A/N: Hello everyone! I want to say first off thank you for reading this and if you see fit, to comment and rate :) I decided to write this because I noticed that although there was no lack of Sirius Black stories, I couldn't find any that was mostly his account of things and how in his head he was while he stayed in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. I hope you enjoy my interpretation. :) (Updated)

The house creaked. The dust was settled, thick, everywhere. They hadn't begun cleaning yet. There were other matters more important to tend to. Plans to be made, allies to be sought. No, dusting a chandelier did not hold precedent as of this moment.

It was late now. The meeting had ended hours ago, and the ones who stayed were in their beds sleeping, worries mercifully forgotten for a short time. That is, if their dreams were kind to them.

He paced back in forth in the dark room, running his fingers through his dark hair. He sat on the edge of his bed, leg jerking up and down rapidly. No, he couldn't sit. He sprung back up again and walked the length of the room over and over, heart beating wild like a caged animal. Which was what he was when it came down to it. He couldn't leave. He was confined to this house. Doomed to breathe in this dust and stare at the cracked ceilings for God knows how long. His fists clenched and once again he longed to wrap his long fingers around the lump of a man's neck and watch as his watery blue eyes bulged and his own hands clawed and pried only to go limp after a few satisfying minutes.

No, he wouldn't think these things. Not because they were wrong, but because the temptation was too great. He would surely leave this prison and go hunting for the man in the dead of night if he let this glorious fantasy fester.

He stopped his pacing in front of the dirty mirror on the wall. He stared into it. He was looking healthier. His features were handsome once again, so unlike the wrecked ravaged man Azkaban had made him. His grey eyes were overly bright and his clean shaven jaw was set. A muscle ticked in his neck from the strain of not shouting out in frustration. His hair was shorter then he usually kept it but it was growing out quickly. He ran his fingers though it once more. Suddenly he felt drained. Looking away from himself, he walked towards his bed and in one fluid motion tugged his shirt over his head, flung it to the ground and settled on the black silk sheets, eyes closed, mind blank.

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He watched as they filed in, looking around at this strange new place they would be spending the remainder of their holiday.

"Molly", he walked forward to greet her, a smile on his face.

"Sirius, dear", she smiled back warmly. "How are you? You look much better since the last time I saw you". Both sets of eyes glazed over slightly as they recalled the last time they had met, which was also the first time. Near the hospital wing in Hogwarts after the triwizard tournament. No, he had not looked his best then, as he was living in a cave next to Hogsmeade surviving on rats and small amount of food Harry would send him.

Both eyes refocused, but the expressions were different. Molly's smile was one tinged with sadness and pity while his own was gone entirely. To break the awkwardness, he addressed her children.

"Ah, your rooms are all upstairs. Just choose whichever one you like". Like anyone could like this place, he thought bitterly but his face remained void of much emotion much the same.

"I'll be up soon to help you all", Molly called to the group as they trudged upstairs, still looking around. The young redheaded girl's eyes caught sight of the mounted elf heads and she paled in color.

Sirius bent his head, ashamed. Why should you feel ashamed? This isn't your house. This isn't your home. The voice reminded him. It is your prison. You can't pick and choose where to suffer. But still, that hollow feeling of shame stayed as he showed Molly to the kitchen down below, where the rest of the Order waited.

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He patted Buckbeak's head gently. "I'm sorry I have you trapped in this place as well", he said quietly to the Hippogriff. Buckbeak nudged his hand gently as if to say, 'It's alright'. Sirius sighed, and fed another dead mouse to the animal.

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He was passing the door as it opened and two figures slipped inside. "Wotcher, Sirius", one whispered catching sight of him. He nodded to her. "Alright, just go up", Tonks said to the other person. "You'll find em. I'm not really sure who's in which room, I've never been up..." Sirius didn't hear the rest.

He was transfixed.

