It was like snogging a statue.

But Pip kissed ruthlessly, as though she was kissing the person this whole spectacle was for. She was bruising both their lips, probably leaving marks on the other person's neck with how ferociously she was grasping them. She made sure the performance was gratuitous, but inside nothing stirred.

She was completely numb. The booming explosions of the fireworks were nothing more than little pops of white noise; she couldn't hear above the blood hammering through. She couldn't concentrate on anything other than making sure Sirius saw.

Still, she pulled away breathless…to see Charlie staring in mute horror.

Charlie. She'd kissed Charlie.

Reality came crashing back down. The firework's roar was suddenly an onslaught and the flashing, haemorrhaging lights flying across Charlie's face only magnified his aghast expression. His lips were smeared scarlet from where Pip'd branded him and he looked as though she'd slapped him rather than kissed him.

It was like someone had slapped Pip too. She staggered backwards, seized by panic, gaze flying towards the bar. The space where he'd stood was unclaimed, his drink was still resting on the bar, but Sirius was gone. The floor seemed to disappear. If the sight of Charlie was a slap, the vanishing of Sirius was like a brutal punch to the face. Pip was so dizzy she thought she might faint.

But she couldn't – not until she found him. Beyond that she had no strategy, the only thing stopping Pip from dropping was the desperate desire to find Sirius. Pip's eyes flew across the mayhem of lights and bodies but he was nowhere nearby. She whirled back to the bar and was met with the stares of the Order, all of them too shocked to start shouting. There was nowhere to hide.

Heart still pounding against the ribcage encasing it, Pip turned to Charlie who hadn't so much as twitched. 'I'm sorry,' she gasped through a bone-dry mouth.

She bolted. Pip barrelled through patrons and burst onto the street. She didn't know where she was going, only that she had to put as much distance between herself and the pub as possible.

The stark, bone-chilling night air rushed from all directions. She could hear the ringing aftermath of the pub's cheers long after it disappeared, the sound of panting breath not enough to drown it out. Pip's limbs were on fire, blazing as madly as the chaotic thoughts rushing through. She was delirious; the stars seemed in danger of misting into nothingness, the velvety sky looked like a curtain she could've yanked and torn free from the world. It was like she'd lost total control and was merely along for the ride.

Run, something inside urged. Run, run, run.

Pip listened until she couldn't anymore. Lungs tasting like blood, head throbbing, she finally collapsed at the edge of the Black Lake. Heaving down air, she was making grotesque noises somewhere between a gasp and wretch, interrupting the solitude.

The scene she was marring was a beautiful one. The frozen black ice bled into the downy snow, the skeletal trees were dainty shadows reaching across the moon.

Pip took it all in through teary eyes. Still folded in on herself, she sniffed and furiously wiped at them, trying to extinguish any proof of all that was churning inside. She didn't deserve to cry, she'd done this all herself.

'Pip, you…bitch,' she choked out. 'You foul, foul thing.'

If the lake wasn't frozen solid, she might've waded out and drowned herself. But she was too much of a coward for that. Somebody else would have to do it, hold Pip's head under the water till the agony abated. And she knew the right person to do it.

If Sirius hadn't hated Pip at the start of the night…

She was going to be sick. Pip curled up, head buried, and wished she could take it all back. She wished she hadn't kissed Charlie, she wished she hadn't come tonight, fuck she wished she hadn't come back to London in the first place.

What would life be like right now if she'd stayed in New York? She'd probably be under the table in some abysmal club, or passing another forgettable night shagging another forgettable person.

She was always a mess, this much was true. Self-sabotage was part of who she was. But in the last two years, she'd become a plague, tearing through people's lives without a second thought, leaving destruction and misery wherever she pleased. And Sirius had copped it worse than anyone.

For the smallest of moments, Pip wished she hadn't met him.

She immediately took it back. Knowing Sirius was like…she didn't have the words to describe it. Like she'd finally woken up after a long time of sleeping, she guessed. She was more alive than she could remember, but with living came these horrible things called emotions. And all of them – happiness, anger, anguish – were what had Pip cowering on the ground by the lake.

But she couldn't wish she hadn't met Sirius. She doubted he could say the same.

