Hermione sighed, staring at the door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She should have Floo-called first. She knew she should have floo-called first. The door was locked and there was no telling if a simple Alohomora would open it, or if it would take something more complex. She gripped the brass loop hanging in the center of the door and knocked it against the mahogany wood again.
"Sirius?" She called, hoping he hadn't silenced the door again. He had a habit of locking her out when Harry was gone.
She tugged at the hem of the flowy miniskirt she was wearing. It was far more feminine than anything else she owned. Draco had talked her into buying it during their last shopping trip to Muggle London and she couldn't deny that it was certainly flattering on her.
It was short, however, and the wind was not showing mercy today.
She held her hand to her backside, trying to keep the petal pink chiffon skirt from being lifted and showing her knickers to the passing muggles. She huffed in frustration, pounding on the door again.
"Sirius!?" She yelled, smacking her palm flat against the door. "Sirius! Can you open up please? I have Harry's dry-cleaning!"
Just as she went to pound her palm against the wood one more time, the door creaked open and an amused looking Sirius Black stared back at her. Smirk on his face and cigarette in his hand. "You're going to alert the neighbors that there's a house here, if you keep pounding on my door like that," He chuckled, taking a drag from the cigarette and blowing the smoke behind his shoulder.
"You're smoking in the house?" She asked, incredulously. "That's disgusting, Sirius! Everything you own is going to smell terrible now!"
He shrugged, opening the door a bit wider to leave enough room between himself and the mahogany for her to slip through into the foyer. "This place is so dingy, I don't think a little smoke will hurt it."
She rolled her eyes, pushing past him and kicking her sandals off. She waved her wand, sending them to the shoe rack and turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow. "If you and Harry would let me clean the place up like I wanted to in the first place, it wouldn't be so dingy in here."
He smirked at her, "But then what would we have to complain about?"
"You complain about everything," She replied, pursing her lips and raising her brows. "I think you'd manage to find something else to put those efforts into."
He barked a loud laugh, causing Hermione to jump a bit before rolling her eyes at the man again. She moved through the house, taking the stairs up two floors to where she knew Harry's room to be. As she went, she waved her wand, cleaning up the mess the two men had left around the house.
Children, she thought with a shake of her head. It's like two bloody man-sized children are living here.
She pushed open the door to Harry's room and sighed in irritation, noting how unorganized and cluttered the room was. She distinctly remembered explaining to him that if he just picked up after himself every day, he wouldn't have to spend forty minutes putting his quarters back together once a week. She thought after the strange smell coming from under the bed had been discovered to be an old, molding bowl of lamb stew, he would have taken the hint that his domestic skills needed work.
She hung the dress robes up in the wardrobe and began waving her wand to clean the floors and get rid of the rubbish lying around. As the room righted itself into a presentable space, she made the bed and fluffed his pillows.
"He's going to be properly put out when he comes home and sees someone's gone through his room," Sirius's voice came from the doorway.
She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against the door frame, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand and a smirk on his face. "I am not 'going through' his room. I'm cleaning it. There's a difference, not that I would expect you to know it."
He feigned offense, putting his hand to his chest and opening his mouth in shock, "Me? Miss Granger, I'm sorry to inform you that I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, biting back a smile as she went to tuck the corner of the blankets under the foot of the mattress. "A messy bed makes for a messy head. My mum always told me that."
She groaned, practically hearing the smirk in his voice as he repeated the words. "Pervert," She said, turning to face him. She smoothed her hands over her skirt, adjusting the collar to the white blouse she was wearing, tucked into the high waisted pink material.
"Me? No," He laughed. "A pervert would have pointed out that bent over that bed, your knickers were visible. But I'm a gentleman, so I wouldn't have looked."
She tugged on the too-short hem again, feeling her face grow hot with embarrassment as his gaze lingered on her. She swallowed, trying to compose herself as the flush crept down her neck and settled on her chest. "Harry said he'd be back in a week," She said, trying desperately to change the subject. "When he owled me, I mean."
He nodded, the intensity of his gaze eating through her. "Yeah, he sent one here too."
They spoke at the same time, pulling a giggle from Hermione's lips. Did I just giggle?! She thought it horror, shaking her head a bit as if to clear it out. "Sorry, go ahead."
"I was just going to suggest you stay for dinner," He said. "I haven't had company since Harry left last week. It'd be nice to talk to someone about something other than Quidditch scores and Auror missions."
"You're tired of talking about Quidditch?" She asked. Her eyebrow crept up her forehead in skepticism. "I highly doubt that."
He chuckled, downing the rest of his liquor and shaking his head. "I never tire of talking about Quidditch; But it would be nice to have the company. Especially the company of a beautiful young witch."
