Being able to turn into a dog at will had done wonders for Sirius Black's relationship with his family.

At the start of the summer holidays, after a particularly vicious argument with his mother, Sirius had stormed out of Grimmauld Place, transformed into Padfoot, and promptly shat on the troll-skin doormat.

Regulus found him later that evening in the park across the street, dragging his heels in the dirt as he sat in one of the swings.

"Mum's furious, you know," said Regulus. "That doormat was made from the hide of Bladbog the Basher. It's worth thousands."

"Can't prove it was me," said Sirius. "I don't own a dog."

"Right," said Regulus sarcastically. "I'm sure Mum has absolutely no idea who it might have been." He sat in the swing beside Sirius and twisted back and forth in the seat.

"I can't do this for another two months," Sirius said suddenly. "Listening to her tirades against Muggles every night over dinner. As if it isn't her fault we live in the middle of non-magical London instead of Stoke St Pure-blood."

Regulus nearly smiled. "It would be nice to discuss something new once in a while."

Sirius tipped his head towards the sky, which was awash with the last orange rays of the setting sun. "What do normal families chat about, d'you reckon?"

"Beats me," said Regulus. "The state of their neighbours' gardens, maybe?"

Sirius snorted. "Even if Mum wasn't a madwoman, I can't see her caring too much about number eleven's hydrangeas."

"That's a crepe myrtle," said Regulus, craning his neck towards the row of houses. "Hydrangeas grow on bushes."

"Look at you," said Sirius. "So cultured. No wonder Mum's so proud."

A flush crept up Regulus' pale neck. "What are you going to do about her? About both of them?"

"Dunno," said Sirius. "Considering offing myself. That'll show them."

"It's half a year until you're of age," Regulus pointed out. "Offing yourself seems a little premature."

"Fair point," said Sirius. "Think I'll go with Plan B, then."

And before Regulus could open his mouth to ask what Plan B was, there was a rustle at his side and Sirius vanished, replaced by an enormous, shaggy black dog.

Regulus practically jumped out of his swing. "Good lord, Sirius," he said, which was about the strongest language Sirius had ever heard him use. "Don't tell me you've gone and —"

The dog panted happily, tongue lolling out of its mouth, and then Sirius was stretching his long arms towards the sky, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Plan B," he said. "We'll tell them you got a dog. You were meant to surprise them with it over dinner, but your irresponsible older brother startled the poor beast, and it defecated on the doormat —"

"Not on your life," said Regulus. "That's not a dog, Sirius, that's a hellhound. They won't fall for it."

"Sure they will," said Sirius. "They can't say no to you, Reg. Tell them I've run away, and that Padfoot here is a very good boy —"

"Padfoot," repeated Regulus shakily. "You've named your dog self Padfoot."

"'Course I did," said Sirius, and though he was smiling, his eyes were dark. "Our dear sweet mum tells me daily I'm a walking nightmare who's brought ruin to the family name. What else would I be, except a Grim?"

Walburga Black was none too happy that Regulus had adopted a dog, but as Sirius had predicted, she wasn't able to say no to her youngest son. And so life at Grimmauld Place improved for Sirius.

He spent most of his time as Padfoot in Regulus' room, appearing in human form only for meals and vanishing up the stairs afterwards, before either one of his parents could bait him into an argument. Life was simpler as Padfoot; he didn't care much about anything that wasn't sleeping or eating. Most days, he was content to curl up on Regulus' bed while Regulus sketched in his journal or read a book.

Lazy days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Walburga and the dog maintained an uneasy truce, and Kreacher began passing it scraps.

All in all, Sirius and his parents might have passed a cordial, uneventful summer together, if only he hadn't met Dorcas Meadowes.

Truth be told, it wasn't even her he was attracted to, at first; it was her motorbike.

It was an unseasonably hot day in July, the kind of day where sweat seemed to soak his shirt the moment he set foot outside. Regulus had been puzzling over a Transfiguration essay for the better part of the morning, leaving Sirius utterly bored, so he decided to sneak out of Grimmauld Place, intent on trying a cigarette from the Muggle off-licence on the corner.

