The Stripper Club

Sirius took another long draught of his beer, and stared blearily over the rim of the glass at the pedestal. Tall, strapping women, dressed in skimpy clothing waltzed energetically over it. A muscled blonde with a rabbity face and a pink sequined thong blew him a kiss, and proceeded to display to him the extreme voluptuousness of her bum. A kinky red-head, in stripy socks and pretty much nothing else, spread out her arms invitingly. There was no reason why they shouldn't hit on him, really. After all, it was a stripper bar, and he was definitely the hottest male around.

His response to all these gestures was a mechanical smile. If he was in the mood, he would lift his tankard. But he always declined. He hadn't come here to get a fuck. He'd come because a stripper bar was what he always associated with a break-up, and if what he had just gone through with Little Miss Know-It-All wasn't a break-up of the worst degree, he really didn't know what it was.

He dipped into his tankard again, and his gaze fell on another blond. This one wore a glittering green leaf-shaped costume. Her thong, peaking from the edges of her ridiculous dress was neon pink. She winked at Sirius and crooked a finger, as she drew closer.

'Hey, handsome,' she cooed, 'Want to have a nice time?'

'No thanks,' replied Sirius, dully. 'I'm fine.'

But the blond was persistent. She drew the tip of her index finger- complete with a blood red nail that could probably compete with his upper arm in length- over his thigh.

'I'm really good,' she insisted. 'And I don't ask for half as much as the other girls, you know.'

Sirius sighed. 'Okay, look, Candy, or Foxy, or whatever you name is-'

'Honey,' whispered the blond. 'You can call me Honey.'

'Alright- Honey,' Sirius said, deliberately. 'I'm here to meet my girlfriend, and I'd really appreciate it if you could peel yourself off my upper body.'

The blonde's face contorted haughtily. She wrenched herself off him, and sashayed off, making sure to swing in a way that would force into his thick brain exactly what he was missing out on.

But Sirius had transferred his attention back to his beer.

A mental image of Hermione, three hours back, came into his mind. She had just come back from work, so she was dressed in a black pantsuit, with a briefcase. Bits of hair were coming out of her chignon, and falling messily across her face. Her skin was slightly sweaty, and her eyes had prominent bags under them. When she had entered their flat, she had found Sirius reclining against his favorite armchair, and sipping a margarita.

'Well,' he greeted, affably, 'Don't you look like something the cat brought in.'

Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have laughed this off. She was actually very difficult to offend. She had such an easy personality, and Sirius got on with her terrifically. Apart from being crazily in love, they were also extremely compatible, and maintained a heathy amount of respect for each other. So when Sirius said this, he didn't really expect any serious repercussions.

But Hermione had had a grueling day at work, and she wasn't in the best of moods. She scowled at him.

'Easy for you to say,' she huffed, dropping her briefcase and striding over to the fridge. 'You've been at home the whole while.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Never before had his unemployment been a touchy subject amidst them, but he sensed an insulting insinuation. It pissed him off a little.

'Well,' he said, 'Nobody's really asking you to burst your butt off for no reason, you know.'

She had bent down to pick up a carton of orange juice from the fridge, and now she straightened up, her expression disbelieving.

'No reason?' she demanded. 'You call this no reason? Somebody has to pay for rent, you know.'

Sirius put down his glass of beer. 'I have plenty of money in my vault,' he said, haughtily. 'I don't need to grub around to pay for rent- which, incidentally, is not your exclusive right. I happen to chip in half every month.'

'Oh, well, la-dee-da for you!' Hermione snapped, taking a swig of orange juice, 'It must be nice to have rich parents who left you pretty much everything.'

Sirius's face was slowly suffusing with color. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

'Must be nice to have parents who didn't drive you out of the house before you were sixteen,' he said, coldly, 'And while we're having a frank conversation, let me prevent you from trying to cause me any qualms about living off my family's money. It won't work.'

'Can I help that you're a pathetic excuse for a wastrel?' Hermione demanded, her temper immediately flaring. 'But I'm not going to live off their money! I happen to be an independent woman!'

Sirius laughed, derisively. 'Let's not pretend I don't know that!' he flung back. 'Only a woman who calls herself independent would go out drinking with truck boys on her twenty eighth birthday!'

