Black as Night (Sirius Black)

Dancing in the Dark

Swipe left for song video— "Dancing in the Dark." I feel like songs tell just as much as stories, if not more. This song (and a bunch of other angsty 90s songs I'll be posting) perfectly describes how Sirius feels at this point in the story.
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Having satisfied their dinner appetites with a few beers and cottage pie, Sirius and Remus wandered upstairs to the club's top level, the sounds of Muggle hip hop — well technically No-Maj hip hop, since it was American— with its pumping bass drifting down to meet them. Sirius had donned a dark gray button-up for the evening along with jeans. He hadn't worn Muggle jeans since escaping from Azkaban, but thought it was a good night to give them a try.

"I love this music," Sirius mused. "It's just so raw— puts it all right out there. Makes our job easy." He grinned as he surveyed the women already jumping, grinding, and swaying on the dance floor. "See, don't you want to abandon the wizarding world and come hang out with me more, Remus?"

Remus surveyed the same scene with apparent disgust. "Absolutely not."

The two wizards made their way to the usual corner table to watch the room, having changed from beer to whiskey at this point.

Nope, too hyper. Too tall. Shagged that one. And that one. Snogged that one. Oh, gods, THAT one...is coming over here...

Their table was quickly being approached by a brunette on a mission, the ire of a true woman scorned alight in her eyes.

"Why, hello, love...I..."

Before Sirius could finish, his face was awash in the woman's sugary drink. He licked his lips. "Vodka...and pineapple?"

"Fuck you, Black."

"Why yes, you did. Rather well. In fact I was meaning to call you..."

The woman...Renee? Robin? whirled around on her stiletto pump and took off into the crowd that was slowly building on the dance floor.

Sirius leaned down discreetly and took out his wand from the sheath he kept strapped to his lower leg when he was out and about among Muggles. He cast a quick spell to clean up the mess.

"Well, that was fun."

Remus sighed. "Padfoot— this has got to stop."

"What? I know, these hellcats and their tempers are out of control."

"You. You have to stop. This self-destruction has to stop. You're supposed to be working through things— healing. Growing stronger...for the Order. For Harry."

"I am. This is just distraction. It's harmless, Remus."

"Not to these women, clearly. Look— I know Rhiannon ripped your heart out. But like you said this afternoon— she also gave it back to you. Literally. A second chance at life. Don't squander it here in this smoke-filled, ear-drum bursting shrine to shallowness and desperation."

Sirius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He knew Remus was right. He always was. But he wasn't just on a quest for a warm body — he was looking for her. The one he and Rhiannon had conjured in those few moments after his return— the one he knew was out there, the one he'd smelled in the Amortentia. Coffee, Muggle washing powder, and that glorious perfume. He hadn't been able to get her out of his head and he had no clue who she even was.

"Will you agree to something?" Remus pressed on.

Sirius shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"The next woman you fancy— please do something to get to know her. And I don't mean her body. Buy her breakfast. Take her to a movie. Use that new Muggle telephone you just got hooked up and spend an hour finding out about her life. If she's not the one, then fine. But at least you'll have made an effort."