Pip's mouth parted. She turned slowly and blinked at him. With his hood thrown back, she could see how much five months had changed Sirius.

He'd always been handsome in a roguish sort of way, but now it looked as though Azkaban hadn't touched him. He bore himself taller. His hair was shorter, hanging at his jaw, and glistening from melting sleet. His dark circles, which Pip guessed were permanently etched into his skin, were barely visible under his striking eyes. While his cheekbones were as ridiculously sharp as ever, and he'd maintained his signature stubble, his face was fuller, healthier, younger.

It was like seeing him for the first time; this was the real Sirius. And he was bloody breathtaking.

This new Sirius's expression was one of caution. 'Didn't mean to trespass...only wanted to check in on you.'

A beat passed. Followed by another. There was the crunch of glass underfoot as Pip crossed the room and flung her arms around him.

'Sirius.'

She slammed into his chest, trying hard not to bury into it like a child. It was as though her body was Sirius-starved. The movement garnered a staggered laugh from him and heat rose to Pip's cheeks as his arms banded around to lock her in place. The strange fear she'd experienced on the Hogsmeade road morphed into something else – it was like coming home after a long, dangerous journey. The world was warmer, safer.

Pip waited till her treacherous blush was gone to unchain herself from him. He dropped his hands and she stepped back. 'Sirius, you look' – absurdly, knee-buckingly, heart-breakingly – '...good.'

Pip thought she might combust at his broadening smile. It was frankly embarrassing the way her stomach was fluttering. What was she, fifteen?

'It's good to see you, love,' he said. His expression had shifted from reserved to mildly accusatory. His gaze was a little too perceptive. 'Wish it come sooner, though.'

Ah, there it was. Pip bowed her head and chewed her bottom lip. She stared at her boots, scuffing the stone floor for a moment before forcing herself to meet his eye. 'Sirius, I...'

What could she say? Sorry for trying to erase you from my life? I have the emotional capacities of a toddler? Let's blame it on a case of arrested development?

The list of feeble excuses brewing on her lips died at Sirius' knowing, light-heartedly stern look. Pip's tone was shame-coloured. 'Me too.'

A pregnant pause followed Pip's quasi-confession and she filled it by brushing past Sirius to shut the swaying door. It was something to do with her hands besides having them swing stupidly at her side.

Sirius spoke while she pushed the polished wood closed. 'I also wish it'd been different circumstances that let me corner you.'

Pip shut her eyes against the image of Katie screeching in the air. 'That was...'

'Fucking terrifying,' Sirius finished her sentence. It was comforting to know that under his coolness, calmness and collectedness, he was as frightened as she was. 'Pomfrey reckons she'll be alright, though.' When Pip managed to face him, his attention turned from the broken shards of alcohol stained glass on the ground back to her. 'Are you alright?'

Why did Pip have the sense they weren't strictly talking about Katie anymore?

'I'll let you know when I figure that out,' she replied. At least she could add experience with curses to the resume. 'I could go for another drink.'

'A woman after my own heart.'

Pip distracted herself by pouring that drink, the loud splash of liquid as soothing as a lullaby. She focused on keeping her hands steady as she poured another for Sirius. She could barely believe he was here, an arm's length away. With the shock slowly trickling away, she chose to counter his question. 'Are you alright?'

'Oh, sunshine and rainbows all day long.'

Pip bit back a smile and handed him the tumbler. Their fingers brushed over each other's and Pip's stomach performed another pitiable flutter. 'I'm happy to hear it.'

Sirius raised his glass in a mock toast and Pip took an embarrassed sip of her own. It was impossible to ignore the electricity in the air; there were so many unspoken words between them. If this were a muggle rom-com, both would probably be weeping, confessing their love or making grandiose shows of affection. Reality, however, was a tad more cringeworthy. Neither seemed prepared to break the stalemate.

But both opened their mouths at the same time. 'You go,' Pip volunteered.

'McGonagall's called an emergency Order meeting for tonight.' Sirius said. He surveyed Pip over his glass. 'I can't help but notice, Pip, that you've developed a tendency to skive them. Not planning the same for this one, are you?'

Repentant smiles were becoming Pip's trademark. 'I'm on patrol tonight,' she said honestly. 'I can't miss this one, not with students being attacked right under our noses. Perhaps I can squeeze in an appearance at the following get-together? I've absented myself long enough for the Order to realise how much they desperately miss me.'

'What am I not enough for you?' Sirius teased.

If only he knew. Pip swirled her drink, hiding another smile. She'd been smiling more in three minutes than she had in five months; her cheeks were going to hurt after this. 'I'll be there. Want me to pinky promise?'

Sirius placed his empty glass on Pip's desk. 'I'll take your word for it,' he said wryly.

As he made to leave, he hesitated in the threshold and seemed to be readying himself to say something. Whatever it was, he reconsidered. With another infectious smile, he patted the doorway and pushed off.

