever so slightly. "Well, if you want me to check the clock…"

"No!" she exclaimed, grabbing hold of his arm and leaning in to kiss him. She saw his eyebrows go up in surprise as their lips met.

Ivy pulled away quickly, realizing how insecure that action must have seemed. She looked down bashfully and waited for him to say something.

But when she looked down she realized something else. "We don't have clothes or blankets."

"No, we don't," was his amused response.

She had expected him to get all embarrassed at that, and had been secretly hoping to even the ground between them. This was not normal. Not in the morning, not after what had happened last night. She was totally flustered and he was calm, sedate, and completely unabashed. She sounded needy and he was in control.

But she was needy, dammit! And she had every right to be, didn't she? Just this once?

She looked up again, this time not feeling guilty about showing her anxiety. "Don't go into work today. Let's just stay here. Please."

He nodded again, uncomplicating everything with the ease of his body language, with his comfort in just lying there next to her. She was awed and at a loss to understand how everything had so suddenly changed.

"Remus…"

He hushed her, shaking his head gently. "You're confused," he said. It was a statement of fact, not a question.

She nodded.

"Don't be."

Her brow crinkled briefly in stunned bewilderment.

"There's nothing to be confused about," he told her. "I'm exactly where you wanted me. I'm here. I'm not so far away."

She fought back the urge to gape stupidly. She had been sure that he hadn't heard a word she had said that night on her birthday. But he had used her exact words. How had he managed that?

"I hear everything you say, even when I don't want to," he explained, reading her mind. "It's one of the more annoying affects you have on me."

She smiled. "I'll remember that next time you forget to do some chore that I remind you about five times."

He grinned back. "There you are. I was worried that you were in shock."

"I think that maybe I am. I don't know if my mind is capable of figuring out what happened last night. What it means for us."

"Oh, I've already given up on that one," he confessed. "Tried to work it all out while you were still asleep. But I don't think that we're supposed to know yet. Maybe we never will."

She thought that over for a moment. "Okay. I can live with that. So for now we just label it as 'mind-blowing sex' and file it away for future reference?"

He chuckled. "Yes, that sounds about right for now."

They both went quiet after a few seconds, and they both knew why.

"But that wasn't it," Ivy said assuredly.

"No, it wasn't."

"I've never felt anything like that."

"I think that's the idea of it. If it was like everything else then there would be no reason to do it."

"Figured that out all by yourself, did you?" Ivy teased.

Remus nodded mock sagely. "I did. With my very own unique brilliance." When her eyes began to glaze and she didn't respond, he used the hand clutching her hip to pull her closer. "Are you all right?"

She blinked a few times, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I just…. I wish you had told me what was wrong sooner. I feel like this happened because of the fight we had, and that makes me feel awful because I couldn't figure out what was wrong, and you didn't say anything after how hard we've been trying to make sure that we tell each other what we think – "

"I'm sorry," he said desperately, cutting her off before she had the chance to really weigh in on him again. "I know what happened was terrible, but I didn't realize my mistake at the time because everything was surfacing as… instinct…"

Ivy eyebrows went up in understanding. "You mean you felt that the wolf was doing the thinking about it, so you tried not to address it at all yourself."

He glanced away shamefully, realizing how cowardly he sounded when she put it that way. "Yes."

"And that was why you wanted to do this last night…" she continued, her expression turning wounded and mortified.

Remus removed both of his hands from where they rested beneath her head and at her waist so he could reach up and cup her face. "Look at me," he commanded.

His voice was too steady and piercing for her not to obey. She willed herself not to let her eyes well up – she didn't want him to see that.

"What happened last night did not happen because my mind was half gone or because I was reclaiming my territory," he said carefully. The words sounded horrid and cruel, but he knew that was what she was thinking. "This has needed to happen between us for a long time – "

Ivy snorted in disbelief. "How long?" she asked acerbically.

He ran a thumb gently across her bottom lip. The action startled her into looking back up.

"Since the first time I kissed you when we were seventeen years old," he told her, his voice tender and unwavering.

And Ivy's mind suddenly shot straight back in time, and she remembered that moment, how it had felt. She remembered how nervous she had been, how she had trembled, and how something so right had clicked in her head. And how they had laughed and brushed it off as an uncomfortable occurrence, forced on them by the powers that be…

The clinical part of her mind realized that it was really the first time that she had ever been physically aroused by someone; she could come to terms with that idea now that she was older. That sort of awakening could be a very potent feeling, and it never quite left. She wondered if it had been the same for him, but decided that now was not the time that she wanted to ask.

"That was a long time ago," she whispered.

