Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Moonlight filtered in to the darkened room, painting a silvery tapestry of abstract patterns across the white ruffled bedspread and canopy, illuminating the virginal figure laid out like a fairy tale princess.

Silently, he crept closer, his gaze traveling from the steady rise and fall of her perfect breasts, over the flawless exposed skin of collarbones, shoulders, and neck to her beautiful face. Her lips were slightly parted in that unintentional pout that was somehow incredibly innocent and hopelessly sexy at the same time. Her untamed chestnut curls were spread haphazardly over the pillow. A tiny crease pulled her brows together, and he froze as the indecent lashes shadowing her cheeks fluttered open.

"Sirius?" she asked softly, her voice sleepy and confused, but not afraid. So much trust from someone for whom he had such impure designs...

He made to leave, hoping she would forget ever seeing him there, but she sat up, her chocolate brown eyes clearing as she became more conscious. "Wait - " she whispered, and held out her hand.

Silly, naïve little fool. She had no idea why he was there, what kind of fire she was playing with. Or did she? He cautioned a glance to her face and found something there in her eyes, something less innocent.

"Please," she added, licking her lips nervously.

"Hermione," he rasped in a warning tone, shaking his head slightly. He knew it was wrong, he had no business there –

"I know why you're here," she said quietly, but the words tumbled out quickly, almost fervently. "Please, don't leave…"

Against his better judgment, his feet led him to her bedside, to her outstretched hand. Looking down at her, he watched as her eyes trailed from his face, down his bare chest, to his silk pajama bottoms that were still unbearably tented. Even in the dim light, he could make out the flush that painted her cheeks, and he couldn't quite fight back the pleased smirk that pulled at his face. Merlin, how he loved it when she blushed. The fact that it was him making her blush this time sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

When he reached her bed, she scooted herself over and pulled down the covers. Her expression was a guarded invitation, as if she were afraid he'd say "no." And he would have, but for the sudden glimpse of long, slender, bare legs, barely covered by the hem of her skimpy little nightdress.

He couldn't recall actually climbing into the bed, or removing their clothes, but suddenly they were a feverish mess of lips and heat and breaths and moans, and dear gods her mouth was on his cock one moment, and the next moment she was under him, face flushed and legs wrapped around him, panting desperately, wriggling against him as he paused just outside of her slick wet heat. He leaned in to taste her gorgeous lips again, closing his eyes as he pushed into her tightness…

With a harsh gasp, Sirius awoke, cursing out loud into the darkness. His bedclothes were kicked away and twisted into an impossible mass at his feet. Yet, despite the coolness of the night air on his naked, exposed body, his cock was still painfully erect. His hand immediately went to work, finishing off the betraying gut-deep pleasure his recurring dream had inflicted.

As he worked his fist over his hardness in rapid, twisting strokes, he closed his eyes, wallowing in the flood of dream-like images: Hermione's virginal lips wrapped around his dick, her tongue laving the very tip, her moans vibrating around his shaft as she fucked him with her mouth… Hermione spread out on his bed, her curls fanned out on his pillow as her head tossed from side to side in ecstasy while he fucked her senseless… Hermione with her back curled against his chest, her head resting on his arm and her hands curled under her chin the way he'd seen them the night she'd fallen asleep on the couch in the library… Hermione moving needily against him, his cock nestled against her backside until he flipped her over and took her from behind, causing her to scream and cry out his name in pleasure…

"Fuck… little… witch…" Sirius panted and gritted out between his teeth as he spilled his seed over his hand. After a moment of catching his breath, he quickly cleaned up his mess and dragged himself out of bed, scooping up the pair of jeans that lay discarded on his bedroom floor.

After buttoning his fly, he dug into his pockets for the soft pack of fags and padded out onto the small balcony of his bedroom. The silver metal Muggle lighter that had been a gift from Lily Evans so many years ago made its comforting and familiar ching as he flipped it open and lit a cigarette, savouring the first noxious drag of tobacco and butane.

Exhaling, Sirius gazed up at the full moon and indulged in the stream of bitterness that he usually kept safely tamped down.

There was a time when he'd be out running wild with Moony over the hills and through forests on a night like tonight, but those days were long passed. Remus was a father now, and with new advances in potions, he was able to stave off a complete transformation at the full moon. Sirius could hardly begrudge his old friend. He truly was happy for him – it was a freedom the werewolf had never been afforded in his whole life.

