The following day there was chaos in the castle.

The time-honoured enmity between Gryffindor and Slytherin was nothing new, but with the upcoming Quidditch match the two houses had advanced into a full-blown war.

Curses were flung around the corridors with students from both houses facing off at opposite ends like cowboys in a muggle western. Their twitching eyes would be trained on each other, their fingers flexing over the wands stashed in their pockets. Pip could practically hear the twang of a guitar, see the tumbleweed rolling across the space between them as she tried – and failed – to intervene before the first spell was hurled.

Meanwhile, she was dealing with her own private sort of chaos.

She had approximately twenty-four hours to figure out what she wanted from Sirius. Their relationship was in some sort of limbo. Pip wasn't completely daft; absence really had made the heart grow fonder. Each time she saw him she was overwhelmed by the urge to snog him senseless.

But the snogging part wasn't the problem; it was everything else that came with it. Pip simply wasn't built for commitment. Commitment meant vulnerability, pain, heartbreak – and all against the backdrop of a sodding war! Maybe Sirius was ready to risk that, but was Pip?

She knew she'd run out of lucky breaks - that when she saw him again, she'd have to come armed with answers. Alas, on the morning of the match she was both answerless and out of time. The clock ticking on her office wall was a rather on-the-nose reminder of this.

Pip spared it an anxious glance as she brushed, rather than ripped, through her hair. She was allotting herself more time to prepare than was strictly necessary. She applied her makeup with uncharacteristic precision and straightened the creases out of her robes as though looking like she was put-together would miraculously make her so.

Sniffing an underarm and nodding, she turned her attention to the stolen picture of her mother. It was tucked within the frame of her obstinate mirror. 'How do I look? Passable?'

Elizabeth smiled and offered two enthusiastic thumbs up while a boy in the background made a 'so-so' gesture with his hand. Pip shot him a glower and warned him he was in danger of being torn off before she departed.

The Hogwarts hallways were barren of life; the entire school had conjugated outside to watch the match. Pip followed the spectators' rumble as it grew louder and louder, stepping out into a bracing breeze and crystal blue sky. Although the storms had finally subsided, the grass underfoot was coated in a layer of fragile ice. Pip listened to it crunch beneath her boots until she was submerged into warring tides of crimson and emerald.

Students were travelling en masse decked in their house colours, some wearing painted faces and others carrying banners that were tugged along by the wind. Luna Lovegood, though a Ravenclaw, was sporting an outrageous, handmade lion hat. Slytherins and Gryffindors taunted each other with more fervour than the fanatics at the professional games Pip'd covered last year. In short, it was anarchy. A brawl didn't seem out of the question.

Pip zig-zagged through the throng, all the while pretending she wasn't scanning it for a certain dark-haired man. She and Sirius hadn't exactly determined a rendezvous point – Pip'd been too preoccupied with escaping the last time she saw him. Now, she couldn't see hide nor hair or him, and so mounted the stand traditionally claimed by the teachers with still roaming eyes.

She found herself crammed in beside the folically-challenged Professor Slughorn. He was modelling a tweed hat to match his robes and cradling a box of pineapple sweets in his chubby fingers.

'Ah, Pip!' A smile appeared between his ruddy cheeks and he presented the sugared pineapple which she distractedly declined. 'Glorious day, don't you think! I'm rooting for Slytherin, of course, though I must confess I'm eager to watch young Harry in action! So much potential that boy...'

Pip mustered a grunt in agreement, still craning around the pitch for a sign of Sirius. Was he wearing an invisibility cloak or something? Slughorn seemed to disregard Pip's disinterest and prattled on. She was eventually compelled to admit defeat and lower into her seat, however, when Hooch's whistle pierced through the crowd's cries.

There was no guessing what the Gryffindor team had mixed into their cereal – some sort of speed enhancing potion perhaps. Harry circled high above the thirteen other players, searching for the snitch and bellowing instructions as though captaining were second nature. Ginny barrelled through the Slytherins, more terrifying that anyone her size had right to be. Ron – a miniature shape hovering between the goalposts – seemed to be magnetically drawn towards the quaffle, easily blocking each attempt at goal.

Soon, he was personally conducting a chant that had Pip laughing aloud. Despite another rousing chorus of 'Weasley is Our King,' Slughorn couldn't riddle out Ron's name through the wacky lyrics. Perhaps he had some wax lodged in his ear canal. Gesturing a sugar-powdered hand in the keeper's direction, he said, 'Wallenby's playing superbly, isn't he! Perhaps I should invite him to a Slugclub gathering...'

