Rane opened her eyes.
It was dark in twelve Grimmauld Place . . . Well after midnight. There was a brisk, chilling wind sweeping through the little bedroom she shared with Ginny and Hermione. Through the open window, she could see stars glinting through the orange lamplight from the street below, and the full moon, visible as a pregnant orb in the rosy-blue sky the night before, was nowhere to be found. The room was chilly, and as she sat up, she rubbed her bare arms briskly against the cold. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, and getting up crossed to the window and shut it with a snick. As the wind died in the little room, she turned.
Hermione and Ginny were both bundled up into cocoons, sleeping soundly. Hermione was buried up to the crown of her bushy head. They hadn't woken as she had, and Rane wondered vaguely what had roused her so abruptly.
She stood at the side of her bed a moment, a tall lean girl with long dark hair, and considered lying back down. After a moment's hesitation, she turned and walked quietly towards the door, taking care not to step on the squeaky bits of floorboard she knew so well. Rane was painfully aware that now that she was up, it could be hours before she slept again . . . Such was her strange mind. To fight it was pointless.
She opened the door, winced at its low rasping creak, and glanced back at Ginny and Hermione, who were both still lying perfectly still, dead to the world. She closed the door gently behind her, and once it had snicked shut, she turned to the empty corridor. Somewhere off to her right, she could hear someone - probably Ron - snoring noisily. Not even Crookshanks, who spent most nights racing up and down the hardwood staircases and breaking china, was anywhere to be found.
She pulled her wand from her bed shorts, pointed it into the thick darkness, and murmured, "Lumos!"
The hallway lit up with the silvery white glow of her wand, throwing everything into exaggerated contrast. She made her way down the corridor, and then descended the shadowy stairs.
The living room below was as dark as the room above. Rane stood in the foyer a moment, staring around, nonplussed. The floor was abandoned. She noticed, however, on her bare legs, a breeze, and her light eyes turned to the left of the foyer, where a stairway from another wing ended. There, she saw one of the doors leading to the patio unlocked and hanging cracked.
"Nox!"
She waved her wand, extinguishing the light that shone in the darkness, and moved forward with the silent amnesty that came with her Elven blood. Walking towards the door, which was mostly glass, emblazoned with the Black family crest, she peered outside.
There was a form there, sat on the deck. He was resting on one of the four iron chairs, looking out into the black evening forest that stretched beyond the back of the house. A candle burned flickeringly on the railing, casting a reddish glow on the edge of the profile. As she watched, the figure lifted a lean arm, took a drag off of what seemed to be a cigarette, and then let the arm fall. A moment later a thin stream of smoke, alight with the candle's glow, puffed out into the evening clear.
Rane stood where she was a moment, then she slid aside the door and stepped outside. It creaked as it opened, and as she stepped out, her footsteps quietly padding on the wooden deck, the figure shifted.
"Sirius?" said Rane quietly.
Sirius turned, the light igniting his profile shifting slightly, and made as if to hide the cigarette in his hand. Rane could see the gleaming sparkle of his eyes fixing on her in his surprise.
"Who's that - Rane?" he said. "I wasn't . . . I was just sitting -"
"It's okay," said Rane, sliding the door shut behind her and smirking at him. "I don't care. For fuck's sake, stop hiding it, it's just a smoke."
Sirius snorted and brought the cigarette out from behind his back.
"If Remus or Molly sees this I'll never hear the end of it," he said glumly. He glanced at her, took a long draw on it, then offered it to her.
"Give me one of my own and I'll keep your filthy secrets, you scoundrel, you," Rane said, grinning and drawing one of the iron chairs up beside him. Sirius stared at her for a moment, then chuckled, pulled a pack from his pocket and shaking one out lit it with his wand and handed it to her.
"Is that why you're out here? Secret cigarette time?"
Sirius shook his head, his chin propped on his fist. "Couldn't sleep." He examined the cigarette in his hand a moment, then added, "Just as well, though - I haven't gotten a moment alone to sneak one in ages."
