A Sirius Affair

A SIRIUS AFFAIR

Chapter 7

Sirius Explanations

Sirius had spent all of Monday ruminating about whether to tell Cordelia the truth. He wandered over to Harry's flat on Monday morning, looking for some advice. He'd found Hermione there, sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet when he arrived. She explained that Harry was at work, but invited him in for some breakfast.

"You look dreadful," she commented as she set a plate of eggs, toast and tomatoes in front of him. "What's wrong?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He pushed food around on the plate for a bit, before looking up. "Had a horrible row with Cordelia last night. She thinks I'm hiding things . . . you know, not being completely honest with her."

"Well, you're not then, are you?" Hermione said quietly. She poured him some more coffee as he stared morosely out the window.

"It's quite a lot for her to digest, isn't it?" he muttered. "I don't exactly live a normal life, do I? She'd have a hard time explaining me to her colleagues at that law firm."

"Well, isn't that her decision to make?"

"Well, yes. She has the right to know everything before . . .before . . . well, that's how we ended up in a row last night," Sirius said, not looking at Hermione.

Hermione smiled to herself at his discomfort. "Well, Sirius, what are your reasons for not telling her the truth?" she broached cautiously. "Maybe you should think of it like this -- what's the worst that could happen if you tell her the whole truth?" He was silent so she went on, "The way I see it, you tell her everything. If she thinks you're mad, well, you just do a memory charm on her. You could either do a complete memory charm where she doesn't remember she ever even met you, or, you know, you could do a modified charm where she doesn't remember your 'confessions' so to speak. I can work with you on that one if you like. She would remember your relationship up to the point. . . . "

"Hermione," Sirius interrupted with a pleading expression. "I think I can handle the memory charm end of it. I just . . . ."

"You're wondering whether you should take this risk at all?"

He just nodded mutely. "Well, the fact that we're having this conversation at all says something, doesn't it?" she asked him. "I think you know the answer Sirius."

He buried his head in his hands, kneading his temples.

"You know what I suggest you do first?" Hermione asked. He shook his head, and she went on, "I think you should head back to your flat and get a good sleep before you try and talk to Cordelia. You need to be in a clear frame of mind for this conversation. And right now . . . . well, you look like hell."

"Thanks," he smiled ruefully.

"Don't mention it. More coffee?" He shook his head and stood up to leave. At the door, he leaned back and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "Thank you."

She nodded, "She seems well worth the risk in my opinion, Sirius. You have a muggle phone right? Shall I have Harry give you a ring when he gets back?"

"No, that's all right Hermione. I think I know what I should do."

********************************************

Ginny walked out of the meeting, disgusted yet again with the magazine staff's inability to understand the needs of the younger witch and wizard population. She walked back to her office and slammed the door. She was considering quitting right then and there, but then, she remembered what her Dad always told her. Whenever she had had to make a big decision in the past, her Dad told her to write down her options and thoughts and then put it away for at least a day. So she pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment and wrote down everything she could think of as to why she should or should not stay at her current job. She finally sat back and surveyed her small office. It was a tight squeeze to fit her teak desk and filing cabinet in, but she did have a window that owls could squeeze into. It was only 3:30 in the afternoon, but she'd had enough. "If I don't leave now, I will quit." She threw her cloak into her satchel and headed out the door, not pausing as her co-workers asked where she was going. "I'll be back tomorrow," she called as she left the non-descript brick office building.

It was a cloudy overcast day, but at least it wasn't raining, she thought. She decided to walk home, heading straight through Hyde Park. She stopped to sit by a pond for a bit. When she arrived home, she slipped into jeans and a short-sleeve jumper and gathered her elbow length red hair into a barrette. She plopped down to watch the telly for a bit but was soon bored with the programming. She tried to sketch, but all that came into her head were thoughts of her doing violent things to those editors. She tossed the sketch book on the table and wandered into her kitchen. She glanced in the icebox. "Blech," she said with a sneer. "Nothing here that I want to eat. Maybe I'll go see if Hermione wants to go out. This isn't Tuesday, so she won't be out with Rufus. Maybe I can talk her into Chinese."

Arriving at Hermione and Harry's flat, she knocked on the front door. From inside, she heard Harry yell "Come in," and suddenly the door flew open on its own. Music was playing on the CD player. "Shouldn't you at least look up and see who you're letting into your flat?" she called to him over the music.

"Oh, I knew it was a friend," Harry answered. "The wards on the flat are set up that way. All I do is point my wand at the door; if the tip glows green, it's safe to just let the door open. I always answer the door myself if the tip glows yellow, and I have my wand at the ready if the tip is glowing red." He was in the kitchen staring at the icebox with the same expression of distaste she had had on her face when she'd looked in her own icebox. "Nothing looks good, does it?" she asked. "Where's Hermione? I thought I'd see if she wanted to join me for some Chinese."

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound bad at all," he muttered. "Oh . . . Hermione is off with Rufus this evening."

"I thought she went out with him Tuesday nights during the week?"

"Rufus had a trip to Cardiff scheduled for tomorrow so they're out tonight instead," Harry said. Ginny thought he looked concerned.

"Are they doing all right, then?"

"They haven't screamed at each other this week as far as I know."

"Well, that's a good sign. . . .," she said sarcastically.