About half an hour into the game, Gryffindor was leading sixty to nill. Ginny performed a mid-air cartwheel to score again and in the stands diagonal from the teachers', someone released a sonorous, ringing whistle.

Pip pursued it to catch a glimpse of Sirius punching his fist in the air. The grin stretching across his features was visible from a distance as he reclaimed his seat. Pip couldn't help the smile burgeoning across her own lips as she watched him. It dropped, though, when the buxom woman on Sirius's wing blocked Pip's view of him; she leant across to whisper something in his ear and Sirius laughed as she draped a hand across his shoulder.

The exchange reeked of intimacy.

Refusing to tear the slits that'd once been eyes away, Pip blindly reached for the binoculars hanging from Slughorn's bulbous neck. Slughorn made a choking noise as she wrenched them to her dagger-esque line of sight. Pip gripped them tight and zeroed in on the stranger.

There was no denying that this mystery witch was beautiful. She had short, tawny hair and laugh lines that merely enhanced her loveliness. If a certain green-eyed monster wasn't gnashing its teeth and calling for the woman's head, Pip might've allowed herself to admit that this was the type of witch she herself could fancy.

Through the binocular lens, Sirius squeezed the woman's transgressing hand and Pip's insides squirmed. His smile was like a punch to the stomach. Pip couldn't have cared less about the clamorous cry that sounded around her as somebody – she hadn't the faintest idea which team – scored. The only thing worth watching was happening in stands, not on the pitch.

Was this what Sirius was trying to broach the other night? Was he trying to break the news that he'd moved on? That'd he'd found someone else in the separation Pip'd so stupidly pushed upon him?

Pip only noticed Remus's presence in the shattering scene when he nudged Sirius at the edge of the binocular lens. Without warning, both men's eyes snapped towards the teachers' stands and Pip released the binoculars as though they were on fire. There was another gag from Slughorn.

Pip ignored it and used her hand as a would-be sun-visor to shield her strained expression. She seized some sugared pineapple, stuffed it into her mouth and concentrated on chewing as she pretended to be enraptured by the Quidditch match she'd forgotten was happening.

Pip had barely managed to school her face into a semblance of composure when Harry swiped for the snitch. His fingers closed around the gold glint and the stands shook. The tumultuous cheers were nothing compared to the screaming voices in Pip's head, though. Each one was fighting to be heard amongst the others.

Scream at him! Snog him! Scream at the woman with him! Curse him! Snog him! Scream at them both! Snog them both!

Pip attempted to block out her subconscious' unhelpful suggestions as she was carried from the stands. She was jostled about in the swarm of victorious and morose alike, trying to struggle free and reconnect with her common sense simultaneously. She and common sense, sadly, weren't on speaking terms at the present.

The flash of dull pink hair at the perimeter of the pandemonium was like a beacon that Pip swam towards. Tonks's 'Wotcha, Pip,' was absent of its customary pep. 'Finished my patrol at Hogsmeade,' the other witch dolefully explained. '...Thought I might catch the rest of the game...guess I missed it...'

'Apparently it was a good one, can't claim I saw much of it,' Pip said. Tonks' depressing aura was somehow comforting amongst the kerfuffle of erstwhile celebration; maybe misery did love company. But misery didn't seem to be fully focused on wallowing in self-pity with company. Instead, it was trained on a group gathered at the opposite side of the crowd.

Pip followed Tonks's gaze and a shadow darkened her features. Remus, Sirius and the mystery witch were conversing with a beleaguered Harry. Again, the woman's hand was glued to Sirius's arm.

Pip briefly fantasized about marching over there and cursing it off. Knowing that physical assault might cast a pall on the match, however, she sighed, slung an arm around Tonks's shoulder and steered them both towards the castle. 'You know what we should do?'

'Brew a draught of living death and drink from two large goblets,' Tonks answered tonelessly.

'I'm iffy about that first part, but the second – you're speaking my language. How do you fancy a liquid lunch?'

'So that's it, really? His furry little problem?' Pip asked dubiously. 'Remus won't shag you because he has a big bad wolf complex?'

Tonks, whose hair was several shades pinker, giggled. Her drooping lids were fighting against a pool of sunshine breaking through the window. 'More or less.'

The two women were sitting cross-legged in a carpet of Honeyduke's chocolate wrappers covering Pip's bedroom floor. The empty bottles of wine circling them like a halo had proven a fantastic tonic for their moping and, as an added bonus, had gotten them both sufficiently tipsy. Thank Merlin for Pip's emergency stash.

Pip took a deep drink and rotated the goblet she was clasping to watch a few cherry-flavoured drops dribble onto the tiles. 'For someone so intelligent, Lupin can be incredibly dense.'