He hadn't even gone as far as the park when he saw the motorbike leaning against the kerb, all sleek black and gleaming chrome. He'd never seen anything like it before. They'd had a lesson on autos in Muggle Studies, but this was something different. It was like a broomstick with wheels.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer."

A girl about his age was standing in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other holding a large helmet. She had smooth, black skin and fluffy hair that framed her face like a halo.

"Is that yours?" he asked, gesturing towards the bike.

"Nah," said the girl. "I've got the keys, though." She pulled a set of keys out of the pocket of her jeans and jangled them at him.

Sirius did a double take. Not only was she wearing jeans, but she also had on a sleeveless top. Muggle clothes. He'd taken Muggle Studies since third year, and Grimmauld Place was in the heart of Muggle London, but he'd never actually had a conversation with a Muggle before. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Seriously," said the girl. "Cool it with the staring. I'm considering buying you a camera."

Her voice brought Sirius out of his reverie; he laughed and ran a hand through his long black hair. "Wanna buy me a cigarette, instead?"

"Just one?" she asked, a slight crease forming between her brows.

Sirius shrugged. "Or as many as you want. I'm not picky."

"They generally come in packs of twenty, you know."

"Ten for me and ten for you," said Sirius. "Sounds like a plan."

"You can have all twenty," she said. "I don't smoke."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "A good girl, are you?"

"Hardly," she said. "They give you cancer."

"The cigarettes?"

She gave him a look. "What rock did you crawl out from under?"

"I should've mentioned," said Sirius. "I don't get out much."

"That's obvious," said the girl, gesturing at his clothes. She straddled the bike and turned to Sirius, who was still standing on the pavement. "Are you coming or what?"

Sirius grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

She offered him the helmet as he settled behind her on the bike. "Protect that pretty face of yours," she said.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you think you're pretty."

"Well, I don't need the helmet," said Sirius. "I'm not that breakable."

The girl shrugged and pulled the helmet over her head. "It's your face." She turned the key in the ignition switch and the bike roared to life. It was the most beautiful sound Sirius had ever heard.

"Put your arms around me," ordered the girl, and Sirius complied. He tried very hard not to think about the feel of her hips, or her stomach, or her waist.

"What is this thing called?" asked Sirius in an attempt to distract himself. "It's not an automobile, right?"

The girl's helmeted head swivelled towards him. Sirius couldn't see her expression, but he knew she was giving him another look.

"Remember," he called over the rumble of the engine, "I don't get out much."

"It's a bike," she said.

"No it's not," he said. "I know what a bike is, they're made of hollow metal rods and have foot-pedals that turn the wheels."

"This is a motorbike," she said. "God, are you serious?"

He grinned.

She bought him a pack of cigarettes with a red stripe on the carton, along with a lighter for good measure, and then drove him back to the park. She laughed when he threw up after his third cigarette. He retaliated by pinning her to the ground and tickling her until tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you crying?" he asked.

She pushed him off and sat up. "It's sweat."

"Girls don't sweat," he said.

"I'm not a girl," she said with a wink. "I'm a woman."

"That's too bad," said Sirius. "I don't date women. Only girls."

She stretched lazily. "I'm not bothered. I've already got a boyfriend."

"Do you, now. What's his name?"

"Robert," she said. "What's yours?"

"Sirius."

"Bullshit."

"Unfortunately, it's true. Spelt like the star, though. Not the adjective."

"I don't know if I believe you," she said.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't care what you believe. But it is my name."

"You can call me Dorcas," she said. "Spelled like Dorcas."

Sirius let out a laugh before he could stop himself. He held up his hands as she glared at him. "Sorry, sorry."

"Your name isn't any better, you know."

"Mine might actually be worse," said Sirius, giving her a lopsided grin. "Dorcas means 'gazelle' in Greek, did you know?"

"You speak Greek?"

"Yeah, some."

Dorcas sat up and lifted the hair off the back of her neck, fanning herself. "How do you know Greek but you've never seen a motorbike before?"

"There were a lot of gaps in my education."

"I can see that," she said. "Do you speak anything else?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "French and Latin are my best ones. And I can do a bit of Mermish. You?"

