Summary: What if there was more to Hermione's opinion of Sirius and his reckless behaviour during OotP than met the eye?
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter World belongs to J.. I'm not making any money.
I feel guilty dropping hints about Sirius. Veiled as they are. But he is not right in the head after Azkaban. He's lonely and reckless and he has no concept of the consequences of his actions. You might say he can't be blamed for that. I would have tended to agree. Before I stayed there for the summer before my fifth year at Hogwarts started. At number 12 Grimmauld Place.
It started off inconspicuous enough. A few glances here and there. Looking at me even after I'd stopped speaking. Holding me hand a little longer than necessary if he would help me after I'd been cleaning. I didn't think anything of it. Nobody would, would they? I mean, he hasn't exactly got to have much contact with people on the run, and none for twelve years in Azkaban. I didn't notice that he didn't do it with anyone else. I thought nothing of smiling and talking to him. Of being alone in a room with him. Did I lead him on without realising? Was I naïve? He was Harry's Godfather. He is Harry's Godfather.
He told me I was pretty. It was about a week after I had arrived there for the summer, and I was telling him about when my teeth got cursed and I had to have them reduced, and how pleased I was not to be so ugly. He told me I could never be ugly. That I was a very pretty young witch and not to think such things ever again. I blushed. Everywhere felt hot. Perhaps I should have looked uncomfortable. Felt uncomfortable. Perhaps I did lead him on. But it's always nice to be told you are pretty. Especially of someone older, someone who was, I hear, quite the ladies man at Hogwarts. I was flattered. Who wouldn't be?
He looks down the table at me the next morning at breakfast and winks at me. I giggle. I try to suppress a wide grin. He holds open the door for me later on in the evening, and shows me into the Black Library. It's huge and so beautiful and there are so many books that I turn slowly around, my face beaming with delight and I turn and throw my arms around him in a hug. He goes tense for a few seconds and I think about withdrawing, perhaps I have over stepped the mark and we are not that close, but then I feel his arms around my back squeezing, and his face in my hair, and I instinctively snuggle closer, even though something in the back of my mind says this isn't quite right. It's too intimate and too private an embrace to be sharing with your best friend's Godfather.
I should have pulled away after a few seconds, but I didn't. I pressed myself closer to Sirius, and one of his hands ran down my bare arm, making me shiver slightly and the other slipped lower down my back so it was just above the top of my jeans. The buckle of his jeans is digging into my stomach and his breath is hot by my ear and my stomach is tingling, everywhere is tingling with something like excitement. My arms haven't moved, I'm too frightened to move them, I don't know what is happening and whether I should, and if I did where I would put them.
I let out a small sigh as his breath blows hot in my ear as he pulls his head back slightly, and I desperately hope he doesn't notice, which is a lie, I want him to notice, some part of me does anyway, and he does and his lips are just below my ear, ever such a tiny brush that he could claim was an accident should I pull away. I don't. I should. I should have. What am I doing?