Author's Note: Added for emerald-hazel eyes. Do enjoy it. : )
xxxx
Hermione sipped lightly on a glass of wine and pondered over the events of recent weeks. She was sure that this was the twenty-second ball that she'd been to in the past four months. To say the least, she was growing rather weary of them.
The motivation behind the balls was, of course, excellent; Voldemort's defeat was certainly something to celebrate, and she would never want to deny her fellow wizards and witches the right to that closure – she merely wished that she was not required to attend every event. She'd hardly had a night to herself since the night that they'd finished him off.
"When can we leave?" Harry asked from beside her, his voice sullen as it whispered in her ear.
Forcing herself to, once again, play mother hen – despite the fact that she wanted to leave just as badly as he did – she muttered back, "Another hour, I should think."
He groaned, and stood up. "I'm going to fetch something to eat. Want anything?"
Hermione shook her head lightly. "No."
She watched him as he walked away, and marveled at the way he had handled his life since The Defeat. He'd been doing well, she thought, especially considering that he'd been hospitalized for the first two months afterward, leaving Hermione and Ron to frequent the galas alone. His wellness probably had something to do with the fact that Sirius was alive and well, and able to go out in public. After several courtroom visits, where all of the newly captured Death Eaters reluctantly told the story of Sirius' innocence under Veritaserum, the charges and previous sentence placed on Sirius had been nullified.
But Harry's inability to speak to the press – as he'd been in the hospital at the time – had left her alone to deal with the papers and publicity. And as much as she loathed to say it, she was much more idolized than Ron was. He had, unfortunately, been at St. Mungo's for the entire month prior to the 'Big Battle,' as they'd begun to call it, due to injuries that he'd received at a previous, smaller battle, and he hadn't been well enough to fight along with them.
She'd been thrust in to the limelight while Harry healed and Ron moped about, despising his inability to participate. Hermione was rather sick of hearing his whining, when so much good had come out of The Defeat despite his lack of presence there.
Sirius' freedom had certainly been one of the many good things that had come out of the battle. He was much happier now, she'd noticed – as she'd taken much pleasure in watching him enjoy his new liberty – and he was by far much more attractive than he'd once been, as he now smiled more often and teased more freely. The dark circles that had perpetually haunted the shadows of his grey eyes had also retreated as he was able to relax, and to sleep.
Oh, he was certainly much more attractive. Hermione couldn't keep from admiring his lithe form, the hard features of his face, and the strong muscles of his arms. And by Merlin, his stormy grey eyes were incredibly intense and incredibly arousing.
She wanted him.
She shouldn't. She was fully aware that lusting after her closest friend's godfather was immoral, almost, and consequently it was wrong, but she wanted him so terribly. Everything about him made her skin hot, and her eyes darken with need.
But she shouldn't be thinking of that; not ever, but especially not here. She frowned and lifted her wine glass once again.
"Buck up, love," she heard a deep voice growl in her ear playfully, and her glass trembled in her hand.
Hermione shivered as her body recognized Sirius' husky chuckle. She took another sip of her wine to gather herself, and she managed to cast a scowl in Sirius' direction before she said, "Sod off, Mutt."
He dramatically placed a hand over his heart and feigned a swoon. "Oh, you flatter me," he blinked his eyes in a mock-seductive manner, and reached a rough hand on the table to gently clasp hers. "Truly, darling, I'm sorry to say that I find myself unable to adhere to your request."
Her hand felt hot as his thumb soothed her knuckle.
Friends, she thought furiously. We're only friends.
"Damn," she murmured, half in response to his words, but more in response to her own thoughts.
"Really, love," Sirius leaned forward attentively. "You shouldn't speak such words. Now tell me, why so down?"
"Not down," Hermione protested lightly. "I'm just a tad bit bored. I've been to several of these in the past few months, if you haven't noticed. I'm rather tired by them."
"Mm, yes, I can see how that would create a problem," he frowned deliciously. "However, you must admit that it's a lovely opportunity to get dolled up and woo every man within a ten kilometer radius, no? You do look so absolutely stunning, Hermione."
"Thank you," she nodded, struggling to maintain her cool. Hell, she was struggling not to straddle him in his chair, to be quite honest.
"And what about me?" He pouted. "How do I look, love? Handsome? Sexy? Shaggable? I personally tried to achieve a roguish combination of all three, really, but did I succeed?"