Her thick brown hair fell in soft curls down her back and over her shoulders. Her skin was so soft and creamy looking. Eyes. The warm brown eyes were wide and curious and her lips were slightly parted, taking in her surroundings. Then that mouth smiled, curving upwards so beautifully. "Hello Sirius", Hermione greeted him.

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"We'll have to get him soon", Remus was saying quietly to the group at large. "He'll be going stir crazy not knowing what's going on and we don't need him doing magic at all right now".

Of course he's gong crazy, Sirius thought bitterly. Keeping him in the dark after all he's been though. He's not a child.

The meeting continued, posts were assigned as were times. Maps were passed around. Names were mentioned. Sirius payed no mind. None of it applied to him. He couldn't help. He couldn't leave. Anger and frustration bubbled up inside him but he held his tongue.

The meeting ended and they all rose to go into the hall. Molly's shout was heard, as were the scuffle of many feet, fleeing. "...about listening in! ....not of age! ....give me those, NOW." More scuffles and bangs of doors being shut. Another scream could he heard now, but this one emitting from the portrait of Mother Black. "For heavens sake, please Remus, help me with this", and together they forced the heavy curtains shut over the drooling, shouting, shrunken and lined face. Angrily but silently, Molly marched up the stairs. He watched this all quietly and a sadness settled in his chest. This is what his life had come to.

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"It's okay Molly, I've got it". He reached over to take the candelabras from the cabinet. It would burn her every time she tried to pick it up to polish it. Of course his mother would have put the Flagrante Curse on these worthless things. He could touch it, of course, he was a Black. No matter how much he hated it. He threw the thing in the big bag full of other worthless things. Molly thanked him, but Sirius did not hear it.

She was in the corner, whispering something to Ginny, as they both attempted to scrub the grime off a huge wooden chest. Ginny nodded and whispered back. He looked as she listened, her forehead furrowed. A light seemed to emit from her. Her hair was up in a bun leaving her neck exposed. That long graceful neck. A mental image flashed in his head, in which his lips traced the length of her collarbone to her ear. He shook is head to get rid of it. He blinked hard. What- He opened his eyes and found that now she was watching him. Ginny's lips were still moving but her gaze was focused on the chest as she scrubbed harder. Hermione and Sirius's eyes were still locked when Molly gave a yelp of pain right behind him a few seconds later.

He blinked again and turned away quickly, just as Ginny looked up and over in his direction, but he still saw her give Hermione an odd look and ask a question. Heart thumping he looked at Mrs. Weasly sucking her index finger and glaring at the silver gravy bowl that had fallen to the carpet."Another one, Molly?"

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He watched her as she laughed. Her long slender neck, delicate collar bones. Her head was thrown back and her hair cascaded down her back. Her eyes were shut and her cheeks flushed. He drank her in hungrily, taking as much as he could without anyone noticing. He looked away as soon as the tinkle of her joy faded away. He stared at his plate, eyes darting here and there. Had anyone seen? Had anyone noticed the need and want in his stare? They all chatted as merrily as ever. He let out a slow breath. No. Not this time. He was safe. He turned to Arthur.

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His fingers ran over the tapestry. So many names. All the names of all the people he despised the most on one wall. His hand stopped over a burn spot. To the right of it, the words Regulus Arcturus Black were scrawled haughtily. He ran his fingers over the singed fabric over and over.

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"Is everything alright?" Remus's quiet voice inquired.

He nodded.

"Sirius...."

He waited.

"I know how hard it must be for you to be back here. But it's not for forever".

He nodded again.

Remus sighed and soon enough he was alone again.

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He was pacing his room again. He couldn't take it anymore. Maybe...maybe he could just sneak out. Turn into the shaggy black dog and roam the streets for a bit. Fresh air. His body tingled at the thought and another creak of the house reminded him where he was.

It was too hot. Too stuffy in this room. He tugged his shirt over his head and threw it into a corner.

Still too hot. He strode over to the door and pulled it open. Water.

