Remember - The ideal nutrition source for an author is 'Reviews'

Disclaimer - These are not my characters. I just like to play around with them.

Crashed

I'm sorry Mione. I don't know how to explain to you. We're madly in love. I've met Heidi's parents too. They are happy with our relationship. We're having a small, private ceremony tomorrow at a nearby Church because we don't want to wait until we come back to England. Please try to understand that I didn't intent for this to happen. I didn't want to hurt you.

But I love her.

R.W.

"That's what you told me too, Ronald." Hermione scrunched up the letter that Ron had sent her, crushing it between her fingers.

She looked down at her fist. After the war had ended, Hermione had always been someone who would lend you a shoulder to cry on, no matter what time of what day. She knew what the war could do to you mentally, emotionally and physically. And so she offered help where ever she could, always easing people's pain and helping them find the strength to move on from the past and live a full future. But when she returned home and was secluded in the four walls of her own bedroom, the nightmares of the Final Battle would come rushing back. She would have to lie on her bed each night, reliving the days: she watched her enemies die, she saw Voldemort's snake-like eyes, alive and glaring, she helplessly re-experienced the martyrdom of her beloved friends; she remembered the murder of her family.

It was all too much to take. And so every night, Hermione would wake up from these dark memories and cry herself to sleep once again, only to have to face her demons again. Her mind had created her own personal hell to torment her endlessly. That is how Ron had found her one night, crying, whimpering in pain. He had wiped her tears away and given her the comfort of his warm body beside her, and for a few nights, the nightmares seemed to vanish.

Hermione slept in his arms peacefully. She didn't know how and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the subconscious knowledge that she had someone living and breathing right next to her and so all her nightmares were just that- nightmares. They had occurred and passed and her mind didn't need to dwell on it any longer. This loss deluded her into thinking that she had fallen in love with him.

She thought that he had saved her, but then, his stays became infrequent when he got a job as a professional Quidditch player. He couldn't sleep next to him every night now, and as soon as he left, the nightmares came rushing back. The gain and loss of her living companion made her nightmares more gruesome. And then, even when he came back, they didn't stop. But he would never object to it. He would wake up with her every night, caressing her and nurturing her until she fell asleep again.

Many times, Hermione would protest in her depressive state. She would tell him that she was ruining his life. But Ron would stay by her and always remind her that he was in love with her and that she could never ruin his life, even if she wanted to. He said he loved her more every day. Now, in retrospect, it seems that he was just in desperate need of companionship. Because, obviously, he had lied to her.

Every single word of his was part of one big lie.

A tidal wave of emotions overwhelmed Hermione as her tears started to flow of their own accord, despite her trying to stop them. She had believed in him, and all he had done was let her down. But deep down she knew that he hadn't really loved him; that the tears were flowing because she was afraid of what was awaiting her. She was afraid of her mind, and the terror it was forced to conjure up every night, like a horror movie which replayed itself over and over, never getting old, scaring her even worse as she watched it again.

Hermione didn't hear as her door opened behind her and someone walked in, until the figure was seated behind her on her bed. He lay a comforting hand of her shoulder and she turned to look at him, eyes bloodshot and face damp with tears. He didn't say one word, just looked at her questioningly, and she opened up her palm to him. He took the letter, scanning it and then dropping it to the floor, his gaze now sorrowful.

Inside, he was thinking deeply. He should have been happy; delighted that she wasn't with anyone anymore. He could finally make her his own. But the sadness in her eyes made his heart ache and all he could feel was resentment towards Ron. He pulled her close to him and she leaned in, resting her cheek on his chest and crying into him. He held onto her, whispering comforting words into her hair.

"How should I move on? How should I forget?" she looked up into his stormy eyes.

"I know what you are going through Hermione. You can't even count how much I have lost in my life. I know what it feels like to have someone that you thought you loved by your side. They held you close. They said they loved you. They promised never to leave."

It was true. He did understand. For a moment, she had let it slip her mind that he had lost more that any of them could imagine, "Yea."

