Sirius let out a groan and felt the steady rhythm of a headache, a remnant of his overindulgence from last night. His throat felt like it had been lined with parchment. He needed water–anything to banish the uncomfortable feeling of dryness. Granted if it had not been for Lena's sudden reappearance into his life, he might have been more restrained.

He sat up cautiously, wincing as his surroundings tilted precariously and he decided that he would get dressed and look for a pitcher of water, but then two warm hands enveloped him, Marlene's face buried on his shoulder, her small ring-covered hands caressing his bare chest.

"Morning," he said gruffly, turning slightly around to see the witch who had a mischievous grin, her hooded eyes puffy with sleep.

"Good morning," she echoed in her slight accent that had become flatter over the years. She pressed a wet kiss on his neck while her hands were slowly moving downward and he felt a hot pool of desire in his belly, very much in accordance with the previous night's activities.

"I am hoping this morning, you might feel more at leisure," she said. "Last night you were gasping for it," she added with a hoarse laugh. He brushed off a jolt of mild irritation, as his body's reaction to her ministrations was more powerful than his ego.

"I am sorry," he said. He vaguely remembered her trying to slow down the process last night, but it was impossible and now he felt embarrassed.

"I am certainly not," she said. He turned around and pulled her into a kiss.

"Water," he rasped, as she was trying to pull him back on the bed. "I am parched."

"You can use your wand, you know," she teased, looking at him with another wicked smile as she laid back on the large pillow that was twice the size of her head. "You are a wizard, are you not?"

"Plus, I think you still need to compensate for last night," she continued. "That might replenish your fluids, after all," she said, letting out another laugh that was throaty but alluring. Sirius always saw her that way. She was uninhibited, completely at ease with herself, even though she could be a tad conceited. But she was not hiding anything and he found that attractive, still after all this time.

Sirius did not remember all the details about how it had happened. They talked for hours and hours, mostly about the Order and her life. He had deliberately distracted her when Azkaban would come up by cracking a joke or offering her another drink, and Marlene respected his need to deflect, although he knew she was not fooled.

At some point, most of the party guests were gone and only Dedalus Diggle and Hestia remained, as Dedalus was passed out on a sofa and she had decided to use one of the guest rooms.

Marlene and himself had moved themselves down in the kitchen where the hearth was, and she made a pot of strong black tea to get over the daze of the numerous drinks.

Then, they were kissing. He was surprised at the beginning, but not because the sensation was foreign, or that he and Marlene had never kissed or done other things before. He was mostly surprised at his own reaction to it. He was desperately clinging on to her, feeling a strong sense of urgency ringing through his senses.

He didn't remember when was the last time he was kissing a witch, or as a matter of fact, touching anyone like this. Marlene was familiar and it felt almost easy. Soon the kissing intensified and she was murmuring things to him, speaking softly and telling him that she still wanted him, that she had been thinking about him through the years and this sent a jolt of arousal in him, to be wanted , to be desired by someone after Azkaban.

Their faces were swollen from kissing and clothes already askew, and without remembering when exactly, he had apparated them to his bedroom, landing expertly on the large four poster bed.

He laid back bewildered as Marlene took charge and he brushed off the momentary flicker of performance anxiety because his body was telling him something else. It was signalling to him very clearly that he was perfectly capable, after all those years.

And so he was inside her, without much hesitation or slow introductions that would ease them into it. After all, it had always been like this between them, even then. Everything else was a blur, he was moving urgently and she was straddling him and moving along, urging him to keep going. He knew that it would not last, that it would be impossibly quick, as her scent and the feel of her were flooding his senses, unravelling him.

Not long after they had started, he felt the ancient pressure and he stilled for a moment before letting himself go with a loud groan. She then collapsed on top of him, mumbling something and staying there for a bit and he felt alive, as his cheeks flushed and as his chest was heaving from his release.

His eyes had now adjusted in the morning light as he rolled over from on top of her and laid on his back, feeling small beads of sweat running down his forehead.

