A/N : Here you go - last bit. Thanks again to Beci the Beta for her help and thanks to all of you for reading.

Aftershocks are still running through her body as he slowly lowers her legs to the floor, placing delicate kisses along her calves and ankles as he does so.

Still gazing at her supine form, he rises and begins to unfasten his trousers. She watches him hungrily as the button pops and the zip is lowered, swallowing sharply as he reveals himself to her. His engorged flesh springs free and she moans softly, longing to taste him as he has tasted her. He kicks himself free of his clothing and stands before her, aching for her touch.

Bending gracefully, he enfolds her in his arms and lifts her onto his bed.

No sooner has her body hit the mattress than she turns to face him, hands reaching out to grasp his hands, pulling him down to join her.

She turns him so that he lies on his back, placing soft whispers of kisses across his chest and down his stomach whilst her hands brush over his shoulders and down his sides, tracing the outline of his hips and thighs before drawing back up to ghost across the velvet encased hardness of him. He gasps as her fingers explore his body, hips arching up in a silent plea for more contact. She draws back to look at him - arms outstretched to the side, head thrown back and eyes closed, his body is a sacrifice to her to do with as she desires.

Her head dips down towards him and her tongue slips out to glide slowly up the length of him. A soft cry escapes him as she takes him into her mouth, tongue swirling and teeth grazing his skin giving him some of the stimulation he is craving without allowing him release.

His body tenses and relaxes in time with her ministrations, spiraling higher and higher, reaching for the nirvana that she seems intent on denying him - drawing out the pleasure until it almost feels like pain. He is crucified on the altar of her will as she takes her pleasure from his flesh.

Unable to prolong her sweet torture any longer and desperately needing to find her own fulfillment, she moves astride his hips and begins to lower herself, excruciatingly slowly, onto his proud flesh. His eyes snap open as her hot, wet core surrounds him and holds him fast.

His mind spirals. He has traveled from the depths of hell to touch the gates of Paradise all within the space of a heartbeat. It is too much. Too fast. This cannot be meant for him. He turns his head to the side, eyes closing again, a barrier against the fall from her grace that he knows must be coming.

She senses his emotional withdrawal from her and, hoping to recall him, whispers his name "Sirius. Look at me."

She reaches down and turns his head to face her. Opening his eyes he sees her smile for him, a smile of such tenderness and longing that it becomes unbearable.

With a hoarse cry he grasps her hips and surges up into her welcoming warmth. She undulates above him like the sea, driving him further, faster, deeper; rushing headlong into rapture and pulling him along with her.

Beyond help, beyond reason, he reaches for the light and feels its heat excoriate his being as he explodes within her like the flaming orb for which he is named.

She shudders, her walls pulsating around him and lets out a high, soft call of repletion before slipping down to lie nestled in his arms.

He places a kiss of boundless love and thankfulness against her breast before sinking into a dreamless sleep the like of which he has not known for eighteen years.

In a nearby room a Werewolf sits on a chair by his window, long legs stretched comfortably before him, gazing out at the gibbous moon, smoking an idle cigarette.

His head is cocked to one side and he smiles to himself as his preternatural hearing picks out the quiet sounds coming from along the corridor.

Stubbing out his cigarette, he makes his way to his bed, calling down a silent blessing on the little witch who has, at last, begun the healing of his Brother.