Her cheeks warmed again and she rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the flattered feeling she got from his words. She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "The type of pretty young witches you usually ask to keep you company aren't normally intellectually available for conversation. Are you sure my company is the type of company you're after?"
"You're type of company is exactly the type I'm after, Kitten." He said, the mischievous twinkle in his eye that she had grown accustomed to over the ears. "We'll leave in fifteen?"
"Leave? You want to go out?" She asked.
"I can't imagine you got dolled up for me," He said. " I'll take you out, that way you can show off that new skirt of yours and lecture me to death about Centaur legislations again."
Before she had the chance to protest, Sirius was halfway down the hall to his own room. She walked over to the mirror hanging on the back of the closet door and did a quick glance over. She huffed in frustration as she pushed her hair behind her shoulders. It had gotten long since leaving Hogwarts. It now hung past her elbows and the weight of it seemed to tame the once bushy mass. Taking interest in her appearance had never been important to her, but in the last few years, she had been making more of an effort. She wanted to feel good.
She was only 21, and had spent much of her life feeling terrible. When she wasn't spending her time at Hogwarts fighting off Dark Wizards with her boys or on the run during war; she was studying. Her nose in a book, her fingers stained in ink, and her hair a massive nest of tangled curls.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, after the war died down and the Wizarding Community began to figure out a new normal, she had returned to Hogwarts. The first three months, she continued business as usual. Studying hard, keeping up her marks to take her N.E.W.T. 's, completing prefect duties and assisting on repairs around the castle.
Distracting herself from anything that could trigger another crippling panic attack or a bout of bad night terrors.
December, everything changed. She found herself alone in the library reading over an ancient tome on the implications of Arithmancy in building new spells when a tall, handsome, pale faced blond sat across from her.
"Malfoy?" She asked, completely shocked that the man would choose to sit at the table with her when the Library was nearly empty this close to Christmas holiday.
"Granger," He said, with a curt nod. "I'm trying to work on myself, so I'm just going to come out and say it."
"I treated you horribly for years. I made fun of you, I jinxed you, I called you nasty names. I stood by while my family…" He took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever let you be treated this way. I'm sorry you were found at the end of my wand far too often. I'm sorry that I didn't do anything when you were at the end of her wand. I don't expect forgiveness. I just hope you can accept my apology."
She sat, for several long minutes chewing over the words. She was in shock. She was in complete and utter shock.
After the battle and during the Malfoy trials, a lot of information was brought to light. Information that had swayed Harry's opinion on Malfoy and his Mother- leading him to testify on their behalf to keep them out of Azkaban. She wondered if Harry would have told him to apologize. She wondered why on earth he would approach her and just-
"Granger?" He said, breaking her from her thoughts. "Are you all right? I can hear your brain working from here."
"I… I'm speechless," She admitted.
"There's a first," He whispered, a smirk pulling at his lips.
"Why?" She asked, "Why are you apologizing? Why now?"
He sighed, pushing a hand through his platinum locks, "Have you heard of therapy? It's apparently a Muggle thing."
"Yes, of course I know what it is," She said.
"Well, I started talking to someone a few months ago. He said I may be able to face my demons a little better if I take responsibility for the things I could have changed. Look at those choices head on and evaluate where they've taken me in my life."
"Look at those choices," She repeated. "Malfoy, you-
"I fucked up," He said simply. "I fucked up and I took everyone down with me. I'm just trying to figure out how to exist after that. I didn't think I would."
Four hours later, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had come to an understanding. They were both trying to find their way through this life. Trying to be good students who studied hard and improved the school. Trying to repair friendships and figure out where to go from here, where to go after living through a war they were both certain they would die in.
Four hours later, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger left the library as friends. And nearly four years later, they remained that way. He had quickly found a place in her life as a close friend, often filling in for Harry when he was away on assignments. Draco had become Hermione's voice of reason when it came to boyfriends and fashion. He had often given her potions or showed her how to use different glamour charms to tame her wild hair and brighten up her dull skin.
It was Draco who put an emphasis on "looking good will help you feel good" and she tried to abide by those rules most days. It didn't always work, but it was a lot easier to feel confident when presenting new laws or bills to the Wizengamot when she felt confident in how she looked.
She dragged her nails over her scalp, roughing up the roots of her hair a bit to make her windswept curls look more purposeful than messy, and pulled the small bag from her hip, pulling out a small tin of rosy lip balm and dabbing a bit to her lips.
She tugged at the hem of the skirt again, huffing an aggravated breath when the fabric refused to lower a couple of inches. She decided on a mild sticking charm, to at least keep the wind from showing her knickers to everyone who passed.
