A/N: Now, don't expect me to use the pet name 'baby' much. I'm very against it, but the song and the story and all… Well, I had to because it fit. But I still had an ache in my heart by writing it.
Inspired by the song Baby It's Cold Outside written by Frank Loesser, but sung by a lot of other people, too. Also, somewhat for the holiday-winter season even though it was never supposed to be a Christmas song, per say, but fits with the winter season quite nicely, if you live somewhere cold like me.
Being stuck in the dreary cold of London was one thing.
Being in stuck in the dreary cold of London wearing only a black cocktail dress was another thing entirely.
And Hermione's hair was falling out of its fine French twist. And her black flats weren't protecting any part of her feet very well-the sole might as well have been nonexistent, since the coldness of the concrete radiated through to the bottom of her foot.
Her feet ached, she was freezing, and an atrocious mess. And it was all because of Neville.
Now, Hermione was good friends with Neville, and he was a good friend too. However, he still obtained many of his clumsy tendencies. Then she had agreed to go to dinner with him for the sake of catching up, she didn't know it would be at one of the finest Muggle restaurants in the city of London, which didn't have an Apparition point until you reached the outside of the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road.
She didn't know just what she was getting her self into my accepting his invitation.
He had proceeded to accidentally trip her and mess up her hair, spill water all over her coat-leaving her vulnerable to the cold of winter-and be summoned by his pregnant wife in the middle of dinner.
He had to leave immediately for Hannah Abbott, and while she understood, it meant she had to trek the one and a half mile walk in the cold by herself, no coat, bad shoes and all. She was freezing, bitter, shivering and felt like she was getting frostbite on her toes-in fact, she was nearly certain of it.
Hermione was just thankful when she got to the Apparition point and could Apparate to the front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
She went up between the eleven and thirteen, and the number twelve came up. She went through quickly, not taking note of which of the current inhabitants was home, and who wasn't. She stormed straight down to the kitchen and immediately began to brew a hot cup of tea. She did so magically, not being able to bear the minutes of coldness with no warmth if she heated the water on the stove.
"Cold, isn't it?" Hermione heard from the kitchen door.
She paused from sipping her cup of tea to turn and look at the man standing before her. She simply frowned at him before going back to drinking. Sirius grinned at the brush-off and moved toward the cabinet that held the fine china.
Hermione knew what he was doing. He had liquor stored there. He had done this even before he fell through the Veil. He would hide bottles of liquor anywhere-in the kitchen, the bedrooms, the library, the drawing room, just about anywhere that had a space large enough to hold more than a liter of Firewhiskey.
He did it especially now, after Hermione had worked to bring him back from the Veil. Everyone was moving on with their lives. Remus was married to Tonks, Ron, Hermione's ex-boyfriend, was dating Luna Lovegood, Harry was trying to build the courage to ask Ginny to marry him (facing the most dangerous wizard in the world was nothing compared to asking the love of your life to marry you) and Hermione was starting a new job at the Ministry, and housing with Sirius, Harry and Ginny at Grimmauld Place while she was at it. But Sirius was trying to make up for lost years from when he was in Azkaban.
Sirius pulled out bottle of Firewhiskey. Immediately he said, "Love, want something that'll really warm you up?"
Since the tea wasn't doing its job that well, she held out her cup for him to spike her drink with the alcohol. He chuckled and did so, adding a good amount of Firewhiskey before pulling a chair out for her.
"Bad date?" he asked knowingly.
She smiled, "Not a date, just catching up with an old friend."
"Still a date." he said, "You dressed up in a short little cocktail dress and did your hair and makeup all nice and went to a nice restaurant, therefore, it's a date."
"It's not a date. Neville is married."
Sirius nodded understandingly, "A date with a married man… Hermione, I'm appalled at you."
Needless to say, he had ruffled her feathers. "Sirius!" she fumed, "It was not a date!"
Before she knew it, he was laughing again, "Relax, kitten, I'm only kidding."
She frowned and kept drinking, craving the warming feeling that immediately spread through her, "Well quit it…"
Sirius smiled and took her empty cup when she was finished, "Darling, it's cold outside. Why don't you go take a shower and warm up."
She nodded and got up, leaving her purse on the table and her shoes by the door, desperate to get rid of the aching feeling that still settled on her feet.
She walked straight into the bathroom across from her bedroom without clothes to change into, and Hermione turned on the water. Steam filled up the bathroom quickly, clouding the mirrors. She stripped off the cocktail dress and undergarments and stepped under the hot water, letting it engulf her.