He walked quietly down the hall and down the stairs. He paused at the front door. Just an hour....no one will miss me....

The doorknob felt cool against his palm, tempting him, giving a taste of what lay beyond.

No. Dumbledore made it clear-

Well Dumbledore isn't locked in a house twenty-four seven now is he?

He gripped the knob tighter. Just an hour....

"Sirius?" His hand fell from the knob and he whipped around.

She was standing there, all warmth and innocence. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun and her dark eyes were confused. She held a glass of water in her hand. "What are you-"

"Nothing", he said quickly. Too quickly.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Really. I was just..." He didn't know where he was going to take that. They let the words hang in the air. He looked away from her studying the dirty cracked walls in the dark. He jumped when he felt her small warm hand on his arm. Lilacs.

"Sirius, you can't...." He looked at her sharply, deep into her eyes, daring her to say something. He didn't want to hear the words telling he couldn't leave again. He already knew that.

He heard her breath hitch in her chest, but there was no outward effect under his hard gaze. "Sirius..." She said his name again, quietly and he had to force himself not to soften. He loved his name on her tongue, passing through her soft lips. His jaw clenched. Her hand moved down slightly, then lifted from his arm to lay on his bare chest. "Please, just....don't. I know.... well I don't, but listen just....please don't", she whispered, pleading. Her hand slid from his chest, leaving a burning trail and she turned away. She made her way slowly up the stairs. He watched her go.

Water....

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"What do you mean he was attacked? By what? By whom?" His question was lost in the other voices in the crowded kitchen. He banged his hand down on the table and all went quiet. "What", he ground out through gritted teeth, "is going on? What happened to my godson? What has happened to Harry? Is he alright?"

"He's fine. But he had to use magic, a Patronus against the Dementors-"

"Dementors?! What in world were Dementors doing-"

"No idea", Arthur said hurriedly, "But Dumbledore is at the ministry now. I've got to send a letter to Harry, tell him to stay put..." He strode from the room quickly.

I've got to write him too

They fray and noise rose again and Sirius slipped out of the room. Instantly his body collided with another. The hallway was full of noise as well, all the Weasly kids questioning him all at once combined with the screeches of his mother.

"What's going on? What happened to Harry-"

"...something about Dementors-"

"Befouling the noble House of Black!-"

"Is he alright-"

"Filthy dirty half-breeds, Mudblood filth!-"

"Dad wouldn't say-"

Sirius just shook his head, just as much to dispel the voices as trying to say he couldn't answer them now. He needed to write Harry, to get upstairs. They kept bombarding him with questions as he strode pass. They stayed downstairs as he made his way up, and seeing they weren't going to get answers from him, some made their way back to the kitchen and out of sight. He looked down over the banister. Ginny's hair flashed as she whipped out of sight to join Fred and George in the pursuit of answers. Ron and Hermione just stood looking at each other, at a loss for words. Molly's shout was heard and a minute later Mother Black was silenced. Molly spoke loudly again but this time the questions from her children got louder and proceeded to fade into the distance.

Ron looked at Hermione one moment longer shaking his head sadly and turned to follow the din.

Sensing someone, her eyes flashed upwards and locked onto his.

His heart jumped. A hollow ache replaced his urgency to send an owl to Harry. His hands tingled and the one resting on the banister tightened.

Worry and anger mingled her expression. She looked so frightened...her eyes seemed to be pleading.

Arthur is sending him an owl. What else can I say or do?

He turned on the steps and made his way back down. She watched his procession quietly and turned to face him. They stood a few feet apart. His skin prickled. It was so hot and he couldn't breathe properly. He took a step forward and she stepped back. They both stood still. What does she want me to do? He took another step forward. This time she didn't move. He needed to touch her skin. Another step forward. She looked so soft. So perfect. Her eyes.... Another step. He could touch her now if he wanted. Her eyes were so deep. The brown engulfed him and he felt his body tauten and relax in the same breath. As though he were dreaming, he reached his hand out and took a lock of her curly brown hair between his fingers and twirled.