'What's the matter, Sirius?' Hermione sneered. 'Think the Noble House of Black is above such things as drinking with truck boys? Or are you just spiteful, because you're twenty eighth birthday was a million years ago!'

'Oh, and here I was thinking age wasn't a problem in our relationship!' Sirius snapped, tossing back the last of his beer. 'But don't worry, darling, even if I'm fifty, I'll still be the sexy one in this relationship!'

She put her hands against her hips. 'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Sirius said, sarcastically. 'How about wondering why at every dinner party we're at, all the girls there hit on me as if you don't even exist!'

'You filthy-'

Hermione hurled the carton of orange juice at him. She missed by miles; it hit the mantelpiece and bounced off, spraying its contents everywhere. Sirius laughed, hysterically.

'Don't worry, angel!' he called, 'I guarantee that if you lose a bit of weight off your butt, more men will start noticing you!'

Hermione's face turned violently red, and she whipped her wand out of her pocket. 'Did you just call me fat, Sirius Black?' she demanded.

'Oh, no,' Sirius said, sardonically. 'Just pleasantly plump, you know.'

He dodged the red light that raced towards him from her wand.

'Out!' Hermione screamed. 'Get out, you awful little-'

'You needn't repeat yourself!' he snarled back at her. 'I was just about!'

And he did, making sure he slammed the door so hard behind him that the walls rattled ominously.

And so it was that he found himself sitting at the stripper bar, dipping into beer that tasted of dirty dishwater, and watching strippers and prostitutes leer invitingly at him. He winced and burrowed his head into his arms, thinking of that awful fight. Now that some time had passed and he was a little drunk, he found he could analyze it a little more unbiasedly. It was true, he realized, that Hermione had started it by making a dig at his unemployment. After all, she had always told him she wouldn't judge him based on his need to work or not. But he had made that first comment about her looking like something the cat brought in.

And she'd been awfully tired after work.

Besides, he would never forgive himself for calling her fat. It was true that she was a little plump- any woman going on thirty with normal eating habits would be. And he really didn't mind it. Things like the odd gray hair in her chignon, and the love handles, or the circles under her eyes didn't bother him anymore. After all, to all intents and purposes they were a married couple, though Hermione had always felt marriage was a formality beneath her.

And his sexist comment about her independence had been harsh. He liked that Hermione could let loose enough to go drinking with truck boys. He liked that she worked, and that she insisted on paying for half the rent- but not a penny more- despite his abundance of wealth. He liked her independence.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more guilty he felt. He leaned back against the hard chair and conjured up an image of Hermione as he liked to remember her; her brown, untamable, and incredibly soft hair falling over her shoulders, her slightly sunburned face with an odd freckle or two across her nose, her dark eyes and wire-rimmed glasses, the column of her neck and her dimpled elbows. He brought to mind her funny blue and white checked pajamas, her bunny slippers that she loved to wiggle her toes in, and the awful large brown handbag she liked to carry, despite the smaller, and more fashionable ones he had bought her over the years. She was headstrong, uncontrollable, and an absolutely pain in the butt.

But the truth was, he liked her just the way she was.

He liked her wide hips. He liked the way she smiled at him while they were having sex. He liked the way she tried to cook for him sometimes, and he had to shove whatever it was down his throat to not hurt her feelings. He liked how she never had a problem with him smoking in the bedroom and sometimes joined him. He liked how she counted out his gray hairs everyday and helped him dye them black. He liked how she watched him while he worked out everyday, and told him sincerely that he had the body he had when he was a mere lad of thirty.

He liked her just the way she was.

And instead of sitting at home- their home- and telling her this, he was in a stripper club, with a green-and-pink blonde smiling at him. He looked up and winced as he saw her striding up to him once more.

'You're looking lonely,' she said.

'I'm not,' he said, firmly. 'Just me and my beer, that's how I like it.'

'I could make you so happy,' she said, promisingly. 'We could go get a room- with candles, and a soft bed- and I'd show you how a real woman has sex.'

'Thanks, but I'm pretty sure I already know,' Sirius said. 'Honest- I don't want it.'