Her breathing was coming out in abrupt huffs and her chest was moving as she turned and rested on her elbow to face him. She had a raw look of satisfaction, as this second time had been much better for her, since he took his time, although he still felt that the act itself was urgent–like he was running out of time.

Marlene licked her lips and her hand was on his chest again, making absentminded circles on his sparse hair.

"Merlin," she said and closed her eyes.

He simply hummed in acknowledgement.

Sirius noticed how she had this cheeky look again, her hooded eyes glassy. "Good to see you are still enthusiastic like old times, Sirius," she said.

"What can I say, Lena," he answered lazily, pulling her closer so she could rest her head on his chest. "You inspire a man."

"Honestly, last night I didn't expect that we would be up for a Quiddicth record," she said. She was baiting him, as usual. He knew Marlene, he remembered this dynamic from their past.

"From what I remember, you liked playing Quidditch quite a lot," he shot back, his fingers through her hair casually.

She raised an eyebrow and placed a kiss on his chin.

He chuckled, shaking his head a bit. "Alright, maybe I was a bit…eager," he said sheepishly. "It's been a while," he admitted and made an explanatory gesture.

She narrowed her eyes in mock surprise. "You say that all this time when you were on the run, you did not find any Muggle bird, unsuspecting enough to—"

"Shut it McKinnon," murmured Sirius, but it only made Marlene laugh. Sirius let out a huff and tightened his arms around her a bit. She was always inquisitive like this, even about the most uncomfortable truths, including his non-existent romantic history after his escape.

Eventually she settled into the embrace and her expression softened. "You haven't changed a bit," she whispered. "And I have missed you, Black," she said into the crook of his neck.

He didn't reply, he didn't want to, but he tightened his grip on her again, and started to kiss her thoroughly, seeking the comfort of their mutual past, before everything had gone to dust.

...

Emma avoided the Headquarters for a whole week and moved her brewing work to her tiny flat. She also told Eulalia that she would be happy to monitor Katie at St. Mungo's and immediately contact Dumbledore if anything came up.

Eulalia had reluctantly agreed but wanted her back this week to deliver some new potion and resources for the small Order hospital since they needed to be vigilant, as there might be more…actions soon.

The truth was that Emma didn't want to witness first hand the whole Black-McKinnon romance that was common knowledge by now, as she had heard from gossip and Tonks' latest visit when she came over for dinner a few days ago.

She truly felt idiotic. The memory of Sirius's hand on her back, the warmth of his laughter, made her cheeks burn with a mixture of shame and nostalgia. She berated herself for drinking too much that night, for having those odd feelings when he was broody and unwell that led to–what did she expect, exactly? It was a stupid dance and some banter, after all. Nothing meaningful.

She had let her guard down for a simple moment, for minutes of bad decision making and all she could hear now was Pia's bitter instructions–which she tried hard to forget.

And there was Marlene McKinnon, fierce and confident, a woman with whom he shared a past, and she had come back to claim him like a prize. Thanks to Tonks' incessant chatter over dinner the other day, Emma in fact knew more than she ever wanted to about Marlene's past: Auror prodigy, a tragic family history, a daring escape from Voldemort and a volatile history with Sirius. Of course, it made perfect sense. They were two sides of the same coin: reckless, brilliant, and marked by loss.

The thought sent a sharp pang of something cold and unpleasant twisting in her gut. Was it shock, jealousy? No, she couldn't possibly. She was a fool to think there could be anything more between them. She was Peter's sister, for Merlin's sake! How could she even entertain such thoughts about Sirius? Even if their shared history remained buried, it wouldn't change the truth. Sirius would be disgusted if he knew.

This possibility started weighing heavily on her. She had infiltrated this organisation to find out about her brother and well…what she had found out so far was gruesome. Betrayal, back-stabbing, Peter was responsible for many losses, many deaths, including their mother's.

This plagued her mostly at night, as she tried to avoid the thoughts during the way.