Sometimes Sirius' teasing was too much for her to handle. She struggled not to blush as she – in what she hoped was a humorous manner – replied, "Indubitably. Rather unattainable, as well."
Sirius grinned as the word left her mouth. "Ah, yes. I'm rather good at that, aren't I? But I promise, love – for you, I'm always attainable." He winked, then took a glass of wine from a passing tray and lifted it to his lips.
Hermione closed her eyes and fought a groan. She wanted him. Damn it, she needed him – and he was the only thing that she couldn't have. He teased her mercilessly about how attainable he was, but she was sure he didn't know how badly she wanted him, for he never would have taunted her so callously if he did.
She took yet another sip of wine, and as she placed the glass back on the table she quickly sucked in a breath of air when Sirius' spare hand suddenly rested on her thigh. "This dress," he leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear in a painfully arousing manner, "is damn sexy, Hermione."
A small moan escaped her throat. She simply couldn't help herself.
And then his hand slowly lifted the hem of her turquoise-colored dress to rest higher on her thigh, and he moved his hand more inward to rub against the smooth flesh that rested there.
"Sirius!" Hermione gasped, trying to keep her voice low so as not to alarm any of the other invited guests. "What are you doing?"
"I was attempting to seduce you, love," Sirius chuckled hotly. "Would you like me to stop?"
His hand tightened around the inside of her thigh, squeezing it momentarily while he waited for her response. She could hardly answer him through the whimper that threatened to fall from her throat. "Sirius," she breathed instead, quite unable to articulate another answer.
"Yes?" He asked, clearly amused by her flushed face and shaking hands. He reached his own hand slightly higher.
Hermione bit her lip and moaned. "Sirius, please," she begged.
"Surely not here, my love?" Sirius inquired, feigning innocence.
"Fine," Hermione whispered, frustrated, "then take me home."
"Excellent," Sirius grinned, a feral gleam lighting up his eyes. He looked up and beckoned Harry toward him, which was good cause for a momentary panic on Hermione's end. She was in no state to speak to Harry, at the moment.
"Hermione isn't feeling very well, sorry to say," Sirius said to his godson, using his visible hand to reach up to her cheek, which elicited a shiver from her. "She feels a bit warm as well," he noted, and covered for the tremor that he'd created by murmuring, "but strangely enough, I believe she's got the chills. She must have some sort of affliction. I'm going to take her home."
"I'll take her," Harry volunteered eagerly. "Really, Sirius! Enjoy yourself here."
"No," Hermione gasped, unable to bear the thought of Sirius not coming home with her after he'd done such a spectacular job of getting her hot and bothered. "No, we – we can't both go. That'd surely be noticed by the host."
Frowning as he realized that Hermione was right, he nodded dejectedly. "Alright. I'll see you later, then. Feel better, 'Mione."
"Thanks," she replied, standing as Sirius guided her upward. She leaned against his arm, as her knees were trembling weakly. "Have f-fun."
"Not bleeding likely," Harry answered darkly.
Pity, she thought quietly, because I'm about to be having quite some fun of my own.
"Come on, love," Sirius' acting was spot on, as he managed an indulgent tone. "Let's get you to bed."
To bed, indeed.
Sirius led her to the foyer of the manor that they were currently in, and asked, "To your place, then?"
She nodded quickly, and felt her body being squeezed and thrown through a tiny gap that was much too small for her body to comfortably fit through. With a rather rough landing, due to the side-along apparition and her currently unfocused state, they were at the door just outside of her bedroom.
And then had her pushed against the door roughly, her back against the cool wood, and she moaned at the feel of being trapped between him and the hard surface behind her.
"Do you want me, Hermione?" He whispered against the flesh of her neck, his lips skimming over her skin but not pressing against it as she wished. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," she gasped. "Merlin, yes, Sirius."
"How long?" He asked her, drawing out the torture. "How long have you needed me?"
"Sirius," she whimpered. "Please."
"Please what?" He drawled, forgetting his last question to pressure her for an answer to the new one.
"Please touch me," she pleaded. "God, I need you to touch me."
"Touch you where?" He pressed. "Here?" His hands crawled up to her breasts and squeezed them through the material of the dress. Hermione arched in to his hands and felt her heartbeat quicken. "Or," he began, drawing his hands down her stomach and over her hips to grip her backside in his palms, "here?"