"Ready?" Sirius's voice came from the doorway.
"As I'll ever be," She said, a small smile playing on her lips.
Sirius had decided to take her to a small italian restaurant in Muggle London. She was thankful that he understood the implications of having dinner in Diagon Alley, especially with Rita Skeeter and her snooping group of gossip hungry cronies.
That's all I need, she thought, bitterly. Rita Skeeter printing a scandalous article about the Golden Girl having dinner with Sirius Black.
"This place is lovely," Hermione said, staring at the menu and trying to break from her own thoughts of anger toward the sensationalist that had recently taken to writing many an article about her and her (lack of) love life. "How'd you find it?"
"I may not be as bright as you," Sirius chuckled. "But I do read on occasion. Found it in the Muggle newspaper."
"You read Muggle newspapers?"
He gave a curt nod, taking a sip of the water that the waiter had poured upon their arrival. "I do. I like to keep an eye out for any odd events."
She nodded in understanding, "I watch them much more closely when Harry's on an assignment, too."
The waiter came and took their orders and Hermione felt herself growing warm under the gaze of the man in front of her. She sipped her wine and hoped it would calm her nerves, but as she made her way through the glass, she realized it did little more than make the flush of her cheeks more prominent.
She studied him while he made small talk.
He looked so much different than he had eight years ago, when she had first met him. Mangled and broken, half insane and screaming in the Shrieking Shack. Holding who he thought to be a lifelong friend at wandpoint before nearly losing his soul to Dementors. He was covered in tattoos, dirty, emaciated, and vengeful.
This Sirius? This Sirius was handsome. Although, if she thought about it, perhaps he always had been. She had just lacked the maturity to appreciate the man in front of her as more than Harry's Godfather. As she got older, she found the tattoo covered, leather jacket clad Sirius Black often invaded her thoughts when she wasn't expecting it.
"What made you cut your hair?" She asked, suddenly. Blushing an even deeper shade of crimson when he cocked an eyebrow at her and chuckled into the rim of his wine glass.
"What made you grow yours out?" He countered.
She shrugged, "It's easier to deal with."
"Seems like a good reason to cut a ton of unruly hair off one's head as well, doesn't it?"
She smiled, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, "I suppose it does." She agreed.
He stared at her for what felt like hours, his hazel eyes searching her face as his fingers lightly drew circles around the rim of his wine glass. She shifted in her seat, feeling the tug in her lower belly that she tried desperately to ignore.
She couldn't pinpoint when she began feeling the coil tighten every time she was around Sirius. Years of bickering with the man and picking up his underthings from random corners of the house had all but led her away from the feeling. If anything, it exacerbated it. She enjoyed the playful nature of his bickering, enjoyed the intensity of fire in his eyes when he argued with her, enjoyed the way his tongue flicked against his lips just before he took a sip from a glass of firewhiskey or wine.
What she did not enjoy, was the feeling of dread that overcame her every time she thought of him alone at night, taking her frustrations out with her own hand and praying that the odd attraction to Harry's Godfather would dissipate. She did not enjoy the jealousy she felt every time a new girl walked through the dining room to leave out the front door or floo.
They ate in relative silence. Commenting here and there on the meals they chose and talking about the difference in Muggle wine versus Elf-made wine. She couldn't help but wonder what this was. Was it a date? Was it just dinner between friends? Are we really even friends?
It's not like she spent an exorbitant amount of time with Sirius, on his own. Usually, anytime she spent with him was under the catalyst of Harry. Going to Grimmauld to see Harry, to drop off dry-cleaning of his robes for him, to meet him before one of Ginny's matches…
Now that she thought about it, she had spent a decent amount of time in conversation with him over the years. They had talked at length about different aspects of the war. He had made her hot chocolate when she had nightmares, she would pour him Firewhiskey when sleep evaded him. When he couldn't get his mind away from what had happened inside of the Veil, he had come to her in hopes of having her brew Calming Draught for him. He had helped her to work out what curse had been used on the blade that had cut into her arm.
But that certainly didn't make them close friends. She was a capable witch with the ability to whip up a Calming Draught and he was a wizard from a family of Dark Arts. They both used each other for information or talent, and that had been just fine with her.
Until it wasn't.
When had she started looking at him in this light? When had she started getting dry mouth when he was around and flushed cheeks when he looked at her? When had she began having dreams of him above her, his breath on her neck and his fingers-
"You ready to leave, Hermione?"
She blinked several times, coughing a bit as she realized where her thoughts had been headed. "Y-yes, I am. Thank you for dinner, Sirius."
He smiled, standing up from his chair and offering his hand to her. She took it and allowed him to pull her up, adjusting the strap on her shoulder that was attached to her small handbag. He pulled her away from the table and out of the restaurant, walking leisurely down the paved footpath.
