Authors Note: For angelically-devilish, who wanted Pirate!Sirius fic. And, just to annoy her, I give you my favourite Pirate joke:
Question – Why didn't the Pirate shower before he walked the plank?
Answer – Read this fic to find out!
The Black Pirate
Hermione Granger sat comfortably in the third floor library of Grimmauld Place, sipping a glass of wine and reading the latest bestseller – 'The Life and Times of Harry Potter' - a work of purely fictional bullshit if she had ever read one. But it was keeping her amused and occupied as she waited for Sirius to arrive home from the late-night poker game at Fred and George's shop.
She sighed at the silence of the creepy old house, enjoying the golden glow of the fire as it warmed her socked feet and kept the winter chill at bay. She enjoyed nights like this, where she could reflect on all the times she had wished for silence. It reminded her of her childhood home, when her parents had been away at a Conference during the summer holidays. It gave her time to clear her mind of its cluttered thoughts and just enjoy being alive.
Hermione was reminded of Ron's golden rule in life - that silence was made to be broken - when a dull thud, the fourteenth for that evening, sounded on the window behind her. Her contented smile thinned as the thud sounded again, but she made no move to get up and investigate, having learnt her lesson days ago about answering persistent owls.
THUD
She gave a long-suffering sigh and closed the book in front of her. 'Maybe if I leave the room, it would go away?' she thought. But there was no such luck as the familiar tapping of a beak to glass sounded soon after. Taking a deep, calming breath, she stood and turned to the window.
There, floating in the dark night like a rainbow of different coloured wings, flew fifteen owls, all wanting to deliver their packages.
"Shoo!" Hermione hissed, waving her arms at the birds, who stared back at her with wide-eyed wonder.
None of the birds flew away. One little one even tapped the window again; it's head bobbing to the locked latch, wanting to be let in. She could see it held the distinctive red envelope of a Howler she didn't want to answer.
"Go away! I'm not interested!" she called a little louder, making shooing motions with her arms again.
The birds did not leave. She spotted a large owl dip down from the pack, a large cylinder package dragging it toward earth. Her inner animal rights activist couldn't let the torture continue.
"Dammit, why me?" she moaned as she walked toward the window to undo the latch, letting the excited, hooting delivery owls in.
"Here," she sighed, reaching in to her robe pocket for the Owl treats she had taken to carrying around, scattering them on the table so that each owl could dive on them the moment she had relieved it from its burden. The little one with the nasty howler gave her a soft hoot and a friendly peck on the hand before joining the melee. She only hoped its owner was so kind.
She watched the owls eating for a moment, chewing her lip apprehensively. The howler bought her attention unwittingly back to the pile of letter and she was forced to open it before it burst in to flames and ruined Sirius's antique coffee table.
"I AM REPORTING YOU TO THE MINISTRY FOR REPEATED ADMINISTRATION OF A LOVE POTION ON SIRIUS BLACK! A MAN LIKE HIM COULD NEVER FALL IN LOVE WITH A CONTROLLING HARPY LIKE YOU!" the shrill angry voice, like many she had encountered in the past week, came spilling forth, making the owls flutter in agitation before returning to their snacks.
"Well, that wasn't so bad," she muttered to herself. The howler, like the forty-seven before it, wasn't much different.
She went to pick up a letter, but stopped remembering the white powder on the last one that had made her break out in boils. Who knew witches could be so vindictive?
Hermione's troubles had all started a week earlier, when the November issue of Playwitch had been released. Her lover, Sirius Black, had been chosen as one of Wizarding Britain's Top 10 Sexiest, an award she agreed with whole-heartedly. And so did a lot of other woman, it seemed, who had caught wind of the raunchy photo spread.
Witch Weekly had caught on to the growing enthusiasm for the ex-convict - turned war hero - and within two days had produced several articles about the man Hermione had fallen in love with. Their relationship had suddenly become very public and before she knew it, it was like the post-war period all over again, where every one of her moves was being recorded.
All it had taken was one photo – taken completely out of context, of course – of them having an argument in public. They had been in the village of Hogsmeade, buying fruit and vegetables from one of the many weekend vendors. She and Sirius had been discussing their favourite flavour pie when she had revealed hers was in fact salmon and spinach. Sirius had pulled a face of disgust and of course, she had given him a look of disapproval, thrusting an arm full of apples at him to hold.
What the camera had missed was the moments directly after, where he had dumped the apples back in to their box, grabbed her by the shoulders and snogged her senseless. They had walked off laughing arm-in-arm and Hermione had thought nothing of it, until the next morning when the first Howler had arrived.
Witch Weekly had decided that Hermione was a control freak and Sirius was being repressed by her prudish ways. The public seemed to agree, so now she was helpless but to try and ignore the onslaught of hate mail – something that was easier said than done.
Hermione waited until the last owl had hopped though the open window, closing and locking it behind them. She turned to the pile of letters on the table and gave a resigned sigh. Walking slowly back toward the table, she flicked her wand at the pile separating her hate mail from Sirius's fan mail.