She sighed theatrically, and leaned over his back, massaging his shoulders with her taloned fingers. 'The other girls ask for twenty sickles a night,' she said, 'I'd do you for ten, handsome. Fifteen- if you want kinky.'

'I don't want sex, kinky or otherwise,' Sirius said, shortly. 'I'm fine just the way I am.'

'Are you sure?' asked the blonde. She swung around him and before he knew it, she was straddling him.

Sirius moved backwards. 'What the hell do you think you're doing!' he demanded. 'Get off me!'

The blond rolled her eyes. 'Look- handsome-we both know you want it, hm? So why don't you whip out your wallet and I'll whip out your little friend.'

Sirius swallowed. 'You have to get off me now,' he said, sternly, 'I don't want a fuck. I don't like blondes.'

'I'll dye my hair,' the blond offered. 'For god's sake, stop fighting.'

'You have got to-'

'GET OF MY BOYFRIEND, YOU CRAZY BITCH!'

Both Sirius and the blond started. Sirius leapt up, and the blond tumbled out his lap and hit the floor with a thud. Immediately, she let out a high-pitched shriek which was nicely drowned by he pub music. Sirius stared.

Hermione was standing before him, still in her pantsuit, still with hat adorably sticky hair all over her forehead, and the darling bags under her eyes. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed. She wasn't looking at Sirius- rather, her gaze was on the lovely blond, who was untangling her long legs off the floor.

'Hermione-' Sirius began.

'Shut up,' she said, shortly. 'Just shut up.'

'This isn't what it-'

'I thought I told you to shut up, Sirius.'

This time, he listened to her. She was glaring at the blond. He swallowed.

The blond had just managed to get up, thong slightly askew. She peered at Hermione.

'And just who you think you are?' demanded the blond. 'Disturbing me and my customer?'

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. 'You're customer?'

'No,' began Sirius, 'She-'

'Yes, my customer!' said the blond, aggressively. 'We were just about to do-'

'Nothing,' interrupted Sirius.

'Plenty of things! We were going to-'

'Oh, shut up.' Hermione said, in a disgusted voice.

'Hermione,' Sirius began, capitalizing on the momentary lapse of conversation, 'This wasn't what it looked like.'

'This is exactly what it looked like,' Hermione said, with narrowed eyes. 'This blond trollop was throwing herself on you.'

'But I didn't- wait a minute!' said Sirius, stunned. 'You don't blame me?'

Hermione frowned. 'Do you think I'm an idiot?" she asked.

'But- but we had a fight!' Sirius said. 'And you came here and found this ridiculous woman on my lap!'

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'Like you'd even go for a blond,' she said, scathingly. 'Now go away, blond woman. I need to talk to my boyfriend.'

The blond opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Hermione convinced her to quickly take herself somewhere else. The minute she was gone, Hermione turned to Sirius.

'What do you need to say to me?' he asked her, nervously.

'This,' Hermione replied, and leaning up, she kissed him firmly on the mouth.

For a moment, Sirius was too stunned to react, but then he wrapped his arms around her, and began kissing her desperately. Instances of their relationship flashed before his eyes, and he found himself pulling her body to him, wanting desperately to let her know he felt.

Hermione was the first to break the kiss. She leaned back, looking a little dazed.

'So,' said Sirius, stupidly, 'I guess we're not fighting now.'

'I guess not,' Hermione murmured. She smoothed a bit of his hair behind his ear. 'I think we should go get married,' she said, seriously.

Sirius blinked. 'You want to get married! But I thought you felt it was a silly formality to couples to have sex!'

'Well, I still do,' said Hermione, nodding, 'But I want to have a baby, and for purely legal reasons, I think marriage is the best option facing us.'

Sirius frowned. 'I see your point,' he said, 'Shall we go to Vegas?'

Hermione glanced at her watch. 'There's an eleven thirty flight,' she said, 'We could just about make it.'

Sirius beamed fondly at her. 'You're a wonder, woman.' he said. He dropped a few sickles onto the table, and pulled her by the hand. 'Come on- let's go.'

'And for the record,' Hermione said, as he dragged her out of the pub. 'I never said I was sorry.'

'Duly noted,' said Sirius, gravely.