She couldn't help but like Sirius, she thought as she lathered her hair with shampoo and washing it out when she was done. Even when he was a major prat, she usually knew he was just kidding with her. But he could care sometimes, and when he did he was stern, like when he told her to go take a shower. Bits of caring like that usually followed when he was rude to her, whether exceptionally rude or just a little.
Hermione washed conditioner into and then out of her hair as she continued to think about Sirius Black. He was always teasing her. Whether it was with something she did that day, and hanging it over her head, or teasing her with himself, it didn't matter. It was mostly with himself though.
As she washed her body, she thought about him prancing around in the mornings with his pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, no shirt, it nearly gave Hermione a heart attack when she saw him, his face glowing in pride of his fit body. She should be accustomed to it by now, but for some reason she wasn't. And then he was always brushing hairs out of her face, always teasing her, always flicking and poking her, like a middle school-aged boy would do to girls to be mean to them.
But Sirius wasn't a jerk. He was delightful sometimes, and annoying sometimes, and sweet sometimes, and he was just Sirius Black. He could be pleasant or grumpy or awful, but it didn't make Hermione think much less of him.
Hermione couldn't say she really wanted Sirius Black, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't. He was handsome, sexy and taunting. He teased her with what she would never be able to call hers, and while she knew he wasn't actually doing that, it seemed like it.
Hermione washed all the soap off her body and turned off the water. She got out of the shower, completely warm now, not even feeling the cold that hit her body after the water was all off of it. She wrapped a fluffy towel around her body before stepping out. It was not that cold in the house anymore. Maybe Sirius had cast warming charms over it for her.
Hermione then realized she had forgotten her purse and shoes in the kitchen. She walked down the narrow stairs to the brightly lit kitchen, smelling faintly of Firewhiskey. This made her yearn for it, especially when she saw the bottle sitting on the counter.
She grabbed her purse and shoes though, and was about to leave the room before turning back to sate her desire for the warming alcohol. She grabbed the bottle, and uncorked it quickly before she began to drink straight from the bottle.
She didn't stop at one sip. Since she didn't see Sirius anywhere, she continued to chug from the bottle of Firewhiskey, relishing in the burning sensation that it made while sliding down her throat. It scorched her lungs and settled solidly in her stomach, feeling like a whole ton of lava from the world's hottest volcano.
It felt good, though. It was calming to her, numbing her mind and body. She forgot that it was cold outside or that her coat was ruined or that nothing covered her body but a towel, and she was in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. It wasn't out in the open, but it certainly wasn't the most privet place she could be doing this in.
But the Firewhiskey told her not to care. It told her to relax. It told her to sit in a chair and slump down and stay like that until Sirius came along.
And come along, Sirius did. "Well, well." he said in a light voice from the doorway, "Didn't mum ever tell you not to drink from bottles of alcohol that belong to strangers?"
Hermione snapped up, but the Firewhiskey was telling her not to behave like Hermione. The Firewhiskey was telling her to just go with it. She smiled, "Well, you're no stranger, Sirius Black."
He barked a laugh and said, "I'm strange enough, aren't I?"
"I'd say I know you very well."
"Not well enough, I suppose."
Hermione stood up, gripping the knot of her towel to make sure it didn't fall loose. Previously distracted by Hermione drinking his alcohol, Sirius now noticed she was wearing just a towel. His eyes raked over her body, from her long, snowy legs to her shapely hips where the towel clung, slim waist and concealed, milky breasts. His eyes ran up her smooth neck to her face. Her eyes were clouded from the whiskey, and her chestnut curls were tangled and untamed from her shower.
"Like what you see?" she asked innocently, sauntering over to him in a saucy way.
Sirius had always had a lingering appreciation for Hermione's good looking body. He liked her realness, he liked her sexiness. She didn't even try, but going to and coming home from work in professional robes didn't alter his image of her. He saw her around the house, wearing things like shorts and slimming pairs of jeans and camisoles and almost low cut shirts made him enjoy how little she tried and how sexy she really was.
In the library, he was watch her read her thick books, smiling at something in them, brushing that wild hair out of her face. She would go over work things on a desk in there, scrunching her eyebrows together in confusion, still trying to get that ever-wild hair out of her way. It was taunting to him, it made him want her.
She was right in front of him now, looking up into his fathomless grey eyes while he stared into hers, usually the color of amber, but tonight there were cloudy and dark with something-lust, perhaps. He was transfixed by them, and moved closer. He didn't realize his lips were just a hair away from hers until he was kissing them, and she was kissing him back vigorously.