She flicked her wand at her pile, and the letters filed one by one into the crackling fire - one of them squealing as its dangerous contents shrivelled up. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she settled back in to her chair to cheer herself up by reading the undying adoration other woman had for her lover.
The first three letters contained marriage proposals, addresses and one even had a picture of a very plump woman in what Hermione hoped was lingerie. The fourth letter was so drenched in perfume that Hermione sneezed for a full minute before sending it to its fiery doom without even reading it. This left her with a postcard from Australia, from a woman inviting Sirius over for some fun down under and the odd cylinder package that she had noticed the owl struggling to carry earlier.
Flicking the postcard in the 'read' pile, she pulled the cardboard cylinder toward her, realizing it was the type of packaging muggles used to transport and protect posters. Pulling the plastic stopped from the end, she tipped it upside down and shook its content out.
It was indeed a poster. It was faded and crinkled and had been folded several times so that the white lines marred the image. Hermione spread the poster out on the table, turning it around to face her as she stood to look down at it. She froze, her eyes bulging from her head as realization struck. It was Sirius.
The stage was set beautifully. It was an ancient ship, by the look of the bowed walls and antique wooden furniture. The poster appeared to rock back and forth, the occasional wave crashing against the window of the captain's quarters. For surely that was what Sirius was supposed to be - the captain of a pirate ship.
He sat on a low chair; one boot clad leg draped over one arm, his flamboyant hat tipped back as he appeared to doze. His shirtless chest rose and fell with each swell of the hips and Hermione felt her mouth go suddenly dry. She would recognise that pose anywhere, but why was he doing it there?
She scanned the poster for any clues, flipping it over and seeing the writing at the top.
October 1979. The Black Pirate.
She frowned, realizing Sirius could only be nineteen in the picture. She noticed the small swirling writing at the bottom left hand corner of the poster and comprehension dawned.
"Dear Margaret, love always..." Hermione read, realizing that this Margaret had sent the vintage poster in the hopes of an autograph.
Hermione turned it back over, wondering why Sirius had never told her about it, tempted to floo him home and ask. The Sirius in the poster's breathing seemed to change, a frown marring his features as he came awake. He rolled his neck from side to side as she watched, bringing his large, unmarked hands up to work out the kinks, slowly trailing them down his chest to scratch his stomach.
Hermione smiled, recognising the familiar motions. Sirius opened his eyes, arching his back before noticing her there. He smirked and winked, pulling his leg off the arm and using his knees to stand in one fluid motion. Her breath caught at the beauty of him, so perfect in his youth. Not that she didn't think he was perfect now, but there was something about seeing him before the trauma of Azkaban.
The Sirius in the poster stood and swept his head in a gallant bow, one ankle crossed over the other as the oversized feather swept the floor. She smiled and felt herself tipping her head back. Sirius seemed to take this as encouragement as he straightened and licked his lips, his eyes racking up and down her scantily-clad frame.
She felt her face heat, tugging at the hem of the short satin nighty she had put on for the real Sirius. If the old Sirius liked it then the new one was sure to jump out of his skin when he came home. She watched as the Black Pirate flexed and posed, winked and blew air kisses. She could have watched him all night.
The flames to her side turned a brilliant emerald green just as she started to sit down, still watching the moving poster. Hermione jumped guiltily, and was a little breathless as Sirius's familiar dragon hide boots stepped out into the library.
"Honey, I'm home," he joked, when the rest of him emerged.
"Sirius," she sighed, feeling her heart pound.
She stood again, the coffee table between them. His eyes started at her feet and worked their way up to her unbound hair, pausing at all the significant places.
"If I'd known I had this waiting for me, I would have come home sooner," he said in a low, smooth voice, taking a step toward her.
She bit her lip, contemplating hiding the poster and letting him take her upstairs to ravish her. However, her conscience wouldn't let her.
"I had fifteen owls while you were gone," she said, bringing his eyes away from her chest so he could meet her eyes.
"Oh, yours or mine?" he asked, stopping with a devastating grin.
"Mostly mine. One lady called me a controlling harpy and accused me of giving you a love potion," she replied, wetting her lips nervously.
"Baby, if anybody is under the influence of a love potion it is you. How I managed to deserve someone like..." he trailed off, his eyes drinking her in once again. Hermione flushed and hid her smile, still not used to his compliments, no matter how sincere.
As his eyes were coming back up, he caught the movement from the coffee table and paused, much like she had.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, taking a step toward it to look down at his nineteen year old self.
"Some witch would like you to sign it," Hermione told him, watching his face to see how he would react.
"I had no idea there were any of these still around," he breathed, staring down at it with a mixed look of amusement and sadness.
"What is it?" she asked, coming around to wrap her arms around his waist, moulding her body to his. Seeing his face she didn't have the heart to accuse him of keeping things from her.
"We were short on cash. James thought it would be a great joke to put ourselves in the draw for the Playwitch Top 10 Sexiest Wizards competition that year," he explained, pulling her close in and nuzzling her neck, his breath smelling of firewhisky.
