Four weeks and a whirlwind of her friend's hastily executed weddings later, Sirius and Hermione found themselves outside the Ministry, signed and sealed marriage papers in hand, looking rather bewildered. Hermione took several deep breaths and gazed up at her new husband from beneath the thick fringe of bangs that hung in her eyes. She was overdue a haircut. She shoved her hand through unruly curls and turned her gaze up the street. She was achingly aware of the contract clutched in her hand that, among various other provisions, required marriage consummation in the next twenty-four hours.

Sirius followed Hermione's gaze up the street in the direction of their home. He cringed. He was also overly aware of the contract requirements clutched in Hermione's fist and he'd be damned if he was going to take his newly acquired wife back to a houseful of curious ears to fulfill his husbandly duties.

He cleared his throat. "Fancy a quick honeymoon?"

Hermione whipped her head back in his direction. "Honeymoon?" she repeated curiously.

"I mean," Sirius said slowly. "I don't think we want to go back to Grimmauld to...you know. I thought maybe we could pop over somewhere for a day or two before getting back to everyday life."

Hermione considered his idea for a minute and decided it sounded lovely. "Alright." She agreed. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"

Sirius grinned broadly and took her small cold hand in his larger, warmer one. "I know just the place," he murmured, pulling her against himself and turning on his heel to apparate.

Hermione found herself – after several apparation stops – checking in to a lovely little wizarding bed and breakfast on a small vineyard in the South of France. Hermione signed the guestbook, only pausing briefly before signing her new last name – Black – for the first time. She chuckled softly to herself and glanced up at Sirius who smiled down at her bemusedly. They were congratulated on their newlywed status repeatedly by the plump proprietors, before being shuffled off to their third-floor suite.

"So," Sirius muttered, rocking back on his heels and surveying the lavish room appraisingly. "What…a…what should we do?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and cast a sidelong look at the well-appointed king-sized bed to her right. She glanced back up at Sirius. "I say we get absolutely sodding drunk."

Sirius smiled. "Bloody wasted," he agreed.

"Unequivocally buggering pissed," Hermione giggled reaching into her coat pocket to dig out her bottomless beaded bag. Opening it, she dug in deeply, her slender arm disappearing into its depths to her shoulder - eliciting an amused grin from Sirius.

She came out holding a bottle of clear colored liquid and Sirius raised an eyebrow in question.

"Tequila. Silver." She answered with a grin. She set it on the nightstand and reached back down into her bag and came up with a bottle of familiar amber colored fluid. Firewhiskey. Sirius laughed out loud and took the proffered bottle from the wily witch. He was impressed with her cargo.

"I didn't peg you for such a heavy drinker," he chuckled as he uncapped his bottle and took a swig.

"I keep a stockpile for…" she paused to consider her words. "Complicated issues." She finished as she pulled out a small box containing tumblers, salt, and – surprisingly – limes. Hermione sent Sirius off in search of ice while she prepared a shot of tequila and took it down quickly. She shrugged out of her coat, draped it over the back of a chair, and glanced down at herself. She was wearing a white silk button down blouse tucked into a well-fitting pair of dark jeans, which were in turn, tucked into a pair of black knee high boots. She thought quickly and realized she was wearing acceptable lingerie – white and lacy, and not at all matronly. She breathed a sigh of relief. She'd dressed quickly and somewhat thoughtlessly this morning and she was glad she'd subconsciously remembered wedding night appropriate knickers.

They began their festivities in the room and after a few awkward drinks and stunted conversation they decided to go check out Allée Enchantée, the French equivalent of their home Diagon Alley. After accessing the secreted lanes, Hermione and Sirius strolled silently arm in arm, peeking into the various shops and eateries. Twice, Hermione stopped to enter a shop – one bookstore and one jewelry store. She purchased nothing at the bookshop but lingered over a case of wedding bands in the jewelry store. She pointed to a masculine band carved to look like two entwined ropes.

"Would you like a band?" she murmured, her eyes on the case of rings.

Sirius glanced down over her shoulder and then down at his naked left hand. He considered her question. Honestly, he didn't care about some silly ring – but, he reasoned perhaps Hermione might and he didn't want to offend her.

"It's not a bad idea," he began slowly. "Present a united front and all that. Would you like a ring?"

Hermione shrugged delicately but Sirius has a feeling that she would like one very much. "You chose for me, and I'll chose for you." He said matter-of-factly and sauntered off down toward the more feminine display cases.

Hermione watched him go with a bemused smile on her lips; she motioned to an employee and indicated the rather nautical band. He showed it to her, but it didn't feel right. She walked down another case and paused at another ring. She indicated her new choice and when she held it, she knew she'd found the one. It reminded her of Sirius and, truth be told, a little of herself. The employee assured her it was an excellent choice and rang her out quickly.