"And he'd dried your tears everytime... but now, there's only empty space where he used to be. I know exactly what it feels like."

Hermione shifted closer to him, sitting up and circling her arms around his head as hers rested in the crook of his neck, "I don't know what to do. All of it comes back to me, every night."

"I know, me too. Mione, if you think about something hard and long, then there is a big chance that it will be projected into your dreams. Your whole life revolves around the past. You need to move away from it during the day, if you don't want it to follow you in the night. Trust me I know, I've had other things on my mind lately," he looked down at her, "Mione, you've crashed down, but don't let it take your life."

He stroked her hair lovingly, and when his gaze met hers, he felt a pang in his chest. Everything she was feeling was in her eyes. He felt himself being drawn in, felt himself wanting to protect her. To keep her out of harm's way for as long as there was a breath in his body.

Lightly, he slid his hand along her cheek, tilting her head up a little more. He rubbed the tip of his thumb along her lips. And then, before he knew it, before he could talk himself out of it, he kissed her. Hermione sighed as she leaned into the kiss, into him. Surprise quickly turned to please. Pleasure turned to desire. All the fears, all the anxiety that had been dancing around inside of her suddenly burst forth. Overwhelmed by it all, she clung to this tall, dark, stunning hero who had stepped out of the shadows into the centre stage of her life. All she wanted to do was to feel.

And to lose herself in his arms.

The kiss grew to be all-encompassing and Hermione disappeared into it willingly.

Desire came, strong and hard, gripping him by the chest and spreading swiftly out of the tips of his limbs. The feeling was alien to him, at least to this degree and with this intensity. Always before, desire had been physical, to be heeded or not, to be satisfied or not. The result was never all that overwhelming to him. Passion was something that never broke through the restraints that he had surrounded himself with.

But this was different.

This was physical and yet... more. The word intense was not sufficient enough to explain it. So he couldn't explain it. Didn't want to think about it. Just wanted it to be. Just wanted to keep on kissing Hermione. He wanted to make love with her.

They broke apart, panting, trying to catch their breath when their eyes met again, like liquid chocolate to cool ice, "Let me make you believe in your strengths Hermione. Let me make you believe in you."

She nodded, and he told her to wait, that he would be back before she knew it, running out of the room at lightning's pace. Hermione looked out of the window, towards the moon that gazed back at her, strong and high, giving her strength from its light. She turned back to look at her bedroom. Getting up, she walked a few steps and picked up the bag that Ron had sent her, with the letter and gift inside. She opened it, pulling out a set of earrings. They were heavy, made of thick yellow gold, both pieces moulded in a design that was unknown to her. She held then up next to each other and her mouth formed an 'O'. Both earrings fit together to create the letter 'H'. It was beautiful.

She twirled it around when the dim light caught onto something on its back and shined it towards her. Hermione brought the connected earring set close to her, but whatever was engraved in it was too small to make any sense of. She removed her wand from her holster and enlarged the engraving.

To my Heidi on her 18th, Love Hector

She felt a hand on the small of her back and she turned around, tears glistening in her eyes, earrings still in hand. He took them away from her, and threw them into a corner, taking both her hands and leading her out of the bedroom. He led her across the hallway and then into his room, at the sight of which she gasped.

His large bed had been moved to the centre of the room, against the back wall, whereas it had been pushed up to a corner before. A large, brand new duvet covered it, bronze in color, regally. Flower petals, red and white roses, were sprinkled over the soft sheets. The room was in darkness, the only light being emitted from candles upon candles spread out across the room, on the tables, on the floor.

He let go of her hands walked back to the door. The moment the door closed behind them, they knew. Knew this wasn't the time for conversation, for words that were meant to soothe but came a distant second to true desire. They needed the comfort that came through touch, through the most basic of physical contact.

Through the mingling of bodies and of souls.

Behind her, Hermione heard the click of the lock as the door met the jamb. Hurting from memories she's long since suffered through, she turned around and he swept her into his arms and kissed her. Kisser her the way he'd been longing to for what felt like an eternity. The neediness within him and brought him to a point of vulnerability he'd never experienced before, even at the lowest point of his childhood. Tomorrow, they would both have to talk and ponder, he would have to explain but right now he needed his, needed to lose himself in this feeling, in this woman; they both did.