"Let me guess, you won," she teased, nudging his side to show she wasn't upset he had kept the secret.
He scoffed.
"How could they reject me?"
"So why haven't I seen this picture before?" she asked, thinking it far surpassed the quality of his latest Playwitch spread.
"Because, Playwitch had an immediate recall of that issue when I was convicted."
"Lucky Margaret, getting you all to herself for a so long, you were quite the looker," she teased, kissing his neck as he continued to look down at his former self.
"Wait a minute," he said a moment later, "Were?"
"Well, age has set..." she squealed as he picked her up and threw her to the couch, not letting her finish.
"You'd best lower your sails and prepare to be boarded," he said, with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"What?" Hermione asked, moments before he launched himself at her, landing spread eagle over her prone form.
"Sirius!" she cried, which turned in to a breathy moan when his lips met hers with heated passion.
"With age comes great experience," he quipped, pulling away to palm one heavy breast, causing her to arch her back into him with another moan.
"I can't imagine you ever being a fumbling teenager," she groaned, when his lips pressed to her neck, working their way down to the soft line of her teddy, his tongue tracing the swell of her breast.
"I wasn't, skipped that class ands went straight through to the advanced lessons," he said, using his teeth to pull down one flimsy strap and then the other, nudging the fabric from her breasts and groaning as her delights were exposed to the cool night air.
Hermione couldn't form a dignified reply as his mouth sought out one pert nipple, biting and suckling until she was a shuddering, incoherent mess. She gripped tuft-fulls of his hair as he found the other nipple and gave it the same treatment, pulling back with a pop when her legs wrapped around his lower back, her heels digging in as she urged him closer to her core.
"So impatient," he murmured, bringing his lips up to kiss hers again.
"Please," she sighed against him, feeling feverish with need. Staring at the Black Pirate and now having the living, breathing thing pressed so intimately against her was enough to send her mind reeling, "I need you."
Sirius grinned and pulled back to reach in to his pocket, pulling out his wand and casting an expert Divesto! over them. Hermione's skin broke out in goose-bumps when she felt him finally press against her. Sirius lowered himself to his elbows again, letting his heavy length rest against her thigh, showing her how much he needed her too.
She reached between them, her small hand capturing his hard arousal, finding the weeping head and using the pre-cum as lube. He kissed her with renewed fervour as she pumped his aching cock with a natural talent not many knew she possessed. He groaned and thrust his hips against hers when she slowed her hand to a torturous pace and soon neither of them could take it.
Flipping over so that he was on his back and she now straddled his hips, he reached between her glistening folds to feel her wetness. Her heat pulsed against his fingers as he tested her readiness and he almost came there at the feel of her clenching muscles.
With a groan, he moved his hands to her hips and guided her over his straining length. Hermione panted and looked down, using her hand to guide him home. Hermione gave an involuntary moan as she sank slowly down his length, Sirius's fingers surely leaving bruises on her skin as he fought not to cum then and there.
"Fuck," he hissed when she hit bottom, only to raise herself up again with equal slowness.
Her skin glistened in the firelight, her white teeth gnawing her lower lip as she fought the waves of sensation. Sirius thrust his hips up, practically begging her to go faster. Hermione smirked down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure and her body caught fire.
She slowly rose back up, but this time she slammed herself down, gasping as he groaned and threw his head back, exposing the long sinewy cords of his neck and shoulders. She braced her hands against his tattooed chest as her hips rolled and thrust in to his, bringing them both so close to release.
"Sweet Merlin…" she gasped, her movements becoming frantic and out of control. Sirius, sensing how close she was, reached between them to find her aching nub and using two fingers to manipulate the wet pulsing flesh.
"Oh…Oooh…" she gasped, pushing herself up again, riding his cock and fingers, her hands coming up to cup her breasts as her orgasm hit her hard.
Sirius cried out as her walls tightened painfully around him, his hips becoming a blur as he felt her milking clasps draw out his own blissful orgasm. Hermione's body went rigid as her final pulses swept through her and she collapsed against his chest.
Sirius wrapped his heavily-decorated arms around her whole body, pinning her arms to her sides as he bent his knees and found release. He pumped his seed in to her willing body with a drawn-out shout before sagging in to the ageing cushions.
After a time, his arms went slack and she was able to sidle up his body, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He turned his chin to meet her and kissed her with every ounce of passion he possessed.
"You know," she murmured sleepily, cuddling up against him, "I think we should keep it."
"Keep what?" he rumbled quietly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he bathed in the glow of their aftermath.
"The poster… maybe I'll pin it up in our room…" she sighed, before her breathing evened out.
Sirius chuckled and looked over to the poster, thinking maybe putting it in front of his mother's portrait would be a better place. He would have to remember to send a thank you note to Margaret in the morning.
Thanks for Reading!
Authors Note: As promised, the end of my joke:
Question – Why didn't the pirate shower before he walked the plank?
Answer – Because he knew he would wash up on shore later!