They sat in silence for a moment, smoking, listening to the scree of crickets.
"Why are you awake at this hour?" Sirius asked. His voice was low and husky as he stared off into the dark wood beyond the Black property.
"I can't sleep," Rane replied. She hesitated, the cigarette held aloft between her fingers. "I can't sleep very often, period. I wake up a lot like this, so I come out here. Most of the time none of you guys are awake," she added, glancing sidelong at him.
Sirius glanced at her as well, his smoke held aloft in his hand, and there was a moment, suspended in the dark, damp night air, where they simply regarded each other. Rane stared into Sirius's face - his unshaven chin, his smooth cheeks, his sparking grayish brown eyes glittering under the starlight, the hairs in his brows glistening in the cold air.
"What woke you up?" said Sirius. She could see the quick motions of his eyes marking the details of her face in the gloom, the cigarette still gripped between his fingers.
"I dunno," said Rane. She hadn't broken eye contact with him, and suddenly a strange emotion began to fill her from the bottom up. It was a sense that Sirius was… well, handsome. Very handsome. The way the light rode on the ridge of his nose, the crown of his forehead, the irises of his eyes… the flicker of his mouth, parted slightly, showing his white teeth and the dampness of his tongue . . . She wondered suddenly, quite unconsciously, what that tongue would feel like moving along the corner of her mouth, into her inner lip, caressing her gum line . . .
"What?"
Rane blinked, suddenly aware that she'd been staring at Sirius, and averted her eyes at once, uncomfortable. Sirius let his gaze linger a moment longer, then turned his eyes upon the dark wood and took a draft from his smoke.
"Nothing." said Rane quietly. She smoked, then added, "Sorry."
Sirius, his voice betraying only the vaguest interest, said, "For what?"
Rane thought later that the lateness, the midnight hour, the lack of sleep and its accompanying disregard for sagacity, were to blame for what followed. But in the end it came to her own want when she spoke, her voice sounding falsely genial.
"Bit weird, isn't it, sitting out here at night gawking at you."
There was a pause, the space of four heartbeats, when their eyes met again. They sat in chairs alongside one another, the wind breathing over them unconcerned.
"Why should you be sorry for that?" Sirius asked softly, never breaking his eye contact.
Thoughts she had never had - strange, half-formed thoughts rife with a shapeless emotion - filled her mind. She marked the breeze that ruffled his dark hair, the stoic furrow of his brow, the creasing line along one side of his mouth that deepened when he smiled.
"It's just . . ." Rane scoffed, feeling graceless. "I dunno, fuck."
Sirius scoffed too, smiling. "You dunno, eh?"
"I don't."
He turned, took a drag from his smoke, the smile still touching his lips. She smoked too, feeling heat rising to her face. Her heart was beating a little more quickly than she thought warranted seated here on the porch.
"Do you ever get lonely here?" Rane asked at length.
Sirius rolled his head back on his shoulders, the starlight glinting off his grin. "Absolutely," he said grimly. "Every day. It's better with you lot here for a spell, but pretty soon it'll just be me and Kreacher."
He glanced over at her. She sat looking out across the dark wood, her cigarette smoking idly. It was almost cashed.
"You're seeing someone, eh?" he said.
Rane looked at him, surprised. "No. Why?"
Sirius snorted. "You're bloody gorgeous, that's why."
Rane felt her face flush. She smiled. "Well shit. Thanks, Sirius." She sighed. "Nope. No one wants the half-breed. Elindir wants to marry me off to some Elf from Forodaithas, according to Dad. I told him they were welcome to try."
Sirius chuckled. "I'd like to see that."
"The Elves are awful," Rane said defensively, grinning at his amusement. "Boring! So goddamn boring! All the care about is . . . is making swords and wandering around in the woods. And Iluvatar. Stupid ass Iluvatar. They looooove Iluvatar so hard. It's like sitting in a revival church in Tennessee, I swear to god."