"So how about that dinner then? There's a new Chinese place just around the corner. Sirius went there the other night and said it was quite good," Harry volunteered.

"Sounds like a plan," she said with an easy smile. "After my day, I just couldn't face eating in tonight."

"Bad day?" Harry asked "Mine wasn't all that great either, truth be told."

"Horrid day! I sat in on another editorial staff meeting, and they just refuse to add any new features. But, don't get me started . . . . it will only make me angry."

"Okay, so work discussion is off limits then. Hmmm, how about the weather?" Harry teased.

"Now, there's a creative topic," she commented wryly. Harry laughed as they left the flat.

Over dinner, they talked a bit about Hermione and her job prospects. Ginny did limit herself to one good rant about her job. She couldn't help noticing that Harry was very closed-mouthed about his own job, despite her prodding him to tell her about his bad day. He quickly steered the conversation to the combination birthday/graduation party that Ginny was planning.

"Why don't we just let this party be about Hermione's graduation? There's really no need for anyone to make a fuss about my birthday after all," Harry said casually. Ginny had just explained that their flat was better-suited for a party with as many guests as they were thinking of inviting.

"Oh, but your birthday was the original motivation for the party! Didn't you know?" she asked quickly, looking at Harry's puzzled face. "Hermione thought you should have a birthday party for once. I'm the one who decided we should celebrate her graduation as well."

Harry was frowning. "I just don't like being the center of attention," he muttered, staring down at his plate. "Never have."

"We'll let everyone know not to bring gifts; it won't be any big deal Harry. I promise. Besides, it will be just a group of our closest friends from school after all."

He finally nodded. "All right. I'd still prefer if it was just about Hermione's graduation but . . . ," he trailed off.

"Fred owled me a few days ago and said he thought he could get away to come in for the party. Charlie can't really leave Maggie and the children at this point though."

Harry looked up suddenly at the mention of Fred's name. "Say, do I remember correctly that Fred has dated a muggle or two?"

"Yes, but that was awhile ago," Ginny replied. "And, he never did tell either of them that he was a wizard. I don't think he did anyway."

"How awkward was that -- dating a muggle?"

"Not awkward at all as far as Fred was concerned. But then, he enjoys thinking on his feet and trying to pull something over on someone. Why? Are you thinking of dating a muggle?" she asked, trying to sound casual as her heart sank a bit.

"No, not me. Sirius has gone out a couple of times with a muggle he met in that coffee bar he manages," Harry replied.

"Really? Hmmm . . . well, I guess he couldn't very well date a witch, now could he?" said Ginny perceptively.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. What's he going to say to them? 'I'm Sirius Black, the notorious Azkaban escapee,'" Harry said with a laugh.

Ginny chuckled. "He's certainly attractive enough, but he's got a bit too much baggage for a normal witch, doesn't he?"

"Baggage is a problem for most witches then?" Harry asked quietly.

"Well, it depends on the wizard . . . . and depends on the baggage I would think," Ginny responded. "Convicted of 12 deaths and on the outs with the Ministry for almost 20 years -- yes, I suppose that qualifes as a fair bit of baggage."

"How about me?" Harry asked slyly, not looking up at her.

"Well, yes, you do have a fair amount of baggage too I suppose . . .the fame and all that. But for the most part, I'd guess most witches would overlook that for you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," she teased. "You didn't know that you're considered a most eligible bachelor amongst witches?"

"Then why am I searching for scraps in my icebox, only to be rescued by someone who really only wanted to go out with Hermione?"

"I think that's a question only you can answer, Harry," she said as she gazed unblinkingly into his eyes. She noticed he didn't break her gaze for a very long moment, as he seemed to be considering something.

"Can I get you two anything else?" the waiter interrupted.

"No. Thank you. Just the check then," Harry said as he broke his eyes away and set about paying the bill.

They wandered back towards Harry's flat. As they reached the point where Ginny would turn and head back to her flat, Harry asked if she'd like to come up as it was still early.

"Sure," she said, certainly not wanting to go home and think about her job.

As they entered, Harry waved his hand, and the CD player started up again. It was the music he had been playing when they left earlier. Harry retrieved a lager for each of them from the icebox.

"Isn't this that old muggle music you and Hermione dance to?" Ginny called from the living area.

"Yes, it is," he said as he handed her a lager. "This guy is the best of the old time band leaders." Harry explained that it was some old time swing music and that Glenn Miller was his particular favourite. The new swing bands were great to dance and carouse to, but he said he preferred listening to the old music with its funny, corny lyrics.

Just as Pennsyvania 6-5000 started, Ginny commented "You and Hermione make that dancing look so easy . . . it looks like a smashing good time."

"It is quite fun. Would you like to have a go?"

"Yeah," she said uncertainly. "But, how good a teacher are you?"

Harry laughed. "I tried to teach George once and that didn't turn out too well. But, maybe it was just George," he said with a slight smirk.

As they crossed to the center of the living space, Harry held out his left hand and slid his right arm around Ginny's waist. "Right, then...we stand with all of our feet lined up like so....then outside foot steps to the front, weight on the front foot and the inside foot lifts up, just a touch.....good....then the forward feet swing back to behind the inside feet, and lean back and the inside feet lift again....right you've got it."

Ginny felt very uncoordinated, but she seemed to be following enough not to fall.