And he nodded, more amused by the comment than saddened. "And that's how long we've needed this. That's how long we've waited."

Ivy had the grace to smirk. "We seem to be good at that."

"Yes, we do."

"How about we stop?"

Remus sighed heavily and leaned his head in toward hers. "Yes, I concur." His hand moved and started trailing down her side at a leisurely pace, tracing shapes and patterns that lingered in the back of his mind. He watched her close her eyes, lips curling in a tip-tilted smile as she hummed pleasurably in the back of her throat. "What now?" he asked, waiting to receive further orders as to how he would waste the day away in the comfort of their rooms.

Ivy's eyes snapped open and a hand went to her hair, threading through strands of red-gold. "Yeah, I'm going to take a shower, first thing."

The fingers that had been trickling down her thigh halted abruptly and snaked tightly around her waist. "You're going to leave me here alone?" he gasped in mock panic. "Why?"

Ivy's smile widened. She knew that some of that panic was real. It was comforting to know that she still had that affect. "I said that I was going to take a shower," she explained slowly, "I didn't say anything about taking one alone…"

Remus' eyes widened briefly before they changed shape, forming a predator's stare. Ivy's breath hitched as the transformation occurred. It was always fascinating to watch, especially because he was never consciously aware that he was doing it. "Well, that's something else entirely…"

They both sat up at the same, but Ivy winced harshly, her hand flying to her lower back. She quickly tried to hide the reaction, but Remus had already spotted it (no doubt he had heard it), and placed a careful hand on her shoulder.

"What is it, what's wrong?"

She managed a sardonic little smile. "Just a bit… sore." She could feel the color rising in her cheeks as she said it, and scolded herself for it. Shouldn't she be beyond embarrassment at this point?

But then again, he was no better. Once the realization of what she had said hit him, he gave a short, sheepish laugh and glanced down at the floor. He quickly realized that his eyes weren't supposed to be there at that moment, and they flew back up to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry…" he began, and then he really started laughing, mainly because of the incredulous look she was giving him. "Oh, that's such an inadequate and pointless thing to say," he decided, reaching forward and gathering her to him.

Ivy let herself be pulled into his arms, looping her own around his neck. "Yes, it is," she agreed. "Because you're not sorry, and I know I'm not sorry…"

"All right, all right – we've already established how terrible I am at knowing how to say what I mean when you're not clothed," he reminded her, his hands moving down to her lower back, rubbing where it ached.

"Yes, we do know that," she agreed. "Ow! Oh, yeah, just there – " she said with a grimace, indicating that he had hit a tender spot.

Remus pressed his fingers in harder where they had been rubbing near her spine, eliciting a painful groan from his wife, but he continued moving in circles, working out the tense area. He had to stop himself from apologizing again.

"Are you going to be all right?" was what he finally said.

"We'll see what happens when I try to walk," she answered, half laughing. At that, she stopped his hands by touching her fingers to his arms, and stood up. Remus followed, watching Ivy stretch up to the ceiling and behind her in an effort to loosen some of the pain away. He got behind her, smiling, and pressed a kiss into the back of her shoulder.

She tilted her head back, looking him up and down, and noticed that his body was definitely awake now. "Am I going to have to make it a cold shower?" she taunted.

"Then what would be the point of bringing me in with you?" he reasoned, wrapping his arms around her nude form and playfully pulling her back into him. "Besides, I'm not the one who decided to stretch and show off like that."

Ivy gently slapped at the arms holding her prisoner. "Back, demon of sin! Let go of me and trouble me no more!" she cried melodramatically.

"Now, you of all people should know that struggling only makes the game more enjoyable for demons," Remus whispered to her in a singsong voice.

Ivy gasped, mock scandalized, and managed to twist out of his grip. She rushed toward the bathroom.

"Lecher," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Tease," he shot back.

At that accusation she turned in the doorway to face him, eyes sparkling, smile playing too easily on her lips. "Are you coming?"

"Of course."

They both disappeared into the bathroom for a long time. Sounds of giggling, shouting, and cooing could be heard. Finally, Remus emerged with a towel around his waist and a smaller one in his hand, which he used to dry his hair.

"My eyes still sting, you vicious woman!" he scolded with a grin.

"Oh, come on, it was so funny, I couldn't resist!" called a voice from inside the bathroom.

"You rubbed soap in my eyes!" he cried in vehement shock.

"Yeah, and it was hilarious!" she laughed. "Besides, you're all clean now. Stop being such a baby."

He glanced back toward the bathroom incredulously, trying to catch a glimpse of her by looking at the mirror in there, but the glass was too fogged up for him to see anything. "I'm a baby? That's what we're calling me now? Not an idiot, not lecherous, just a baby?"