Hours slipped by with those thoughts, the cold seeped into Pip's bones and the hysteria dulled into a painful hollowness. She wasn't sure how much time had passed but the night sky was swirling from dark blue to indigo. She had no desire to move. She could've wasted away on the shore for all she cared. But one final thread of common sense tugged Pip up, and she set off for the castle in silence.

The promise of copious amounts of sleeping potion was the only thing propelling her forward. She pushed back the memories of the others' appalled faces, of Sirius, of anything resembling thought at all, as she half-crawled up the seemingly perpetual staircases. It would be a temporary anaesthetic. But it would help Pip forget she existed for a day or two.

So she was rather dismayed upon reaching the fourth floor and hearing a worrisome reminder that she did, in fact, exist. Somebody was pounding on a door. The thuds reverberated through the halls, meeting Pip who stopped dead. Considering the school was all but abandoned, there was only one person said-pounder could be trying to reach: her.

Odds on it was Bill, come to denounce this latest attack on Charlie. Pip considered turning around and sleeping in a disused classroom, but the potions required to achieve oblivion were stashed inside her bedroom. Plus, she would have to incur the others' wrath sooner or later…and apparently there was no time like the present.

Mind and limbs protesting, Pip headed towards the commotion. She froze once again, breath catching, at the sight awaiting. This has to be a nightmare, she thought.

Because Sirius was swaying in the corridor. He was clearly having trouble staying planted; his robes were wrinkled, the smell of liquor was rolling off him in waves. He was more than drunk. He was totally obliterated. It looked like he'd started downing drinks at midnight and hadn't stopped since.

He made to start pounding the door again and paused. Swinging around, his narrowed gaze settled on Pip. 'Hello, love.'

That was all he managed because a second later Sirius was lying flat on the ground.

'Sirius!'

Pip dashed across the corridor, flying down to grasp him by the shoulders. Without thinking, she grabbed his chin and raised it so she could see him clearly and make sure he was still breathing. 'For crying out loud – what did you do, rob Rosmerta at wandpoint!'

He made a noise that sounded like a snicker. Panicking, Pip pushed the hair back from his closed eyes, fingertips burning. 'Sirius? Sirius, can you hear me?' She shook him to no avail. 'Sirius, what do I do?'

Usually, she was on the other side of this scenario, blissfully unaware while somebody else checked for a pulse. In the face of this cosmic punishment, Pip hauled Sirius to the wall and hoisted him into a crumpled sitting position. Timidly lowering herself beside him, she concentrated on the sound of his shallow breath and untensed ever-so-slightly as it recaptured an unsteady rhythm.

Pip's heartbeat slowed to match the same tempo. She finally allowed herself to gawk at him and absorb the reality that he really was here - drunk to the point of unconsciousness albeit - but as solid as the hard stone wall the two were sagged against.

As mystifying as his presence was, it was no mystery why he was here. That much was obvious. He'd come to say all the things Pip didn't want to hear, but for now he was silent, thwarted by all the alcohol that'd probably fuelled his decision to come.

Remorse and self-loathing dragged at Pip as she took in how exhausted he looked. Fighting the urge to reach out and smooth the furrow in his brow, deep still in half sleep, she memorised the lines of his face and the curves of his lips.

This wasn't the first time she'd found herself entranced by a sleeping Sirius. The last time seemed like a lifetime ago now, during one of those stolen nights in Grimmauld Place. Tangled up in one of his old t-shirts (and nothing else), Pip'd woken in the middle of the night to find herself cradled against his chest. She'd squirmed around to watch him sleep, drifting off herself with a smile.

At the time, she'd fallen asleep to the promise that tomorrow would be the same. That she'd straggle home from the Prophet, barge into his room and throw herself onto his mattress. That Sirius would cast Pip a bemused look but claim his own spot on the bed anyway, and that despite all the war and death threatening to drown them, things would be alright for a few stolen hours.

Pip would give anything to steal a few more hours. Hugging herself as she studied Sirius's features, she asked the silence, How did this happen to us?

She wasn't aware she'd spoken aloud until Sirius's eyes suddenly snapped open. It wasn't fire burning in them, but something almost otherworldly that Pip couldn't place.

Pushing the shock aside under his wearied, watchful gaze, she risked a sad smile. 'Have you come to shout at me, Sirius? I'd deserve it.'