'I know!' Tonks groaned. 'But I don't know what to do!'

'Here's what you do,' Pip began sagely. As she spoke, she tossed the goblet aside and ferreted around beneath her unmade bed, rattling the square canister she surfaced with. 'You break into his house wearing nothing but scanty lingerie, recline yourself on his bed and wait for him to come home and ravage you.'

'He'd have a heart attack!' Tonks protested through a fit of laughter.

'Maybe, but at least it'll get some sort of reaction out of him!' Pip persisted. She produced a spliff from the tin treasure chest and lit it with her wand. The space was immediately overwhelmed by a pungent herbal scent.

After taking a deep drag, she passed it to Tonks who copied the action and coughed. Holding it at arms-length, the latter asked if that technique usually worked.

'It's got a strong success record,' Pip replied, accepting the spliff back. Was it sad she was already lighted-headed?

Tonks proceeded to ask something that sent Pip coughing too, more at being caught-off guard than the stick wrapped around her lips: if a certain animgaus was included in that record. Concealing her shock, Pip masqueraded by informing Tonks that it hadn't. McGonagall had promptly banished her from the sheets and threatened to call the aurors if Pip ever tried to seduce her again.

Rolling her eyes, Tonks specified which animagus she was referring to and tittered at Pip's mortified reaction. 'If I'm going to pour my heart out to you about Remus, you have to read me in on what's happening with Sirius!'

Pip threw her hands in the air and sent them clapping back down against her knees. First Fleur, now Tonks! 'Does everybody know! Was this included in some sort of Order newsletter I'm not aware of!'

'Do you like him?' Tonks challenged, taking a sip of wine. She was teetering to one side, head lolling. 'I mean, really like him.'

'Obviously I "like" him,' Pip replied scathingly, making inverted commas with her fingers. She might've been somewhat of a sexual deviant but she wasn't in the habit of sticking her tongue down the throats of people she disliked.

'Do you love him?'

The snarky reply Pip had prepared was strangled by the ambush of the L word. She reeled back, aghast. Thoughts and words spiralling beyond comprehension, she clambered up and busied herself by smacking the wizarding wireless radio, which crackled back into frequency. She wished her brain would do likewise.

'I – I mean-'

Pip loved music, she loved firewhiskey, she loved the first few days of spring when the snow melted and the sun was brightest. It was simple to love these things. But loving people? The people Pip loved had an unfortunate habit of dropping dead. So no, she couldn't love Sirius.

'Of course I don't love him!' she cried.

Tonks coughed from somewhere in the background of Pip's muddled brain. The room was growing steadily smokier. It was making it hard to think – or was that the wine?

Pip snatched the spliff from Tonks's unstable grip and plopped onto her armchair. 'How did we get onto the topic of my disastrous love life? We're supposed to be solving yours! Besides...Sirius seems rather preoccupied at present to care whether or not I...'

She couldn't finish the sentence. The concept was too ludicrous – too unspeakable. Love. Love!?

Tonks's head had cocked though, wordlessly requesting clarification. Pip massaged her temples, disgusted by how pathetically bitter she sounded. Jealousy was not an emotion she suited. 'Today at the match...that woman with them...'

The cogs in Tonks's brain whirred for a moment. 'Who? Mary? Mary McDonald?'

So she has a name, Pip thought tartly. She brandished the spliff like a conductor's baton (Mary, Mary quite contrary...) before suddenly straightening up, confusion written across her face. 'Wait? Mary McDonald? As in the same Mary McDonald whose daughter Molly's trying to marry off to Charlie?'

Tonks frowned, capsizing as she reached for an uneaten chocolate that'd escaped their attention. 'I think Molly must've gotten mixed up – Mary's too young to have a daughter. She has a niece, though, in the year between ours, remember?'

'Can't say I do,' Pip answered snidely. She grabbed a stray wine bottle and uncorked it with her teeth while she absorbed this information. The tipsy stage had come, partied and gone; Pip was now freefalling into a drunken high. It wasn't making her sentiments towards this Mary McDonald any warmer.

The slur in Tonks's words suggested she was on par with Pip's intoxication. 'All I know is that Mary is one of their oldest friends from Hogwarts! Maybe it's not what you think!'

'Maybe it's precisely what I think,' Pip retorted between indignant swigs.

A sharp, monobeat knock emanating from the neighbouring room broke their impasse. Pip swayed to an unbalanced stand, traipsed through the concealed bookshelf and whipped open the office door. She automatically slammed it back shut. Shoving the blazing spliff at Tonks, she motioned for her to take refuge in the bedroom like a madwoman.