She finally came out, wrapped in a towel, and planted a kiss on his damp cheek. "Hush you." She took the towel that he was drying his hair with and carefully wiped his eyes with it. "There. No more stinging?"

He snatched the towel back from her. "Very funny." Then he tugged on a soggy strand of her hair to pull her face closer and looked down at the purple towel that she had wrapped herself in, a devilish glint in his eye. "I don't know if it's a good idea for us to stay up here all day…"

"Why not?" Ivy pouted.

He twisted the lock of soaked hair around his index finger. "Because my mind is getting creative all of a sudden, and I'm starting to think of all sorts of unsightly things I can do to you now that we're alone for the day."

She smiled slyly and leaned into him. "Such as?"

There was a knock at the door.

Remus winced and Ivy's eyes went icy in a nanosecond. If the look had been directed at him, he would have been afraid.

"Who the hell - ?" she started, spinning around and glancing outside their bedroom at the front door. "You get it."

"Me? I don't have any clothes on!"

"Neither do I," Ivy reasoned, "and it's a woman's prerogative to take longer dressing. So you answer the door."

There was another knock. "Coming," Remus called. Ivy smiled at him and went back into the bathroom.

Remus hurried over to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of trousers. He put them on quickly, and heard another urgent knock on the door. Didn't they know what the word "coming" meant?

But since the knock sounded so insistent, Remus decided that he would go answer the door without putting on a shirt. The person would just have to deal with it. After all, it wasn't his fault that they couldn't wait a few seconds for him to get fully dressed.

So he walked to the door, opened it, and found a very distressed Clayton Lee Wilcott on the other side. The man seemed even more shocked to find Remus at the door only half-dressed.

"Uh…" Clayton started, clearly trying to reorganize his thoughts now that the wrong person was in front of him.

Remus folded his arms across his chest. Oh, the amount of power he now held in this situation made him feel twice as tall. He really didn't have to worry about this one anymore. He never really did, in fact, as Ivy had pointed out last night.

The door wasn't all the way open, and at that moment Ivy decided to come out in her bathrobe and stow herself on the other side of the door, where she wouldn't be seen. She probably thought it was Minerva, and had hidden so that she wouldn't have to talk to her. Remus' eyes shifted toward her subtly, and he saw her mouth the words, "who is it?"

Remus didn't want to let Clayton know that Ivy was hiding behind the door, so he found another way to get it across.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Wilcott?"

He saw Ivy smack a hand to her forehead out of the corner of his eye.

"Is Ivy here?" the Texan asked unsurely.

Remus again glanced carefully to the other side of the door where he saw Ivy violently shaking her head 'no'.

"I'm afraid she isn't," Remus answered for her, trying as best he could to not give her away by smiling.

Clayton finally regained his footing and glared at him shrewdly. "Oh, that's right, you two hadda fight the other day…"

At this information, Remus faltered. "How did you - ?"

"Well, a lotta the students saw ya coming back from Hogsmeade," Clayton explained, suddenly acting superior. "They said ya both looked mad as hornets at each other. They were all talkin' about it at suppertime…. Sounded like a pretty big fight, I was worried…"

I'm sure you were… Remus thought angrily. But he stopped, reminding himself that Clayton was no threat to him, and that Ivy was probably waiting for him to end this conversation quickly.

So he smiled in a sickening sort of way and shook his head as though Clayton was greatly amusing to him. "Oh no, we actually sorted everything out last night. All better, fight resolved. Not that it's anyone's business, of course, but seeing as you were so worried…"

"So she's not there?" Clayton asked again, clearly disappointed that they were all right, and wanting to end their discussion soon. "Because we were suppose' ta go over the files that were sent to us by Durmstrang today. She wanted my help."

"Well, she's…" Remus glanced over to where Ivy was waiting impatiently, "… indisposed."

The smile on his face clearly gave him away because Clayton looked him over suspiciously. Ivy found it amusing too because she started laughing into her hand. She hadn't closed her robe, and without her hands holding it shut, it fell open, showing Remus a glimpse that was decidedly unhelpful when he was trying to focus on a conversation with another person.

"Wait a minute…" Clayton said, watching Remus' eyes and attempting to put some pieces together. "She's not behind the door, is she?"

Remus was feeling far too smug to lie completely. He glanced up at the ceiling as though he was thinking very hard. "…Well, if she was, she'd be naked."

Clayton's eyes widened, and Remus could swear that the Texan seemed angry at what that clearly intimated. Ivy on the other hand was caught between laughing and screaming, and she glared wildly at him, mouthing the words, "you bastard", and quickly tying her robe shut.