"That's the basic step. Once you have that down, then you can get into the turns....like this," he said as he swung her out and away, held her hand and passed her beneath his arm. She had just about completed the turn when she tripped, and Harry just barely caught her before she went tumbling into the sofa. They both laughed, but Ginny got up and insisted on trying again. By the time Hermione got home, they had almost gotten two or three moves down. "Nothing that would win contests," Ginny thought, "But we can actually get through three-quarters of a song without bodily harm."

They demonstrated their moves for Hermione to the song "In the Mood" as Harry said that was one of the easiest songs to dance to.

"Right then, Hermione," Ginny said, out of breath and beaming, having nearly fallen on her head during Harry's dip at the end of the song. "Let's see it done right!"

"Not tonight, Gin. Maybe another time," Hermione said. "I think I'm heading to bed -- I'm so knackered."

Harry walked Ginny home, although she insisted several times that it wasn't necessary. As they reached her building, Harry took her hand and thanked her for saving him from a solitary dinner and for being such a good sport about his lingering muggle interests, like swing dancing.

"Well, thanks for trying to teach me Harry; I hope your toes aren't too battered from my amateur efforts." He shook his head, grinning. "Well, I promise I'll learn how to count in time to the music," she added.

He held her hand for a lingering moment as he looked steadily into her eyes. "This was fun. I'd like to do this again..."

"So would I," Ginny said, staring up into his startling green eyes.

"Good night, then" Harry smiled.

"Good night." She went up to her flat and again watched out her window as he walked back down the street.

Harry talked to himself all the way back to his flat. "Well, why not? She's not my sister after all. She is very attractive. She seems to fancy me again, for some odd reason....I don't have to worry about any preposterous jealousy between Ginny and Hermione....and I know I can trust her. That would be a change," he thought, shaking his head. "At least I know Ginny won't suddenly turn into an evil witch. Maybe there is more to this than just why not." He smiled as he allowed himself to consider the possibilities.

**************************

"May I speak to Ms. Hunter please......Ian Black.....oh, I see. Will she be in later?....But she is in town, right?......She is due in to work today? Oh so she's in, just not taking my calls? Aahhhh. Well, thank you. Bye." Owl post was so much easier, he thought. You can't refuse an owl; they'd peck you until you took the message.

After his talk with Hermione, he'd taken her advice and gone back to his flat for some sleep. He'd ruminated some more after he woke up, concluding that the whole thing was over anyway if he didn't tell her. He'd been trying to reach her since Monday night. She hadn't been at her office when he started calling mid-afternoon, and she'd not picked up her home phone all evening either. Now it was Tuesday afternoon. He hadn't seen her since she stormed out of the coffee shop on Sunday evening. This was the first time in his life he felt like he had a hole in his heart, where she should be. "Blimey, how did you let yourself get to this point so quickly," he thought to himself. "Maybe it's age." No, he knew it wasn't his age. It was her, her and those bloody blue eyes and the engaging laugh and the sharp wit and just about everything else about her.

"Well, if she won't take my calls, I'll just have to go down to her office. Waiting at her flat won't do any good; she's not usually there until late in the evening," Sirius thought resolutely as he drummed his fingers on his table.

Her office was in the City, and he wasn't all that crazy about taking the Tube all that way. A couple of stops wasn't too bad, but it tended to give him claustrophobia. He considered apparating, but he wasn't entirely sure that there would be an inconspicuous place to apparate near her building. At last, he decided it was time to haul out the motorcycle he kept in the coffee bar storage area. He didn't use it often. He hadn't tinkered enough with it to enchant it to fly like the one he'd owned before Azkaban, but it was nice to get out and feel the wind on his face every once in awhile.

After circling the area for a bit and wondering if he would need to resort to magic to squeeze his motorbike into a parking spot, he at last found a nearby spot. He entered the reception area with some trepidation, telling the receptionist that he was there to see Cordelia Hunter. The receptionist mumbled into the phone and finally turned and said coolly, "She'll be with you when she can break away. Please have a seat."

Sirius was not pleased at the prospect of cooling his heels in an environment so foreign to him. He knew he didn't belong here. Everyone bustling around the reception area was dressed to the nines in stylish muggle clothes. Not a single robe or cloak in sight, and here he was dressed in jeans and a sport shirt. The receptionist stepped away for a few moments, and during the time she was gone, three different people asked if they could help him with the delivery he was obviously making. Sirius was annoyed at first, but then smiled at the inspiration. He surreptitiously conjured up a package and allowed the next bloke to show him to her office. Her secretary was away from her desk so he took the opportunity to head straight into her office.

"How did you get in here?" she exclaimed as he came in.

"Delivery for Ms. Hunter," Sirius said with wide-eyed innocence, holding up the package for her to see.

"Yeah, right. What is it -- your dossier?" she said cynically, but he thought she didn't seem altogether too upset that he had reached her office.

"No. But, I would like to present all that to you this evening at my place," he proposed.

"Oh! I finally get to meet the wife and kids?" she commented wryly.

"No wife and kids as I told you. But, I will introduce you to my dog," he said with a smirk.

"You have a dog?" she asked in an unexpectedly surprised tone.

"Yes. So to speak."

"Even that sounds mysterious I must say." She surveyed him for a few long moments while he fidgeted nervously. "All right. I'll hear your story. Just let me talk to my secretary for a bit. I've decided to take a few days off, and I need to clear some things with her. Make yourself comfortable."