Sirius was laughing openly.
"I'm going to be single my whole life," she said, and sighed. "Fuck it."
"Well that's two of us," said Sirius grumpily, smoking. "Blimey, used to be I couldn't keep them off of me. Now here I am, thin as a rake and coming up on forty, and it's been years." He blew his long hair out of his face irritably. "Dunno how long I can keep this up."
"Years?" Rane said, glancing at him and smiling. "Did you say years?"
"Years."
"Good god," said Rane, grinning at him mischievously. "I dunno how you manage to stay sane. Years… sheesh."
"Oh, I suppose you're going to rub it in my face, are you?" Sirius said, grinning at her, his eyebrows high. "Pretty little Rane the half-Elf strutting about breaking hearts, are you then? Got to beat them off with a baseball bat?"
"You're pretty familiar with beating things off, I bet," Rane muttered, and a moment later Sirius was swiping at her playfully as she laughed.
They lapsed into silence. Rane stared across the brief lawn at the dark, foreboding trees. An owl hooted somewhere nearby - Hedwig, perhaps, hunting for mice in the starlight.
"To tell you the truth," said Rane, "it's been a while for me too."
"Has it?" Sirius said, glancing at her curiously. "Lovely thing like you? Why is that?"
Rane shrugged and took a long drag on the cigarette before flicking the butt into the grass. "I guess I've just been busy. I haven't so much as kissed anyone in months."
"Want to kiss me?" said Sirius.
Rane looked at him, surprised, the beginning of a smile on her mouth. "What?"
"Kiss me," Sirius repeated, turning to face her. "Go on."
Rane stared at him, mystified. "You want me to kiss you."
Sirius grinned at her. "Why not? Have you got something better to do?"
Rane laughed, looking at him. "You're having a go at me."
"I'm not," said Sirius. "Truth be told I wouldn't mind it myself. In fact I'd . . . well . . ." He trailed off, for the first time seeming a little reticent. "I'd like it very much."
Rane studied his face, searching for some sign of trickery, and found none.
"You want to kiss me?" she asked again.
Sirius took a breath and let it out. "Do I stutter?"
Rane could not have anticipated this in a hundred years. She looked into his eyes.
"I . . . okay, sure."
Sirius shifted towards her, the chair scraping across the pavement, and leaned forward. Rane remained where she was, as motionless as a rabbit in headlights, staring at him, her hair over one shoulder, her hands clasped in her lap. He placed one hand on the arm of her chair, and the other on her cheek; his palm was warm, his skin soft, his touch very gentle.
He paused before her, inches from her face, the fragrant smell of him washing over her, and looked into her eyes. Rane could hear his gentle breathing and the creak of the chair beneath his hand. When he spoke, his voice was very close and very kind.
"Sure?" he asked.
Rane's heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She nodded minutely, and Sirius held her gaze a moment longer, then leaned forward and brushed his lips on hers. Rane could feel the roughness of his chin and the softness of his mouth; he drew back, as if waiting for a response, then leaned in, shifting, the chair moving beneath his weight, and pressed his mouth against hers more firmly. The taste of him was new and lovely; he tugged at her lower lip with infinite tenderness, kissed the corner of her mouth, and then moved back, his hand coming away from her face, and sat back down. Rane remained where she was for a moment and they stared at one another in the gloom.
"Taste like cigarettes, do I?" Sirius asked her slightly breathlessly.
Rane shook her head. "No, you taste good . . . I mean . . ."
Suddenly, she was acutely aware of what had just transpired between them, and her face reddened.
"That was lovely," she said awkwardly, and laughed. "Really lovely."
Sirius grinned. "It was . . . It was. Whew!" he added, patting his chest exaggeratedly. "Let me see your hand."
Rane offered it, and Sirius took her hand and pressed it against his chest. Rane could feel Sirius's heart thumping quickly against her palm, its beat strong and fast. She stared into his eyes, which had never left hers.
"Feel that?"