Pip nervously licked her wine-stained lips and cracked open the doorway a millionth of a centimetre. Snape was scowling through the nonexistent gap. He clearly wished to be anywhere but Pip's presence.

Pip attempted a nonchalant smile that came out more as a grimace. 'Severus, to what do I owe the pleasure?'

'The Headmaster has asked me to remind you that your patrols for this week have been changed. You will be taking over my schedule while I attend to...other matters.'

'I look forward to it,' Pip said, already pushing on the wood.

Snape's face, meanwhile, had curdled. He employed his shoe as a doorstopper and suspiciously peered around Pip's shoulder. 'What is that odious smell, Bones?'

Oh bugger.

Pip bluffed by opening the space, praying that it wasn't choked with smoke. 'Perfume, Severus. I understand how pleasant smells might be a foreign concept to you but if you'd like to come in and try some, I could braid your hair and we can spend all night gossiping about our crushes!'

With a withering glare, Snape took flight. Tonks was sprawled out on the mattress when Pip returned, cackling uncontrollably. 'That would certainly be one way to get Sirius' attention!'

'Caressing Snape's greasy hair is not a price I'm willing to pay,' Pip stated as she collapsed onto the bed. She dislodged a bottle pressing against her spine. The walls and the ceiling were spinning. 'Surely there must be an easier way. Some sort of scheme that'll solve both our problems.' She mused for a moment. 'Traditional calls that we snog other men in front of them...we could cut out the middle man and snog each other?'

'That would be the first time I've kissed a girl,' Tonks admitted.

'You should try it, it's wonderful fun,' Pip said, rolling around to angle Tonks. The two of them stared at each other, a ponderous second passing, before erupting into laughter. Pip thought she might've cracked a rib. No amount of alcohol was going to prompt that particular act of desperation. Wiping away a tear, she said, 'You know, I've had a brilliant idea. I want to show you a magical place I stumbled across in my research of muggles.'

A week later, Pip and Tonks stood gawking up at a busted neon sign. The curvaceous pink 'S' flickered between life and death so that the sleazy store was alternatively announced as both 'SEXXX' and 'EXXX.'

Pip, grinning from ear to ear, looped their arms together like five year olds and dragged Tonks inside. The pair were immediately confronted by a wall of phallic-shaped objects; Pip poked one and laughed as it wobbled on the spot. 'Fuck, I love muggles.'

Tonks – who'd been rendered speechless since Pip'd apparated them to the London sex shop – was trying hard not to touch anything. Tonks being Tonks, though, she failed to detect a stand of adult DVDs through her bulging eyes and knocked it askew. A cinematic masterpiece titled 'Naughty Nurses' toppled down and made a thunking noise at it rebounded off Tonks's noggin.

Snickering, Pip pointed at a preposterously lengthy model. 'Be honest, Tonks, how does Remus' equipment compare? Stop me when we get there,' she utilised her hands as a ruler, eyeballs bulging as the distance between them expanded. 'Bigger? Bigger? Bigger? Big - alright, now you're taking the mickey. It's always the ones you least suspect...'

She marooned Tonks, who was croaking out something incoherent by the dildo-wall, to stray to the counter. Placing some muggle money on the cheap plastic, Pip asked the long-lashed shop assistant for whatever she recommended and earned a lascivious smile. With an impish look, Pip jerked a thumb at a stupefied Tonks. 'She'll take one too.'

Tonks made a strangled noise but couldn't conjure any further syllables until the two witches apparated to a pre-scheduled Order meeting. The former wandered down the hall in a dazed, trancelike state while Pip dawdled to shoulder the discretely packaged bags. One of the straps broke and while she stooped low to repair it, Pip's ears latched onto a discussion floating from the kitchen.

'Saw Mary last night...had dinner at the Three Broomsticks...catching up again tomorrow...I'll send my regards...'

Pip's expression soured at Sirius's scattered words. 'Maybe it's not what you think,' she acerbically mimicked Tonks in a cruel, high-pitched voice. 'Maybe it's not what you think – lying, treacherous toerag...' Maybe he wasn't kidding about those orgies.

Hoisting up the packages, Pip stomped into the kitchen and threw herself into a seat. The others shared speculative glances at the cranky ambience she'd trawled into the room. Bill raised a brow, only earning a brusque shake of the head for his trouble.

'Alright, Pip?' Sirius laughed. The entertained smile he wore was wiped from his face by Pip's Gorgon-esque glare. Hell had no fury. 'What's got your wand in a knot, love? And, er, what's in the bags...'

'Nothing that you have to worry about, Sirius Black,' she snapped.