Pip dithered a second. She put down her own drink and traced his steps into the corridor. 'Sirius!' He looked over his shoulder while Pip attempted to spit the words out. Small, simple words that seemed to hold too much weight. 'I missed you.'

Sirius's grin was disarming. 'Missed you too, love.'

The storm raged into the night. The castle's deserted corridors were illuminated by flashes of sleet-soaked lightning that warped the shadows into gruesome shapes. The paintings slept, the ghosts floated along in their own slumber, and with the rumble of thunder as her sole companion, Pip had too much time to replay the exchange with Sirius in her head.

She concluded that it could've gone worse – it'd been sans screaming, tears or meltdown – but there was also room for improvement – it hadn't ended with them snogging like their lives depended on it.

Would that really be the optimal outcome, though?, Pip sighed to herself. She groaned and dragged a hand down her face. She'd never been with anyone – man or woman – who confused her emotions so erratically. Sirius was turning her into a lunatic.

It was the shuffle of noise coming from the Trophy Room that put Pip back on guard. She crept towards it, only stowing her wand when the childish voices within became clearer. First years. From their muted conversation, it seemed the lot had gotten lost on a quest for the kitchens. These students had picked a perilous night to fulfil a Hogwarts rite of passage.

Pip didn't have the heart to bust them. Shaking her head in amusement, she strolled towards a rusty suit of armour garrisoned outside the Trophy Room. With a prod, she sent is careening into the ground. There was almighty crash and the noise in the Trophy Room ceased.

Pip pinched her nose and performed a nasally impression of Severus Snape. 'Oh no, I appear to have knocked over a suit or armour. I would be humiliated if someone were to have witnessed this. The consequences for those involved would be' – pause for effect – '...dire.'

There was a scream that penetrated through the thick walls. 'Run! Common Room!'

Pip granted them a moment to leg it before she nipped inside.

The empty Trophy Room looked the same as always. Trophies, medals and cups were displayed in crystal cabinets, winking as the lightning struck them. An embossed plate hung on the wall, carved with a meandering list of former Head Boys and Girls. Pip spied out her own name towards the bottom.

The times they are a-changin'...

With a satisfied nod, she started back on patrol but paused when something on the wall captured her attention. Countless photographs were sandwiched along it, most of their occupants sleeping. The others' stillness made the one in rampant celebration stand out all the more. Pip ghosted towards the sepia photograph. She picked it up and her thumbprint smudged into the corner of the frame.

The victorious Ravenclaw Quidditch team of 1958 was organised into three rows. In the centre sat their captain. Her curls were in complete disarray and there was mud smeared along her freckled cheeks but she was beaming, the Quidditch trophy clutched in her grasp.

Pip didn't have to read the names lined along the bottom to recognise Elizabeth Dodderidge. The girl waved without the knowledge it was her grown daughter tearily smiling back.

'I wish you were here,' Pip whispered. 'You would know what to do...you always did.' She slipped the photograph from its frame, handling it like the treasure it was. 'Geminio.'

Pip brushed her thumb along her mother's face. With a last lingering look, she stashed the duplicate photo in her pocket, replaced the original and drifted from the Trophy Room. Her mind was a million miles away, but she was barely out when a deafening bang down the hall sent her hand leaping to her heart.

'Fuck!'

Along the corridor, a door had been thrown open with such brutality it was surprising it hadn't splintered. Only the screech of the wind rushed through it; no figure appeared to claim the commotion. As she stood ramrod straight with her eyes trained on it, a peculiar pull - like a tender-hook – tugged at Pip's gut. It was as though an invisible host was beckoning her closer. With a swallow, she ignored the instincts screaming at her to sprint in the opposite direction and approached.

Pip peered inside the abandoned classroom right as it was illuminated by a flash of white lightning. She recognised it immediately. This was the room she'd spent the longest night of her life in; the night Flitwick told her that her family was dead.

A window in the corner had been shattered by the storm. Barbed chunks of glass littered the floor beneath it. The same gale that had assailed the door was still slapping around the white sheets jacketing the room's furniture. It lashed against Pip's skin after she collected herself and struggled over to repair the window.

The room went deathly still. Pip didn't look back as she swept from the scene of her nightmares.

Over the following week, things grew tense at Hogwarts. News of Katie's attack spread after she was removed to St. Mungo's and while the rumours around it grew wilder and wilder with each retelling (Pip overheard some third years talking about a Death Eater with a machete) both teachers and students were on edge.

On Thursday there was a merciful break in the storm and, as darkness blanketed the world, Pip upheld her promise to Sirius. Grimmauld Place shuddered at the unwanted intrusion.

Home, sweet, home.

It could've been the same night she'd first stepped foot in it; with Sirius abandoning his inheritance and Kreacher's imprisonment in the Hogwarts kitchens, the old house had fallen back into disrepair. The floorboards creaked as Pip reluctantly travelled along them.