"Wow," said Rane. His chest was warm and firm against the cold, the sensation of his heartbeat somehow vital.
"You've got my heart doing double-time," Sirius said, grinning at her.
"Mine too," Rane said truthfully; her own heart was still pounding.
They sat in silence for a moment. Sirius was smiling, one hand stroking his rough chin, staring out across the dark. Rane looked at him curiously.
"What are you smiling about?" she asked, grinning.
"I was just wondering what Remus would've made of that if he'd happened to come strolling out," Sirius told her, laughing. "Blimey, but he would've been bowled over."
"He would have kicked the hell out of us both," said Rane, chuckling. "Molly too."
"Molly!" Sirius exclaimed, and threw his head back, laughing. "Oh boy, I forgot all about Molly! She wouldn't have been able to keep her head on straight! Both of us out here smoking cigarettes and snogging in the wee hours of the morning . . ."
"It wasn't snogging, it was nice!" said Rane defensively, looking over at him. "Do you wish you hadn't -?"
"Do I wish I hadn't?" Sirius said incredulously, looking at her. "'Course I don't!"
Their eyes met for a moment, Sirius sitting crookedly in his chair, the wind touching his long hair, Rane leaning against the arm of her own, her eyelashes sooty and outlined in the gloom. Suddenly Sirius leaned forward and placed his hands on each side of her face, his cigarette tumbling to the ground in a spray of sparks, and pressed his mouth into hers. The feeling of his lips, the coarseness of his chin, the hot wet sensation of his tongue, loosened her in every joint. She grasped the tendrils of his hair, loving their loose silkiness, loving the damp heat of his face beneath her palm. She could feel her heart pounding, loving that too. His mouth was the world.
Then he had drawn back, bent over her, and hung his head at her side, breathing hard, his hair obscuring his face.
"I'm sorry," he moaned, his voice close to her ear, and her flesh broke out in goose bumps. "I'm sorry . . . God dammit . . ."
Rane was breathing hard. Her heart was hammering. Sirius knelt before her, took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at her. His eyes were bright and there was a thin sheen of moisture on his hairline, glistening in the low light. Rane stared down into his eyes, gripping the arms of the chair tightly, her thin chest heaving.
Sirius swallowed hard. "God. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have . . . Shouldn't have done that, it's just . . ." He was panting. "It's just, you're . . ."
"A hideous fuckin chode?" Rane said, and they both let out a breathless laugh.
"You're the most beautiful chode I ever saw," Sirius said gravely. He swallowed again, took a deep breath and let it out. "Most beautiful thing I ever . . . Sitting there just . . . Just looking beautiful. I couldn't . . ."
He shook his head, looking at her frankly.
Rane leaned down, took his face in her hands and gently kissed his mouth, liking the way his eyes had fallen shut at her touch as if in bliss, liking the way he leaned into her, liking the roughness of his skin and the scent of him, the taste of him. She drew back, looking into his face held between her hands, and his eyes slowly opened, his lips parted, looking up into hers.
"Is this okay?" she whispered to him.
Sirius shook his head, moving her hands with it. "I dunno," he said in a low voice. "What is 'this' anyway?"
"I dunno," said Rane.
They looked at each other in silence for a moment.
Rane swallowed, struggling with her next few words, and at last spoke haltingly, watching Sirius's face.
"Do you . . . D'you want to go inside?"
Sirius regarded her in silence without replying for a moment. Rane was about to repeat herself when he spoke.
"Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"
Rane said nothing, only gazed at him.
"Together?"
"Yes," said Rane quietly. "If . . . If you want to."
Sirius stood up and offered his hand to her. She took it, rose, and stood looking up at him, the wind touching the tendrils of hair across her face. Sirius turned toward the house, still grasping her hand lightly, and she followed him through the door, which slid shut with a quiet snick behind them.