Sirius perused the cases of dainty wedding bands and paused when a glint of crimson caught his eye. Nestled on a pillow of navy colored velvet sat a stunning ring – alternating rubies and diamonds channel set in a delicate white gold band. Beside it – the piece de resistance – a large, perfect round cut diamond flanked on either side by three small rubies in a triangle formation. It was a stunning set, quite Gryffindorish, he thought. And ridiculously expensive he reasoned. But…what good was the fortune of the oldest most noble house of Black – if you didn't spend it.

The set straddled the line of Muggle and Wizard worlds beautifully and he thought his muggle born frie-….wife…would appreciate that. He motioned another associate over and indicated the set. Flustered, the young man murmured vaguely about the price of it – but Sirius waved his concerns away, giving his name and Gringotts's vault number. The man scurried away to verify the information and set the transfer.

Minutes later a manager appeared, smiling, to box up Sirius's purchase. The rings, he was told, would magically size themselves accordingly when worn for the first time. He shook hands with the manager, collected Hermione from a display of necklaces with a chuckle, and ushered her out. Women and their shiny things, he thought to himself as he tucked her arm around his and led her a few doors down to a small wine bar.

Once settled at a quiet table in a dim back corner of the bar, Sirius grinned and slid the small velvet box across the table to Hermione. He kept his finger firmly pressed down on the lid while the waitress took their order and Hermione practically bounced out of her seat in anticipation. He ordered a bottle of champagne and a fire whiskey and when the blushing waitress left them to fetch their drinks, he lifted his finger with a flourish.

Hermione shoved his box across the table toward him and cracked hers open with abandon. She stilled and her hand went to her mouth. She raised her ocher eyes to his face slowly.

"Sirius," she breathed. "This…this is too much. It's too beautiful. I couldn't possibly," she trailed off, her eyes flicking back down to the sparkling diamonds and rubies.

Sirius waved his hand vaguely. "It's not and you can." He assured her with a lopsided grin. He cracked his box and gazed down at the ring Hermione had chosen for him. She'd forgone the elaborate twined rope ring and instead had selected a very simple hammered gold band interspliced with a smooth ribbon of white gold. It was rugged and delicate – a perfect mix of himself and his new wife. Unexpectedly, Sirius found himself slightly choked up. He cleared his throat and smiled warmly at her.

"It's perfect," he managed quietly. And he cursed himself for the sudden sentimentality.

Hermione met his eyes and returned his smile. "I'm glad you like it,"

"I do," he said solemnly, and the familiar phrase was not lost on him. Or Hermione. He took the band out and slid it onto his left ring finger, marveling at how it settled itself snuggly on his digit. Noticing that Hermione was still staring dumbstruck at the wedding set in its box, he hastily reached across, plucked the set from its cocoon, and taking Hermione's hand, slid them on her appropriate finger. She stared at it for a long moment on her small hand until the waitress interrupted to bring their drinks. The waitress noticed the sparkling set and complimented Hermione profusely before retreating.

She smiled up at her new husband as he poured her a flute of champagne. "Thank you, Sirius."

He clinked his glass gently against hers. "Of course, my wife."

And they drank.

Sirius and Hermione banged into their hotel suite some hours later good and properly drunk. Sirius tossed his wallet and keys on the bedside table, his jacket on the floor, kicked off his boots and he regarded Hermione warily. Hermione threw her jacket on the floor and swayed slightly as she stared back at him.

"We," he slurred. "have business to attend to."

Hermione giggled. "Yep," She sat down hard on the edge of the bed and began struggling to take her knee-high boots off. Twice, she almost toppled off the bed amid a fit of giggles. Sirius, chuckling, knelt gracelessly on the floor before her and took her right calf firmly in hand.

"Allow me,"

Hermione dropped back on her elbows and watched with lidded eyes as Sirius slowly unzipped her first boot, tugged it off, and tossed it aside before taking her left leg into his hands. Debooted, Hermione stretched languidly across the bed before jumping when she felt Sirius' hands slide up her calves and come to rest atop her thighs with a squeeze. He rose up and crawled overtop Hermione to nuzzle against her exposed neck.

"Sirius," she breathed, partly shocked and partly thrilled.

"Mmm," he murmured against her ear before nipping it gently, his beard rasping the tender skin of her neck. "Best to just jump in," he whispered. "Not think too much about it."

Hermione thrummed with nerves and she was thankful for the liquid courage she'd drank running through her veins. "Right," she agreed breathily, bringing her hands up to tentatively curl into his dark locks.