His hand felt large wrapped around hers. Calloused and warm, his thumb traced absent minded circles into the skin on the top of her hand and she tried to focus on keeping her heart beat at a regular rhythm.
"Would you like an ice cream?" He asked, motioning to the stall on the corner of the road with a squat man scooping mounds of chocolate into a cone and handing it to a young teenage girl.
"No, you bought dinner I couldn't possibly-
"Your treat then," He smirked.
She chuckled, biting into her lower lip again and nodded. "Yeah, okay."
They approached the stand and she smiled at the man with the scoop, "I'll take a vanilla and he'll have…?"
"Mint Chocolate Chip."
Hermione paid for the cones, handing the mint chocolate chip to Sirius and they walked along toward a park in the clearing.
"Vanilla?" He asked, taking a seat on an old wooden bench. "Who gets vanilla? That's a very boring flavour, Hermione."
She scoffed, running her tongue over the frozen cream. "It is not!" She insisted. "Everyone gives so much hate to vanilla, but it's the best flavour."
"Is it?" Sirius laughed, "Why don't you tell me why you think so, and I will tell you why you're wrong."
She rolled her eyes, licking the ice cream again before answering, "It's unobtrusive and dependable. It can hold up on its own, or mix well with others. It's never too sweet, but it still satisfies. And even the worst vanilla ice cream is still good. Whereas a bad mint chip? You may as well just eat toothpaste."
She smiled smugly when he didn't argue her points. She ran the flat of her tongue across the scoop of vanilla ice cream, twisting the cone as she went. Her eyes flickered up to Sirius and her tongue immediately left the frozen treat, retreating back into her mouth.
The weight of his gaze was crushing.
He stared, hazel eyes bright with interest and.. Something else she couldn't place. Amusement? Attraction? He reached his hand out to her face, the pad of his thumb swiping across her bottom lip, "Left a little behind there, Kitten." He smirked.
Hermione felt the breath stutter in her chest as he placed his thumb against his lips and sucked the melted vanilla cream from it. His eyes boring into hers before tracing the flush of her cheeks down her neck and to her chest.
"You're right," He said. "Vanilla is better than mint chip."
In a moment of absolute insanity Hermione acted on the one Gryffindor trait she kept at bay. The one that she prides herself at not conceding to. She looked around them, making sure no one was watching, grabbed his hand and apparated back to the front stoop of Grimmauld Place.
She dropped her ice cream cone to the ground, feeling the splatter of cold vanilla against her ankles, and grabbed the front of Sirius's leather jacket. Before she could think twice about it, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. Her heart flew into her throat, begging him to move. To kiss her back or at the very least push her away.
Just as she began to feel the panic bloom in her chest, she felt his lips move beneath hers and his tongue darted out to her lips, pushing past her soft pout to dive into her mouth and taste the sweet vanilla cream on his own. His tongue claimed hers, roaming the silky interior of her mouth and setting the heat in her lower belly ablaze.
He tasted like Firewhiskey and mint. The lingering tobacco smoke on his tongue was laced with chocolate and Hermione quickly found she wanted to taste every inch of him to see if his skin was as delectable as his mouth. She felt him fumble in his pocket, pulling his wand and whispering Alohomora before shoving the door open.
As they stumbled through it, sense and realization of what was happening crashed over Hermione like a speeding bludger and she pulled away from him. Her body ached with the need to touch him again, but her mind was screaming at her:
Sirius Black! Harry's Godfather! Padfoot! He's basically family! He's almost twenty years older than you! What are you doing?! Get it together!
"I-I…" She sucked in a deep breath, her embarrassment of her actions settling into the flush on her cheeks. "Sirius, I am so sorry."
Before he could respond, she pushed past him, out the still open door and onto the front stoop. She took a deep breath and apparated to her flat.
She fumbled with her wand, flicking it to unlock the door and stumbled into the living room. She closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.
"You look like you've been properly snogged."
She yelped, her eyes flying open and her wand pointing forward at the intruder. A set of grey eyes stared back at her, a pale eyebrow arched and a smirk of amusement on his face.
"Draco!" She said, sighing in frustrated relief, "Merlin! You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?"
"Well, seeing as I live here…" He trailed off.
"I thought you weren't going to be home tonight?" She asked, moving toward the sofa and taking the spot next to him.
"Got done early," He explained. "Apparently you weren't planning on being home either."
"Shut up," She said, playfully smacking at his arm. "How did it go?"
"You know my mum," He grumbled. "Forever the perfect picture of an upstanding witch. Which brings me back to the fact that you look as if you've been caught snogging by Filch. I thought you were doing errands for Potter?"