The house was silent but for the clock ticking in the foyer. Sirius strode toward the stairway and Rane followed him. They ascended past the first floor and when they reached the second, he turned, took her hand again, and led her down the hallway. The door to his room was slightly ajar, and upon seeing it, Rane was seized with a sudden, potent wave of desire. In there, through that door, her mind said in amazement, in there is where we're going to be . . . Sirius . . . Sirius and me . . . Alone in there . . .
Sirius pushed open the door, revealing his bedroom; it was small, unadorned except for his bed, a four-poster, which lay in silent waiting. Sirius waved his wand and the candles at the sides of the bed popped alight, casting the room into flickering resolution. Behind her she heard the door shut with a creaky snap. She turned, and Sirius stood there, his back to the door, motionless, staring at her, his handsome face lit only by firelight.
"Are you sure?" she asked him, unmoving.
Sirius shook his head, striding towards her. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."
He pressed his mouth against hers hard, and this time she felt his tongue flit out and caress her lips just as she had imagined, and that did her in completely. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing his face into her, loving the way he tasted, needing him, and as they stumbled back towards the bed Sirius ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her neck, biting her ear, and his free hand ran down the small of her back, running up beneath her tank top and stroking the smooth skin there. She tugged at his shirt restlessly, and in one smooth motion he pulled it over his head and cast it aside, forgotten. Rane slipped her own off, and as they pressed into each other, the feeling of his bare skin on her breasts was overwhelming, alighting her. One of his hands reached up, caressed her left nipple, squeezed, and a moan escaped his lips as he kissed her. His hands found the rim of her shorts, yanked them unceremoniously off, and then one of his hands had found the slick, sweet cleft between her legs, and he ran his finger over her gently, maddeningly.
"God, I want you," Sirius moaned into her mouth.
She broke away from him, sat on the bed and scooted backwards, and in the instant before he joined her there he stood at the end of the bed, looking at her longingly, his thin chest heaving, a lopsided smile touching his mouth, wearing only shorts - shorts which had picked up a distinct prominence. Rane stared at him admiringly, thinking again of how incredibly handsome he was - how incredibly sexy - and the need to have him overtook her again, making her gasp, loosening the muscles in her thighs.
"My god, you're beautiful," he said, breathing heavily.
"Take those off, will you?" she said huskily, lifting her chin at his boxers.
Sirius complied at once, and at last, not half an hour after finding him sitting outside without the merest hint of what was to come, she was looking at him standing fully naked before her. Her eyes traced the curve of his neck, the roundness of his shoulder, the thin line of black hair that began above his navel and descended amorously down, thickening above the perfect divot of his hipbone and ending at last at the shaft of his cock, which was long, full, and erect, trembling gently with his racing heartbeat. There he stood, breathing heavily, looking into her eyes, ready.
She sighed lustily. "Oh, my god, Sirius. Come here."
Sirius climbed onto the bed and then he was on top of her, pressing her down, and she lay beneath him, kissing him, feeling his body hot and firm against hers. She could feel his heart pounding wildly against her chest. His mouth was hot on hers, the feverish glow of his bare chest against hers unbearably warm in the flickering candlelight. And then she could feel the hot, throbbing hardness of him pressing against her down below and she let out a moan involuntarily. Sirius responded to it at once, renewed in his urgency.
"Please," she moaned, and then, his breath hot and rough in her ear, she felt him pause, felt him reach down, and then his hand was clutching her, and when three fingers slid into her she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. The need for him was so urgent, so imperative.
"I've made you wet," he growled into her ear, doglike, and she moaned against his shoulder, her fingernails digging into his back helplessly.
"Please . . ."
"Are you ready?"
"Please! Please, Sirius, God, please -!"
And then words failed her, because he had guided his cock into her and presently he thrust hard, and such a wave of blissful respite rode over her that she bit her lip against a scream. The sensation of him inside her - of the thickness of him, the warm firmness - was beyond coherent thought. She realized with dizzy alarm that she was going to climax soon.