She looked at his hand questioningly. Silky...smooth, perfect...closer... He stood even closer, his eyes fixed on the hair between his fingers that he twirled and released. Twirl, release. Twirl, release. Hermione closed her eyes. The gentle tugging was oddly comforting.

Sirius didn't know how long they'd stood there when he heard the quick footsteps. He heard them before she did, lost in her trance. The tugging gone, her eyes fluttered open to face nothing. He was gone.

"Hermione..." She whipped around to see Ginny. "Hermione, what are you doing. C'mon Mum is telling us what happened. Hermione?" Hermione stood there blinking slowly, her eyelids heavy. Ginny stepped closer. "Hermione...are you alright?" Her brow was furrowed in concern and her eyes narrowed slightly. Hermione nodded and walked forward, past Ginny down to the basement to the kitchen. Ginny stood still for a minute and looked around, keen eyes searching, not sure for what, but looking all the same. Eyes still sharp she turned and followed Hermione's path.

Upstairs Sirius shoved what just happened into the back of his mind and pulled out a bit of parchment ready to quill what he already knew was worthless advice to his godson.

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Dinner was a quiet affair that night for the most part. It started out in silence, but gradually the volume rose as Harry's escape and well being settled in.

"How could this have happened?", Remus murmured to him, his voice low so only Sirius could hear.

"You know how", Sirius growled. "It was Voldemort, who else could it have been? I told Dumbledore-"

"Well, as we all know he found it prudent that Harry remained where he was-"

"And look where that's gotten him", he said bitterly. "Attacked on the streets and a ministry hearing. Harry should be here, with me. Where he belongs. At least he'd be safe here".

"Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore gets a sick pleasure out of keeping people locked up in the last place they ever wanted to be".

Remus closed his mouth and looked at Sirius. A deep, searching, sad look. Sirius looked away and saw a pair of deep brown eyes fixed on him. His heart gave a lurch and he dropped his fork onto his plate, rising quickly.

"Molly", he addressed Mrs. Weasly as she looked up at him from her seat, "the dinner was superb, as always". He gave her a tight smile and she smiled back warmly, patting his hand with her own.

"Is everything alright, Sirius?"

His eyes flitted back to Hermione, so quickly no one would have noticed and said graciously "Just a little tired. It's been a, uh, crazy day to say the least".

She smiled up at him again, understanding in her eyes.

He excused himself from the kitchen quickly, feeling Hermione's eyes on his back, burning, searing into his skin.

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He paced the expanse of his room even more throughly that night. Where had this feeling come from? He'd seen her last year and the year before that. Then again, both times he was focused on staying alive and out of Azkaban... He gripped his hair. Of course he didn't feel anything those times in the past! She was only thirteen and fourteen then. He felt dirty suddenly.

She's fifteen...

Shes intelligent and beautiful.

She's fifteen!

Her skin seemed to glow and her scent lingered wonderfully in the air.

You could be her father!

But I'm not. Not even a little bit.

You need to stop-

Her eyes, so deep and chocolatey brown.

Stop...

I could sink into them.

Stop it.

Her nose is straight and regal and perfect

Stop this right now.

and her lips.

Stop. Stop. You need to-

Oh God her lips. I can taste them already-

"STOP!" He shouted aloud. His head was spinning. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

I don't even look old...Do I? He stepped closer and peered at the reflection. Smooth face, no lines to be seen and his dark grey eyes still had some light, most of it robbed by his predicament, but there none the less. His hair was still drying from his shower earlier. No grays. He grabbed a handful. Still thick and full and soft. He stepped back and whipped off his shirt. His body was still fit, incredibly so, even he had to admit. Tight and hard. He ran his long fingers over his lean stomach and traced the V-cut almost absentmindedly.