"I was," She said.
"Potter is on an assignment. You aren't back with the weasel again, are you?"
"Don't call him that, and no. Ronald and I are not dating again."
"I can't imagine anyone else would be there that you would be… Oh. Oh!"
Hermione felt her cheeks turn an even more impressive shade of red as Draco put the pieces together.
"Were you… Oh, Granger that is… That is hilarious. Were you snogging Sirius Black?" Draco asked, the laughter playing on his words as he spoke. "Did you finally let him get into your knickers?"
"No!" She nearly shouted, which only made his face light up further with overjoyed amusement. "No! I didn't… He didn't… I…" She huffed and scrubbed her face with her hands, pushing her hair back. "He didn't kiss me. I kissed him."
Draco barked a laugh, "Finally giving into your attraction for the old man?"
"He isn't old, Draco. He's forty. In the grand scheme of things, that's hardly old. I had a few glasses of wine and-
"You aren't really going to blame you snogging Black on a few glasses of wine, are you? Because I have tried to get into your knickers when we were both completely sozzled and you had your wits about you to tell me to go fuck myself." He said, sounding more excited than she had heard him in their four years of friendship.
"No, I'm not blaming the wine, I just… I acted… impulsively. Which I may not have done had I not been drinking," She said.
"Yes, you would have."
"No, I wouldn't have. How would you know, anyway?" She grumbled, shooting him a glare as she sank into the back of the sofa.
"Granger, we've lived together a year. Our walls are very thin. It may do well to remember to cast a muffliato in your room when you come home from 'spending time at Harry's,'" He said, the smirk returning and using his fingers to make air quotes.
Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. Her hand covered her face and she groaned, "Merlin, that is embarrassing!" She cried.
"It's not," He said. "It's natural. The Black bloodline is full of attractive people."
"Shut up you prat," She hissed. "Ugh! What am I supposed to do?!"
"Well, judging by the way you came tearing in here, I assume you left mid-snog because your embarrassment caught up with you?"
She nodded, hating that he knew her so well. "Yes."
"Was it a good snog?"
"Answer the question," He said.
She looked at him, incredulous annoyance on her features before she pinched the bridge of her nose and bent forward. "Yes, yes it was."
"And you clearly want to shag the bloke."
"Merlin, nevermind. I'm going to-
She stood up and Draco grabbed her hand, pulling her back to the sofa and looking at her. "No, don't. Just listen, yeah?"
She rolled her eyes, waving her hand between them as if telling him to move, "Fine. Go on."
"You've been… taking your frustrations out to the thought of him for at least the year we've lived together. You've finally tapped into that Gryffindor recklessness to let go for a night and act on it. Why leave? I said you looked properly snogged, which means he was well receiving. You got embarrassed and you rushed out."
"How do you do that?" She asked. "How do you just know things like that?! It's so irritating."
"I pay attention, Granger."
"Well clearly you aren't paying enough attention to see how complicated things would get if I was shagging Harry's Godfather."
"Explain it to me, then." He said.
"I don't have the energy nor the crayons to sit down and explain this properly to you," She mumbled, folding her arms over her chest.
"Really? Wizards don't have crayons? They're little wax sticks that are colorful that-
"I'm fucking with you Granger. I know what crayons are."
She huffed again, feeling even more aggravated. "You aren't helping!"
He chuckled, taking a hand in his. "It's only complicated because you're letting it be complicated. You were reckless for a moment, and that terrifies you, for whatever stupid reason you've come up with. Bury the reason and act on that recklessness. I'd wager there's probably a very attractive, very frustrated man getting ready to take a cold shower at Grimmauld Place right now. You want my advice?"
"Not really, but you're going to give it to me anyway."
He smirked, "Be reckless. Don't let him shower alone."
"That's your great advice? Be reckless? I thought you were a Slytherin!"
"Granger," He said, on the end of a sigh. "When was the last time you had a good shag?"
She drew in a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "What's the date?"
"Merlin!" He laughed. "Has it been that long?"
"It's been… A while," She admitted.
"So, fix it."
"Fix it," She repeated.
"Fix it." He confirmed.
She stood up and gave a sharp nod, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back before crossing the room and grabbing her wand from the table by the door.
"Oh, and Granger?" Draco said, standing up and smoothing his hands over his shirt. "You look positively edible in that outfit."
She bit her lip and felt her cheeks warm again before turning her back to her friend and stepping out of the flat to apparate back to Grimmauld Place.
When her fingers wrapped around the bronze knocker on the door, she tried her best to calm the nerves in her stomach. The flush of her cheeks from Draco's comment and the butterflies in her stomach battled against one another to over take the pull from behind her navel as the smell of tobacco smoke wafted into her nose.