She stared up into his face, which was transported with bliss, his mouth slightly open, his eyes on hers, his brow furrowed in ecstasy, and as he drove into her again and again, his eyes didn't leave hers. A glisten of moisture sparkled on his forehead. He reached up, touched her lip with his thumb, stroked her cheek.
"Rane," he whispered reverently. "Oh, Rane. Oh . . . Rane . . ."
She clutched at his shoulders and felt Sirius tense, his moans becoming louder, his breath harsher, oblivious to the noise they were making, and just before she reached her own pinnacle, she sensed he was going to reach his too. His motions slowed suddenly, his muscles tightened, and as Rane arched her back, biting her lip hard enough, to draw blood, he locked eyes with her, his hand between her shoulders, holding her close. And then, simultaneously, all conscious thought was wiped from their minds with the perfect soprano of ecstasy that engulfed them. Rane felt him inside her, deep, shuddering, felt the hotness of him as he filled her up, stared into his eyes as they stilled, swallowed up by their orgasms, motionless save for the frantic hammering of their hearts.
Then it was fading, and Sirius loosened and relaxed on her, his head lying on her shoulder, his long hair spread over her throat, breathing hard, the frenetic thumping of his heart conspicuous against Rane's chest. He pulled himself out of her, sat up on an elbow at her side, and looked down into her face, his own flushed, tendrils of hair plastered to his sweaty neck.
"Blimey," he gasped softly, and smiling lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently. He lay down beside her on his side, his head propped up on a pillow, and gazed at where she lay on her back, her hands laced on her chest, breathing hard, looking at him.
"You're amazing," she said breathlessly. "Just amazing."
"Me?" said Sirius, smiling. "What about you, then? My god, you gorgeous creature . . . I dunno how I'll ever convince myself to get out of this bed."
Rane waved a hand at him playfully. "Shucks."
"How the hell did that just happen?" Sirius remarked, rolling onto his back and lacing his hands behind his head. "I mean . . . just how in the hell . . . ?"
"I don't know," Rane replied. "I would never have thought you even would have wanted to kiss me, not in a hundred years, and here we are in this - this bed of lust together . . ."
Sirius snorted. "You never would have thought I'd wanted to kiss you? Really?"
Rane edged closer to him, and timidly pressed her naked body against his. He moved the arm nearest her out of her way and then, when she was close, settled it down around her, stroking her shoulder with his thumb. Rane stroked his chest gently, liking the way his skin felt - cool, sweaty, very there.
"Nope," Rane answered. "No way."
"Rane," said Sirius, "I don't know a man or beast alive who wouldn't give his right eye for the chance. I've always thought you were bloody beautiful. Always. From the first day I saw you."
"Why didn't you ever -?"
"What, tell you?" Sirius said, looking down at her out of the corner of his eye. He squeezed her shoulder gently. "And then what? What good's it going to do you to know that a bloody convict on the run from the law is -?"
He stopped abruptly, seeming to realize what he was saying. He lay very still for a moment, his hand unmoving on Rane's shoulder. He was looking at the ceiling determinedly, frowning slightly.
"What?" Rane said quietly.
Sirius took a breath and let it out through pursed lips. "Forget it," he said in a falsely offhand tone.
"Come on," Rane sat up on her elbow, her face inches from his. He looked up at her, the flickering candlelight reflecting in his eyes.
"Just . . . I'm not exactly . . ." Sirius trailed off, his face slightly flushed, looking exasperated.
Rane looked at him for a moment, then leaned down and kissed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his mouth; she trailed her fingers down the hollow of his throat, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness for Sirius that came naturally and powerfully. Sirius placed a hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his, and his kiss was warm, tender. She lay down beside him, lay her head on his chest and listened for a moment to the low, steady beating of his heart, strong and deep inside him. His hand crept over to her, caressed her hair, and she reached up and took it in her own, their fingers laced.
"Stay with me tonight," Sirius murmured, and kissed her forehead gently.
Rane squeezed his hand. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.
Soon they were asleep, wound together, content in a way neither of them had been for a very long time.