He sighed and dropped onto the bed, elbows on his knees, hands cradling his throbbing head. What are you doing? Checking yourself out in the mirror like you're seventeen again. Checking yourself out for...for... He couldn't bring himself to say it. He closed his eyes. Get a hold of yourself Sirius. You know what this is. He shook his head. Yes, you know what this is, the voice coaxed. You haven't felt a women's touch is so long. Locked away, on the run. You haven't felt a woman's embrace in years....

His eyes opened again. Yes....yes that was it. That had to be it. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was nearly dry now. He sighed. Why was it that he always went to extremes so quickly. Just a moment ago he couldn't stop moving or stop thinking. Now he couldn't wait to blow out the candles and lie down.

In the darkness, he took deep calming breaths. Sleeping in Azkaban hadn't been the easiest thing to do, what with the cold gripping your insides and your neighbors screaming their innocence or whimpering from their sins. The deep breathing became second nature to Sirius in the nighttime as he lay in bed. He was miserable there and he was miserable here. The only difference was here he got silk sheets.

The landing outside his door creaked and his breathing halted. He held all the air in his lungs and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He didn't hear another one, but he knew; this creak was different than the settling of the ancient house. Someone was out there. Someone was listening, checking to see if he was still awake. It was late. Too late. Who would be awake now?

Whoever was on the landing seemed to think the same, as Sirius head another creak and the feeling that someone was there went away. He dispelled all the air in his lungs. Who-

His doorknob turned. He didn't hold his breath this time but stayed absolutely still, eyes shut. He forced himself to relax.

Whoever it was slipped in and silently shut the door behind them.

Breathe deep, relax, whoever it is isn't going to hurt you so relax. You know who it is already....

But Sirius didn't even dare to hope. A part of him wished it wasn't her. If it was what would he do? You know what you'll do. The question is will you be able to stop?

He already knew the answer to that too.

The person paused near the door and Sirius could almost hear them debating weather to come near him or not. What if it's not her? What if it IS someone who wants to hurt me, kill me. I need to get up. I need to-

He felt her warm body slip into his bed. Sirius inhaled sharply and her sent invaded his senses. His muscles tightened but he remained still. Hermione didn't move for a few long moments, then slowly she moved closer to him. Her hair brushed against his shoulder and electricity shot through his veins. He still didn't move. Sirius was good at feigning sleep. He felt her gaze on his face. He couldn't pretend any longer and allowed his eyelids to raise slowly.

Hermione looked as if she were in a trance. Her eyelids were heavy and the chocolatey brown iris' were deeper and richer. Her lips looked ever softer and her cheeks were flushed. She only wore a tank top so her creamy white shoulders were bare and she glowed in the moonlight.

Sirius blinked. His heart ached. He needed to touch her, feel her, he needed-

No. Stop. You need to get her out of here. Now.

"Hermione..." his voice came out low. So low he could barely hear himself. She didn't answer but bent her head lower. Those soft lips brushed his shoulder and he shuddered. "No...Hermione, we..." Another kiss across his collarbone. He clenched his fists. She ran her lips up the curve of his neck and stopped behind his ear causing another violent shiver. She nibbled on his ear lobe gently and he actually whimpered. She was a goddess. She was perfect. She was everything that he wanted.

She paused, her warm breath played and flitted across his skin. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. How could she not. She lifted her head and without making eye contact moved her body down so that she was lying next to him. She nestled into the crook of his arm and placed her hand on his chest. Now she can definitely hear your heart.

He lay there, out of breath feeling as if he had just run a mile, and tense, but she didn't move. After a few moments he realized that she wasn't going to. Slowly, he shifted his body to make them both more comfortable, and wrapped his arm around her. She let out a quick breath, as if she had been holding it in and her body relaxed.

He looked at the ceiling, reveling in the feel of her soft soft skin against his, and allowing his heart rate to drop.

It would be a few more hours before the sound of her soft breathing would lull him to sleep.

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