And him. She was supposed to hate him, she grew up thinking of him to be a murderer and a madman, and she felt..what did she feel exactly? Sympathy, pain, remorse—all mixed with the undeniable warm feeling of early attraction.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head fiercely. Alright, he was interesting, and broody and that drew her somehow, but it's not that she had any feelings for him. She couldn't possibly, In fact, given what her brother had done, the crimes he had committed, she should probably feel sorry for Sirius Black not…fancy him.

That was it! She felt sorry for him, for the injustice he'd suffered, for the friend Peter had turned out to be. It was pity, plain and simple, and perhaps this had confused her, it had blurred sympathy to seem like something else.

She clung to that thought like it was the last element in nature.

"Get a grip," she muttered, grabbing her things and fitting everything into her bag with a tap of her wand, getting ready to head out back to Headquarters. No more mooning over Sirius Black.

She pushed the thought away, focusing on the parchment in front of her. Work. That's what she needed to focus on.

Exactly fifteen minutes later she was inside the hallway of the Headquarters, making sure not to make noise or to use the doorbell, as she was instructed. Her shiny galleon was always in her pocket for impromptu meetings or messages.

She quickly left all the boxes on the ground floor and with a tap of her wand signalled for all the potions cases and other supplies to be sent off upstairs at the apothecary.

She needed to give Sirius his potions and she also needed an extra strong brew of tea to focus on her actual duties.

But then footsteps signalled that someone else was in the house, and then she saw him.

Sirius stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall with that casual grace she was starting to find infuriating.

The change in his appearance was striking and threw Emma off at the beginning. He had traded his usual black attire for a dark blue shirt that somehow managed to accentuate his light eyes. His hair was damp and neatly trimmed, the sides cropped shorter, making his hair appear curlier, fuller. He'd even trimmed the beard, leaving just a hint of stubble that did not disappear the roguishness of his features, however.

He straightened as she approached, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Emma!" he said jovially. "Came in for the new supplies? Shacklebolt the youngest dropped me a message this morning," he said.

"H-hello," she said, clutching the boxes tighter. "Uhm, yeah. I need to drop these, but first I was going to make some tea in the kitchen, if that's alright." She tried to sound matter-of-fact, detached.

"Ah, pity," he said. "I just finished a small pot downstairs–You could have joined me," he said in a friendly manner, clapping her on the shoulder. It was astonishing considering he had spent almost a month as a friendless recluse because Lupin was away and he'd barely talk to anymore. Now he was open, charming, sweet even.

"I, uh, I have your..." She fumbled in her bag, retrieving the vial.

"Ah, yes!" He took it from her, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. "You have no idea how long I've been needing one of those," he said. "The last one really helped," he added.

She frowned. He actually looked more relaxed, the bags under his eyes less pronounced. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, and then she saw it. A small, red mark just below his jawline. Undeniably, a love bite.

Emma tried to not appear flustered, but before she could even process the implications, a whirlwind of sound descended the staircase. Marlene McKinnon, her hair still damp from what was undoubtedly a post-coital shower, strode towards them.

She swiftly materialised beside Sirius, her arm slipping casually around his.

"I was looking for you," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek that turned his earlobe a light shade of pink.

Sirius's answering smile was strained and Emma could tell that he was either not fond of public displays of affection…or not used to it.

"So, you're the healer," Marlene continued, her gaze sweeping over Emma with a mixture of appraisal and something else that rubbed Emma the wrong way. "Well, Sirius did not tell me you are absolutely lovely to look at," she said in a complimentary tone that was not warm, but more factual.

Emma felt a surge of irritation. She considered telling McKinnon that she was there to do her work and not enter a beauty competition for witches, but at the same time Emma knew the first part was not entirely true and she did not not want to provoke an argument with the Auror. What was clear to Emma though was that Marlene McKinnon carried herself with an undeniable arrogance that everyone seemed to find endearing–except Emma.

She murmured a clipped thanks, avoiding the gaze of McKinnon who looked…well amused. Sirius, however, was frowning deeply, slightly withdrawing from Marlene.

"Emma is a very good healer and she has helped us immensely, we had a few tight situations," he said gruffly, looking at Marlene who was still eying Emma with an amused expression.