"Yeah, some Creole," she said. She folded her arms behind her head and flashed him a smile. "My parents are from the West Indies."

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"Of course it doesn't." Her smile grew incredulous. "I don't suppose world geography made it into your curriculum."

"Now you're getting it," said Sirius. "Keep your expectations low with me."

They lay on their backs in the park until long shadows fell across the grass, the temperature cooling around them.

Dorcas stood and checked her watch. "I should go. Mum'll want me back."

Sirius got up languidly and offered her his arm. "I'll walk you to your motorbike."

"A gentleman," said Dorcas as she looped her arm through his. "At least your parents taught you manners if nothing else."

Sirius laughed loudly at that. "You have no idea."

"I still haven't decided if I think you're just taking the piss, you know." She swung her leg over her motorbike. "See you around?"

"I hope so," said Sirius.

Dorcas grinned. There was a small gap between her front teeth. "Me too. Night, weirdo."

Sirius spent the following week waiting for an opportunity to sneak out again. At last, he had a flash of brilliance which resulted in Padfoot having an accident on the oriental rug in the drawing room. This upset his mother and Kreacher enough that they tied Padfoot to one of the cast iron bars of the fence in front of the house.

As soon as his mother had slipped back into Grimmauld Place, Kreacher at her heels, Sirius transformed back into a human. He pulled the now-loose rope over his head and strode out the front gate, towards the park.

Dorcas wasn't there, so he began to wander the nearby streets, on the lookout for anything that so much as resembled a motorbike. After a half hour of searching, he heard a familiar rumble behind him. The noise grew louder and louder until Dorcas pulled up next to him.

"Need a ride, pretty boy?"

"Gladly," he said. He straddled the seat and put his arms around her waist. "Where are we going?"

"It's hot," she said. "I want ice cream. Do you know what that is?"

"Of course."

"Don't 'of course' me, Mr What's-A-Motorbike."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

He could barely hear her response over the roar of the engine. "Never."

Once they reached the ice cream parlour, Dorcas batted her eyes at him. "Want to be a gentleman and treat me?"

"Ah," said Sirius. "Here's the thing. I have no money."

Dorcas pursed her lips, examining him critically. "Your fancy goth outfit says otherwise."

"I wear these clothes because my parents have money," said Sirius. "But they don't trust me with it."

"Fine," said Dorcas, pulling a handful of strangely-shaped coins from her back pocket. "But you owe me."

They ate their ice cream on a bench, thighs touching.

"I think I'm in love," announced Sirius as he bit into his ice cream cone.

Dorcas nudged him. "I have a boyfriend, remember?"

"Not with you, you vain bird," said Sirius. "With your motorbike. It's perfect."

Dorcas laughed. "I told you before, it's not mine."

Sirius nearly dropped the cone in his lap as a thought occurred to him. "Don't tell me it's your boyfriend's."

"God, no," said Dorcas. "It's my dad's." She paused for a moment, staring at her ice cream. "Used to be, anyway. He died last year." She said it casually, but her shoulders tensed as if readying for a blow.

"Merlin," said Sirius, scrambling for words. Emotional support had never been his strong suit. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," said Dorcas. "I miss him."

Sirius had no idea how to respond to that. If one of his parents died, he had a feeling he wouldn't mind at all, and the thought twisted his gut uncomfortably. "What happened?"

"Lung cancer," she said. "He was a smoker."

"Merlin," said Sirius again. He pushed his hair back with a hand. "And I made you buy me cigarettes. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Dorcas. The corners of her mouth curved upwards. "I wanted to buy them for you. Plus you didn't even know cigarettes cause cancer."

"About that," said Sirius. A question had formed in his mind, and he wanted to phrase it delicately, despite generally not being very good at 'delicate'. "Is cancer… can your Healers not… I mean, your doctors, they can't fix cancer?"

Dorcas was frowning at him now. "Come on, weirdo. Don't joke."

"I'm not," said Sirius quickly. "Swear I'm not."

Dorcas regarded him a moment more, a crease between her brows, before responding. "I think they can cure some kinds. Not lung cancer, though."

