Sirius Black shifted in his seat, his finger lazily circling the brim of his whiskey on the rocks.

A pretty blond sat opposite him, leaning into the conversation, fully aware that the new angle displayed her ample cleavage.

"So tell me again, why do people volunteer to stand on that stage and make fools of themselves?" He cringed, eyeing the stage where a rather large, sweating woman was performing her best "Lady Marmalade."

The nameless blonde giggled, squeezing his knee. "Oh, you're funny! Don't tell me you've never been to a karaoke bar."


Yes. It was Friday night and the infamous Sirius Black had stumbled into what he hoped to be a low-key muggle bar; somewhere he could have a drink without worrying about all the stares and whispers. This, however, was more than he bargained for. The only thing keeping him in the obnoxious club was that it happened to be Ladies Night and, boy, were there plenty of them.

The one holding his attention for the moment was a pretty, young thing. She had said her name was Amanda. Or was it Samantha? Regardless, she was twenty-three, an aspiring model, with legs that went on for days, a head of straight, platinum hair, and plenty of space for rent between her ears.

In the span of three songs she had migrated from her bar stool and into his lap, explaining that the color of his eyes would make for a great nail polish.

One of his hands were resting loosely on her waist, the other rattling the ice in his empty glass, cueing the bartender that he was in desperate of need for a refill.

"We could call it Silver Lining or even, Steel Seduction." Her mouth was inches from his, her words ghosting over his lips.

Sirius looked out at the other attractive women in the crowd, assuring himself that they were all as shallow and mindless as the lovely muggle draped around his neck. She would do.

With that, he slammed back the whiskey refill, and closed the gap between her full, red lips and his own.

She tasted like vodka. And lipstick.

Minutes later they were stumbling into an empty stall in the Men's lavatory, the blonde wrapped around his waist in a similar fashion to a boa constrictor. He wondered briefly why she was so keen on shagging a stranger, only to be brought back to the present when her hand moved between them to cup him roughly through his jeans, She earned herself a low growl from the ex-prisoner.

He quickly latched the door and forced the blonde against it, his palm venturing beneath her dress.

She squealed when his fingered made contact with her damp panties. "Oh, Nigel.."

Sirius could only chuckle into the base of her neck. "Name's not Nigel, love. But feel free to call me whatever you'd like."

The blonde huffed, pushing him away for a moment. "That wasn't me." She gestured to the next stall over.

Once Sirius stopped to listen, sure enough, he was able to hear a couple one stall over that seemed to have had a similar idea. "Great minds.."

The small blow to his ego immediately healed itself and he resumed kissing down the column of her neck, his palm cupping the blonde's sex. Until two words stilled him once more.

"Hermione, babe."

The voice was hushed and uneven, answered by a moan.

The realization of exactly who was being held on the other side of the wall sobered Sirius instantly and his heart lurched. "I'm.. I'm sorry. I can't do this." He pulled the pretty girl away from the door, planting an apologetic kiss on her forehead, and bolted from the lavatory.

What in Merlin's name was Hermione doing at a muggle bar, and more importantly who?

A young witch like her had no business wandering around muggle London at night unaccompanied. Sure Voldemort was no more, but there were still plenty of witches and wizards who wouldn't exactly be put out if she were to be viciously murdered.

He carefully avoided the blonde as she exited the bathroom and headed straight for the exit, a livid expression marring her flawless features.

The echo of her breathy moan coaxed Sirius back to the bar.

Soon, a crowd of empty glasses was keeping Sirius company as he waited for the bookish brunette to exit the lavatory.

He had been harboring a shameful crush on the young girl ever since she had brought him back from the veil nearly two years ago. She was no longer the awkward teenager he was previously familiar with, but had grown into a stunning young woman complete with modest curves and a razor-sharp wit.

She had broken things off with Ron a few months ago, but hadn't brought anyone home to Grimmauld with her since.

Sirius was pulled from his thoughts when an unmistakable head of wild curls came storming out of the loo, straight out the entrance doors and into the rain, Nigel quick on her heels.

Sliding what he hoped to be the proper amount of muggle money for his drinks, the inebriated wizard excused himself from the bar.

He could just barely make out her silhouette through the misty glass doors. She was thrusting her finger towards Nigel accusingly, .

Hermione must have said something that struck a chord, because in the next moment, Nigel was gripping her wrist and forcing her arm down, their words muffled by the panes of glass.

Sirius was now unconsciously pushing the sleeves of his button down past his elbows, his jaw tensed.

It happened in an instant. Nigel's hand was raised. There was a deafening blow. Hermione recoiled, one hand holding her cheek.

Before Nigel had time to raise his hand to Hermione again, Sirius had pulled open the door and hurled his fist into the offending man's nose, resulting in a sickening crack.

Blood poured from his face, and a moment later, from a cut across his cheekbone.

Only the sound of Hermione's shrieks and her feeble attempts to restrain him ended the merciless assault.

She reached up to wipe away the hair matted to his face by the rain, curious to see the features of the man who had come to her rescue, her eyes going wide.

"Sirius?" She whispered into the rain, greeted by his humble smile.

He pulled her tiny, sopping wet form into his arms, careful to keep his bleeding knuckles from ruining her pretty cocktail dress, and apparated them home.

Nigel remained kneeling in the storm, spitting teeth into the gutter.