When he felt her give the tiniest of tugs to his hair, he growled low in his chest, and boldly moved his lips to hers. She was tentative at first, but with a little well executed tongue maneuvering, she soon opened her lips to him, and Sirius explored her mouth hungrily.

By Merlin, she was beautiful! He was overwhelmed by the young witch. She smelled delicious and tasted divine. Maybe this hadn't been their choice, but Sirius was thoroughly enjoying himself and was thrilled at the impending possibilities. He ran his hands slowly up her torso, giving a quick rough tug to untuck her blouse from her trousers. Sirius immediately dipped his hands beneath the silky fabric and brought his hands to her flaming skin. She moaned beneath him, whimpering quietly as she trailed her fingers down his spine. Sirius needed to feel her skin against his; leaning back, he whipped his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. He yanked Hermione up to a half sitting position and wrenched her blouse over her head before discarding it carelessly on the floor. He brought his lips down to sear a trail across her collar bone and Hermione writhed beneath him appreciatively.

Hermione's mind was racing. She was caught between embarrassment, nervousness, and desire. She was shocked to find that she wanted Sirius. Badly. She was nervous about her lack of experience and embarrassed to think that Sirius was only doing this because they had to. Although, somewhere in the back of her drunken mind, she thought that maybe – just maybe – Sirius wanted this too. If the hardness pressing into her belly was any indication, not only was he able – he was willing.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione sought out his lips and kissed him fiercely, earning herself a dangerous sounding rumble from deep inside himself. Emboldened, she yanked his hair – hard – and bit down on his full bottom lip.

"'Mione," he murmured quietly pulling back, his dark eyes flashing in the dim light of their room. "Don't do that,"

She leaned back, embarrassed. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"Don't apologize,"

She cocked her head at him questioningly, and suddenly too aware of the state of her undress, she moved to cover the lacy cups of her bra with her hands.

Sirius growled and snatched her hands away from her breasts, pinning them above her head, and leaning low over her. "If you bite me again, Little Wife, I will not take this slowly or gently." He promised against her ear.

Hermione gulped and smiled up at him. She thrilled at the realization that he did want her. Very slowly, she turned her head, strained up against him, and very deliberately closed her teeth on his shoulder.

Sirius snarled. The delicious wanton little trollop! Hermione certainly was not as innocent as he perceived her to be and it was a welcome piece of information. He released her wrists, shifting his weight to his knees and grabbed the band of her jeans in both hands. Sirius gave a hard yank, lifting her hips clear off the mattress, with a growl, and then made quick work of unbuttoning them. He stood fluidly and yanked them down her long legs forcefully. He gazed down at the sheer cream-colored lace knickers and shivered violently.

Sirius could not remember a time when he'd wanted a woman as badly – or as carnally – as he wanted Hermione in this moment. Were he more sober, or thinking any clearer, he may have taken a moment to consider the ramifications of his desire. He may have considered how odd it was that he wanted his god son's friend so very badly. Why he needed this young woman so desperately. But, as it was, he was drunk and he was completely blinded by lust, so he shoved those niggling thoughts down and snapped his focus back to the witch in front of him.

His hands closed around his belt buckle and, keeping eye contact with Hermione, began to slowly unbuckle it. "Take off your bra and panties," he growled. "Now."

Startled, but emboldened by the champagne, Hermione reached around and unclasped her bra, sliding it down her arms and tossing it aside. She wiggled out of her panties as gracefully as could be expected in her current state.

"Mmm," he murmured. "Good girl."

Sirius removed his pants and boxers quickly, freeing his cock, taking it in his hand and giving it a slow stroke. Hermione nearly fainted. He was certainly well endowed, and she found herself panting, whether from desire or fear – she wasn't quite sure. Sirius stalked toward her, climbing onto the bed and over her slowly. He brushed a bit of her hair from her eyes and smirked down at her.

"I want you, Little Wife."

Hermione clenched her teeth and nodded. "Take me," she whispered.

Sirius slid his right hand down between her legs, dipping two fingers into her wet folds and groaning in satisfaction. The witch was dripping wet and ready.

"Jesus," she hissed, her hips arching against his hand automatically.

He chuckled and began to circle her clit with his thumb slowly. "You like this?"

"Yes," Hermione panted, fisting the duvet.

"How much?" he asked.

Hermione whimpered.

"How. Much?" he enunciated.

"Please, for the love of Merlin, Sirius. Please!" she begged.

Sirius withdrew his hand, brought it to his lips and licked the dampness from it. "Mmm." He murmured appreciatively.