Remus took advantage of the fact that Clayton was speechless by straightening up and giving him the cover story. "I'm afraid she's ill, and she doesn't want to go see Madam Pomfrey because she's afraid of how contagious she seems to be. I will be taking care of her, seeing as I have already been exposed. Could you make sure that the staff know that we will not be available today? And get a sub for my classes?"

"I – "

"Thank you so much," Remus said kindly, shutting the door in the Texan's face.

He and Ivy waited for the sound of her office door closing before they made a single noise.

Ivy burst out in hysterics. "You son of a – my God, I'm going to kill you! Kill you! You sneaky, self-satisfied, arrogant – "

But she never did get to finish because Remus pushed her up against the wall and snaked his tongue between her parted, shocked lips.

Ivy was well aware of what had caused this. She knew a pissing contest when she saw one (or heard one for that matter), and he had just won a big one. Nothing like that boost of testosterone and assertion of ownership to make one feel virile and in need of a good shag… She could even hear him growling in the back of his throat, making her eyes involuntarily roll up…

"Okay, you," Ivy said, managing to push him back a little, "we all got it. You're the alpha male, you have beaten the pup back into his rightful place. Feel better now?"

Remus pushed away from the wall a bit, but kept his hands planted on either side of her head. He wasn't planning on letting her slip away, apparently. "Yes, I feel thoroughly invigorated and unashamed about it." His voice dropped to a whisper. "So why don't you get in bed and let me take you the way I've wanted to since we were students here?"

Ivy blinked in puzzlement, though she felt her skin begin to tingle at the pitch and suggestion in his voice. "But you never thought of me that way when we were… I mean, you never – "

"Subconscious mind is a funny thing," he said with a wicked smile, his hand running down the collar of her bathrobe. "You have absolutely no control over it."

"You mean you dreamed of having sex with me when we were younger?" Ivy asked in astonishment. "And you never told me?"

"Wouldn't have been appropriate," he explained, shrugging. "Besides, I was horrified with myself when I had dreams like that. I couldn't believe that some part of my mind thought on that level; it was terrifying."

Ivy could understand. It was a little frightening at that age to dream about things that you hadn't experienced, and knowing him the way she did, he was probably scared out of his wits when it happened. After all, he had been appalled when he had cornered her during their performance of Jekyll and Hyde – and nothing had even really happened then. But still…

"What were your dreams like?" Ivy asked in a lascivious tone. "Did I live up to your expectations?"

Remus chuckled deep in his throat. "Oh, I'd say you did more than that. After all, the dreams I had were a bit naïve…"

His mouth dipped down to the base of her neck where he started kissing and licking his way upward. Ivy almost gave in, but she was having too much fun.

"Wait a minute! I only said that we were going to spend the day together. I thought we could just sit on the couch and read and have some tea, I didn't say anything about this."

Remus nipped at her jaw before groaning the words, "Not… funny…"

"No, really," she continued with mock conservativeness, halfheartedly trying to pry him off, "I don't think you understand. Today we were just going to spend the day as real equals – "

"Not funny…" he interjected again, his mouth latching onto her earlobe.

" – in each other's company, enjoying each other's presence – "

"Which we can do in bed," Remus insisted, trying to move her toward their room.

"Now, Remus, I really don't know if I can allow that after the scandalous confession you made – "

"Bed."

She laughed, but wouldn't budge an inch.

Remus smirked. "Unless, of course, you want to get Mr. Wilcott back in here, and we can see how he fares…"

Ivy's eyes widened at the unthinkable statement he had just dared to utter, and she smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. Seeing as Remus had no shirt on, the slap was actually quite painful, and when he winced, Ivy gasped and said "sorry!" instantly. He smiled at her guilt, and she smiled back, leaning into him and placing her hands on his chest.

"So what sort of 'unsightly things' were you thinking of doing to me before we were interrupted?" she asked lightly. Her fingers were tracing one of the scars on his chest lovingly, as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. Remus was struck by the gesture, the way she could turn his painful defects into something treasured and adored. The way she made him feel new, which was better than feeling young.

It made him feel like he could take on the world and come out unscathed from every tragedy.

So he tilted his head down to her ear and whispered the answer to her question.

And then he pulled back in time see her eyes darken brilliantly.

Ivy grabbed Remus by the waist of his trousers and pulled him into the bedroom. They did not leave their bed that day.

There we are! I hope you're sufficiently fluffed out, because there's some crazy dramatic stuff going down in the next chapter. Beware for angst, but also a surprise that I think you'll really like ;D And please review, you know how it makes me squee deep down in my fangirl heart….