That was difficult. He looked around her office. It was not particularly spacious but did have interesting artwork. He was intrigued to observe the number of renderings of Newfoundland dogs all around the walls and shelves of the office. It appeared that she collected pictures and figurines of that particular breed. "How very interesting. I know she noticed me following her the other night, but I had no idea she was so fond of Newfies," he thought to himself.

She came back in, and as she gathered her satchel and briefcase, he asked about the dog pictures.

"I had a Newfie when I was a young girl on my grandparents' farm. I loved that dog; I had him nearly 10 years."

"I've always had a fondness for that breed as well," he commented.

"I spent so many weekends and summers up there with that dog. His name was Bernie," she said wistfully, as if yearning to be there again. "I was never allowed to bring my dog back to the city with us, and since I've been on my own, I've been too busy to justify one."

"Interesting," he said as they exited the office.

They walked a few blocks past her office building, and then he gestured towards the motorcycle.

"Good thing I went casual today, eh," she commented as she eyed the motorcycle, and he smiled at her.

"The other advantage of fetching her by motorbike," he thought, "is she won't be able to ask any questions until we're safely at my place."

When they at last arrived at his flat, he noticed that she was looking around curiously, as though she still half-expected to see evidence of a wife and children. "So, where's your dog?" she asked as he poured them both a glass of water.

"It will all be rrrrrrevealed," he said with a mysterious flourish, as he gestured for her to sit across from him at his small dining room table. Once they were both seated, he pulled his wand from his pocket and set it on the table between them. "This," he said "is the key to who I am."

"That's that magic wand you were messing around with the first time I was in the coffee bar. What -- you're a magician? Is that what this is all about?" she said, looking utterly bewildered.

"Not a magician. A wizard. And, if I do say so myself, a rather good one at that."

"There's a difference?" she asked sceptically.

"A huge difference. One fakes magic and the other, my kind, is magic."

"Your kind? So, there are more of you?" she said with an indulgent smile.

"There is a whole community of witches and wizards coexisting with your community. You just don't pay close enough attention to see us, and if one of you does happen to notice something odd, a simple memory charm fixes that up."

"What do you mean by community?"

"There is a separate wizard government, economy, school system, currency, professions, security. It's kind of like another country . . . within this country so to speak. Although Britain is not the only country with a magical community."

"Right," she said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. "So, is that all? I thought I was here to hear the truth. Get on with it or I'm off!"

"Didn't I tell you that you would think I was a lying scum or a mental case?" he said quietly. "All right then. What would you like to see done?"

"What?"

"Magic. Let me show you. You pick an object in this room and tell me what you want it to be. It's called transfiguration, and it was my best subject."

"What, like turning a toaster into a newt?"

"You'd like my toaster to be a newt? Okay," he said as he got up to fetch the toaster. "But if he runs off, you have to buy me a new toaster," he said with a broad smile.

"Deal," she commented dryly as he placed the toaster between them on the table. She watched him mutter a few words, tap it with his wand, and with a slight pop, the toaster became a beautiful lavender newt, which promptly slithered off the table. Cordelia let out a small surprised yell and stared at him with large wide eyes as he dove under the table to grab the newt's tail. Cordelia regained her composure and began examining the table for a secret trap door or something to show how the trick worked. She couldn't find any hidden compartment in the table, and as he was wearing a short sleeve shirt, there was obviously nothing up his sleeve. She looked at him suspiciously. Sirius met her gaze, holding the squirming newt firmly on the table, he muttered the incantations under his breath, tapped it again with his wand, and with another slight pop, the newt was ready to make toast once again.

"You weren't much help retrieving my toaster," he said with a smirk.

She just stared at him, completely dumbfounded, completely unable to come up with a witty or cynical retort. Finally, she asked, "Do you only do . . . what did you call it? Trans . . . .?"

"Transfiguration. No, I'm passably good at charms as well. I've also learned my fair share of attack magic in recent years. Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of my favourites, and believe me, it's come in handy over the years. I've always been good at Arithmancy and astronomy. Don't ask me to brew a potion though, because at best it won't be effective and at worst it could kill you. I hated potions in school."

"School?" she said weakly. "You mean you go to school for this?"

"Yes. I went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. It's the Eton of the wizarding world. Harry and Hermione went there too. That's where they met."

"Harry and Hermione are magic people too?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, between the two of them, they have most of the rest of the magical community beat. He's one of the most powerful wizards I've ever met. He's got more magic in him than his mum and dad combined and that's saying something. And, Hermione. Well, she was muggle born, but she's got the sharpest mind I've ever seen. She's widely believed to be the cleverest witch of her time." He knew he was getting off track, but he wanted her to know he wasn't the only wizard around.

"What did you call Hermione?"

"Clever?"

"No. The other thing . . .something born?"

"Oh. Muggle-born. That's what wizarding folk call non-magic people . . . muggles."

"So, I'd be a muggle?" she said slowly.

"Yes, but an extraordinary muggle." He smiled at her.

"I'll take that as a compliment I suppose," she muttered. "So . . . you're a wizard." He watched her taking deep breaths. Pointing his wand at the cupboard, it flew open, and he directed a glass under the tap. He then sent the fresh glass of water into his own hand and slid it across the table towards her. She picked it up, but gaped at him, not saying a word.