She had always thought smoking was a disgusting habit, but there was something about the way Sirius Black perched the cigarette between his lips that set her skin on fire.
"Thought you'd scurried off, Kitten."
"I thought I had, too."
"Change of heart?" He asked, flicking the half-smoked lit cigarette over the banister.
"Something like that," She said. Be reckless. Echoing in her mind, over and over.
Recklessness was never her strong suit. Bravery and courage? Absolutely, and she had chivalry to spare. But to completely disregard the consequences that could follow her actions? Never. She would willingly fling herself onto the back of a dragon or duel dark wizards in Death Eater robes. She would break into the Ministry- more than once, and help to organize a group of students to teach defensive magic.
But she always thought of the consequences of her actions. Her risks were calculated. The good always outweighed the bad. She never did anything if she wasn't sure that it was the right choice.
That was the problem with Sirius. She didn't know the consequences. She didn't know what would happen if she pursued the feelings. If she acted on lust instead of thought. She didn't know what would come of it. Would they shag once and never speak again? Would they shag once and want more? Would they become a couple? Would Harry be upset? Would Ron? And Oh, God Molly would have a stroke!
"Take a breath, Hermione," Sirius said, his gravelly voice breaking through her quickly spiraling thoughts.
"A breath," She whispered, nodding a few times. "Right."
He took her hand and led her inside, quietly closing the door behind him. They walked up the stairs and into the drawing room. He led her to the sofa and gently pressed on her shoulder to sit her down. She watched as he crossed the room and picked up the bottle of Firewhiskey, pouring a little into two glasses and brought one to her.
She accepted it gladly, taking it down in one gulp.
"Impressive," Sirius said, a smirk on his lips as he knocked back his glass and set it on the side table. "What other secret talents are you hiding?"
"Being able to drink Firewhiskey hardly counts as a talent," She said.
"An inexperienced witch shooting back a two finger of Firewhiskey certainly counts as a talent," He explained.
"Who said I was inexperienced?" She smirked, knowing the weight of the double entendre.
His eyebrows rose into his hairline and she had a heartbeat's moment to collect herself before his lips came crashing onto hers.
His mouth moved with precision, lips, tongue, and teeth all nipping and massaging their way to her core. His tongue took command of her mouth, Firewhiskey and chocolate tobacco drowning the last remaining insecurities of her actions. She finally listened to the voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco Malfoy, telling her to be reckless.
Instead of ignoring the battering of her heart against her sternum and the excited flutter in her stomach; she honed in on it. Focusing on the electric feel of his calloused hands roaming lightly against her sides, snaking their way up to bury in her hair.
She moaned as his fingers twisted into her curls, causing a shiver to run through her spine as gooseflesh covered her arms. He pulled away from her lips, and she pouted at the loss before gasping as his sinful mouth found its way to her throat, searing the tender skin with hot, open mouthed kisses. She whimpered as he sucked gently on the skin of her collarbone, just below the hollow of her throat.
He dragged his lips up to the skin beneath her ear and she felt them move as he whispered, "If I knew vanilla tasted so good, I would have tried to taste it years ago."
Her breath hitched when his teeth caught the lobe of her ear, giving it a gentle suck before moving back down her throat. "Years?" She whimpered.
"Two years," He said, the words muffled against her throat.
Her logical mind began whirring, trying to overcome the very primal thoughts she was having. Two years ago? What happened two years ago?
She had just started at the Ministry working in the Magical Law and Regulations office as a junior solicitor. Harry had graduated from his Auror training and…
And she had stayed the night at Grimmauld place after the celebration they threw! The party for Harry's graduation and Hermione's new job! Everyone had been properly drunk and those who couldn't apparate home, stayed at Grimmauld. She had woken early, before anyone else, to a nightmare.
Hermione rolled over, instantly regretting the action as the backlash of last night's festivities threatened to make their way back up. She groaned. Not only was her stomach knotted and her head pounding, but she was shaking and panting.
"Years, it's been years. Get it together, Hermione." She whispered to herself, giving a little pep talk to try and calm her nerves.
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. It's been decades for me."
She jumped, suddenly becoming aware that she was in a bed that was not her own and there was a pyjama clad Sirius Black next to her. He was sitting up, with his back against the headboard. His eyes were tired and red-rimmed, his newly cut hair tousled from sleep.
"S-Sirius!" She stammered, looking under the sheets to see if she was clothed. "Did we-?"
"No, Kitten. I did not sully your reputation," He smirked. "Nightmare?"
She nodded, feeling a strange tug of disappointment that she was, in fact, fully clothed.