"Oh," said Sirius. He was well and truly at a loss for words now. Wizards got cancer, too, but it was no more serious than a bad head cold. His own father had come down with a type of bone cancer a few years back, and the Healer at St. Mungo's had simply had him drink a foul-smelling purple potion every morning for a week. It didn't seem right, somehow, that Muggles should still be dying of cancer when wizards had potions that could cure it.

"Do you believe in an afterlife?" asked Dorcas, startling Sirius out of his thoughts.

"Of course," he said.

Dorcas blinked. "Really? You don't seem like the type."

Sirius shrugged. "I don't suppose you've ever seen a ghost?"

"Erm," she said. "Definitely not. Have you?"

"Yeah, loads," said Sirius. "They're kind of boring, though. You're not missing anything."

Dorcas' mouth was slightly open. "You are impressively weird."

"Remind me to invite you over sometime," said Sirius. "You'll see where I get it the minute you set foot in my house."

"No offence, but I hardly know you," said Dorcas. "It's a little soon to meet the parents, don't you think?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "Sneaking you into my house is different than letting you meet my parents. With any luck, you'll never have the misfortune of making their acquaintance."

"Really?" she said. "They're that bad?"

Sirius's grey eyes met hers, and the laughter faded from his face. "Trust me," he said. "Whatever you're thinking, they're worse."

Dorcas gave him her telephone number after they'd finished their ice cream, and they began to meet whenever he was able to sneak out of Grimmauld Place. This became easier and easier as the summer went on, as both of his parents began to attend frequent meetings in Knockturn Alley. They spoke about these excursions in hushed tones around their sons, always using terms like 'the conference in you-know-where' and 'the donation to you-know-what'. One evening, Regulus managed to overhear their father on a Floo call in his study and whispered to Sirius that night that whatever they were doing involved substantial monetary contributions.

Sirius, for his part, was beyond caring what his parents did with their Galleons, so long as he was still able to spend time with Dorcas. She took him to the cinema to see his first moving picture outside of the old reels Professor Davis had shown during Muggle Studies, and Sirius was able to get them free popcorn by flirting with the boy working the concession stand. The next time they met, she bought him a stack of magazines featuring motorcycles and girls in bikinis, and they spent the better part of an afternoon flipping through them.

One hot weekend in August, Sirius' parents left for a meeting up north, which seemed to be hosted by the same people who organized the meetings in Knockturn Alley. Sirius wasted no time in locking Kreacher in an armoire before leaving Grimmauld Place to call Dorcas in a public telephone box.

"Come over," he said. "My parents are out. Give me an hour to get ready, though."

By the time she'd pulled up on her motorbike, Sirius had managed to undo most of the Muggle-Repelling Charms that lay on Grimmauld Place, though he still hadn't figured out how to make the front door visible to Muggles.

"This is going to sound weird," he said, "but you're going to have to close your eyes and I'll lead you inside."

"That's not nearly the weirdest thing you've ever said," replied Dorcas, peering at the row of houses. "Which one is yours?"

"Number eleven," lied Sirius. He covered her eyes gently with his hands before steering her through the garden and up the steps of Grimmauld Place.

Once inside, he lifted his hands from her face. Dorcas blinked in astonishment. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the huge portraits lining the hallway, whose occupants turned their heads to peer at the newcomer.

"I say," said the portrait closest to the front door — Pollux Black, Sirius' late grandfather. "You have some nerve, young man, bringing a girl like her inside this noblest of residences —"

"Sirius," said Dorcas slowly, staring at the painting, "what the — is that…"

"Right," said Sirius. He took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "Quick primer: magic is real, my family are wizards, and so am I. Those are magical, talking portraits of my lunatic ancestors. Any questions?"

"Bullshit," said Dorcas, but her eyes were wide as saucers as they ascended the stairs, climbing past the decapitated house-elf heads hanging on the wall. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming."

"Afraid not," said Sirius. They reached the topmost landing, and he shouldered open the door to his room. "What do you think?" he asked proudly. "I've been redecorating."

"Erm," said Dorcas. Her eyes wandered over the walls of Sirius' room, which were plastered with pictures from the magazines she had bought him. "Yeah, that's nice. Can we go back to the part where you said you were a wizard?"

