"All I want is nothing more
To hear you knocking at my door
'Cause if I could see your face once more
I could die a happy man I'm sure."

Sirius Black was as filthy as his name suggested. He gambled his way through dark pubs in Knockturn alley, cheating hands hidden beneath his charming smile, he was known to get drunk and trudge home with bloody knuckles at three am, and he was notorious, elemental for the charm he possessed, that leached through the hearts of young girls like poison, reduced them to blood and tears over his escapades, but ultimately, always made them give in to his lyrical words, whispered in their ears in darkened broom cupboards with his lips brushing softly at their jawlines.

Marlene McKinnon brought all the ruin of a hurricane. With tumbling tangles of chocolate hair, lips that sneered in all their blood-red glory over a bottle of firewhiskey, and large eyes possessing all the curiosity of a child, her name whispered in the boy's dormitories like the title of a goddess. Marlene was raging, spontaneous fire, fierce in her loyalty, and fierce in her opposition.

It was no wonder that the students of Hogwarts, craved, plotted, yearned for the collision of these two fireworks. And collide, they did.

It was hot, and it was summer, and the pureblood agenda was reeling with lunches and teas and balls. It was at a masquerade that Sirius met Miss McKinnon and not Marlene McKinnon. Miss McKinnon, it tuned out, was the belle of the ball, beautiful and traditional in her slytherin-green gown, dancing nimbly, making small talk while nibbling on cocktail shrimp.

It was there, that Sirius danced waltz after waltz with her, and then took her hand and sneaked out to the roof when their parents weren't looking. It was there that they sat and talked all night, there that he discovered that Marls - the nickname was established just an hour into the conversation - looked like a reckless child when she laughed, and her hands were restless, always moving, twining around the material of her gown. It was there that those hands found themselves in Sirius's as they danced again under the stars to the music leaking from the ballroom. It was there that Sirius kissed her, at the end of the dance, simply because he couldn't stop wondering what her lips felt like, and his fingers had seemed too blunt an instrument to touch them. It was there that Marlene kissed his cheek after they broke away, her eyes smiling, and walked back to leave.

The remainder of Sirius's summer was spent at the Potter's, with James wondering why Sirius had stopped smirking at girls when they went to the pub and never seemed to be interested in that waitress they had liked since they were kids . Sirius was horrified by the way he couldn't seem to stop thinking about Marlene's eyes, and they way his stomach lurched at the thought of seeing her when the school year began, for surely, she had forgotten.

All worry was in vain, though, because, under the gaze of a hundred students, on the first of September, he felt someone tap his shoulder, and turned to have Marlene throw her arms around him, kissing him fiercely.

They exploded together, the two fireworks, sending off sparks in all directions. There were fighting matches in the hallways, Marlene screaming at Sirius over breakfast as he walked into the hall hungover, him running into the quidditch pitch in the middle of the match to beg redemption. No one had ever seen either of them so happy, and yet so angry, so passionate. They flipped within seconds, from lying idly by the lake to tearing into each other like wolves. Marlene taunted Sirius with his family, and he gave her lazy smirks and kissed other girls int he hallways.

There were bets on when they would crash, but every time, they came up victorious and bloodstained, triumphant in their subsistence. They left Hogwarts a pair of sarcastic kids, and walked right into the war, oblivious and determined to get through.

They both fought for the Order, spending the time in with their subjugate family, laughing and holding onto each other as their numbers dwindled. Marlene moved into Sirius's apartment, bringing with her sunshine and the perpetual smell of baked goods.

They fought, they still fought, but always ended up in laughter, and they were not Marlene McKinnon and Sirius Black anymore, but Marlene and Sirius and Sirius and Marlene.

The months passed, and the war wouldn't leave them,a nd they didnt feel like soldiers or heroes anymore. They now stopped crying together after they heard of the deaths, and instead worked harder, with more vigour, not grieving anymore but seeking vengeance. Their arguments started getting less loud and more serious, and they almost always slept apart, each holding onto themselves.

Sirius wouldn't come home anymore and Marlene stayed up through the nights waiting for him, kindling her anger to unleash at him when he stumbled through the door at four am, looking away from her, mumbling "fuck off McKinnon", and dropping into bed.

Finally, once, Sirius came back to find no tense figure perched on the couch, and her half of the closet gone, and he was too drunk too care.

They met, at Order meetings, and they didnt fight, but dropped into a cold, awkward politeness.

Then, one night, the night they heard about the Longbottoms, Sirius heard knocking on his door through the rain, and he opened it to find Marlene, cold and scared and angry. She came in and changed into one of his t shirts and sat and warmed herself by the fire like she used to, and then she climbed into bed with him and kissed him warmly and tenderly, like she used to, and they both clung to each other and Sirius vowed to never lose her again.

The next morning he awoke to find a note telling him she had errands, and a plate of muffins on his table. Sirius basked in his happiness, and he opened the curtains to let in the sun, and by nightfall they were down again because the fucking radio would not stop repeating her name under a list of those killed in an attack.