At first she thought he wouldn't answer. '…The thought crossed my mind…' he finally muttered. He closed his eyes again and sank further into the wall. '…You can be cruel sometimes, Pip…crueller than I thought…'

Pip took as long to answer. 'I know.'

If Sirius had a response to that, he didn't share it. The gnawing, encroaching silence seemed response enough.

Pip wished would he go fire and brimstone. She wished he'd start slinging insults – or curses maybe. Shouting she could understand, shouting she could handle. Right as she was on the verge of pleading with him to unleash whatever vitriol she'd surely earned in the past few hours, slurred words started inching from Sirius's barely moving lips.

'…I don't know why I'm here,' he murmured, sounding like each syllable stole what little strength he had. 'I can't keep doing this,' he said more to himself than Pip.

Pip's heart sunk. 'Me either,' she mumbled.

An uneasy hush descended with their confession, like the quiet following a death knell.

Swallowing against a bobbing throat, Pip looked away. After a while, she turned back to find herself pinned under Sirius's gaze. The way he looked - so concentrated, fatigued and disoriented at once - made Pip think she was the drunk one.

'What am I going to do with you?' he wondered.

Pip dreaded the answer. So she weathered his stare, made an attempt at a smile and focused on another more immediate problem. With a strained, breaking voice, she countered, 'What am I going to do with you? You can't apparate home like this, Sirius, you'll splinch yourself to bits. You have to sleep this off, come on.'

She didn't leave him any time to protest. Pip staggered upright and, seeing as he was incapable of movement, carted Sirius in tow. She slung his arm around herself and immediately started off so she wouldn't have time to overthink the groan that slipped from his mouth.

'So after all the shit you pulled…' he slurred. '…You're asking me to stay the night?'

It was no mean feat, kicking the door open while shouldering his dead weight. Nor was it, trying to be the sensible one while Pip could audibly hear the smirk in his words. 'Careful, Sirius,' she murmured. 'Or I might change my mind and you can sleep in the corridor.'

The light of a muted dawn was creeping over the tiles and washing the walls as Pip struggled through bearing Sirius. She moved carefully, both out of fear of dropping him (a concussion was the last thing she wanted to deal with) and from the sense that each miniscule shift she made seemed so tenuous, as though if she made one wrong move the world would come crumbling down.

Sirius grumbled something right as Pip pulled them through the bookshelf threshold. '…Should've hit him…'

Pip's lips folded, biting back shame. 'It's not Charlie's fault,' she muttered. It's mine.

'Not Charlie,' Sirius snorted. '…put it together that he was collateral damage…funnily enough…that other bloke.'

Pip frowned as she slung Sirius onto the mattress. He hit it with a bounce and a moan. 'Oh, you mean Greg…' she realised. 'If he shows up again, I promise you can hit him...I might help you actually…'

Sirius, half-asleep, made an appeased noise. He rolled deeper into the sheets, and Pip's eyes travelled from him to the window. The morning was approaching at a groggy pace, the birds starting to chirp at a subdued octave. Reaching for the wand by some miracle she hadn't lost in the Three Broomsticks, Pip shuttered the windows and released a breath. She looked down to see Sirius watching again.

She realised in that moment that the burning in his eyes wasn't like fire, but the starlight of his namesake. She was surprised she hadn't recognised it sooner. Completely unaware of their own power, the stars disappeared as Sirius closed his eyes. Pip hesitated a few seconds and drifted across the room to the armchair.

Settling in for a day of strange, confusing dreams, she cast him one last, lingering look. 'Goodnight, Sirius.'

Pip didn't wake till afternoon.

Blinking back sleep, she looked around blearily, wondering why she was squashed into the armchair rather than the comfortable bed across the room. As she frowned at the crinkled sheets, cloudy memories of the previous night circled. Pip's head snapped up.

Had Sirius really shown up plastered or had she dreamt the whole thing?

Awkwardly easing herself off the armchair, Pip groaned as she worked away stiffness. With shuffling steps she made it to the mattress. The warmth of the sheets was proof not only that last night wasn't some fever-dream, but that she'd only missed Sirius by moments. Maybe he'd noticed Pip stirring and leapt out the window.

She might've laughed at the image if she didn't currently want to throw herself out the window after him. The fact that Sirius hadn't bothered to say goodbye (and probably 'stay away from me from here on out') seemed like the finale of the colossal mistake that was last night.