Pip sat through the meeting with her arms crossed, features clenched like an angry statue. She spitefully ignored Sirius's attempts at engagement, only once substantiating that he hadn't evaporated into thin air when he nudged her beneath the table and she accidentally-on-purpose brought a chair-leg down on his toes.

She tore off the second Moody concluded, bags in bawled fists, muttering darkly down the corridor. These mutterings were interspersed with the sound of footsteps thundering down her trail.

'Pip! Oi, Pip! Bones, if you don't stop this wobbly, I swear I'll toss you over my shoulder and put you in time-out.'

'I'd like to see you try,' Pip threatened, rounding on Sirius.

He was caught off-guard by her aggression. Sirius's forehead creased, one hand raised in an attempt to keep the peace as he searched Pip's scowling face. 'Listen, love, I'm not sure what's got you so riled up but I was hoping we could – well, er – grab something to eat, talk some things through? We haven't really had a chance to catch up on...us.' Sirius chuckled nervously, looking like someone about to make a gambit by prodding an irate bear with a stick. 'Maybe you can clue me in on whatever it is I've done while we're at it.'

Pip softened for a fleeting second at his irksomely charming smile until an unbidden picture popped into her mind. She imagined a multicoloured game-show wheel decorated with the names of countless women. Pip's own was wedged in besides Mary's, blurring as Sirius, dressed like a flashy game-show host, winked at an invisible audience and spun it.

A baritone American accent sounded in Pip's head: 'Who, oh, who is the lucky woman eligible bachelor Sirius Black will be taking out tonight!'

'Sorry, Sirius, I'm really not hungry,' she bristled. As though on cue, Pip's stomach audibly grumbled. Another betrayal. 'I'm sure you can find someone to fill the opening.'

'Come again? Pip –' Sirius reached for Pip's arm and she wrenched herself free, trying not to ogle the annoyingly seductive way his tattoos were poking out from his rolled sleeves. His expression grew frustrated. 'What are you playing at?'

'What do you want, Sirius?' Pip snapped impatiently. 'What's with the interrogation?'

'I want to know why you're acting like a crackpot!' Sirius exclaimed.

She knew that the exasperation burning in his eyes shouldn't have been as attractive as it was; this was something she'd have to riddle out in a therapist's chair several decades from now when she'd irreparably fucked up what remained of her shitshow life. Pip's subconscious began battling again between kissing and cursing him so she settled on shouting at him as a compromise.

'A crackpot,' she repeated with a nasty cackle. 'A crackpot! At least I'm not a two-timing prick!'

Sirius was stunned into silence by the desperate, unfounded accusation but recovered in time to furiously shout out Pip's name as she disapparated from the house. She reappeared into the world with the sound of a whipcrack.

The castle was surrounded by a star-pricked night, the moon beaming above the turrets. Pip didn't bother to recognise the scene's beauty and instead stalked through the winding gates with her stomach growling as harshly as the horrid little monster taking root in her chest. To satiate at least one of them, she made an assault on the Hogwarts kitchens. As fate would have it, Kreacher was the first being she happened upon.

'That master of yours is an absolute toerag,' Pip spat. As she grabbed an abandoned loaf of bread and bit off a ferocious chunk, Kreacher's wrinkled face became suddenly alight with interest. Perhaps maligning Sirius was the true way to his shrivelled, little heart - an enemy of my enemy is my friend sort of situation.

But despite Pip's inner monster continuing its diatribe, each chunk of bread subsided her fury into shame. The list of imagined crimes besmirching Sirius's name was simply that – imagined. She was being completely irrational. Pip wasn't mad at Sirius; she was mad at herself.

Mad at herself for not knowing what she wanted, mad at herself for being pathologically insecure and mad at herself that she couldn't stop thinking about Tonks's bloody question. Maybe it was time to succumb to spinsterhood and live out the rest of her days alone in the Forbidden Forest.

Pip dropped the last square of bread and hung her head in her hands. 'Pip Bones, you filthy hypocrite...'

She remained in that contrite position long enough that anyone who stumbled upon her might've thought she was praying. The glow of the last roaring stove ebbed into darkness by the time she was ready to emerge. Pip raised her head with newfound resolve and called into the shadows.

'Kreacher! Would you please fetch me a quill!'

It's been a while! Thank you all again for the likes, follows and especially the reviews – I love reading them!

I wanted to ask you guys for your opinions on some things! Firstly, I'm thinking of changing the name of this story to The Ballad of Pip Bones – it seems fitting! What do we think? I was also wondering if anyone had a favourite character, someone they'd like to see more of?