A/N: My longest work to date P
Disclaimer: Unfortunately only the plot is mine. All else belongs to J.K. Rowling (lucky woman she is, owning Sirius Black).
Hermione's eyes fluttered open to be met with the blurry sight of what she assumed was her bedroom ceiling. She yawned, as was customary to her, and stretched her arms above her, also customary. Something that wasn't customary to her morning routine however, was her arms colliding with a non-pillowlike object when she dropped them back down beside her. Hermione turned her head so quickly to the side to investigate that she feared she might have incurred whiplash from doing so.
What she found lying next to her was a man. A loudly-snoring, dark-haired, stubbly-chinned man. In herbed. With her. Naked. She quickly peeked under the sheets to make sure her final assumption had been correct. What she saw down there was enough to cause Hermione to jump out of the bed shrieking and back away to the other side of the room, taking the quilt with her so as to hide her own naked body.
The man grunted and rubbed his sore face. At first he'd thought that it had just been a dream but the screeching that had soon followed told him that it was real and that it would be best if he woke up. Which he did. And smirked lazily at the sight before him. He dropped his head back down to the pillow and draped an arm across his eyes.
"Why don't you come back to bed, love? It's too early for all that shouting," he said, the amusement evident in his voice. "And though I'm all for exhibitionism or whatever, my privates are getting rather drafty so if you wouldn't mind returning the quilt, it'd be greatly appreciated."
Hermione's mouth hung open, though now it was less at the situation she found herself in and more at the rudeness of the man laid out in front of her. The cheek of him! She would've smothered him with the quilt in disgust had she not needed it to cover herself. Fortunately though she had ended up stood next to a chair, of which she picked up the small cushion and flung it at his face and grinned smugly when it hit her now-disgruntled target.
"What on earth are you doing in my bed anyway?" Hermione asked after returning from the evil laughter that she'd indulged in within her head. She'd quickly remembered that there was a strange, and very naked, man in her bed and that after at least a minute of being awake she still didn't know what he was doing there. Of course his reply didn't do much to remedy this.
"Your bed? This is my bed. Got my name on it and everything." He waved his hand at the headboard behind him where Hermione could just to say make out some writing scratched onto it. She couldn't see what it said but she assumed that this man had wrote it in order to prove some stupid point. Or that he actually had some problem with remembering his name. Looking at him again she suspected that either was possible.
She had been about to retort that it most definitely wasn't when her eyes wandered onto the décor around her and she finally realised she wasn't in her own room any more. It seemed obvious to her now, especially since just moments before she had been reasoning that he'd wrote on the bed a long time before. But now the dilemma was not regarding how he got into her bed but why the hell she had woken up in his bed.
She held back the small squeak that threaten to escape from her lips, banishing it back down to the pit of her stomach where it belonged. With the quilt still clutched tightly around her, she fell into the chair next to her, trying to salvaged any memories of the night before and how she'd ended up here. Her mind drew a blank, only being able to recall saying goodnight to her parents and then retiring to bed. Her bed. Not the one that she'd woken up in this morning. That only left one explanation clear to Hermione. She had been kidnapped, by this man, in the middle of the night and brought here.
Upon coming to this conclusion her eyes darted around for her wand. Her frantic search was unyielding however as her precious life line was nowhere to be found. Neither were her clothes for that matter. None of the items lying scattered on the floor seemed to belong to her, all his. Hermione looked up to see that her captor was finally showing signs of attempting to get up. He was stretching out his body and yawning in a manner that she thought resembled her cat when he awoke from a deep slumber.
Breaking free from her thoughts, Hermione rose to her feet again and glared at him. "What have you done with my clothes, you sick bastard!? And my wand! Where is it? I swear, when I get it I'm going to hex you into oblivion!"
The man chuckled. "That doesn't really give me much incentive to hand it over, does it?" He got up from the bed and walked towards Hermione. Reaching down he picked up a pair of boxer shorts by her feet and pulled them on. Seeing her chance to strike, Hermione grabbed a fistful of the man's black hair and pulled him back up by it. Hard.
"Bloody hell woman!" he cursed, writhing in pain as he was brought eye-to-eye to the girl who seemed to only be a year or two his junior. "I don't have your stupid wand, okay? And you're clothes'll be on the floor where you flung them."
Hermione pushed him away forcefully, not phased by the way he massaged his head as he landed in a pile on the floor. "What do you mean where I flung them?" she snarled. "You're not suggesting I rid myself of them willingly are you?"
With his composure regained, the man made himself comfortable on the floor, looking up at her with a brash grin that seemed to constantly ease on to his face. "Well I might of helped you with some of them but I wouldn't have gone ahead with it if you hadn't have been willing. I wouldn't sink as low as to raping a girl." The dopey grin that had disappeared for the few seconds when he was being serious, returned in the form of a self-satisfied smirk. "I wouldn't need to."
Hermione's throat suddenly became very dry and at first she found herself unable to form words. The once aggressive and angry young woman was now struggling to comprehend the idea that her previous night had been spent cavorting with this sick excuse for a man and she could remember nothing of it.
"You mean we... did it?" she finally asked meekly, the final part said at little more than a whisper. "But... but I'm a virgin!" Hermione stammered almost fearfully, not letting herself believe what he'd said was true.
The man snorted. "Not any more, love."
"I can't even remember-" But Hermione was cut off by the sound of someone entering the house, followed by footsteps moving towards to what she suspected was the bottom of the staircase.
"Sirius Black get your arse down here right now!" bellowed a male voice. "Lily's coming round later and I need you to help me put away this shopping."
Sirius laughed at this and shouted his response back down. "Coming oh dearest wife of mine!"
He got to his feet and turned his attention to the girl still holding onto his quilt as if her life depended on it. He gave her a wink and told her he'd be back in a minute before exiting the room in nothing but the black boxers that clung to his hips, leaving Hermione staring on as though she'd just seen a ghost.