How was it possible for one person to fuck so many things up, all in a night's work? It had to be some kind of world record – the shitshow to end all shitshows. Pip could see some massive damage control on the horizon. She'd have to start with Charlie - that was if he hadn't already trained one of his dragons as a guard dog. Bill was also on the impressive list of people she had to apologise to, owing to the sacred vow between best mates not to traumatise each other's siblings. For some reason Pip had the sense she should apologise to rest of the Order too for what the lot had witnessed.

As for Sirius…Pip didn't want to think Sirius.

But fate had other ideas. The sudden sound of the loo flushing, followed by the gush of running water, alerted Pip to the presence of somebody moving in the bathroom. A second later, the door flung wide and Sirius stepped through. He was wearing the same clothes from last night, though his hair was looking neater and it no longer smelled like he'd bathed in alcohol. His eyes landed on Pip with dangerous clarity.

Pip stared back, open-mouthed. A few heartbeats passed with them locked in those positions. Until words abruptly started tumbling from Pip's mouth.

'Sirius, I'm so sorry - I'm a horrible person – worse than horrible – and I know you must hate me – and I understand – I hate myself right now – and I know I can't take it back – as much as I wish it could, which is a lot – and you should shout at me and curse me and call me disgusting names – but I want you to know, you have to know – how sorry I am…for all of it.'

It came out in a tangle of noises, and all throughout Sirius's expression shifted from weary, to confused, to alarmed, to unreadable. Pip waited for him to react, fists clenched, face flushed.

He took his time to do so. 'Merlin, Pip, I only woke up a minute ago.'

'Sorry,' she repeated automatically.

Was it a trick of the light, the way his lips seemed to twitch? Pip had to blame it on that, because she looked again and Sirius's face was caught in an odd expression, as though he were in the midst of making some momentous decision. She braced herself, waiting for the pureblood mask to settle into place, or worse for him to remember how vile she was and storm out the door.

But Sirius only asked, 'Got any hangover potion? My bloody head's about to split open.'

A baffled Pip motioned to the bedside table. In two strides Sirius crossed the room and lowered himself onto the mattress a respectable distance away. He quickly found the potion, uncorked it with his teeth and guzzled a good amount. Throwing an almost amused look at Pip, he passed what remained.

'Reckon this'll do you as much good as it'll do me.'

But a hangover was last on the list of problems presently competing for Pip's attention. Still, she accepted the bottle and downed what she could, nose screwing up at the harsh taste. She lowered it with eyes trained on Sirius.

'Sirius, aren't you pissed at me?' she blurted.

'I'm furious with you,' he answered wryly. 'But…' He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I meant what I said last night – yes, I remember last night, Pip. I can't keep doing this.'

Ah, there it was. Pip fiddled with the empty potion, looking anywhere but Sirius's eyes. 'I understand if you…if you want me to piss off, I guess.'

Sirius's hand came to rest over the bottle, enclosing Pip's fingers with it. 'That's not what I said.'

She made herself meet his eyes. Blood thrumming, she swore the world was totally contained to the weight of his stare and the scars on his fingers. But she still couldn't comprehend what he was saying. He had every reason in the world for blotting Pip from his life. Wouldn't things be so much easier that way?

'Look, love,' Sirius said, reading Pip's expression - and quite possibly mind. 'You've already tried that. It doesn't work.'

Maybe he was right. Pip couldn't help herself, she couldn't stay away from Sirius. She'd done the utmost to convince herself otherwise, but she was like some sort of addict. She spent half of the time thinking up reasons to stay away from him, and the other half contriving ways to be near him. Detoxing didn't work, there was no way to free herself from this compulsion with Sirius.

Pip looked from their half-intertwined fingers, memories of Grimmauld Place blossoming afresh at the sight. She rose and Sirius's hand slipped back onto his lap. 'Remember how it used to be?' she asked softly. 'With us, I mean.'

'Yeah,' Sirius half-scoffed. 'I remember. There was less rowing - and fewer headaches.'

'Do you think…do you think it could be like that again? I mean, we were…' Pip trailed off, unable to find the right term for whatever she and Sirius had once had.

'We were?' he prompted.

