Pairing: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Song:
Just Like Heaven - The Cure

Disclaimer: Don't own the song, or the characters.


"Show me how you do that trick."

"What?" asked Sirius, letting out an incredulous chuckle, tilting his head to the side. A small frown adorning his handsome face.

"The one that makes me scream," she said.

A grin that not quite resembled his Animagus form, but that of the animal his best mate turned into each month, spread over the confusion clouding him. "Oh, I would be delighted to show you more than one trick that will make you–"

"The one that makes me laugh," she said, cutting off his crass advance. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Show me how you do it, and I promise you–"

"What could you ever promise me–?"

"I promise that. . . I'll run away with you," she said, tentative at first. Then she nodded, "I'll run away with you."

A heavy weight, invisible like the odd chilly weather that seemed to perpetually cover Grimmauld Place settled on the pair waltzing in the expanse library, never mind the courageous flames dancing in the darkness.

He tensed, and she noticed it.

"Hermione. . ." he begun, dropping his arms that had curled around her waist as if they belonged there.

She tightened her grip, "No, Sirius," she demanded. She caressed his soft raven curls at the base of his neck, took a deep breath and pushed away to look at his troubled face, "Don't talk as if we're not going to make it out of this alive. Don't–Don't play with that."

The smirk was back on again, "A little superstitious are we? Who would have thought, Hermione Granger–Might just get Dumbledore or someone else on the Floo, call Trelawney, tell her sh–"

She always knew how to shut him up. He knew that she knew, and he took every chance that he could.

Her violent kiss made him stumble back a few steps. His back hitting the edge of the chimney. The small physical pain from the hit reminded him how truly painfully younger than him she was. How wrong it was for them to kiss at all, or at least the way the normally kissed.

Rough. Hard.

As if she tried to suck the recklessness out of him, to keep him alive through a war that was barely starting.

As if he tried to drown in the brilliance that was the petite witch, just so that he could find a way to keep her safe through the war that was starting, again.

Spinning on a dizzy edge, he kissed her face, kissed her head. Tasting the saltiness on her cheeks and the shaking through her riotous curls. He dreamed of all the different ways he could make her glow.

"Sirius," she whispered.

And it was all he needed to hear.

His strong arms carried her bridal style, something that he never fathomed he'd want to experience in fancier clothing, but he did, with her.

He climbed the steps of the eerie house, cradled the barely-of-age, awfully-off-limits, young witch. While the other residents in the house slept peacefully, he dropped her on his bed and smiled longingly at her, his mind reminding him cheekily, fuck if he ever obeyed orders.

His calloused hands travelled from the tip of her frizziest curl, to the tip of her toes. Marvelling in the softness of her skin on his worn out body. Trying to accomplish the same task his hands had, with his mouth, but couldn't because she got ticklish.

He tasted her. Oh, how he tasted her. And Godric be damned if it wasn't the elixir he'd been searching for his entire life.

Ambrosia.

She mewled and hummed in contentment as he thrust into her and whispered words of adoration. She came with his name on her mouth, setting him off with that simple trick.

"Why are you so far away?" she said as they both laid in tangled bliss.

His stormy grey eyes never left the new moon up high in the dark sky. He did not reply, only hugged her tighter.

Tight as his chest constricted.


When the bright jet light struck him, he searched for her. And she was not there. As he fell, he thought that maybe it was better that she did not see. Otherwise he'd find himself pleading for her to follow him, because he wouldn't be able to live without her. And he was selfish like that.

Ironic, falling towards death and thinking about living.

Feeling the coldness and morbid sense of tranquillity envelope him, he could only think of regrets, "Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you. . . Hermione," his smile fell, "That. . . I'm in love with you."

'You,' he thought. His hands roaming over her waist and down to her thighs. 'Soft and only. . . you.'

Vivid images materialised in front of him.

'Lost and lonely,' a young girl curled on a plush sofa, rabid fire roaring from the hearth, the only tell of distress was the death grip on the book covering her entire face. 'You.'

Strange as angels, she perked up at the sight of him. Smiling warmly, a bit sheepishly when Sirius noticed his own wand arm had risen and calmed the flames.

Dancing in the deepest oceans, hiding from Molly Weasley down in the basement or in the attic. Making him feel all of a teenager back at Hogwarts again.

Twisting in the water, she unbuttoned her blouse, her nipples perking up at the cold Christmas weather. Finding it in himself that he could actually resemble some self-control, giving her time to adjust to him.

"You're. . ." 'Just like a dream', "Hermione," he croaked, spilling himself inside of her.

And the memories vanished.


Sudden daylight licked him into shape, his body sore that made him think he must have been asleep for days. His lips moving first, to breathe her name, even if he knew she wouldn't be there. His grey eyes opened and found himself alone. Alone. Fucking alone above a raging sea, a stark contrast to the deceiving calm that took him. That stole the only girl he ever loved. And drowned her memory deep inside of him.

'You,' he thought, watching her like a looming shadow. 'Soft and only, you.' Talking kindly to Kreacher, to her friends.

'Lost and lonely,' nights she spent curled on his bed, crying silently. Tearing at his already dead soul because he couldn't have spared her the pain. 'You. Just like heaven.'