Author's Note:
This takes place in the Christmas break of the fifth book, that's based more on the fifth movie than anything. If that makes any sense.
This is my first fic, so please review and let me know if I should continue.
"What Is and What Should Never Be"
Sirius Black gazed, mesmerized, at Hermione Granger as she sat in the kitchen, enjoying the last of Mrs. Weasley's Christmas pudding. He so enjoyed her company. She was growing into a beautiful young woman, in many ways reminiscent of Lily Potter. There was an ethereal quality about her; she could be in a room, but somehow removed from the company within it. The girl was distant, but inexplicably within the hearts of everyone.
"Isn't it past your bedtime, Hermione?" teased Sirius, expecting an indignant outburst. The barb was recreational – to entertain, rather than displease – but the sudden color in the younger girl's cheeks made him wonder.
"I was about to ask you the same question," said the teenager coolly, thinking herself very clever in the company of the Weasley twins. She had no choice but to accredit the comment to the Firewhiskey she had been sipping casually all evening.
For an instant, the youthful light in Sirius' eyes burned out. He was mildly offended by her response and it showed on his roguishly handsome face. Blue eyes burned beneath his usually cool and collected veneer, displaying his obvious disenchantment with her words. Steeling himself, he sidled toward Hermione, putting on an incredulously bemused grin made just visible by the upturned corner of his lips. His eyes were shining again, and he seemed to tower over her.
"Don't you get cheeky," he warned her, half-jokingly with a wag of his finger, "I'll put you over my knee and smack you".
Harry Potter and the Weasley children snickered with raised eyebrows but made a point to avoid Sirius' eyes. With her skillful and offhanded comment, Hermione had hit a nerve. While Sirius remained, in many ways, as youthful and mischievous as he had been during his own tenure at Hogwarts, he had become a paternal man for the sake of his godson. Moreover, he had never been a man to cross.
The usually capable Hermione grasped impotently at a response. She felt his eyes on her, waiting expectantly for words she was unable to form. Sirius was there, waiting patiently; she both hated and admired his civility in the face of their shared humiliation. Returning to a state of ease that belied the conflict raging behind his eyes, he tilted up the corner of his mouth in a wry smile and suddenly she spoke. Her voice was uncharacteristic, laced with immaturity.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" muttered Hermione under her breath. A strange tingling rose inside her. Dead silence enveloped the candlelit kitchen. Sirius, slowly abandoning the smile for a rare stoicism, raised his eyebrows. He stepped in front of her and lifted up her chin, looking her squarely in the eye. Hermione's heart, which was rattling against its bone cage, seemed recklessly determined to escape.
"Pardon?" Sirius asked the girl quietly, daring her to repeat the remark.
Harry met the eyes Ron and Ginny. Without a word they rose from the table donning fake airs of weariness, and left the kitchen. Fred and George exchanged impish glances, careful to hide their delight from Sirius. However, before Apparating from the kitchen, they glanced at Hermione with a look of empathy that came from a wealth of understanding.
"Nothing," squeaked Hermione, endeavoring to avoid Sirius' stony, appraising stare. Sirius released Hermione's chin, but his look of warning kept her rooted to the spot. For a fleeting moment, Hermione was a nervous first year facing Professor McGonagall. Sirius waited until Harry, Ron, and Ginny's voices faded from the top of the stairs before rounding on Hermione.
"Right," Sirius began angrily, "So you're not a little angel, eh? This newfound freedom has given you a newfound attitude, has it? I would expect this kind of insolence of any of those boys upstairs, but you are a young lady. You should act like one."
Hermione stood before Sirius, petrified and humiliated. She was not used to being told off. But, intermingled with embarrassment and a childish fear, Hermione felt another emotion: a longing. It almost belied the others.
"I didn't think you actually…" started Hermione, but Sirius cut her off.
"…Meant it?" asked Sirius, finishing the teenager's sentence. He advanced toward Hermione and looked down at her as though she were a child. "That's completely off the point. I enjoy having a laugh, but I don't appreciate back-chat, girl." Hermione looked down at her feet. Sirius continued, looking sternly down at the girl who wilted unabashedly beneath his gaze.
"Your parents aren't here, and in case you hadn't noticed, this isn't Hogwarts. You're like a sister to Harry. Therefore, you are my responsibility. I'm the one left to look after you. You may be nearly of age now, but underneath your confidence and sharp mind, it is painfully obvious that you remain a naughty little child. If you ever hope to face Voldemort, you will need discipline and maturity. It seems that you still need lessons in these traits, Hermione."
With that, Sirius finished the dressing-down. He stood in judgment of the girl, weighing his options.
Hermione's palms began to sweat and her face began to flush. The feeling of humiliation reached a boiling point inside her; this could not be happening—not to her. This sort of reprimand was usually given to Fred or George. She tried in earnest to hold back her tears, but was unsuccessful. Sirius, observing the tears in her eyes, sighed wearily and pulled her into a close embrace.
"Oh, Hermione," he said, "I'm sorry. I know you belong to the school of thought which subscribes to the idea of expulsion as worse than death. Undoubtedly, I've been hard enough on you."
Hermione chuckled and wiped her eyes. Sirius, holding her close, looked down at her with deep affection and love in his eyes that neither of them seemed to understand.
"You behave. You be a good girl," said Sirius with a firm yet imploring tone to his voice. "Please continue to set a good example to those boys upstairs, who so worship you." He kissed her forehead.
After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and released Hermione from his embrace. They stepped back from one another and as Hermione began to cross to the foot of the stairs, Sirius spoke the words that would be his last to her.
"In response to your remark: I'd enjoy it more than you would, don't you worry. Don't answer back to me again, girl."
The unbridled feeling of longing for Sirius erupted inside Hermione again, but she dared not act on it. What if this feeling were not mutual? Furthermore, she could not fathom the irreparable damage that would surely be dealt to their relationship, as it stood, if it were.
Hermione stood at the foot of the stairs, unable to summon the strength to look back at him. She was overwhelmed by a plethora of complicated emotions which she did not wish to acknowledge, least of all in front of Sirius. She was disgusted by this entire encounter. Disgusted with herself.
A past exchange with Ron echoed through her mind.
Exciting, isn't it, breaking the rules?
Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?
Sirius was right. She had deserved this humiliating experience, and probably the humiliating experience she was spared. This admission to herself was agonizing enough without the other admission: this encounter only made her want him more.
As Hermione responded to Sirius' order, a single tear rolled down her scarlet cheek.
"Yes, sir."
As Hermione ascended the rickety staircase of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius surveyed her with a pained and exhausted expression. Unbeknownst to her, he was fighting the same battle with himself. Hermione reached the second floor landing and gazed down. Sirius had disappeared into shadow.
A/N: Good? Bad? I'm contemplating an epilogue... comments?