His hands pulled her hips closer to his, and she felt his length pressing in to her. "Damn it, Sirius, fuck me," she growled heatedly. "Against the door, for all I care, but bloody well do it now! Fuck me hard, and fast, and relentlessly against this bleeding piece of wood until I can't walk straight."
Sirius crashed his lips against hers roughly, and she responded eagerly. His hands roamed all over her body, bringing about various noises as she fumbled over his tie. He started to pull his mouth away, but she pulled on his tie harshly until his lips fell, without much resistance, back to hers. She then worked on taking it off, and when she managed to pull it away, she slung his jacket somewhere off to the side to follow it. His lips were bruising hers, biting, nipping, and their tongues were locked in a heated battle for dominance.
Then his hands moved to the zipper at the back of her dress and she stepped out of it eagerly. His hands – God those steamy, talented hands – moved all over her newly revealed flesh. "Sirius," she moaned against his lips.
He was currently taking note of the fact that she'd been out all evening and had worn no bra. "You're bloody gorgeous," he murmured, his lips sucking on her neck harshly, wonderfully. She slid her hands down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them, then tossed it to the side and out of her way.
Hermione didn't – and couldn't – respond, as his fingers began to tug away her black, lacy knickers. She gasped as he slid a finger inside of her and she jerked her hips toward him. He added another finger, and then another before he began to move. "Move faster," she begged.
"What was that, love?" He asked jokingly, but hissed in intense arousal when she raked her nails down his back and bit his ear.
"Faster," she insisted.
Hermione threw her head back against the door as he obeyed, and moved his lips down her chest, enveloping a breast and sucking it in to the hot confines of his mouth. "Fuck," she cried out, gripping his dark hair in her hands and holding his head against her chest. He bit her nipple in response, and Hermione arched in to his lips.
His fingers quickened their pace and she rocked her hips against his hand furiously. And then he ceased all movement, leaving his fingers buried deep within her. His mouth soon replaced his fingers, lapping at her slit and alternating to take her clit in her mouth. She gasped and moaned, tightening her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer to her wetness.
And once again, he pulled away.
"God damn it, Sirius," Hermione snarled, forcefully pulling his hair. "Stop bloody teasing me."
He smirked delectably and moved his lips up to hers once more. "Tell me again, Hermione. What do you want?"
"I want to feel you inside me," she articulated slowly, understanding the pleasure that he derived out of hearing her speak her wishes aloud, and in such a manner. "I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me. I want you to fuck me so hard that I feel like a whore, Sirius, and I bloody well want it now."
Sirius groaned in response and slammed his lips against hers again, his hands squeezing her breasts deliciously and drawing gasps from her mouth to his. She divested of his pants eagerly and quickly.
He gripped the back of her neck and thrust himself in to her wet heat. "Does that feel good? Does it? Me thrusting inside of your hot core?" He navigated his fingers to pinch her clit, and she screamed loudly at the sensations of pleasure.
"Yes, yes, God, yes," she breathed in between thrusts and gasps of air. "You feel so damn good. Oh God, yes," she screamed. "Harder, Sirius. Fuck me harder."
Her words spurred him on, as he then lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, giving him a better angle to reach that oh so pleasurable spot inside her, and to allow him to press her against the door and put more energy in to his speed.
And Merlin, what a speed.
He pounded in to her mercilessly. Hermione's eyes watered and her body shook beneath him. She bit his shoulder through a high-pitched screech, and she heard him grunting in to her neck.
Pleasure wracked inside of her as she reached her climax and he followed her soon after, both sweating and breathing heavily, unable to move from their position against her bedroom door.
"That's the most fantastic sort of affliction I've ever experienced," Hermione breathed.
Sirius chuckled. "Affliction, indeed, love. And who knew you could talk like that?"
She flushed, and buried her face in his neck, kissing it lightly. "I usually don't," she admitted.
"I take great pride in converting you, darling," Sirius grinned, opening the door with her still wrapped around him and throwing her down on the bed. "But now I wish to make love to you. Only, of course, if that's to your liking," he smirked, licking the shell of her ear.
Hermione gasped and nodded. "Oh, yes. That's very much to my liking. Do proceed."