"That's new, I suppose," Marlene continued, looking at Emma with a curious look. "Last war, we made do with a few basic healing spells. We were really casual about it. Us, I mean. Aurors, Ministry people, you know, typical Dumbledore's lot," she said poignantly, although she was addressing Sirius, whose frown deeper.

Emma bristled at the dismissive tone and tried to hide a sarcastic smile.

"I assure you," Emma replied, her voice clipped, "my abilities extend far beyond casual stuff," she said.

McKinnon had definitely picked up on Emma's tone because her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then a slow smile spread across her face.

Sirius looked as though he wanted to melt into the floorboards and looked at Emma with an odd expression she could not decipher.

"Well then," Marlene said looking up to Sirius. "Aren't we in capable hands?"

Sirius nodded.

The dismissive tone, the implication that healing was somehow beneath a seasoned Auror like Marlene McKinnon, made Emma furious. "Right," she retorted, her voice sharper than she intended. "I have work to see," she said. "Good day."

And with a curt nod at Sirius, who was looking slightly confused, Emma headed upstairs, guiding the boxes with her wand.

...

The Quidditch pitch was deserted except for Harry, who had decided to take out his frustrations with aggressive laps on his broom. The days of classes were getting longer and longer, his two best friends were not in speaking terms with each other because of Ron's inept handling of the situation with Hermione, and his lessons with Dumbledore, as well as Sirius' frustrations about the lessons were starting to weigh on Harry.

Add to that, he had no excuse but to attend Slughorn's Christmas party now and judging from Hermione's warnings to look out for love potions, he had opted for a safe choice, which now started to frighten him, too: Luna Lovegood. At least Luna would not unleash a group of birds at him, since it was clear they were each other's date as friends.

Wind whipped at his face, numbing any part of him not already frozen solid by the November air, but Harry didn't care because he felt better, even for just minutes and he tried to push the thoughts away.

He pushed his broom faster and took in his surroundings. The grounds below were a patchwork of brown and white, as it had been snowing endlessly and the boy thought it beautiful, as the Forbidden Forest loomed calmly near.

For a little while, it was just him, the sky, and the biting wind. Almost peaceful. Almost.

Then he saw it. A flicker of movement against the clouds, too high to be a bird. It was another broom, coming from a distance.

A flash of well-known, red hair caught his eye. Ginny. He hadn't even heard her arrive, but there she was, her own broom a blur of motion as she executed a perfect turn. He made a mental note to congratulate her on it, later.

"Harry!" Her voice, though faint from the distance, carried on the wind, a note of exhilaration in it. Then, without warning, she tipped her broom forward into a deep dive toward the ground.

For a heartbeat, Harry was surprised but then he followed her and leaned forward, urging his broom into a steep descent. Ginny pulled out of the dive just in time, levelling off a few feet above the frost-covered grass. Harry followed suit, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Harry, you're going to freeze yourself solid out here," she noticed, pointing to his simple bundle of Weasley knitwear. "Are you practising on a Sunday?" she asked.

"S'not practice," said Harry, approaching her. " Just needed some air," he clarified, aware that he looked cross. With everything.

Ginny nodded knowingly. "Right. But if you don't cover up, the air's going to turn your ears into icicles," she said, pointing at his naked skull. She was wearing a woollen hat.

Harry rubbed his hands and cast a warming spell around them. "I will head towards Hagrid's," he said, a little off his usual tone. It was not an invitation nor a simple statement.

"Mind if I join you? On the grounds, that is," asked Ginny.

Harry awkwardly nodded. "Yeah, sure."

For a moment, the only sound Harry could hear was their feet against the snowy passage. Then Ginny turned to him slightly, with a light but soft voice.

"So, what got you brooding?" she asked, raising a thin ginger eyebrow.

"Wasn't brooding. Just...thinking," replied Harry, a bit ashamed for being caught by Ginny from all people.

"Right," she said briskly. "About them? Or, you know, Chosen One stuff and all?" she said humorously but Harry could not laugh.

She nodded toward the castle and Harry knew exactly who "them" were.

