Disclaimer: All characters, events or situations pertaining to the Harry Potter series are the property of the great JK Rowling; I'm just borrowing them for your entertainment. The plot is of my own mind as are the characters not found in Harry Potter.

Summary: Sirius flees to America shortly after Peter Pettigrew's "death". How will a chance encounter with a lonely American journalist change his life... and Harry's? (AU, obviously)

A/N: This is my first "Harry Potter" fanfic so any criticism you have to make is welcome. Please don't just review saying 'this story sucks' tell me why! Thanks.

Black as Night

"Ms. Turner have you finished your story on that little girl's cute little lemonade stand yet?" Keira Varana Turner stood up straight and tall at five-feet seven inches. Her dark brown hair was parted perfectly, just slightly to the left, and curled just right at the bottom. Her clothes were without wrinkles and there was not one clump of mascara in her eyelashes, thank you very much.

"Yes Mr. Williams, I finished it this morning."

"Ok then, have a good weekend."

"Thank you sir, I hope you enjoy your weekend as well." She sighed and made a face at her boss's back. If she ever received a real assignment at this dead-end job, it'd be a miracle. She retrieved her purse and her jacket from her cubicle and headed out the door.

"Keira! Wait!"

Annoyed, she turned around slowly. "What is it Chris?"

"Have you heard the news?"

"Which news?" she asked apathetically.

"Someone's spotted that British murderer again."

"So what? There's a new sighting once every couple of months."

"Yeah, but this time it was only a few miles from here."

"Most of those 'sightings' are usually fake, made by those people who claim they've seen UFOs." She stated matter-of-factly.

Chris feigned a look of hurt. "I've seen UFOs."

Keira rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot." She smacked him playfully in the head. "Tell Janie I said 'hi', see you Monday."

"Ok, Keira just be careful. Who knows what kind of people are hanging out in that dump you call a neighborhood."

"I always lock the door!" She yelled back as she walked through the heavy glass door. She got into her little geo-metro and drove the few miles to her shabby little house. When she got inside, she dead bolted her front door and switched on the lights. The inside of the little house was actually quite nice. It was, indeed, quite small but adequately decorated with a hint of style. After hanging her purse and jacket on the proper hooks, she went into the kitchen and popped a TV dinner into the microwave. Her cat rubbed against her leg and purred.

"Hello their Allergen." She knelt down next to the tiger-stripped cat and petted him. After her food was done cooking, she took it and a glass of red wine into the living room where she ate her dinner alone every night while watching the local news.

After dinner, she realized the garbage was full so after removing the bag and tying it up, she headed out into her pitch-black backyard. Her garbage can was in the back along the barely-standing tool shed. Keira waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness before continuing. She had taken no more than two steps when she heard something rattle nearby. She froze immediately and her heart began to race.

"Keira, cut it out," she mumbled to herself, "it's probably just a little opossum. That's nothing to freak out about." Very quietly, she tiptoed the short distance to the garbage can. She lifted the lid and threw the bag in. As she stepped away, she stepped on something... something that cracked. She pulled her foot back immediately. A faint moan emanated from the ground. Cautiously she bent over to get a closer look at what she stepped on. It looked kind of like... no, it couldn't be. Slowly she reached out her hand and poked it. 'It is,' she thought to herself, 'it's a hand!' The hand reached out and grabbed hers. She jumped so fast she nearly did a somersault. She looked back at the thing that grabbed her. The hand was laying limp now. Her heart was now beating wildly and her breathing was jagged. Still on her back, she kicked at the body a few times trying to get a reaction. Nothing. After a few minutes had passed she crawled toward the body lying on her dead grass. With a shaky hand, she pulled some of the long scraggly black hair away to reveal a man's face. He had an equally scraggly black beard and a large gash on his forehead that, although no longer bleeding, had left a lot of dried up blood on his face and in his hair. She checked to make sure he was still alive. He was.

Without a second thought, she lifted the man slightly off the ground by his armpits and dragged him, rather slowly, into her house. "Thank god this house is so small. There is no way I could carry your heavy ass any further." She said allowed after she had reached her destination, the couch. She retrieved a large bowl of water, a washcloth, some antiseptic spray and a sponge bob band-aide and started to wash off his face. Despite the filth, Keira could tell he wasn't very old, probably in his thirties. The second she began to spray the antiseptic a low moan escaped his lips. She paused and sprayed again. His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly. He looked quite fearful. Not knowing quite what to do Keira sat up straight and stuck out her hand. "Keira Turner, I pulled you out of my backyard."

Ignoring her outstretched hand, he spoke gruffly with what Keira thought to be an accent, "I didn't think anyone lived here." The phone rang and the man sat straight up and whipped out a knife. Keira stood up, but her hands up, and backed away.

"My god, I'm completely crazy! I find you lying in my backyard and I actually brought you into my house, a complete stranger! You're probably a rapist or a murderer or something aren't you?"

Beginning to calm down, the man lowered his knife and stuck it back in the pocket of his tattered robes. "No, I'm not." He got up and began to walk towards the door but his dizziness overwhelmed him and he fell to his knees.

"Wait," Keira said, "you are in no condition to be taking off right now." She held her hand out to him again and he took it. Wrapping an arm around his waist, which she found to be rather thin, she helped him back onto the couch. "What's your name?" she asked softly.

He thought for a moment not sure if he should trust her or not. But after deciding it didn't matter either way, he told her.

"Sirius Black."

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So, what do you think? Should I keep going?
I might anyway even if nobody likes it... lol.

If anyone knows what the html code thingy is to skip multiple lines, please let me know!