All the same, however, it was one more thing gone from Sirius' younger years, one more reminder of his losses, one more aspect of his life that didn't seem to fit in anywhere anymore. While his years stuck behind that bloody drapery had granted him a type of stasis while time passed without him, he was still, would always be, part of a generation that was now considered the 'old' ones. Harry, Ron, Hermione – while they were no longer in school, they were all still in the blossom of their youth. And Sirius was neither part of their generation, nor part of what was left of his own – all parents and responsible higher-up figures now.

Normally it didn't bother him – with his family's fortune, he'd never have to work, but if he wanted to, he could have his choice of any number of professions. And it wasn't as though Harry and the others hadn't welcomed him in with open arms. It had taken only a small amount of adjusting before going out for drinks with the group of young adults was a perfectly normal and regular tradition.

Sirius supposed, truth be told, the only thing that made him feel at all out of his age bracket was her.

He had long since given up asking himself 'why her?', mostly because the list of Hermione Granger's finer points grew so long in his head that he sounded to himself like a lovesick idiot. And the intelligent, gorgeous, young brunette's countless desirable assets would never erase the handful of reasons why she was completely and inarguably off limits.

It wasn't as if he needed reminding, but it became an unhappy mantra nonetheless: She's your godson's best friend. She's taken. She's too young, too pure. And yet he couldn't make himself not want her.

In the years he'd been away, they'd all grown so much. Harry looked even more like his father, and what was left of the Weasley 'kids' was now a ginger-headed group of well-muscled men, excepting Percy and Ginny. Hermione however, had been the one in their group to truly blossom. Not that she was ever ugly, but she was always the bookish swot who cared more about marks and knowledge than hairstyles and makeup.

Now, though, she was all curls and curves, and her swottiness had evolved into a wit and confidence that made him want to have sex with her mind almost as much as her body. And yet – she was so far out of his reach, he felt like a lecherous old pervert for even thinking it. He'd memorized every exposed centimeter of perfect, unwrinkled, youthful skin, and had imagined the rest so many times he could almost feel it under his fingers at will. He knew her scent from a mile away, and now, thanks to Ronald Weasley's running mouth, Sirius was quite certain that Hermione was still a virgin.

In all fairness, it wasn't as though Ron had just been randomly blathering – in a stroke of painful irony, he had actually confided in Sirius that, despite the fact that they'd been dating for almost a year, he had not gotten very far with the girl at all. Sirius' jaw and teeth had ached for the remainder of the day after Ron had asked him for any pointers on how to 'move things along' in his relationship with Hermione.

He wasn't even sure just what advice he'd offered the redheaded git, as he'd been too focused on fighting back the violent wave of jealousy and malice he'd suddenly felt for the younger wizard. It was by Circe's divine grace that Remus had floo'ed in not long after Ron had asked for Sirius' help, effectively closing the topic for discussion. No surprise there, either – despite his being 'out of commission' for nearly two decades, Sirius was still regarded by the group as the resident expert on women. Apparently Remus was considered to be too responsible and 'good' to give advice on how to bed a young witch.

With a miserable sneer, Sirius ground out his cigarette against the iron railing and sighed. Merlin knew he could have used a good run tonight - anything to burn off this ever-growing obsession. In the past month or so he'd given up even bothering with other witches. They were only interested in his fame and money, and ultimately only served to remind him of who they weren't.

"Fool," he muttered unhappily to himself through the filter of another cigarette. She was probably tucked into bed with the Weasley boy even now, and here he was pining over the unattainable beneath the full moon. Tomorrow he would make a more concentrated effort of wiping the brainy little witch from his head.

Fury gave way to remorse, then panic, as Hermione realized what she had done. She sank onto her bed, dropping her head into her hands. They would all hate her. She'd never be able to face the Weasleys again, and Harry was going to be so disappointed in her. Their lovely little trio was irreparably broken, and it was her fault.

She was such a coward. She'd hung on for so much longer than she ever should have, despite her feelings. And why? Because she knew this was how it would end, and she was too scared to face it. She never should have gotten involved with Ron to begin with – even when she was struggling with her jealousy over Lavender Brown, a tiny part of her knew it was less about her feelings than it was about her ego.

She was never in love with him. Hell, she never even fancied him as much as she had Viktor, and Viktor was nothing more than a fly by night teenage romance. And now – now she'd made this incredible mess.

