Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Many thanks to my Beta, Alexis Rose!

'I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I swear" she squeaked, backing away slowly from the disgruntled looking man in front of her. She watched feebly as the right corner of his eye began to twitch.

"You're...sorry?" He was beginning to feel the faint ache in his neck that warned of an oncoming tension headache.

"It was an accident!" She backed around the desk and quickly, unthinkingly, reached for the leather bound journal. He beat her to it, slamming the tome shut, the thin red ribbon peeking out marking her last page. He towered above her, face incredulous, right eye still twitching.

"Spilling ink on the floor is an accident, Hermione." His voice was a low growl. He took a step to the left reaching for her arm. "Tripping on the stairs is an accident." She backed away, circling the other side of the desk just out of reach.

"Finding and then studiously reading my old Journal from Hogwarts is not an accident. It's an invasion of privacy." He saw her eyes wander around the room seeking the quickest escape route possible and quickly lunged over the desk to grab her. She barely escaped his grasp, shouting one more "I'm sorry" as she fled the library and locked herself in her room opposite the hallway.

She really hadn't meant to invade his privacy, she rationalized while pacing her heavily warded rooms. She had found the diary by chance while cleaning out the attic and only meant to peek inside...just to see if it was even written in or if it could be tossed out with the rest of the rubbish up there. It wasn't her fault that he kept a sexually explicit diary from his reigning marauder days. Nor was it her fault that the page she happened to turn to contained so much fire and passion that her cheeks burned...and...well...her underwear was soaked in less than five seconds.

She hadn't even thought it was possible to be turned on so quickly, so all consuming. So what if she held on to the diary for a couple of days? She fully intended to return it to him, she just wasn't finished reading it yet. I mean really, how was she supposed to resist such well-written and knowledgeable words? Who else better to learn the sexual desires and workings of men from than the legendary young Sirius Black? If anything, he should be flattered that she considered him a scholarly worthy source on the subject.

Suddenly she felt an all-consuming sense of panic well in the pit of her stomach. "Oh Shit!" She'd left the diary in the library – the diary with copious quick-quill notes in the margins that she hadn't yet transferred to her own parchment. The diary that now contained comparison notes with her own experiences, fantasies, and impulses. The diary which made it woefully clear just how disappointing her sex life has been, and just how far she would be willing to go to change that.

She had to get that diary back before he opened it, but did she really want to face his wrath by storming back in the library right now? For all she knew he hadn't even opened it yet. No, knowing Sirius he probably threw the diary in a robe pocket and sat down with a bottle of fire whiskey to stew in his anger.

It would be best to wait and approach him calmly and rationally in the morning. Or to slink into the library and sneak it out of his robes when he inevitably passes out drunk. It wasn't that Sirius was a regular alcoholic, no, but he had been known to overindulge when his anger was provoked to an extreme level. He was not an angry drunk at least; it actually calmed him to an almost childishly affectionate version of himself. Yes, waiting until he was drunk to beg forgiveness and quickly remove her notes from the diary was the best possible plan.

Sirius' anger was slowly dissipating as he indulged in his second tumbler of fire whiskey. Shit, what had Hermione been thinking reading his old diary like that? It was hard enough trying to do the "right thing" and keep from fantasizing about his roommate, his young Godson's best friend, the "golden girl" of the golden trio who exuded an innocent almost virginal charm that teased him daily. Oh, how he wanted to be the one to corrupt her, to transform that innocence into a self-confident sensuality.

Now, every time he looked at her he'd be wondering what she thought of his sexual experiences. Whether she'd read about them for pleasure, with a sense of amusement or abject horror.

When he returned from the veil last year and set eyes on his beautiful savior, he wanted to fuck her right on the floor of the Department of Mysteries. When re-introductions were made, he felt like a dirty old man for all the thoughts that were flying through his head. How could the Goddess in front of him really be the 15 year old child he remembered as if it were yesterday? Of course, yesterday for him was nearly 10 years ago for her.

For a few months he shared Grimmuald place with Harry, Hermione and Ron. Ron moved out to play professional Quidditch and Harry was rarely home as he climbed the ranks of the Auror department. Various members of the DA and Order moved in and out over the year, and Sirius was grateful for the company. After so many years alone, he needed the constant companionship and personal connections. Through all the comings and goings, Hermione always remained, working from home as an independent researcher. She remained as his friend, his rock, his constant torturer.