Her lips were more intoxicating than the strongest Firewhiskey. They were softer than the most fluffy pup. They tasted better than all of the sweetest, most savory treats combined. When she granted him access to the inside of her mouth, it was heavenly. Her tongue, so soft and wet tasted like both the Firewhiskey she had just consumed and something uniquely Hermione-it was sweet and salty and tangy, and tasted like everything wonderful in the world. It was only what he could think of as a very beautiful taste.
His lips traveled down to her neck and he got a smell of her. She smelled divine. Her body soap was something citrus-smelling, possibly grapefruit, and sugary. He smelled it all the time. His senses were heightened by his canine abilities, and he could smell her coming a mile away. Sweet, simple, celestial.
The taste of her skin was much like her lips and tongue-sweet, savory, but without the Firewhiskey.
He paid attention to his actions now, trying to make his brain less fuzzy from what she smelled like. His lips ghosted over the side of her neck and back up, to where her tonsils could be felt from her skin. Sirius placed butterfly kisses up to her ear, and then began to place open-mouthed suckles down to the joint of her neck and shoulder. Hermione moaned and clutched his hair, mainly to try to balance herself.
Not only was she intoxicated by the alcohol, but by Sirius's kisses as well.
She was getting dizzy, and Sirius sensed this, so he wrapped his arms tight around her waist to hold her up. He kissed down to her collarbone and didn't hesitate in unwrapping her from the towel and throwing it aside.
He held her at an arm's length and admired her body. It was everything he ever thought it was be, but a million times more godly. He didn't pause anymore and immediately his lips were on one of her nipples.
Hermione moaned out load and her hands flew to his shaggy locks of hair. She held him there unmoving as his lips worked on one and his fingers worked on the other nipple. Soon, they swapped places, teasing, touching, licking, pinching and nipping. Hermione's sounds were frantic, aroused and music to his ears.
He pulled away and he moved her back to sit her on the chair she was on previously. The things in his mind would make him unable to hold her up.
"We," she gasped as Sirius's lips descended on her inner left thigh, "We should go upstairs, to a, oh!" she moaned as his lips placed a soft kiss on her clitoris, "To a bedroom! Sirius!" she groaned again as his tongue slid up and down slowly, torturing her.
Sirius pulled his mouth away and licked his lips, then glanced to the doorway. He shook his head and said, "No, too far."
Once again, his lips went down along with his fingers, one of which slid into her slowly.
She was so wet for him. All he could think about was how he had caused this, he had built this up. She tasted wonderful-sweet and tangy. He couldn't help but try to gather as much of her wetness on his tongue so he could taste the beautiful sweetness that was Hermione. She could be a savory indulgence food.
She was mewling and moaning and yearning for more of him. Sounds of pleasure escaped her mouth. He wondered how long she had wanted this. Had it been for a while, like he had wanted her? Or was she just doing this because it suddenly came up?
Whatever it was, he didn't care at that moment. She was grabbing onto his hair and her walls were tightening around his fingers, and he suddenly pulled away from her altogether.
Hermione whined in disapproval and frowned at him. He only smiled and slowly stripped off his shirt, trousers and boxers. He stood before her, proud in bearing all of himself to her. She looked at him greedily, seemingly appreciating the sight of his nakedness.
Sirius lifted Hermione off the chair and instead sat in it himself, and placed her on top of him. They rubbed against each other, pleasurable for both of them. Hermione reached for his manhood and led him to her core.
He slipped inside of her slowly, tantalizingly putting inch by inch in. He had a good, firm grip on her hips which gave him total control. Even as she writhed against him, trying to make him go faster, he remained dominant, monitoring how much of him was in her and how fast. He wanted to take this slow. No rushing.
Hermione finally sheathed him completely. He paused for a moment, holding her hips down tight. He had pressed into every inch of her, and down was at the end. Of course, there was still a lot left.
He thrust hard up into her, making her keen in pleasure. He continued with a fast pace and urged her to do her part as well. With her feet, she bounced onto him again and again. With the combined force of his thrusts, it was powerful and breathtaking for both of them.
Hermione was at the brink of her orgasm when Sirius slowed his thrusts down to a simple push. He was holding her hips again so that she, too, would be slow and tranquil.
As he did this slow pace, he brought one hand down to rub her clit, while the other stayed firm on her hip. This sent Hermione over the edge, with Sirius soon following. He claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss as they both orgasmed together. Hermione moaned into it and when they were done, collapsed on him, panting hard and trying to catch her breath.
"Oh, Sirius…" she breathed, unable to do much else.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and rubbed it lightly. He said, "C'mon, let's go upstairs and get wrapped in some blankets, baby, it's cold outside."