Pip looked around the room, as though an answer would magically pop into view. Gaze settling on the mirror she'd rescued from Grimmauld Place, she caught sight of Sirius's reflection. He was staring intently at Pip's back, eyebrows lifted a little in a silent entreat to continue, and Pip had the impression that she should choose the words that followed carefully.

'Mates,' she said quickly. She spun around to face him, features torn between hesitancy and resolve. 'We we're mates.'

'Mates?' Sirius tasted the term. There was something lurking in his eyes as he mulled it over, though it vanished as he reclined deeper into the mattress and smirked. 'You want us to be mates, Pip?'

Pip didn't have a chance to answer (and a stupid, humiliating answer it probably would've come out), for in that second a glowing ball hurtled into space between them. Both of them started, and Pip almost whipped out a wand until it started speaking. The ball's mesmeric white light was totally at odds with the growl emanating within.

'Sirius, I don't know what ruddy doghouse you're in,' came Moody's rumble, 'But if I have to haul you back to Headquarters myself, you won't like what happens afterwards.'

The ball dissolved with a few colourful threats, and Pip watched with crossed arms and a frown. With it gone, she turned that frown on Sirius. 'You're going on a mission?' she pressed suspiciously.

Sirius had flopped back against the mattress, hair falling across his suddenly sullen features. 'In a sense,' he muttered. He pulled himself up, groaning a little with the movement. Halfway out the room, he paused in front of the mirror and shook his head. 'I have no idea how you sleep with this bloody thing in here.'

He set off again with Pip closely shadowing his steps. It would take more than slights against certain furniture choices to move on from this concerning new knowledge that he was doing who knew what with Moody.

'And how often does Mad-Eye have you going on top-secret missions the rest of us aren't privy to?' Pip pressed.

Sirius continued a steady course for the door. 'I'm the one of the only full-time Order members, Pip. Somebody's got to pick up the slack.'

His tone was teasing but dismissive. He was withholding something important, Pip sensed, and she was hit by a pang of hurt that he would. But Sirius's mood had darkened since Moody's interruption - he was clearly going into something he wouldn't find pleasant.

Pip couldn't find that reason enough to leave it alone. She squeezed between Sirius and the door right as he reached for the knob. Blocking the exit, she peered up at him, revealing more of herself in the apprehensive look than she realised. 'Can you at least...I don't know...promise me this is a mission you'll come back from in one piece?'

Sirius's smirk reappeared. 'Are you worried for me, Pip? Bit hypocritical, if you ask me.'

'Forgive me for being bothered by the prospect of whatever you and Mad-Eye could cook up unsupervised,' she replied sarcastically.

Sirius chuckled. 'Touched as I am, love, I wasn't planning on dying anytime soon.'

Pip paled at his word choice. She unconsciously pressed herself against the door, a hand clasping the knob, as though the added weight would somehow stop Sirius from leaving. He could've tossed Pip over his shoulder and marched out if he really wanted to, but the slight shift in movement had his expression softening.

'It's alright, Pip. Promise.'

She frowned at him doubtfully. She should've chained him to the bed while she had the chance. The implications of that little afterthought caught Pip by surprise, but not nearly as much as Sirius suddenly drawing nearer. Not breaking eye-contact, his hand closed around the doorknob, entrapping Pip's for a second time.

The two of them stared at each for longer than friendly conversation demanded. Pip swallowed and heard herself break the moment. 'You know I'll find out whatever it is you're up to, sooner or later,' she warned.

Sirius's smirked returned. 'Sure you will.'

He turned the doorknob, and as though she were glued to it Pip swung backwards so he could pass. In the openness of the corridor, rays of afternoon sunlight showered across Sirius's almost baiting smile. 'What are mates for if not sticking their noses in each other's business?'

'Mates?' Pip repeated. She recalled their previous conversation with impressive slowness and no short supply of embarrassment. 'Oh, right…mates.'

'If you think you can handle it,' Sirius confirmed, departing with a wink.

Thoroughly discombobulated, Pip meandered back through the rooms and threw herself on the bed where his smoky smell still lingered. She burrowed into the sheets, on the verge of pinching herself to make sure that had all really occurred. However much it seemed like she'd escaped unscathed (remarkably, suspiciously unscathed) from the consequences of extraordinarily poor actions, Pip had an inkling that it was going to be difficult staying mates with someone she wanted to constantly shag.

Mates with Sirius Black? Somebody save them both.