"Come," He said, gently tugging at her elbow. He pulled her against his chest, her ear pressed close enough to hear the thumping of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her and slowly trailed his hand up and down her back in a soothing manner. "Try to go back to sleep," he whispered.
Her eyes felt heavy as she listened to his heart beat, a light humming of a song she didn't know in the background.
Hermione pressed her hands against his chest, lightly shoving him away from her as the memory surfaced in her head. "You said we didn't do anything!" She said, taking an accusatory tone.
"We didn't. Except lie there and sleep," He promised. "But that doesn't mean I didn't want to."
"You've wanted to for two years? Two years you've wanted…" She motioned between them. "This?"
"You don't?" He asked, "If you don't want to, Kitten, we don't have to do anything you aren't wanting to do."
It wasn't that he wanted her for two years. It was that she had wanted him for just as long. How had she not picked up on it? How did she not see that he wanted to be with her, like this? Was she so blind?
"You have women, witches and muggle alike in and out of this house like a revolving door." She said. He winced at her words and she chuckled. "I don't… It doesn't matter to me. Do what you want, but I just… You clearly know how to pick a woman up. Why have you never said anything before?"
He moved closer to her, his breath hot against her neck as he spoke his answer into her skin, "Because while vanilla can be unobtrusive and dependable, it's also classy and subtle. With depth that most are too ignorant to appreciate," The tip of his tongue hit her throat and pulled upward, causing a deep shudder to tear through her. "I wanted to be able to properly appreciate it."
A low moan escaped her when his hands gripped her hips and his lips found hers again. Stop thinking she scolded herself, closing her mind to the thoughts and jumbled lines of questions. She took a breath when his hand landed on her thigh, pushing her back into the depths of the cushions as his mouth moved against hers.
He pulled away, a look of mischief twinkling his hazel eyes as he knelt on the ground before her. His hand snaking up her thigh and to the hem of her skirt. She twisted her fingers in his hair as he pressed feather light kisses to the skin between her knees, slowly working his way up to her inner thigh. He shoved the material of the skirt and stopped pressing kisses to her skin. She could feel his smile into her thigh and the chuckle that rumbled his chest sent hot twists to the aching in her core.
"Your skirt won't move, love." He laughed. "Were you expecting something…?"
"The bloody wind!" She breathed, a frustrated sigh. "Sticking charm!"
"Clever girl," He purred, nipping at the inside of her thigh and whispering the counter charm.
She made quiet mewling sounds as he shoved the flowy material up to her hips and continued kissing his way up her thigh. He stopped at the hem of the peach lace, his hot breath teasing her into a frenzy. He ran one finger over the thin fabric of her knickers, a low groaning coming from his throat.
"Is this what I do to you, Kitten? So sweet, and so wet," He ran his tongue over the hem that rode low on her hips, hooking his fingers into the lacy material and pulling it down. She lifted her hips, kicking the scrap of fabric off her ankles and she laughed when he gave a devilish smile, stuffing the lace into the back pocket of his trousers.
He hooked his arms under her knees, pulling her arse to the edge of the cushion and gripping her hips tight to hold her in place. He looked up at her and she could feel the flush in her neck and stir in her core as his eyes bore into hers. His tongue flicked out, tracing the folds of her heat. She gasped, her hands gripping onto the fabric of the cushion beneath her as his tongue plunged into her, lapping at her core and circling the peak of nerves just above it.
"You sweet girl," He moaned into her as she cried out.
She bucked her hips forward, nearly sobbing at the slow, steady lapping of his tongue. She needed more. She pleaded, twisting her fingers into his hair and she felt him smile into her. He grabbed her thighs and slid backward, laying on the floor and tugging her off the sofa. He shimmied down, resting his face below her and then pressed down to the tops of her thighs. She hesitated, panting while looking down at him.
"Take what you need, Kitten." He said, "You aren't going to hurt me."
That was all the encouragement she needed. She lowered her core to his mouth and gripped his hair, her nails pressing into his scalp as she moved her hips, grinding against the scruffy face. She screamed out, her breath leaving her chest in stuttering gasps as his tongue, lips, and teeth worked her from beneath. Sucking, nipping, and massaging against her, his nose buried against her pearl, pressing stiffly to it as he devoured her.
Her thighs shook as she ground down onto Sirius's chin, begging him to finish her. He traced her folds again, sucking hard on her clit and she unraveled. She cried out, broken swears and words of praise as she came. Sirius gently maneuvered her off his face and he smiled, his eyes heavy and hungry and his chin glistening with her essence. He wiped his chin with his hand and lunged forward, stealing the last of the whimpers from her mouth.