Had things been ever so slightly different, she probably could have gone on with her little act indefinitely, and that thought disturbed her greatly. Laying down on her side to face the large window looking out over High Street, she curled herself up as the tears started to come - tears of remorse and worry, but also tears of frustration.

I suppose I should be grateful to the arrogant prat, Hermione thought with a small, bitter laugh. Had Sirius Black not returned when he did, she may very well have continued slipping down her path of complacency where Ron was concerned, all the way to marriage and beyond. She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. She'd very nearly had herself convinced that this was just how relationships were – a comfortable companionship, peppered with little arguments and 'sweet' kisses, that the scorching passion and need she read about in romance novels was just that – fictional romance.

But no.

He had to come along, with his mercury coloured eyes and raven black hair, his confident smirks and sexy grins, his keen intelligence and surprisingly witty sense of humour… Why, oh why couldn't she have picked someone a little more attainable than Sirius Black to fancy?

She could have just written it off as a silly crush, but every time she was near him, there was an undeniable chemistry, a sort of electricity that bounced between them… She'd call it insanity, or at least delusional optimism, but she'd caught his eye too many times to write it off as a figment of her imagination. Looks that were a little more intense than normal, casual brushes and physical contact that lingered just a fraction longer than they probably should, and then of course they would both compensate by swinging in the opposite direction, sniping at each other over the stupidest little things until they both had to be admonished like two young children… They'd been doing this dance for months now, and she'd picked it apart and analyzed it and put it back together again so many times, yet she just could not manage to stop herself from participating.

Hermione gave an unhappy huff. There was nothing to do about it, of course. If she thought people were going to hate her for dumping Ronald Weasley, she was certain there'd be a lynch mob if it ever got out that she had eyes for her best friend's godfather.

A glance at the little brass clock on her bedside table told her it was far too late to call on Harry. She'd just have to break the news to him first thing in the morning, then.

Sirius had just stepped out of the shower and was pulling on a fresh pair of jeans when the wards on the home he now shared with Harry alerted him to a visitor. Flicking his damp hair out of his eyes, he trotted, open-shirted and barefoot, down the stairs and came to a sudden stop two steps from the bottom. There, in the hallway just outside the modern living room of his home, stood the very cause of his lack of sleep, staring speechless at him from whiskey-coloured eyes.

"Hermione," he said with a forced calm. "What brings you by this lovely morning?"

He couldn't help it – his eyes drank her in like an alcoholic to booze. It had been at least a week and a half. She'd been avoiding him, he knew. She looked… distressed was an understatement. And yet, she was still beautiful in her simple blue sundress and casual sandals, her hair pulled up into a loose chignon that was already failing.

She blinked several times and opened her mouth wordlessly before she finally managed, "Is Harry here?"

He frowned at the waver in her voice. She really was upset, and he felt an immediate surge of protection for the young witch. "No," he answered as he stepped off the bottom stair and gently took her elbow, guiding her to the kitchen. "He went out with Ron about an hour ago."

"Oh…" Hermione warbled unhappily and sank into a chair in the sun-filled room, dropping her head immediately to the table.

"I'm sure he'll be back later, love," he said in a blind attempt to comfort her. "How about some coffee in the meantime?" he offered, knowing she really preferred it over tea, but was usually too picky about how others made the black brew to take it from just anyone. He smirked derisively at himself for the idiotic little twinge of pleasure he felt at knowing she liked his coffee the best.

After a rather pathetic sniffle, a muffled, "Yes, please," came from the enclosure of her arms.

The kitchen remained quiet except for Sirius' soft humming, the subtle sound of coffee percolating, and the delicate clink of spoons and cups. Finally he set their mugs down on the small round table and sat across from the distraught witch.

"Now," he said as he spooned the right amount of sugar into each of their drinks. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked gently.

Slowly she met his gaze as his heart gave a hard tug at the worry he saw in her brown pools. "I – I broke up with Ron," she whispered, her cheeks turning pink as she quickly looked down at her coffee.

For a moment he was certain he had heard wrong as his brain tried to process her words. "I'm sorry – what?" he asked.

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. Shaking her head slightly but not meeting his gaze, she repeated her words.

The mantra that Sirius had been chanting on repeat for months came to a violent halt, like a skipping record stopped by the sudden drag of needle across vinyl. The silence stretched as he tried to regroup his thoughts. Say something, you stupid arse, he mentally chided himself.

Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he followed instinct and took her hands from around the steaming mug, holding them in his. "Are you alright?" he asked, wary of the reason for her tears.

He felt a wave of sympathy as her lower lip trembled and she shook her head again. "They're all going to hate me," she whispered, closing her eyes and causing the pools to overflow into two slow wet trails over her cheeks.

"No they're not, love," Sirius crooned, wiping her tears with a thumb. "Alright, Molly might, but she'll have to get over it. They all will. Who could possibly hate you, Hermione?"

She opened her eyes with a frown and released his hand, noisily scooting her chair back from the table and standing. "Everyone I really care about is either related to Ron or as good as, excepting you," she said, and went over to the sink to look out the window. "Harry was always worried this would happen, and now it has and I've gone and ruined everything."

"Why?" he asked, remaining seated. The question left his lips without thought. It wasn't the best thing he could have said, but he needed to hear the answer.

"Well, I don't love him," Hermione answered as if it were obvious. "I had no business ever dating him to begin with, and I should have said something sooner, but I – well, I suppose I was scared."

"Scared?" Sirius asked.

Nodding but still facing away from him, she continued talking to the window as if sorting through her thoughts out loud. "Scared of this very thing – of losing my two best friends, of tearing apart the so-called 'Golden Trio' and alienating everyone I love and incurring the wrath of media and Quidditch fans alike... I – I suppose I also thought, you know… sometimes people grow to love each other. And I do love Ron… but I'm not in love with him."

She paused to swipe at her cheeks. "I don't think I was ever in love with him, really," she added miserably. "I don't know how much I even truly fancied him - I certainly never felt as much for him along those lines as I did for Viktor, much less for - " she stopped herself with a sharp little inhale, as if realizing she'd almost slipped up and said something she shouldn't have.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He wasn't blind - in a state of vehement denial perhaps, but not blind. He knew there was something not entirely one-sided between Hermione and himself, and suddenly he felt as though she held the one last card poised for a swaying, tilting card house.

"For whom, Hermione?" he asked quietly, standing and walking over to stand behind her at the sink.

When she didn't respond, he cupped her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Her head was bowed, eyes closed, and her brows were knitted into a frown. He crooked a finger under her chin and said, "Hermione, look at me."

She did as asked, hesitantly, as if afraid of what she might see. Still, despite all of the confusion and worry he saw in her expression, Sirius felt dangerously close to drowning in those chocolate depths. He tore his eyes away, but only to find himself suddenly fascinated by her mouth. Merlin, those lips… he thought hungrily. When he finally met her gaze again, her eyes had changed, darkened to coffee, her pupils slightly dilated and reflecting back to him every bit of need he was feeling.

"Who?" he repeated softly as he stepped closer to her, already knowing the answer. All she had to do was say it…

His thumb tenderly stroked the soft indentation just below her bottom lip, and he noticed with a deep sense of pleasure that her breathing had become uneven. Her kitten-like tongue darted out to moisten those lovely pink petals and a silent growl rumbled through him.

Finally, soft as a breeze, not even a whisper, she gave the answer that would break loose the tightly bound want he'd been holding back for months, "You."

Hermione's heart took off with the speed of a hummingbird as Sirius' hand slowly slipped around from her chin to her neck, his fingers destroying her hopeless chignon as he cradled her head.

The first touch of his lips sent a deep, slow wave of pleasure through her, not unlike her first glass of champagne at her cousin's wedding. He was gentle at first, exploratory and almost tentative, but she wanted so much more. Pressing against him slightly, she returned his kiss and parted her lips to him in invitation.

With a low growl, he pulled her closer, snaking his arm around her waist as he deepened their kiss. Hermione felt a soft whimper escape her, and her knees suddenly felt weak as Sirius' tongue danced slowly against hers. She slid her hands over his chest, still bare from his open shirt. Gods, how she'd wanted to touch him for so long. He was so solid, so masculine and real, and her fingers could not seem to get enough of his warm, muscled body.

A quiet groan purred from his throat and against her lips as she eagerly explored his torso. The sound filled Hermione with a liquid warmth that slid down her spine and pooled in her abdomen, because she had caused it. That he evidently wanted her as much as she did him worked on her psyche and her body like a heady aphrodisiac.

As if to confirm this thought, Sirius pushed her against the kitchen counter, his hands sliding down her back and squeezing gently at her hips as he broke from their kiss.