Hermione blew out a sigh, almost certain she was going to faint. She was a live wire, buzzing with need. She'd been with only two others in this way before and both times had been bumbling, dim, forgettable experiences. She'd never felt so alive as she did beneath this man. She felt as if he were oxygen and she needed him to survive. She needed him inside her, needed her skin pressed against his, to be a whole person. She felt like she was on the brink of something monumental and only Sirius could tip her over the edge. She reached up, circled his neck with her arms and pulled him down to her lips. She tasted herself on him – salty and musky, and she was struck by the sensuality of the act. She broke away to catch her breath.

"Please," she whimpered at him.

Sirius shifted over her and she threw her legs around his waist, pulling herself toward him. He chuckled at her enthusiasm and then reached down to position himself correctly at her entrance. He smiled, kissed her lips, and then paused. A thought occurred to him and he needed the answer before things went any further.

"'Mione," he choked out. "You aren't a virgin, are you?"

He feared the answer. If she was, he needed to slow down – to be gentle and sweet with her. She deserved that. And that would take more restraint than he was sure he possessed right now. If she wasn't…an odd and unfamiliar possessiveness bubbled up inside his chest and he was struck by the foreignness of the jealous feeling. He stared down at her hard.

"No," she said breathily, a pretty blush climbing from her breasts to her cheeks. "Just twice," she hurriedly explained. "Nothing like…like this."

Sirius cocked his head at her and fought the wave of hot green jealously that swam through his veins. He wanted to know who – and he wanted the slaughter them. He marveled at the new feeling.

"Nothing this…" she struggled the find the word.

"Nothing this right?" Sirius supplied, surprised to find that he was suddenly so very sure about this woman and this act.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, wiggling her hips just enough to break Sirius out of his reverie and earn a growl. He dropped a sweet lingering kiss to her left breast and without further restraint, slid deeply into her.

Hermione cried out at the fullness of it and dug her fingertips into his back. After a few moments, they found their rhythm and began building toward their climax. Hermione was so aware of him, of his sweat dampened skin against her own, the masculine shampoo scent of his hair as it swept by her face, of the way his muscles coiled and bunched beneath her fingers as he moved inside her. She felt, suddenly, that she couldn't get close enough to this man – she felt as if she wanted him to consume her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled them tightly together and Sirius, sensing her urgency, shifted them into a sitting position with her straddling his lap. She pressed her breasts against his chest, wrapped her arms tightly around him, and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She moved urgently, riding him deftly, not sure where this carnal knowledge and skill had come from. He brought it out of her in crashing waves of ecstasy and she somehow knew how to move her body in ways that would bring them the most pleasure.

"Hermione." He panted. "Oh my God, yes, Hermione."

"Sirius." She whispered as her lips bobbed beside his ear. She was going to come. She fisted her left hand in his hair and tugged hard, grinding her hips against his thrusts.

Sirius grabbed her hips roughly, slamming her down on himself. She screamed out a string of profanity so fluid and vulgar, in the back of his brain - he was impressed. Her orgasm rocked through her; her pelvis contracting and pulsating around his aching cock and he came hard deep inside her.

They stayed there for a long time, their breathing returning to normal. Hermione felt his heart slowing against her own chest and she dropped her head contentedly against his shoulder. Sirius lazily dragged his fingers up and down Hermione's back as she clung to him, utterly sated and, startlingly, sober. She'd fucked the liquor right out of him and instead of clarity of thought and the inevitable shame he'd imagined creeping in, he felt content and – dare he say it – happy.

Hermione relaxed against Sirius as he traced his fingers up and down her bare back. She thought about what had just transpired and she smiled to herself. It hadn't been awkward or uncomfortable as she had been worried it would be. She and Sirius had consummated their marriage and it had been hot. The sex had been spectacular – and the connection she felt with him…was incredible. She reasoned that it may have been the alcohol that had broken down their barriers and lent itself to such amazing sex. But to be honest, she was feeling decidedly sober and wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. She imagined that it would be best, for now, to leave it alone. They'd have time soon enough to process the events of tonight.

Hermione pulled back and smiled sheepishly at Sirius. She let out a yawn and delicately extracted herself from his lap. "That was…" she began.

"Fun." Sirius answered with a lopsided grin. He reached toward her, tucked her hair behind her ear, and winked.

Hermione giggled.

They regarded each other for moment more somewhat awkwardly before Hermione yawned again. Sirius slid toward her, and wrapping an arm around her small shoulders, he guided down to the mattress. She curled on her side and after a moment of hesitation Sirius reached out and tugged her back firmly against his chest, draping an arm over her hip after pulling up the covers over them.

Hermione yawned. "Sirius Black cuddles?" She teased.

She felt his laughter reverberate against her back. "Don't let that get out – I've got a reputation to uphold."

Hermione fell asleep with a smile on her face.