He pulled her to her feet while tugging at the white blouse she was wearing. She parted from his lips to pull the garment over her head, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. She tossed it aside and shoved Sirius's shirt up his abdomen, her fingers grazing against his ink covered ribs. He yanked on her skirt and she ignored the tearing sound of fabric as the zipper in the back split from the waist. I'll fix it later. The first coherent thought she'd had in at least twenty minutes. She found her fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt, tearing apart the leather and metal and making quick work of the buttoned trousers beneath it.
She palmed his length as she finally freed the buttons and shoved the material down to the floor, dropping to her knees as she pulled his trousers and pants down. Her eyes flickered up at him and she ran her hand over his length, pumping a few times before pressing her lips to the tip of his cock. He groaned as she took him in her mouth, her hand moving in short pumps against the length she could not swallow.
She circled her tongue around his head, running the flat of it down the length again before taking his length into her mouth again. She repeated the motion, bobbing her head and smiling around him as he growled and groaned loudly, his fingers twisting into her hair and his hips bucking forward. She moaned as he pulled at her hair, burying himself deeper into her throat. She dug her fingers into his hips as she looked up at him, locking eyes with him as she relaxed her throat, bobbing her head to the rhythm of his groans.
She felt him twitch and she gasped when he pulled her head back, removing himself from her mouth and tugging her up from her knees.
"As lovely as that is," He panted, placing kisses to her jawline. "I will not let you finish me before I feel that sweet cunt of yours."
She whimpered in response, nodding furiously as he walked her backward. The backs of her legs hit the sofa and she tumbled back, landing on the cushions. Sirius quickly hovered over her, settling between her thighs and positioning himself at her entrance. She could feel him pressing at her core and she whined, begging him to continue. He leaned down, his lips hovering over hers as he pushed into her. Sheathing himself to the hilt and stealing the gasp from her lips with his own.
"Fuck," He groaned, laving at the side of her throat. "You feel even sweeter than you taste."
"Sirius," She panted, rocking her hips forward. "Please…"
He pulled almost completely out of her before slamming back in, his hips rocking upward to catch a spot inside of her she wasn't even sure existed before now. She couldn't focus on anything but how full she felt with him inside of her. How the moving of his hips against hers felt more perfect that she had ever imagined it to be in her room, by herself. She cried out as his mouth found her breasts, his tongue teasing her nipple and his hands roaming her body. Caressing every inch of her, worshiping her with words and curses upon gods that neither of them believed.
When she fell over the edge, it was hazel eyes staring into her that pushed her there. The swirling flecks of gold and green hazy with a desire she had never seen on his face before. He cried out shortly after, her inner walls clamping on to him, begging him to stay. As she came down from the high of the most euphoric sex she had ever experienced, it wasn't uncertainty and fear of consequences that came to mind.
It was the memory of him holding her, humming her back to sleep after a nightmare. Humming the same song he was singing now, as he pulled her to his bare chest, pulling his hand through her hair and lightly grazing his fingertips up and down her spine.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open when a cool draft hit her back. She looked around the room and realized she was in a bed, that was most definitely not her own. She took a deep breath through her nose and smiled to herself as the delicious throb between her legs reminded her of the reason she was nude.
She sat up slowly, looking around his room. She couldn't remember actually walking here, just falling asleep on the couch in the drawing room. She looked at the clock at the wall and saw that it was half four. The chirping of birds alerting the sun would soon be rising.
She stood up, looking around the room and chuckling to herself when she saw the random piles of clothes strewn about the room. Man sized children. She thought, this time with less bitterness than she had earlier in the day. She picked up a tee shirt from the pile and gave a tentative sniff, making sure it wasn't terribly filthy. It smelled like tobacco smoke and a spicy cologne. She slipped it over her head and padded out to the hall, walking down the stairs and into the dining room.
Sirius sat, a lit cigarette between his lips and a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand.
"Smoking in the house again?" She teased, sitting in the chair next to his.
"I just like to hear you telling me to not to," He smirked, sipping his Firewhiskey.
She pulled one foot onto the seat of her chair and threw her arm over her knee. She reached out for his glass, pulling it from his fingers and polishing off the last of the amber liquor in the glass. He raised an eyebrow at her as she smirked, setting the glass back down on the table.
"Do you think I'm still wrong about vanilla being the best flavour?" She asked, her voice sweet and quiet.
He barked a laugh and leaned forward, pressing his lips against her. "I do think vanilla will be the only flavor I sample from now on."
a/n: Come hang out with me on my FB group! Mimifreed Writing
I wrote this story to be part of the HoneysweetShots one shot collection on AO3 for Honeysweetcutie! I do hope you all enjoyed it! Please remember to review if you did!