I know it's been a while since my last update on this story - thanks so much to all my readers for your patience! And since Sirius and Alma have been patient too, in this chapter, I finally give them some alone time. ;)

They stayed on the beach – swimming and drifting in the water, or playing on the sand – until sunset. As darkness fell, Alma made them gather up their things and start home. The youngest children were so tired that they had to be carried back to the house. Enoch carried Claire on his back, and Alma carried Bronwyn in her arms. The girl started out trying to walk, but her feet dragged and her eyelids drooped, and of course Alma noticed right away.

"Bronwyn, you look almost asleep on your feet," she said. "Come here and I'll carry you," and without even breaking the rhythm of her stride, she bent down and picked her up. Bronwyn slipped very naturally into her arms, as if they had done this a hundred times before – and maybe they had. She wrapped one arm around Alma's neck, laid her head down on her shoulder, and fell asleep there with a contented little sigh.

Sirius would've carried one of the kids home, but Alma gave him the picnic basket again, and he sensed that as much as the kids had had fun playing with him, they wouldn't have wanted him holding them. He wasn't a member of this family.

Hugh edged closer to Sirius as they all walked the path back to the house. "Miss Peregrine," he asked, "is Sirius going to stay the night with us? Millard and I would be glad to let him stay in our room."

"That's very thoughtful of you, boys," Alma said, smiling approvingly at them from over Bronwyn's shoulder, "but I think Sirius would be more comfortable in the parlor."

Sirius said nothing, but he couldn't help grinning at this, and he began to walk with a tiny spring in his step. He and Alma both knew that he wouldn't be spending the night in the parlor.

That evening, it seemed to take years for all of Alma's children to have their baths and go to bed. Sirius stayed downstairs, pacing the floor of the parlor. There was a fireplace there, and he considered hooking it up to the Floo Network, just to check in with Remus or one of the Weasleys for a minute, but he decided against it. It wasn't just seeing Alma again that made him love her time-loop so much. It was also being away from the magical world and all the problems that plagued it. There, Death-Eaters were using Unforgivable Curses and killing Muggles for sport, but here, the biggest problem was...

"I can't find my teddy," came little Claire's voice from upstairs. "Miss Peregrine, have you seen my teddy?"

Sirius smirked, and a bittersweet feeling spread in his chest. That was the biggest problem here, a child's missing teddy bear. For a moment, Sirius thought he understood Alma's devotion to her brood. Life with them was so simple, so peaceful.

Finally, the big house settled and grew quiet upstairs, and Alma came down into the parlor, where Sirius had stretched out on the couch with a blanket, pretending to sleep. She said nothing, but she smiled and silently wagged one finger, motioning for him to follow her. He threw off the blanket and leapt to his feet.

On the second and third floors, she peered into each of the bedrooms, making sure that her children were all asleep. The halls were dim, and Alma's dark dress should've been hard to make out, yet Sirius's gaze never lost her. His eyes were drawn to her like a magnet as she led him to her own quarters at the end of the hall. As soon as they were inside, Alma turned off the lights and locked the door.

They hadn't been intimate with each other – or anyone else – in years, but their time apart melted away from their bodies as they tumbled into bed together. There was no shyness or awkward hesitations. There was only the dark, moonlight room, only the warm, familiar feeling of Alma's skin against Sirius. Their movements were as smooth and comfortable as if they made love every day.

Alma would never admit that she grew lonely sometimes, taking care of so many children by herself, but Sirius could tell that she'd been lonely, and that she'd been hungry for him. It was obvious in the depth of her kisses, the arch of her back, the hot press of her cheek against his. She bit the falcon's feather tattoo on his shoulder, which he'd gotten in her honor years ago, and trailed her long fingernails down the tattoos on his chest with in a slow, delicious way that made him shudder. Her body responded to everything that he did, and he murmured her name in her ear and against her neck over and over – Alma, Alma, Alma, as if it were magic spell – for each time, it seemed to increase her passion. How often did she hear her own first name anymore?

Sirius thought that perhaps he was still dreaming, when he woke up before dawn the next morning with Alma's head on his shoulder, with her soft, naked body pressed against the length of his. They stirred and stretched lazily, and then Alma drew the blanket around herself and got out of bed. Sirius watched her search through her clothes and pull her Time-Turner from her pocket. More than anything, that told Sirius how desperate, how impatient, she had been to be with him. She hadn't even taken her precious Time-Turner from her pocket before she undressed.

"I can do another reset and give us more time," she said in a low, breathy voice that made Sirius hungry for her all over again. "I can give us... another hour. Anything more, and it will disrupt the children's sleeping schedules."

The early morning light creeping through Alma's curtains dimmed as she turned back time and the sun slipped down behind the horizon again. Sirius grinned as she climbed back into bed and nestled against him. It was like living in a dream to linger in bed together, kissing and talking, a luxury that neither of them had enjoyed for years.

"Remind me, Sirius, how many children do the Weasleys have?" Alma asked him.

"Seven. Six boys, one girl. Their youngest boy Ron's the same age as Harry." He sighed, wistful. "You should see them together, Alma. Thick as thieves, just like me and James were."

Alma's brow furrowed, and she looked away out the window. "I just can't imagine how Molly does it," she murmured, shaking her head. "How she raises so many children."

Sirius titled his head at her. "Well, what do you call what you're doing?"

"I don't raise children. I take care of them."

Sirius almost asked her what the different was, but then he realized: Alma's children never grew older. They never would, as long as she kept resetting her Time-Turner, and technically, you couldn't raise children who never grew older. You could only take care of them. The idea suddenly struck him as sad. Wouldn't her kids like to get older? And wouldn't she like to someday see a child she'd cared for reach adulthood? But Sirius decided not to raise the question with her. He knew Alma would be adamant that none of her children would ever get older.

He took a long, appreciate glance over her again. Of course her body wasn't as smooth as it had been when they were teenagers, but still, the years had been kind to her. Her skin was still firm and soft, with none of the scars or marks that his bore – as bare as a fresh piece of parchment.

"You don't have a tattoo for me," Sirius said suddenly. "We talked about getting matching tattoos for each other once."

"Mm, I remember," Alma said quietly. "I was going to get one for you, but then..." Her voice trailed off, and that sad look moved into her eyes again.

Sirius didn't want to dwell on unhappy memories now. He tossed the bedsheet aside and brazenly got up naked to search through his own clothes and locate his wand. "I could give you one right now," he offered. "I know the spell to make tattoos. It's so easy, a first-year could learn it – not that Dumbledore would ever let it be taught at Hogwarts."

"I should certainly hope not," Alma said. She sat up in bed, slipped the sheet off her shoulder, and turned it towards Sirius – her right shoulder, the same place where Sirius had the dark blue feather tattoo. It went without saying between them that she would have a pawprint tattoo, for his Animagus form.

"Don't make it too big," she cautioned, and he didn't. In less than five seconds, there was a small pawprint on her shoulder, exactly like his pawprints when he was in dog form, black against Alma's smooth porcelain skin. Sirius pressed his lips to it, relishing in the permanence of it. Magical tattoos never faded the way he'd heard Muggle tattoos did. Alma might live in this loop with her children for a thousand years, none of them ever changing or growing older, and that pawprint would always be there on her shoulder, reminding her of him.

Sirius was dressed again and back downstairs in the parlor by the time Alma's children woke up. He would have to go back to calling her Miss Peregrine in front of them. He would have to pretend that nothing happened last night. He would have to pretend a lot of things, but it comforted him to know that for last night at least, she had been Alma, not Miss Peregrine. For last night at least, she had been his, not theirs.