He had noticed her eyes trailing him over the past week. At first he was amused, watching her blush and stammer, barely able to stay in the same room alone with him. Then he noticed her looks turn to fervent stares, like a hawk about to swoop down on her prey. He was used to overt sexual flirtations from women, but from the taboo Hermione Granger the looks were enough to leave him stammering and blushing, unable to stay in the same room. Suddenly, he found himself wanking after every conversation and meal with her. Well, until he walked into the library to find her pouring over his old journal.

He quickly got up from the couch and strode over to the desk, hesitating only briefly before opening the journal to the page marked by the thin red ribbon. His eyes widened instantly at the sight of her small sprawling notes in the margins, and for the first time that day his face broke out into a gleeful grin. "Oh really, Hermione? I think that can be arranged..."

Journal Passage:

...Oh Merlin, how her hot wet mouth felt around my cock. I was about to beg for more tongue, more suction, just...more...when I heard Filch's footsteps outside the cupboard door. I bit my lip to keep from groaning and looked down. Her eyes met mine, wide with shock, her mouth still around me, and I swear the little minx ran her tongue slowly to the base of me, and, oh, sucked me down her throat. The footsteps retreated just in time for me to cum in her mouth. "20 points to Gryffindor," I said, catching my breath, remembering fleetingly that she insisted on role playing. I wonder if she was imagining a specific professor when she was on me. Hell, she could imagine Dumbledore himself for all I cared, so long as she...

Hermione's notes:

Need to work on deep throating apparently, wonder why Ron never suggested it before. Sirius seems more into sex than role-playing. Pity, seems like role-play could make it more exciting sometimes.

Noted role-play again on pages 6, 12, 25-28, and 35. Possible ideas/kinks to try out:

Student/Teacher

Master/Slave-shows promise...could I call him "Sir" instead, "Master" seems a bit too extreme

Strangers/Different languages - I should brush up on my French, let him pick me up in a bar: "Je parle francais, Voulez vous coucher avec moi?"

Magical Bondage-Hot, Hot, Hot, should research incantations

Exhibition/voyeurism - seemed turned on at possibility of getting caught...

Sirius murmured a quick curse under his breath as he looked up from the journal. All his intentions to remain platonic and respectful were now wiped from his mind and he found himself pondering exactly how he should punish her. After all, she had been torturing him all week, the little minx. She had all these wonderful ideas and yet, instead of seducing him, she spent all week teasing him with her coy little smiles and knowing glances. Yes, Hermione Granger needed to be taught a lesson, and Sirius was just the man to teach her. Too bad payback would inevitably torture him as well.

She stole into the library at half past two in the morning and was relieved to see Sirius slumped across the couch. The journal lay open on the desk and she walked quietly to retrieve it. But wait, why was it open? Her cheeks colored and she darted another glance toward the dark-haired Marauder reclining on the couch. Her eyes met his gray orbs and for a moment she forgot how to breathe.

"I think that journal provided interesting reading for both of us," he drawled, swinging his legs over to pull into a sitting position. He looked away from her to pour another tumbler of whiskey, allowing her a moment to collect her thoughts and calm her heart beat.

If he read her thoughts, she mused, then this could go one of three ways. Either he would make things incredibly awkward by rebuking her obvious attraction for him, or he would mock and tease her endlessly, or – oh please let it be the third way – he would tease her in a much more intimate and appealing manner.

She was still standing there, halfway to the desk, her face now masked with a guarded look. He chuckled lightly and noted how her back stiffened. "I suppose I should thank you," he said, lifting his tumbler in a mock toast before knocking it back. He recognized fleetingly that his current state of intoxication would make it hard for him to be guarded. But maybe it would be easier for her to react favorably if she saw that he was relaxed.

"Thank me?" She took a hesitant step forward.

"After 12 years in Azkaban, and another 10 behind the veil, I didn't even think I could feel this again, didn't think I could do this." He gestured down to his lap and broke eye contact to gaze back at the desk, where the blasted journal that started it all lay inconspicuously open.

"Feel this?"

"This urge, this desire. I thought Azkaban had taken this from me." His eyes slid back to her face, his tongue darting fervently out to moisten his lips. "It's been a long time."

"Wait." She tried not to follow the trace of his tongue with her eyes and shook her head. "You expect me to believe that in the year since you've been back you haven't been with a woman? And don't use the years behind the veil as an excuse Sirius, you already confessed that you don't remember them and they didn't age or adversely affect your body at all."