"Fuck, Hermione," he whispered raggedly against her jaw, administering perfect little nips along the sensitive skin of her neck. "Gods, you feel so perfect in my arms… taste so damned good… I've wanted you for so fucking long, little witch…" he murmured desperately between kisses and nuzzles as he trailed a path to her ear.

Her eyes fluttered shut helplessly and she could only cradle his head to her as it dipped lower, her breath quickening as his mouth traveled back down her neck to her shoulder, then her collarbone. Her fingers tangled their way into his damp black hair as he pressed himself against her, letting her feel his hardness. With little effort, he lifted her bottom up onto the edge of the counter, his hands urging her thighs around his hips before skimming feverishly up her waist and around her back.

The hem of her sundress bunched itself up over her legs as they wrapped their bodies around each other. Hermione moaned as Sirius found her lips again, twisting her hair around his hand and holding her to him possessively. He was pressed so intimately between her thighs, the hard denim seam and zipper rasping against the flimsy damp fabric of her knickers, his erection teasing and torturing her as they moved against each other.

Her hands slid hungrily over his shoulders, attempting to push his open shirt out of her way. A small involuntary pleading sound from her lips caused Sirius to break away just long enough to help her divest him of the garment before he attacked her again with a fierce growl.

Her breath came in hard little pants as he pushed her dress further up her thighs now, his strong callused fingers caressing the soft flesh, trailing closer and closer to her heat.

"Merlin, sweet girl – I can smell you… so good," Sirius rasped as he broke their kiss, his lips and teeth now nibbling down the column of her neck as her head fell back with a sigh. His other hand was tracing its way over her shoulder, pushing the strap of her dress away, fingers dancing down her arm to her waist and back up again, whispering across the outline of a breast.

Hermione gasped at the exquisite touch, wanting so much more. "Please, Sirius," she whined softly as his fingers explored further, one hand coaxing the soft thin material over her shoulder to expose more skin to his lips while the other – the other teased its way softly along her inner thigh.

This was why she had turned down Ron countless times, which had ultimately led to the final end of their relationship. In the course of mere minutes Sirius had lit a fire in her that Ronald had never been able to even spark in their year together. She knew it was wrong, she knew she should be ashamed of herself for spreading her legs so wantonly for him at the drop of a hat, but, oh heavens and Circe, he felt so good, so right.

Their frantic breaths and heated sounds filled the kitchen as they explored each other. Her fingers played and scratched over his naked torso, grazing his nipples and eliciting a rough groan, and suddenly his fingers were there, and with a feral snarl lace was torn and tossed away.

Her sharp intake of breath was lost in a hard, demanding kiss that she met with equal passion, their tongues almost fighting each other until his knuckles traced the outer folds of her aching pussy.

The sudden slam of the front door made them both jump.

"Sirius?" Harry called from the front hallway.

They both swore in frantic whispers and Sirius jumped away from her as if burned. Hermione stumbled with a clatter of her heeled sandals against the tile floor as she hopped off the counter, but was immediately steadied by two warm, strong hands at her waist as he helped smoothed down the fabric of her skirt. She quickly righted her dress strap and attempted to straighten the mess that had become of her hair as Sirius bent down to pick up his discarded shirt and the ruined pair of lace knickers.

He looked up at her with an expression that matched her own: panic and apology as well as a question of, 'what the fuck do we do now?'.

Her eyes flicked to the undergarment clutched in his hand and she felt herself blushing brightly. As Harry's steps grew louder, she thought quickly.

"Oh, THAT's lovely, Sirius," she said in a loud, derisive tone. "Rude and unsanitary. Does he know you're shagging witches in his kitchen now?"

Taking her cue, Sirius snapped back, "As if you'd know anything about shagging anyone. Always the bloody prude, aren't you?"

"Better a prude than a – a… well I bet you don't even know her name!"

"It's none of your business, Hermione!"

"It is when you leave wasted knickers laying around the kitchen!"

"It's MY kitchen!"

"That – that's beside the point, it's gross!"

"Yeah, well no wonder Ron - "

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you two now?" Harry interrupted angrily from the doorway of the kitchen.

"Harry!" Sirius and Hermione both said in unison.

"Can't you two ever be left alone together without it ending in a yelling match?" he said wearily.

As he flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, they quickly glanced at each other. Sirius' grey eyes were soft and full of apology, and Hermione wondered vaguely just what he'd been about to say about Ron.