The heat of the kiss grew, spreading through them and absorbing them into the fire. Cleansing them. With a hesitation that was completely foreign to him, he touched her, letting his fingers trail along her back and up her sides. Anticipating the press of flesh against flesh. The swell of her breasts pressed so directly against him, filled him with both desire and a sense of sweetness that came from nowhere and left him in awe and wonder.

He stopped for a minute, feathering his fingers through her hair, unsure. But she looked at him with such resolve that whatever control he thought he had over himself shattered into a thousand pieces. Needs began to urgently pound through him, demanding satisfaction, demanding her.

He found the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it down to its base. The turquoise fabric seemed to sigh right off her body. Sigh the way he realized he had as he saw her standing in a lazy white bra, matching panties and stockings that seemed to have no earthly way of staying up. Excitement tightened like a fist within his belly and he felt himself hardening even more.

It took him a second to reassure himself that he hadn't swallowed his own tongue.

The rest was a haze of feelings, of desires and near fulfilments. He took off her bra and panties, teasing them both, but left her stockings in place. She was incredibly erotic, wearing only the soft scraps of nylon. His own clothes were shed in a flurry, as the need to feel her flesh against his grew more urgent. He explored her, even as she explored him, and they both drove one another almost crazy as they touched, caressed and pressed moist, open-mouthed kisses along trembling skin. He went closer and closer to the edge, only to retreat at the very last moment. Each time he'd pulled himself back from the brink, he did so because he wanted to savour this feeling a little longer. Wanting to pleasure her a little more.

Hermione twisted and turned beneath his touch beneath the hot trail that his mouth was forging. Biting back moans.

Damn, but she had never thought it could be like this. Like fire and ice and shooting stars racing along the sky. Pleasure erupted in her veins over and over again, seemingly joined together in an endless loop that continued to corkscrew all through her. She wanted him with such intensity that she was afraid that the fire would burn her to ashes and dust. Each time he touched her, each time he kissed her, her head spun a little more her blood heated a little higher. She wanted to absorb him and to make love with him forever.

They didn't know how or when they reached the bed, but Hermione was wrapping her legs around him, moving the core of her to him. She didn't know how much longer she could last like this. He positioned himself properly over her and they looked at each other. She could feel him wanting her.

Sirius, her eyes implored him, make love with me.

And then, just as she was certain she was going to expire she felt him enter her. Felt the sweet, over-powering sensation as he sheathed himself within her. She raised her hips up, meeting him halfway. Beginning the movement that would ultimately bring them down from the summit they were climbing.

His eyes were on hers, as if he were trying to memorize her every feature, her every breath. Mesmerized, she didn't even blink.

Sirius moved harder and harder, needing release and yet, as the same time, not wanting this time to end. He wanted her with such force that it all but completely undid him. When the climax came seizing both of them in its grip, he tightened his arms around her, as if he meant to pull her into him, to make her a permanent part of himself. He tried to absorb her into his very skin, feeling things that he couldn't put into words even if he wanted to try.

As the sensation slowly began to ebb away, he continued to hold her to him, vainly trying to prolong the moment. But rather than experience the letdown that went hand in hand with the vanishing euphoria, he discovered that, inexplicably, a sweetness had begun to fill him. They were lying on their sides, both pressed against each other, when she looked up at him once her breathing regulated.

"What does this mean?"

Sirius sighed, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, not knowing how to say it, "It means... it means that I am never going to leave your side. It means that I have been in love with you for ages and I'm finally gathering the courage and telling you. It also means that no matter what happens, you can always count on me."

Hermione smiled and looked back down, resting her head on his arm, pressing her forehead to his chest. It would take some time for her to heal. And it would take some time for her to love. But she knew she would get there. At some point. He would fill her empty space.

Soon.

Yea the fluff is layed in thick. But what can ya do if the mood demands it!? I'll tell you what you can do... Review ;P