"Well, it's a start, isn't it?" he asked gently. He started to reach for her hand across the table, but she withdrew from him. "What else can I tell you? Start asking questions. I honestly don't know where to start . . . There's so much I want to tell you about me . . . . and about my world."

"I'm not sure I know where to start either," she said weakly. She looked around his flat for a few moments, thinking to herself. "Where's your dog? That should be a normal conversation while I get my bearings."

"Ah, well . . . maybe not so normal as you might think. To complicate matters further, I am a particular kind of wizard called an animagus. This involves a rather difficult transfiguration that a couple of friends and I figured out while we were in school. Kids our age weren't really supposed to be fooling with this spell, but, well, . . . .we had our reasons for wanting to transform. That's another story. Anyway, a wizard who is an animagus can transform into an animal and back into the human form again at will. No wand required. An animagus also always becomes the same animal. My animagus form is a large black shaggy dog, much like the Newfoundland breed you're so fond of. So, whilst I don't own a dog, I can become one if you like," he said with a grin.

"You can become a dog? I've always thought you could trust a man who owns a dog but . . . becoming one . . . well, . . . . show me."

With that, a Newfie-like dog appeared at her knee, but before she could react, Black was back again.

"You were you following me the other night, weren't you?" she asked, her eyes still huge with shock.

"Yes. That was me," he admitted.

"I was wondering who would let a beautiful dog like that wander about on its own," she murmured. "So, what else should I know about you? Let me guess . . . your name isn't Ian?"

"Well, actually it's not. But, it is my middle name," he smiled. "See! And, you were complaining you didn't know my middle name."

"Do you generally go by Ian or your first name or some other alias?" Cordelia asked. She'd drained another glass of water and watched in amazement as he fetched another glass for her without getting up from the table.

"Harry and Hermione know me as Sirius, my first name," he said.

"Sirius! Are you serious?" she asked.

"S-I-R-I-U-S. You know. Like the star we saw the other night, the dog star. My mum enjoyed astronomy."

"So why are you going by the name Ian in the . . . er . . . muggle world? And why are you working at a coffee bar instead of in this wizarding community you describe?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Well, I've come this far, haven't I?" she responded.

He got up, crossed the room and retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer. It was one of the Wanted posters of him from when he broke out of Azkaban. He silently laid the paper in front of her.

She gasped and suddenly got a distinctly queasy feeling in her stomach. Staring back at her was an evil skeletal man draped in black with horrible matted hair streaming down to his waist. She knew it was him, and suddenly she felt like running from the room. She realised with a start that she might not have been that far off-base when she wondered if he was an axe murderer. She couldn't meet his eyes. She got up and began pacing the flat. Her hands were shaking, and she began taking large deep breaths, trying to keep from completely breaking down. She didn't know whether to run or stay for the explanation. For the first time since she met him, she wasn't sure she felt safe. Even though she wasn't at all sure she wanted to know the answer, she felt compelled to ask the question. "What are you wanted for?"

"Please," he started. "Please know that I am in no way a threat to you. I know that picture is a bit dreadful. I don't think they quite captured my good side, do you?" he joked. Seeing the look on her face, he went on hurriedly, "Anyway, you asked the 6 million pound question, right? Right. Well, here goes. The wizarding authorities accused me of killing 12 people, 11 of them muggles, but I didn't kill anyone. I was framed by the guy I was trying to snuff. But, the Ministry saw it their way for various reasons, and I spent 12 years in wizard prison, developing that unique style they managed to capture in that photograph."

"So, you didn't do it," she stated more than asked, then paused "You do know that's what they all say. It's a rare case where the convicted felon steps up and says 'Sure I did it and he deserved it.'"

"Well, he did deserve it, but unfortunately I wasn't the one who killed him," Sirius stated with a touch of anger in his voice.

"Who is He, and why are you not still in prison?"

"That, my dear, is a rather long and complicated story. It starts more than 20 years ago, when I was still at school." He began explaining all about Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. He described the rise of Lord Voldemort and that most members of the wizarding community are still afraid to utter his name even yet, preferring to call him "You-Know-Who." He described the battle he and his friends, the Potters, helped wage against Voldemort. His voice shook slightly as he told her about his last minute decision to substitute Wormtail as the Potters' Secret Keeper and the agony he'd suffered when he learned of Wormtail's betrayal and the deaths of James and Lily.

"So Lily and James were Harry's parents?" By this time, she was intrigued. She was still uneasy and didn't feel as safe as she had before seeing the poster. But, she realised he could have killed her already as he'd had ample opportunity, and she really wanted to hear the whole story.

"Yes. Harry looks just like his father, but has his mother's eyes. They were killed when Harry was just over a year old." Sirius went on with the story of how Voldemort's curse on baby Harry had rebounded, sending a wrecked and powerless Voldemort into hiding, and how he, Sirius, had gone looking for Pettigrew. Then he went through Pettigrew's escape, his own capture, and his 12 long years in prison. He was hoping his description of the Dementors wasn't too frightening, but then, he thought, that poster was frightening enough.

"Did you get a reprieve? Is that why you're here?" She sat rapt, finding all this hard to take in and assimilate.

"No, not yet. Eight years ago, I broke out of Azkaban because of my ability to transform. And because I was an unregistered animagus, no one was looking for a dog. So far I have the unique distinction of being the only prisoner ever to break out of that place and avoid recapture. The Dementors really don't like losing a prisoner."