He snarled. His face took on a sardonic Snape-like expression as he reached and poured himself another tumbler of fire whiskey. "Oh, I've dated women since I've been back. They come at me in troves. They all want to get into the pants of a famous convict and seeming Dark wizard." He knocked back the amber liquid and slammed the glass down none to gently. "Problem is, the moment they get me alone they want to know all about James and Lily, and my years in Azkaban. Kind of puts a damper on the mood."

What he didn't mention was how little he wanted those women in the first place. How he tried half-heartedly once or twice but couldn't face their pitying looks once they realized he couldn't hold his erection. How the most satisfying completion he felt since returning was on his own, hand to cock, stroking quickly as he read her notes in the margins.

Her face didn't reflect the pity or concern he had grown accustomed to and expected from her. No, her eyes retained their sharp calculating quality that seemed to peer into his mind. Suddenly aware of her sobriety, he nudged the bottle of fire whiskey toward her and beckoned her to sit in the adjoining chair.

Feeling both wary and intrigued she sat down. Did Sirius "Sex God" "Fuck me now" Black just admit to celibacy? And she thought she had problems. Not quite knowing what to say, because "I'm sorry your sex life is shit" seemed quite inappropriate coming from her, she sat back in the velvet lined chair and took a large sip straight from the bottle.

Neither seemed willing to speak or break eye contact. It wasn't until the clock chimed three a few moments later that either so much as fidgeted.

"What do you mean 'didn't'?"

He quirked an eyebrow.

She cleared her throat delicately, "You said you didn't think you, um...could. Do you mean that past tense?"

Silently cursing herself for sounding so eager, she slid the bottle across the table and out of temptations reach.

A slow, genuine smile stretched across his face. "Oh, I think I could perform wonderfully now, given the right inspiration," he purred. Merlin how he loved to watch her squirm in her seat, her legs crossing and uncrossing and her breath hitching slightly.

"Right inspiration?"

"Why yes, who better to explore with then an understanding friend, who, if I may be so bold, seems to need a sexual awakening as much as I need a reawakening."

Her face flushed, though she wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or excitement. "I don't know what to say," she whispered truthfully, because she didn't want to admit that her mind was warring between answering "Oh God, take me now" and "take off those damn pants already."

"You said you'd make it up to me," he smirked, waiting for the flash of anger and, yes, the red blush to flood over her gorgeous chest. He always wondered if that same blush tinted her skin when she was in the throes of passion.

"Are you trying to guilt me into sex?"

He barked out laughter. "I don't need to use guilt. I know you want me. If it helps I'll confess that the attraction is quite mutual. I've wanted you since I returned from the veil. I just never thought you'd look twice at a used-up old man."

"You're not used-up," she interjected, "or old."

He smiled. "I can't promise I'll match your fantasies," he nodded toward the diary, "but I never leave a girl hanging without pleasure. I just want a chance." He licked his lips again, just imagining her taste.

"OK." It was out before she even registered her decision made.

Her eyes glanced longingly at the desk and returned quickly to his amused face. His eyes were dancing with pure joy, like a child whose Christmas gifts arrived early.

"How about dinner tomorrow at seven?"

"What?" The dazed look in her eyes faded to confusion. "I thought..." her eyes again glanced over to the desk.

Sirius chuckled. "I'm not a lusty 16-year-old anymore, and neither are you. I prefer to get to know a lady first. It's all part of a larger seduction plan."

"But we already know each other!"

He chuckled again. "Eager are we?" Waiting for the blush again, she did not disappoint. "We know each other as friends yes, but not as lovers or potential lovers."

Before she could interject he wagged his finger. "You may have read my diary but I changed a lot after Hogwarts. I never wrote about my more serious affairs, or how my tastes matured before Azkaban even. Don't look so crestfallen, I think you'll like the older version of me much better. If I remember correctly, I wasn't very selfless in my youth."

Her face blushed again and she looked away shyly, wishing she wasn't such an open book. She resisted the urge to tell him that he could be as selfish as he wanted if he'd only bend her over the desk and take her right now. She didn't have a ton of experience sure, but she was far from being a virgin. Somehow she felt she could handle an impulsive sex-starved Sirius better than a seductive and charming one. How the hell would she keep her guard up now?

"OK, Dinner it is then." There was really no other argument.