A Very...Steamy...Halloween

...Dark hair framing a gentle, coffee-colored face...

The black haired young man was deep in thought. This was how he liked to remember her.

...Pale green eyes, calculating, sometimes worried, other times fiendish and mischievous...

"Oy! Watch it, you!" cried an angry woman shouting from inside her car. The shaggy haired male only glanced at her with penetrating gray eyes before finishing his cross of the street.

How long had it been? Since he had talked to her? Since she had lost complete trust in him?

4 years.

Why did he even need ask himself? He knew the answers to every question. The reality, however, of those questions...he didn't want to face it.

He firmly gripped the heavy door handle and heaved the oak door of bar open. Inside was a dimly lit area, small tables spread everywhere, most of them filled with odd patrons. One man looked as though he had fallen asleep, while the person across from him chatted avidly.

It was the usual crowd, and the usual talk. He-who-must-not-be-named was always first on the agenda, followed closely by the safety of the people. The black haired man knew more about the Dark Lord than any of the people in the bar, but he knew better than to bring it up.

His dark boots made a dull thudding sound on the wooden floor of the pub and he made his way to the bar. He pulled a stool towards him and sat down with a great sigh.

"The same, Sirius?" queried the toothless bartender, reaching his hand under the bar for a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Thank you, Tom." He drank the small glass in a single gulp, feeling it burn on its way down and finally settling in his stomach. He had two more after that, and then decided that he was quite finished for the night.

... A deeper voice...he shivered at the thought of how clear her voice was in his head.

...A wider frame, womanly curves that he had watched develop through their friendship...unknowingly falling in love with the curve of her chest and the length of her fingers...

He saw a fourth firewhiskey set down in front of him.

"I didn't--"

"From him," Tom answered, nodding towards the end of the bar, where a cloaked figure sat, hunched over a pink drink, sipping through a candy-colored straw. Sirius looked at him and nodded slightly, and the figure did not respond.

Sirius sipped the last firewhiskey carefully, feeling it burn in his chest in smaller amounts. The intoxicating liquid was beginning to take effect as he felt his tongue loosening, and also the collar of his jacket. Color rose in his handsome cheeks, and he smiled for the first time that night.

"What do you think, Tom?" he asked the bartender.

"'Bout what, sir?" answered Tom hospitably, as he filled up another pink colored drink for the hooded man who had bought Sirius his last drink.

"About life. About living and all of that...do you think it's worth it?"

"Of course, Sirius. Life goes on, it goes on as it should," Tom smiled at him, the same toothless smile he had when Sirius had first met him as a child.

"You ever wish you could change some things? Go back...and do things differently?" asked Sirius, running a hand through his hair. He shuddered.

...She loved doing that. A soft ruffle through his hair as he would leave, and once, even when he had fallen asleep...

"Everyone wishes that Sirius. But life wouldn't be life without all them mistakes. But everyone gets a second chance," answered Tom, wiping a bit of liquor left under Sirius's empty glass.

"I guess," Sirius answered in a dejected voice.

"It's what you do with them second chances that counts," Tom said wisely, looking at Sirius straight in the eye.

The cloaked figure shifted a bit at the end of the bar and raised a finger to Tom. Tom quickly made another drink and sent it down to him.

"What does he keep getting?" Sirius asked, curiously staring at the pale pink substance in the glass.

"It's cherry-flavored rum and a little flavored whipping cream. We like to call it the Pink Demon...three of those things would leave anyone feeling tipsy," Tom answered. "You want one? On the house."

"I shouldn't, really...what day is it, Tom? I seem to be losing track of time."

"The 31^st, Sirius. Big day tomorrow, when all the little Muggle children try to act like us," chuckled Tom.

"Yeah," Sirius murmured. "Big day."

He accepted Tom's offer for the Pink Demon and sipped it slowly, enjoying its dizzyingly sweet taste...he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the sugar that was making him lightheaded.

The figure at the end of the bar stirred and finally rose from his seat. Sirius only nodded at the cloaked one before turning his attention back to the tall glass before him. He heard the figure's steps as they neared him and went back to his thoughts.

He suddenly felt a single finger sweep gently through his hair. He whipped his head around, but the cloaked figure had already exited the bar. He deposited a few Galleons at the bar and hastily left the pub.

The air outside was chilly, and he could see his breath before him. He turned his head impatiently, frantically, searching for the owner of the finger who had touched his scalp.

He stumbled into a nearby alleyway, lit only by the dim moon, but lit just enough to see the figure he was searching for walking swiftly through the darkness.

"Wait--" he called hoarsely. He caught up to the fast-moving person and grabbed his arm and pushed him against the wall. "Why did you--how--my hair?"

The figure took Sirius's arm and he immediately loosened his grip. He saw the hands, with neat, trimmed fingernails and long fingers.

He grabbed the person's arm again and shoved him roughly against the wall. With his other hand, he reached into the hood and pulled it down.

He was gaping. In front of him was the woman he had thought about since the day he lost her trust, since the day she had left them all, that day four years earlier. She looked like she had only aged very little, her hair dark and curling at the ends, her skin still smooth and coffee-colored...and her body, just as he had remembered.

"Why didn't you--" he mumbled, losing all composure, both of his hands now clasping her face.

"Why do you think, Sirius," she whispered back. He felt her hand again in his hair, urging him closer.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to inject some logic into her appearance.

"Sirius Black, this is your second chance," she growled, her pale green eyes flashing. She jerked him towards her and he gave in easily, pressing his lips against hers, his hands resting still awkwardly on her face. An explosion seemed to take place inside of him, every nerve in his body felt electrified. He felt another round of goose bumps arise on his arms as she led his arms to her waist. He kissed her more furiously, pushing himself against her, hearing her moan softly through his kisses.

She bit his lip and he snarled in pain as he tasted his own blood in his mouth. He felt her tongue in his mouth and she allowed his hands travel to the buttons on her cloak, slowly undoing them, one by one. She was wearing a black shirt underneath her heavy cloak and he could almost feel her skin through the material.

His hands were now clamped firmly to her waist, his legs against hers. She pulled him closer to him, her long fingers massaging his scalp, willing him to get closer to her. Sirius began moving his hands upwards from her waist, and as she felt this, she began slowing down, placing her hands on his wrists.

"Sirius," she scolded, pulling away from him and pushing his hands back down.

"Oh hush. You know you like it," he mumbled playfully, kissing her neck. She smiled a little. "Where have you been when I wanted you like this?"

"I can't tell you," she murmured. "One day, maybe..."

"And where did you learn to kiss like that?" he asked her, seeing her face flushed and her lips a rose color.

"You've never kissed me before," she said, grinning in a wicked way. "Mr. Suave kissed every girl except the one that he really was dying to."

"Nice girls don't kiss like that," he said, leaning forward and biting her lip softly, letting his hand rest against her neck.

"I know...it's a change for once, not being nice," she answered, ruffling his hair. He looked concerned at her comment. "I'm still nice, don't worry."

They heard a small beeping sound, and she looked at her watch.

"Happy Halloween, Sirius," she said, grinning, and kissing his nose, letting her fingers run across his chest.

"Yes, Halloween...do you think Tom has any rooms open?"