He told her that he'd finally resolved to break out of Azkaban when he'd realised that Wormtail was perfectly positioned to harm Harry when the time was right. He related his escape from Hogwarts with the assistance of Harry and Hermione, the years on the run with Buckbeak and about his brutal disappointment of watching Pettigrew go up in smoke. "All that was left was a pile of ashes and a few bone fragments. Apparently, they're selling them on the black market nowadays. If only bones could talk," he sighed.

Sirius went on to tell her all about Harry's defeat of Voldemort four years ago. "The Ministry finally realised that I was not in league with Voldemort and wasn't involved in dark arts. And, they'd had no luck in finding me, because they were, and still are, unaware that I'm an animagus. But, Harry has a friend rather high up in the Ministry who knows most of the story. Although they are still officially searching for me, they know more or less what I'm doing, and they've decided to leave me in peace unless I do something to provoke them. So, here I am. Living my inconspicuous muggle life as Ian, your coffee shop night manager, with a past so bizarre no one would even possibly venture a guess."

She was still taking deep breaths, trying to control her thoughts and emotions. At last she broke the silence, "I have no idea how to respond to all this. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Only that I do work occasionally as a regulator, a free-lance wizard who fights the dark forces. Typically, it's Harry who hires me."

"What would happen if you could live as a wizard?" she ventured.

"Well, I wouldn't spend the rest of my life as a coffee shop manager."

"I always suspected you were too sharp for a coffee shop manager, but I must say, I never expected all this. So what happens if I want to leave here and never have anything more to do with you?" she asked.

"Is that how you feel?" he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"I didn't say that. I'm just exploring my options."

"Well, if you do want to leave and never come back, I will need to do a quick memory charm on you. This will allow you to go in peace and never suspect that you'd ever met me," he explained.

"You mean, if I had this . . .er. . . memory charm done, I could come into the coffee shop and not recognise you?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't try to chat you up this time. I'd just look at you with terribly sad eyes, knowing what could have been," he said with a mock wistful tone in his voice.

"Ahhhhh. How convenient for everyone . . . except you I suppose. So now what do we do?" Cordelia asked.

"Well, you could tell me you're madly in love with me, we could go into the bedroom and shag until the sun comes up, and then we could go get married and have a wonderful beautiful life together."

"Are there . . . er . . . mixed marriages, so to speak?"

"Yes, it happens all the time. As long as the muggle family is discreet, it can work quite well."

"So, I need to decide whether (A) I believe you and you've offered ample proof for your stories and (B) whether I care enough or if I'm brave enough to take on this relationship." She got up and paced some more. It was at this point that she realised the pictures were waving to her, but nothing surprised her much after all the revelations of the evening. She waved back at the first picture, then realised they were really pictures and not real little people. After a long silence, she said, "I just can't do this tonight. I can't figure this all out. I need some time. Time to absorb and digest everything. Do you need to do the memory charm thing before I leave here tonight?"

"No, as long as you promise to figure it all out eventually. As far as I know, I'm not going anywhere. Take your time. You know where to find me. Just . . .," he stared down at his clasped hands, then back up at her. "Just know this -- I am, I'm afraid, beginning to fall in love with you. I'm fairly certain I've never been in love before, and well, I'm amazed but I seem to be enjoying it. We could be great together, you know?"

She sighed and looked at him, "I have to go Ian, no . . . sorry . . . Sirius. I don't even know what to call you. I'll . . . I'll think about all this, all right?" He nodded, and with that she was gone. By this time it was well past 10:00. He really ought to be leaving for work, and his head hurt. He was about as far out on a limb as he had ever been, and he wasn't relishing the prospect of falling off.

************************

Cordelia walked slowly back to her flat, but once there, she realised that the last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts at the moment. She turned around without even going inside and headed straight to the Tube stop, boarding a train to get to her Mum's place in Bloomsbury. It was past 11:00 by the time she showed up on her mother's doorstep. Her Mum answered her knock clad in her tartan flannel robe with her long grey hair in a braid down her back. "Cordelia, dear, what on earth are you doing here at this hour?" her Mum said in a surprised but welcoming voice.

"I had to talk to you Mum," she said as she strode inside and immediately went to the kitchen and bustled about making a pot of tea. "I have a couple of days off this week. We closed that Barnstable merger on Friday."

"What's so urgent that couldn't wait until the decent hours of the day?" her mother asked as she rummaged for tea cups.

"Oh come on Mum. I know you're generally up at this hour."

"Yes, but I'm usually engrossed in a French movie. You know -- where the heroine has to make some life-altering decision."

"Well, this time the heroine is me, Mum. Should I speak French? Would that be better?" she said a bit curtly.

"No, no, English is fine dear. Besides," her Mum smiled, "I know you haven't practised your French in so long. I'm not sure it would be intelligible."

"Thanks bunches Mum . . . ," Cordelia said as she sat down with her tea steeping and placed a cup in front of her Mum. "Remember I told you about the man I was beginning to see?"

"The coffee shop manager?"

"Yes, that's the one. Well, the other night I came to the sudden realisation that after spending almost every night I was in town with him, I didn't know the slightest thing about him. I started asking a lot of questions, and we got into a terrible row Sunday night. I told him I didn't want to see him until he was ready to open up and tell me his life story." She paused and stirred some cream into her tea. "Well, tonight he did, and I'm not so sure I really wanted to know all the answers."