"Sure, hang on a moment," said Sirius. He picked up his wand from atop his dresser and pointed it at the door. "Muffliato." He turned back towards Dorcas, who was staring at him with her brow creased and her mouth slightly ajar. "My brother's in the next room," he explained. "Don't want him overhearing us."

"Did you…" she began. "Did you just do a spell? With your magic wand?"

Sirius grinned. "Now you're catching on. Technically, I'm not supposed to do magic outside of school until I'm seventeen, but the Blacks have been flouting the rules and getting away with it for centuries, so no worries. That's because we're a pure-blood family — means we don't have any non-magical blood. Also, there are wizards who hate non-magical people like you. Including my family. Not me, though, because I'm not an idiot like the rest of them." He cocked his head at her expression. "Did you get all that?"

"Magic family," she said, sinking down slowly onto his bed. "Hate people without magic. Also, magic is real."

"Good girl." Sirius nodded his head. "You're getting it."

"I'm totally dreaming," said Dorcas, and she slapped at her cheeks.

"Wait, wait!" said Sirius, taking her hands in his. "None of that, now."

"How can you be magic?" she asked. "How can — how could I live seventeen years and not know magic was real?"

"It's because you're a Muggle," he said. "Non-magic. You're not supposed to know. It's illegal, actually."

"Oh, God," said Dorcas. "I'm going to be arrested by the wizard police."

"Nah." Sirius plopped next to her on the bed. "I've broken the law hundreds of times and gotten away with it. It's not a big deal. That spell I did on the door was technically illegal because I'm underage. Also, I can turn into a dog at will, and that's illegal too because I didn't register myself as an Animagus, but I'm still here, so…"

"You're mental," said Dorcas. "What happens if someone finds out you told me about magic?"

"Nothing. Nobody's going to."

"But what if they do?"

Sirius put his finger on the spot between her eyebrows, smoothing the crease that had formed there. "In theory, they'd modify your memory. Erase it, sort of. Only your memory of magic, though!" he added at Dorcas' horrified look. "You'd just forget about magic. It'd be like you never came to Grimmauld Place. That's all."

"That's all," repeated Dorcas sarcastically. "Just a little mind erasing, no big deal…"

"It's not going to happen," said Sirius forcefully, taking her hand. "I won't let it."

Dorcas gave him the look he knew so well — half-amused, half-exasperated. "Why'd you even invite me over, Sirius?"

"To snog you senseless," said Sirius immediately. "Why else?"

Dorcas laughed. "Of course. You just figured you'd bring me to your magic house and I'd be fine with it and then we'd shove our tongues down each other throats."

"Yeah, that was the plan, more or less."

Dorcas rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Okay. You win."

"Really?"

"Really," she said. "I might as well get something fun out of this."

"That's the spirit," said Sirius. He hooked his hand around the back of her neck and drew her closer. She closed her eyes obediently, and her lashes tickled his cheek. Her lips brushed his, full and soft, and then he was kissing her the way he'd been dreaming of all summer.

"You're sure Robert won't mind?" he murmured against her mouth.

She pulled away from him slightly. "Who's Robert?"

"Erm," he said. "Your boyfriend?"

Her laugh vibrated through his chest. "Robert doesn't exist. I made him up so you wouldn't try to get your leg over me."

"I see." Sirius fiddled with the edge of her shirt. "How's that working out for you?"

"Shut up, weirdo."

They moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to laying in the bed itself and were in the process of getting tangled in the many layers of silk sheets when the door opened. Regulus was standing in the doorway, a thick yellow envelope in one hand and a silver prefect's badge in the other.

"I knocked," said Regulus defensively as Sirius and Dorcas flew apart. "I — erm — my O.W.L.s came, and…" He trailed off, eyes on Dorcas.

"Reg," said Sirius warningly as Dorcas pulled the sheets up around her chest. "Reg, I can explain. Don't —"

"I've seen you with her before," said Regulus shakily. "She's — she's a Muggle, isn't she? And you brought her here? To our house?"

"Reg, this is kind of a private moment, if you haven't noticed, so if we could talk about this later —"

"I covered for you," said Regulus, speaking over him. "I never told our parents you were seeing a Muggle girl."