There was a round of stunned exclamations at her sudden interruption of the meeting. Pip returned Fleur's (slightly smug) smile and winked back at Bill. She couldn't catch Tonks's eye because the witch was busy sneaking glances at Lupin, who should've been wearing a blindfold for how painfully disengaged he was with her attempts.

Sirius – still sickeningly handsome – was smirking at the prodigal daughter's return. Little did he realise how dangerously close the prodigal daughter had come to skiving again. Pip, fighting a smile, rolled her eyes at his misplaced faith and parked herself in the chair beside him.

'Fancy seeing you here,' he said as she lowered into it.

'Yes, thank you for gracing us with your presence, Bones,' Moody growled.

Pip folded her hands together on the table and feigned primness. 'You're welcome, Mad-Eye.'

The meeting was spent in part relaying news from all corners of the wizarding world, but for most rehashing theories on who could've cursed Katie and, perhaps more pressingly, who the real target was. One questioned loomed over the discussion. Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place on earth, but how safe was the safest place really?

The meeting finished, of course, with the Order mantra: hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

Afterwards, Pip caught up with others, growing increasingly nervous as each one cleared out of Grimmauld Place. She knew he would be waiting in the kitchen. In the seclusion of the hall, Pip took a second to self-consciously flatten her hair, fidget with her sleeves and gather herself.

As it turned out, both of her premonitions about their reunion fulfilled themselves. Sirius had shown up to her office dripping in wet sleet (the romantic side of things) and now he stood resting against the wooden table with untrained elegance (the intimidating side of things).

He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps and Pip's mouth formed a lopsided grin. 'So...you come here often?'

Sirius laughed heartily while she tried not to smack herself in the head. Why was her automatic response to flirt with him? Was it some sort of perverse defence mechanism?

'Not anymore, thankfully,' Sirius replied.

Pip echoed his chuckle – and uncomfortable edge lacing hers – and lingered in place. She stuck her hands in her pockets, shifting her weight while Sirius appeared to study her. Awkward silences were fast becoming their theme tune. 'So...' she ventured. 'What's life like as Sirius Black these days?'

Sirius settled on the abridged version. 'Oh you know, parties, orgies, tea with the Minister for Magic. Honestly, I don't know where to start, Pip. Finally got the house set up with Moony. It's got this great garage, massive space. Got my old bike back from Hagrid, it's slowly returning to life. Been playing around with a couple of muggle bikes...'

Pip dared to amble a little further into the kitchen. 'Got it all figured out?'

'Not remotely,' Sirius quipped back. 'And what about you, Professor?' His sardonic expression drew out a peal of laughter from Pip. 'I thought Dumbledore was taking the piss when told me.'

'He certainly has an enigmatic sense of humour,' she admitted. 'I suspect it has as much to do with keeping me out of trouble as it does the students. But I like it – and I understand why all the teachers are barmy.'

'You included?'

'Me included,' Pip acceded. She mirrored his posture, leaning against a worn cabinet. With the pair falling back into their old banter, she risked baiting him a little. 'Tell me more about those orgies. Raunchy?'

'Indescribably,' Sirius humoured. 'Partaken in any yourself recently?'

Pip mimed slapping an imaginary riding crop against her palm. 'Latex and leather, Sirius. Hickies all down my thighs.'

'Care to provide a preview?' Sirius challenged with a rascally smile.

Pip threw her head back, laughing and banging it into the cabinet at the same time. While she concealed a wince, Sirius's features became writ with a strange urgency. He was weighing his words again, and while he did an alarm bell rang in Pip's head, the room flashing red. Beneath their banter, there was an element of haggling for an insight into the other's thoughts. Pip wasn't ready to surrender the game and face the ugly parts, but Sirius was wading into more meaningful territory.

He moved an inch closer. 'Pip, I have to ask. Are you -'

'Sirius, I think –' Remus had popped into the kitchen. He looked between Sirius and Pip, who'd both straightened up. Whatever trance the two of them were under was broken. 'Sorry, I, er, didn't mean to interrupt...'

Pip tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and pushed off from the cabinet. Now seemed like a good time to exit stage left. The ugly parts could wait – would wait – until she had a monologue prepared. 'No worries, Remus. I have piles of homework I should be cracking on with.'

Sirius quickly wiped a frown from his features. 'I'll see you Saturday, love?'

Pip was befuddled. 'Er...Saturday?'

'The Quidditch match?' Sirius prompted. 'Harry's first game as captain,' he announced with pride.

That explained why Harry was looking particularly harassed of late. And why Ron was looking particularly mopey. And why Hermione was...well, Hermione always looked stressed.

'Saturday,' Pip confirmed. She wavered a moment (what was the correct farewell protocol here? Hug? Kiss? Handshake? High-five? Smack on the bottom?), settled on smiling at both men and weaved out of the kitchen.

Sirius and Remus watched her leave. 'Sorry, mate,' Remus muttered after a second.

Sirius's eyes hadn't strayed from the spot Pip'd disappeared from. 'She's untameable, that one.'