"He's not married, is he?"

"No, that's what I suspected, but . . . Mum . . . he's a wizard."

"A what?"

"Mum, he turned his toaster into a newt . . . then he turned himself into a dog. . . then he got me a glass of water without getting up, twice in fact . . . .and then he explained why he was in wizard prison for 12 years and why he wasn't guilty, broke out, and lived with a hippogriff for four years before taking up a muggle life as a coffee shop manager!"

"Cordelia, slow down dear. What the hell is a hippogriff?"

"It's a large animal -- half eagle, half horse," Cordelia answered in a matter-of-fact tone, without so much as surprise in her voice. It was almost as though she was getting used to this strange new world.

"Oh, I see," her Mum answered with a bemused smile. "So, what's the problem again, dear?"

"MUM! He's an escaped convict wizard dog . . .how can I get involved with that!!!!" she exclaimed and began pacing the kitchen. She didn't hear her Mum muttering under her breath, "Well, it can't be worse than some of the other losers she's hooked up with."

"What kind of dog is he?"

"WHAT! What does that matter?!!"

"Well, dear, I should think it could certainly tell you a lot about a man's character. I mean to say -- I'm not sure I'd trust a man who becomes a Chihuahua or a mean little yappy thing, but . . . ."

Cordelia burst out laughing, "Oh, this is rich, Mum! He transforms into a Newfie!"

"No! Pull the other one. . . . .does he know your history with Newfies? He sounds perfect for you, my dear. What's he like as a man?"

"He's charming, sexy, intelligent, and has a wonderful sense of humour. There's just something about him that I've been drawn to ever since I first laid eyes on him . . . he's from Scotland too. And, I think about him constantly," she added.

"Do you love him?" her Mum asked softly.

"I haven't the foggiest. I'm closer to that with him than with anyone else, but when he showed me the wanted picture they had posted when he first escaped, I felt ill and scared and really began to wonder if I was going to leave his place in one piece."

"But you did. What happens if you reject him Cordelia?" she asked. "Will he turn you into a newt?"

"No, actually it seems like the kindest thing you could ever do. He said he would need to do a memory charm, which would leave me with no memory of ever meeting him. How I wish I could have had a memory charm done after some of my other failed relationships."

"A memory charm? How does that work?" her Mum asked pleasantly, trying her best to act as though she hadn't just muttered "me too" in reference to Cordelia's wish for memory charms for her other failed relationships.

"You saw the movie Men in Black, right? Well the one guy had that flashy thing . . . it's like that I suppose. One minute you remember everything; the next moment, your memory has been selectively removed and you're asking your lover if you've ever met before."

"Is he your lover?"

"Not yet. That's what precipitated all this. I've wanted to shag him for awhile now, and well, I really thought we had the right opportunity. But, he bolted on me. This was Sunday," she added. "We got into a horrible row at his coffee shop. He said he didn't want to go any further until I knew who and what he was. At that point he wasn't ready to tell me. Now I understand why I think."

"So, now you know, do you still want to go to bed with him?"

"Yes. I think? I don't know Mum. That's why I'm here tonight." Cordelia buried her head in her hands.

"Ahhhh, I see," she said, reaching over to stroke her daughter's hair. "Well, I don't think being involved with a wizard would be all that much of a bad thing. It could be useful, couldn't it?" Cordelia looked up and smiled faintly.

They talked on until dawn. When the sun began to stream into the kitchen window, Cordelia had reached a decision. As her Mum pointed out, there wasn't all that much to lose, and if it didn't work out, the memory charm would make it less painful.

****************************

As Sirius turned the corner toward his flat after work in the early Wednesday morning hours, he noticed someone sitting on the stoop outside his flat. His heart skipped a beat when he realised it was Cordelia. She looked dreadful, still wearing the same clothes she'd had on when she left him last night. She explained quietly that she hadn't been home, she hadn't slept and she hadn't eaten anything substantial since lunch yesterday. She looked exhausted, but she was smiling.

He ushered her in and insisted, despite her protests, that she needed food. As he prepared eggs and bangers, toast and coffee, she told him about her all-night talk with her Mum.

Over breakfast, she asked a number of questions about the wizarding community, and he told her even more about his past. When they'd finished breakfast, she took her tea into the living area and relaxed on the couch. Sirius went into the kitchen to get her some lemon, and when he returned, she was sound asleep. He conjured up a blanket and pillow, got her snuggled up, and sat back in the armchair that faced the couch, sipping his tea and watching her sleep.

While she slept, he couldn't help but marvel at how wonderful he felt and how he at last understood James' feelings for Lily. He'd never understood how anyone would want to settle down and marry. Being with just one woman for the rest of his life had been antithetical to his nature when he was younger. He couldn't decide if he had finally grown up enough to understand that depth of emotion, or whether she had just reached in and touched something no one else could. Maybe it was a little of both. He wished it hadn't taken him so long to figure this out. He wished he was 20 again. Then, his thoughts wandered to Harry and Hermione. He hoped it didn't take them as long to figure it out.