"Good." Sirius tumbled out of bed and snatched his trousers off the floor. "Because it's none of your business who I go round with —"

"But you brought her here!" said Regulus, voice rising. "Here! Do you have a death wish or something, Sirius? A Muggle! Into Grimmauld Place!"

"I brought a HUMAN BEING into Grimmauld Place!" shouted Sirius. "Godric's mane, Reg, you're starting to sound like Mum —"

Regulus folded his arms across his chest. "You don't get it, do you? Don't you know Father put anti-Muggle enchantments all over the house —"

"—Which I lifted to get her in because I'm not an idiot —"

"Yes, you are!" said Regulus. "You didn't think to check your own room for charms, did you?"

Sirius froze, his trousers partway buttoned. Regulus continued. "Mum put a Muggle Detection Charm on your door because you're not half as clever as you think you are! Sneaking out all the time, plastering your walls with pictures from Muggle magazines, leaving those little papers from the cinema lying around everywhere — I could only cover for you so much, there were some things I couldn't hide, and now —"

A loud crack sounded in the hall downstairs, and Sirius went pale.

"Dorcas, you have to go," he said, plucking her shirt from off the floor and tossing it to her. "Now."

Dorcas's eyes were wide with fright as she pulled her shirt on. "Sirius," she said, getting out of bed, "what you said before — about the people who will erase my memory —"

"It's not going to happen," said Sirius firmly. He grabbed her by the hand and strode up to Regulus, who was standing in the doorway. "We've got to get her out of here before they see her. Father's office is connected to the Floo network —"

"There's not enough time for that," said Regulus, his head turned as he listened to the noises coming from downstairs. "They're already on the second floor, they'll see us the instant we leave the room —"

"A Portkey, then." Sirius raked his free hand roughly through his hair.

Regulus shook his head. "You know that won't work — not unless you thought to undo the Anti-Portus Hex on the house while you were fiddling with the protective enchantments."

Sirius swore loudly as the footsteps on the stairs grew louder and more insistent. It was hard to believe his mother and father alone could make that much noise between the two of them. Had they brought one of their less savoury friends back with them from the conference?

Regulus snapped his fingers in front of Sirius' face. "Think, Sirius! We don't have time for you to get distracted, you have to find a way to get her out of here, just think —"

Sirius let out a sudden laugh. "I've got it," he said. "KREACHER!"

The house-elf appeared in the bedroom with a crack, looking utterly horrified.

"A Muggle!" croaked Kreacher, wringing his bony fingers. "Young master has defiled the House of Black beyond Kreacher's worst nightmares, he has brought vermin into this most ancient bastion of blood, Kreacher weeps —"

"Shut UP!" shouted Sirius, and Kreacher fell silent, alternating between glaring at Sirius and casting looks of pure revulsion at Dorcas. Dorcas, for her part, was staring at Kreacher with a similar expression.

"Right," said Sirius. "Introductions. Dorcas, this is Kreacher. He's a house-elf. He's also completely swallowed my parents' pure-blood garbage, as you can tell, but he can't disobey a direct order. Kreacher, this is Dorcas. You are not to speak to her."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Dorcas weakly. Her nose wrinkled as if she had just smelled something very bad. Kreacher closed his eyes, apparently in pain from being spoken to by a Muggle, and began to wail.

"Kreacher," said Sirius, raising his voice, "you are to take Dorcas home. You are to make sure she gets there safely and without drawing the attention of any Ministry employees. You are not to tell anyone, including our parents, anything about Dorcas, including where she lives. You are to return to me when I am alone, and I will modify your memory so that you forget that she even exists."

Kreacher's wails rose to full-blown hysterical sobbing. Sirius stared at the house-elf with disgust before turning to Dorcas. "I shouldn't have brought you here," he said. "I'm so sor —"

The door of the bedroom flew open with a bang, sending all of the room's inhabitants hurtling forward. Kreacher dived forward and grabbed Dorcas's arm. She shrieked, but the sound cut off abruptly as they vanished with a crack.

"WHERE IS SHE!" roared Orion, Sirius' father. He pointed his wand back and forth between Sirius and Regulus.