"Lavender 's practically got a leash on him. And Hermione...haven't seen her smile in days," he said grimly.

"She's allowed to be upset. And you're allowed to be miserable with your two best mates off snogging and sulking," Ginny said seriously.

A humourless laugh escaped from Harry. "Tell me about it. Feels like I'm trapped in some horrible love potion experiment gone wrong," he said.

"Except without the love potion, more like...stupidity potion. No offence to Ron, but…" she said in a snide underone. Harry felt a bit amused.

"None taken. He's being a prat. And Hermione...I try to talk to her, but she just shuts down," he said.

"Can we sit for a moment?" she asked, and gestured at a snow covered bench.

Ginny sat on a bench, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The casual gesture sent a jolt through Harry, a reminder of how different Ginny was from Lavender, how easy it was to be around her.

"You know you can talk to me, right? About all of it. Malfoy, too. I believe you, you know. About him being up to something," she said sincerely.

Harry sighed and sat next to her. "Everyone else thinks I've lost it. Even Dumbledore didn't seem totally convinced at our last lesson."

"Dumbledore's brilliant, but even he doesn't have all the answers. And you've got a knack for being right about this stuff, unfortunately," she said softly.

The tension in Harry's chest was easing slightly. Being close to her like this, just talking, felt...good. Too good. He was trying not to be self-conscious.

"It's just...frustrating. Ron, Hermione, Malfoy, even...Sirius is being difficult lately."

"What about Sirius?" asked Ginny.

Harry hesitated, picking at a loose thread on his Quidditch gloves. "He…well, he's being really suspicious of Dumbledore. About these lessons, about everything. Says Dumbledore's keeping secrets, that he can't be trusted."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "Blimey, that's a bit harsh. Dumbledore saved his life, didn't he? Back then, from the Ministry and the Dementors."

"I know, but Sirius does not see it this way," Harry muttered, kicking at a patch of frost with the toe of his boot. "I told him that. Probably shouldn't have, just made him more upset. He said…we said some things that were…well, unfair."

He didn't want to repeat the things he told Sirius, or the things Sirius said.

Ginny studied him, her gaze perceptive. "You okay?" she asked softly.

Harry offered a weak shrug. "Yeah, I'll figure it out. It's just…Sirius is the closest thing I've got to family, you know?" And it hurts when we fight, he wanted to add but felt too foolish.

He didn't see Ginny move, but suddenly she was closer, her hand reaching out as if to touch his face. His breath hitched. His heart hammered against his ribs. For a wild, insane moment, he thought she was going to kiss him.

And, for an even wilder moment, he wanted her to.

Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, Harry leaned into her touch, his own hand lifting as if to cup her cheek.

Ginny froze, her eyes wide with surprise. For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other, the air awkwardly thick with the shock of almost-touch and almost-something-more.

Harry realised from Ginny's expression that she was reaching for a friendly embrace and not a kiss.

"Merlin, Ginny, I - " He stammered, words failing him. He wanted to disappear. Melt into the frost-covered ground. "I didn't...I mean, I just...I am so sorry," he croaked.

"Harry, I..." Ginny started to say, but Harry was already mortified. What had he done? How could he be so daft? He shook his head manically and kicked the ice.

"No, I -" Harry started, then stopped, unsure how to salvage the situation. "It's just...cold, isn't it?" he finished lamely, gesturing at the frigid air as if that explained everything. He had no clue why he had said that.

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, to Harry's immense relief, Ginny let out a shaky laugh and a slow smile spread across her face. She leaned in again, this time there was no mistaking her intention, and hugged him tightly.

"I'm not Hermione. Or Ron. But I'm here for you, okay?" she murmured into his shoulder.

He clung to her, burying his face in her hair. "Ginny," he mumbled into the soft wool of her sweater. "You know that you are brilliant, right?"

He felt her laugh against his cheek. "Yeah, I think I might have gathered that," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "Took you long enough to notice, though," her amused voice flickering a bit with a tinge of regret.

They went back to the castle silently, as it was too late for a visit at Hagrid's.