"Sorry, Harry," she said contritely, while Sirius hummed a sort of agreement.

"Hermione," Harry said as he turned to her. "Are you alright?"

Dread seeped into her stomach as she remembered just why she was there in the first place.

"Is she alright?" Sirius barked indignantly. "What about me? I'm the one being scolded for what I do in my own home, here!"

"Sirius, just leave us, will you?" Harry snapped irritably. "This isn't about whatever… utterly mental argument you two are having this time."

"Fine!" He swung his shirt over his shoulder and paid Hermione a secretive wink and a tender half-smile on his way out of the kitchen. She couldn't help the ridiculous flutter in her chest, but was distracted as Harry sighed and rose from his seat at the table.

"You'll have to go apologize to him, you know. It is his house too, after all."

A blush painted Hermione's cheeks for all the wrong reasons. "Alright," she replied softly.

"But before that, I understand you and Ron had a fight last night," he said cautiously.

A 'fight'? Hermione thought with annoyance. She shook her head. "No, Harry, we broke up," she clarified.

"These things happen in relationships, Hermione," he continued while pouring himself a cup of coffee and returning to the table as if he hadn't even heard her. "I mean yeah, you two have always had your differences and little arguments, but it's perfectly normal to have - "

"Harry," Hermione interrupted. "It wasn't just a fight. We broke up. I broke up with him. It's over." Her previous dread for the topic was quickly being replaced with irritation as she saw where this was potentially headed. If they weren't going to hate her over her breakup with Ron, it would be because they were in denial of it.

Of course, it certainly didn't hurt that one particularly devastatingly handsome older wizard had just sealed the deal on her feelings for the whole matter.

Harry shook his head. "But - "

"No 'buts', Harry," she interrupted again, seeing that he wasn't getting it. Her tone softened, however, as she said, "Look, I'm sorry. I know everyone is going to be fiercely angry with me about it, but this really isn't just a fight. It's over."

She watched him, waiting with baited breath for the storm to hit. Instead, all he said was, "Why?"

'Because I think I'm in love with your godfather' was not something Hermione was prepared to say at that moment, but a better explanation wouldn't come.

When she hesitated, he asked, "Did Ron say or do something stupid? Because when I asked him what you two were fighting over he wouldn't say…"

Hermione gave a heavy sigh. "We weren't fighting, Harry. It's just… I – I've come to realize that while I love Ron, I'm not in love with him." She shook her head sadly. "I don't think I ever really was."

"But you two have been together for so long, you've had a thing for him since Hogwarts – how can you say you're not in love with him?" Harry frowned suddenly, and his voice dropped in suspicion. "Is there someone else?"

Cursing the warmth that flared in her cheeks, she answered, "Not exactly." Then, realizing that she'd just opened Pandora's Box just a crack, she took a deep breath and sat down next to her friend, whose frown had deepened with eyes full of accusation. "Harry, I haven't cheated on Ron, I haven't even considered it. And for all I know, there isn't really someone else, isn't going to be 'someone else', even now. But there is someone I've had… feelings for, enough to make me realize that I don't have those feelings for Ron, never did. And it's not fair to him to keep holding on to our relationship when he deserves more than that."

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly at the pathetic cliché, even if it was true.

Harry didn't speak, but averted his eyes to the tabletop, his brows still knitted in a frown. After a long, painful moment of silence, Hermione stood, her vision blurred with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she said thickly. "It was my foolishness to begin with – I never should have pursued Ron, and I certainly never should have dragged it out this long. I know this ruins everything, but I hope one day you'll understand how much worse it would have been."

As she turned on her heel to leave, Harry interrupted her. "Don't be so melodramatic, Hermione."

When she turned back to him questioningly, he continued with a smirk, "Yeah, you're right – everyone's going to be good and pissed off at you for a while. But you've not 'ruined everything'. Not everyone marries their school sweetheart."

With a little smile, he stood and wrapped his arms around his friend. "We'll always be friends, Hermione, yeah?"

Hermione gave a little sob and nodded against him.

Harry pulled away and shook his head with amusement at her tears. "You'd think you were the one who'd been dumped," he muttered. "Look, I'm not going to take sides but you know I'm going to have to be there for Ron. He's my best mate. And whoever this other wizard is, you'd do best to just keep quiet about it for as long as possible, at least until everyone calms down, right? I mean, unless you want Mrs. Weasley to come after you…"

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "Really, Harry – there's nothing…"

He held up a hand. "I don't need to know. Just – you're going to have to give on this one, alright?"