"She's here," said Walburga Black. She stepped into the room, followed by a large, hulking figure wearing a hooded cloak and a mask. "I felt the charm burn, I know he brought her in here —" She froze at the sight of Sirius' unmade bed.

Orion followed her gaze. His haughty features contorted with fury. "You," he growled, turning on Sirius. "You dare bring Muggle filth into MY HOUSE? You dare let her enter under MY ROOF?"

"Oh, spare me," spat Sirius. "Don't pretend like you're surprised, not if you stuck a bloody Muggle Detection Charm on my door —"

"You shall not speak to your father that way!" shrieked Walburga. Her hand trembled as she pointed her wand at Sirius. "No son of mine —"

"I AM NOT YOUR SON!" yelled Sirius.

Walburga was startled into silence. Sirius pointed his wand back and forth between his parents. "I've had it with this pathetic excuse for a family. I'm leaving."

Walburga halted, her grey eyes wide. "You— you can't leave."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What're you going to do, curse me? Go ahead and try."

Orion lunged for Sirius, who ducked out of the way. The hooded figure in the doorway raised his wand, and a jet of red light streaked past Sirius, burning him as it grazed his shoulder. Walburga screamed and aimed her wand at Sirius, her hand shaking wildly.

Sirius hunched over, and his form distorted until he was replaced by an enormous black dog.

Padfoot snarled, then bolted for the door, knocking Regulus onto the bed. At the door, the hooded figure raised its wand again, but the dog leapt and closed its massive jaws around the figure's neck. The hooded man made a gurgling sound, toppling backwards; the dog scrambled over his body and raced down the stairs.

A streak of light grazed the fur on Padfoot's back and blasted into the wall, sending the decapitated head of Pimsley the House-elf tumbling down the staircase. The dog didn't slow.

It barreled into the drawing room and threw itself into the window, which shattered upon impact. The dog yelped in pain as it flung itself out the window, shards of glass slicing through its fur.

Sides heaving, Padfoot bolted down through the garden of and vaulted the cast iron fence. The dog landed heavily, and drops of blood spattered the pavement under its paws as it raced to the park across the street.

Halfway across the park, the dog's frame elongated into the form of a lanky teenager in a flat-out sprint for his life. Sirius skidded to a halt, panting, at the far end of the park. There, propped up against the kerb, was Dorcas's motorbike.

Sirius hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he clambered atop the bike and tried to switch on the ignition. He jangled the throttle and pushed on the pedals. Nothing happened.

Sirius swore loudly. He needed a key, didn't he?

There was a series of faint pops behind him, followed by shouting. Flashes of wandlight illuminated the park.

"Work, damn you," growled Sirius. He kicked the motorbike, which remained stubbornly silent. The yells were growing louder. "Come on, come on!"

A jet of red light narrowly missed his head. Desperate, Sirius drew his wand and brought it down on the handlebars of the motorbike. A shower of golden sparks emitted from his wand, and the bike roared to life.

Sirius jerked forward as it trundled down the street."Oh, good — right, that seems about the speed limit, there…"

But the motorbike continued to pick up speed until it was zooming down the street on its own volition. Sirius gripped the handlebars tightly as the bike blew through crossroads and traffic signals, ignoring them entirely. Faster, impossibly fast, no Muggle vehicle could accelerate like this —

Sirius' skin pulled back from his face, his surroundings a mere blur. He shouted as the bike barreled towards a line of cars stopped at a crossroads. He was going to crash —

With a deafening roar, motorbike reared, and then he was soaring over the cars and past the traffic signal, which was still blinking red. He rose higher, higher, until he was sailing over rooftops and above tall, narrow clusters of buildings.

Sirius let out a whoop and pulled on the handlebars. He urged the motorbike upward until Grimmauld Place vanished among the winking lights of the boroughs far below. He was free.

A/N: Yahoo, year 6 is finally finished! Took me long enough, didn't it?

A couple of warnings for year 6: non-explicit references to child abuse, bullying/physical assault, and characters dealing with the aftermath of trauma.

Of course, I'd love to hear any thoughts you have in a comment or review! Enjoy!