After more than an hour of watching her sleep, he got up and cleaned up the kitchen and got himself ready to sleep. As he was putting on the sweat shorts he generally slept in, he felt a bit odd that someone else was there with him, but it was a rather pleasantly odd feeling. He climbed into bed, alone again he noted ruefully. He went right to sleep though, as it had been a bit of a wrenching 24 hours.

About 2:00 in the afternoon, the sun began to stream in the living room windows. Cordelia awoke with a start, wildly looking around to figure out where on earth she had ended up. As she sat up, she saw one of the pictures waving to her again, and the whole story flooded back to her. She looked around for Sirius, but he was nowhere to be seen. "He must be asleep in his room," she thought. She suddenly had a marvelous idea. She went quietly into his room, slipped out of her clothes (all of them), and chose an oxford shirt from his closet. She buttoned it about half way up and gently climbed into his bed. As she rubbed his back, he slowly woke up and smiled. "Hmmmm, you feel real," he murmured sleepily. "You're not a dream then?"

"I don't think so," she said as she gently brought her lips near his. They kissed tentatively and then again.

"Be gentle with me," he murmured with a touch of a smirk in his voice. "I haven't done this in 20 years." She chuckled as he kissed her again and pulled her into his arms. Just holding her felt delicious and warm. He sleepily ran his hands ran down the curve of her back and down to her legs and back up beneath her shirt. No, wait, that was his shirt he realised, although it looked much better on her. He unbuttoned the shirt as she arched her back, and he began to gently caress her body. He moved his lips to her neck and then down over her shoulder as he moved the shirt down her arm. Before he could remove it, her lips met his, and he was drawn into a very long, very deep kiss that he hoped would never end. He could feel her breasts pressing against his bare chest, which he had always thought was the most sensuous of sensations. He still wasn't fully awake, but her caresses were suddenly sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

As she slid his shorts down his legs, he could feel the passion welling up from the deepest corners of his emotions. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to feel this. He was genuinely afraid it would overwhelm them both, but he was powerless to stop it. Her breathing was coming more rapidly and soft gasps were emanating from her throat. Her hands were moving in a more frenzied way across his back, chest and arms and through his hair. They barely paused to breathe, as they kissed and explored every inch of each other's bodies. He could feel his heart pounding and he wasn't sure they wouldn't melt before this was over.

***********************

By the time they woke up, the sun was beginning to set again. Sirius had been awake for a short while, watching Cordelia sleep. He stroked her face, and she awoke with a sleepy smile. She stretched and snuggled back into his arms. He kissed her head and pulled her close. They stayed that way for a long time without saying anything. Just when he thought she had gone back to sleep again, she looked up into his eyes and whispered "I love you." Grinning, he kissed her tenderly. He broke away to look into her eyes. As he felt tears standing in his own eyes, he quickly began to nibble on her earlobes and kiss her neck. "Do you really? Are you sure?" he whispered at last. "Mmm, hmm," she murmured in response as she kissed from the hollow of his neck down his chest. He felt a tingling sensation running down his spine, and he groaned softly as her lips moved even further down his body.

Around midnight, they got up to eat some dinner. He rang up the all-night Chinese restaurant down the block while she showered. She insisted on doing this alone, even though he'd tried to persuade her that it would be much more fun as a duo. But she was unrelenting, saying she was hungry and that it was his job to procure the food.

Once the food had arrived, she was out of the shower and had borrowed his bathrobe. He magicked plates from the counter and got them both some water. As they were sitting down he said, "I love you."

"Do you?" she smiled softly.

"Yes. Yes, I believe I do. Having never felt quite this intensely about a woman before, I wasn't sure. But . . .yeah. I do indeed love you."

"You've never been in love before?"

"No, at Hogwarts and afterwards, I had loads of women who wanted me to be in love with them. And I'm sorry to admit that I took full advantage of that fact. Before Azkaban, I was the type of man most women grow to hate. Lead them on, wine them, dine them, make passionate love to them, then leave before they wake up. Forget to owl, avoid them on the street, then tell them I wasn't good enough for them," Sirius said with a trace of a scowl on his face.

"What changed?" Cordelia probed gently.

"Besides 20 years of celibacy?" Sirius joked

"Have you changed?"

"I couldn't help but change. The Dementors helped me spend 12 years reliving the worst moments of my life. When I got out, I decided I wanted to live my life with as few regrets as possible. That way, if I ever had to go back, I'd have less to dwell on. When I met you . . . well, don't ask me how I knew. Divination was not my best subject, but I knew the minute you walked into the shop that I was in big trouble. But I wanted to make sure there was nothing in the way I pursued this relationship that I would regret. That's why I couldn't make love to you until you had the chance to decide whether you wanted to get involved with me. The real me, Sirius, not the one who runs the coffee bar."

"I knew something was there as well -- the first time I saw you," she said softly.

"Oh?"

"Yes, well, you brought me my coffee that first night, and it was as if a light turned on. My stomach gave a weird lurch for the first time in years. It was the strangest feeling," she said with a rather puzzled look on her face.

"Like an instant connection of the souls!" he said in a mock majestic tone as he magiked the dishes into the sink.

She whacked him on the shoulder as they laughed. "Yes," she said in an exasperated tone. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Just trying to lighten things up a bit," he said without a trace of a smirk. "What do you say we go back to bed?"

"Back to bed or back to sleep?"

"Back to bed of course."

"Smashing idea!" she said with a very large grin.