She nodded in fervent agreement.

"Now," Harry said with a nod to the kitchen door. "You owe Sirius an apology. Shagging strange witches in our kitchen might be gross, but that really is between him and me. You really should try to lighten up on him, Hermione. You two are always fighting. It might even do you some good to try and be friends with him – he's probably the only one who won't give a rat's arse that you broke up with Ron."

"Right," Hermione said weakly, and exited the kitchen before Harry could see the scarlet hue of her cheeks.

Sirius lay on his back, his fingers laced behind his neck as he stared pensively up at the ceiling. He wondered what Hermione was telling Harry – certainly she wouldn't tell him about them just yet. Of course, there really wasn't a 'them' yet, was there? His lips twisted unhappily at the thought.

'Yet', though? – For so long, he'd staunchly refused to entertain the thought of following his heart's desires where Hermione Granger was concerned. She's your godson's best friend. She's taken. She's too young, too pure…

Only now – now she wasn't 'taken', and at twenty years of age, was she 'too young'? After her reaction to him in those precious minutes in the kitchen, he was even starting to wonder about the 'pure' part of his argument. He'd been so bloody chaste with her these past months, so well-behaved because he had four solid reasons to be. With those reasons shrinking in front of his eyes like an ice cube in warm liquor, he wasn't sure how much longer he could resist, wasn't sure if he wanted to even try.

She was, however, still his godson's best friend.

Harry would undoubtedly be less than thrilled about their relationship, but would his disapproval be so great as to damage Sirius' relationship with him? With a derisive snort, Sirius stood. There was no 'relationship' with Hermione to cause tension with Harry anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his bedroom door.

"Sirius?" Hermione called quietly from the hallway. "I – I came to apologize for what I said to you in the kitchen…"

Sirius frowned perplexedly then chuckled as he realized Harry must have sent her up there to make up with him. When he opened the door, Hermione gave him a smirk that confirmed his suspicions.

He quickly locked the door behind her and cast a silencing charm on it. His heart hammered with nervousness and excitement. He'd decided what he was going to say to her while she was downstairs talking to Harry, and now the time had come.

"Hermione," Sirius began carefully. "I don't want to give you the wrong impression…"

With dismay, he noticed that in that one short sentence, Hermione's whole demeanor and body language shifted. Her shoulders tensed and her back straightened as she gave a short, quiet huff and fidgeted with the material of her dress. "It's alright, Sirius," she said with a short brittle laugh, not looking directly at him. "I'm not a child, you know. It was nothing – didn't even happen, if that's what you want."

"-And I just gave you the wrong impression," Sirius muttered impatiently.

"I'll just go," Hermione said softly, turning to leave.

"No!" growled Sirius, grabbing her upper arms suddenly and pressing her against the door, their closeness forcing Hermione to look directly at him now.

When he was sure he had her attention, he said, "Hermione, I don't want to have 'just sex' with you. If all I wanted was an easy lay, there are a number of drinking establishments just a motorcycle ride away."

Her soft brown eyes were wary and confused and a small crease appeared between her brows. "I… don't – what do you mean?" she finally asked.

Sirius smirked. For someone so smart, she could be so clueless. "I mean," he said in a soft but determined tone, reaching up to cup her chin in his fingers, his thumb stroking her soft bottom lip. "I mean, I won't just be 'fucking' you, princess. If we do this, we really do this. No pussyfooting around – you'll be mine, and I'll be yours. I mean no lying, no hiding, no more pretending. It means people might get hurt, and they're probably going to be angry." At her look of alarm, he added comfortingly, "I know it's a delicate situation right now, and believe it or not I can be discreet, for a while. But I will not be some twisted source of your guilt and shame, little girl. Understand?"

Her eyes were wide with shock. "You'd risk everything with Harry?" she whispered.

"I have no reason to believe there is a risk," he answered. Then, ever so softly, he brushed his lips across hers – just the promise of a taste, a soft quiet reminder. He smirked in satisfaction at the tiny catch of her breath, and almost imperceptible whimper when he moved away.

"I want you to go home now, and think on it. I want you to really consider what I'm saying, Hermione. When you've made up your mind, you know where to find me."

With that, he opened the door and sent her on her way.