Rane's eyes opened, quite suddenly, and for a moment she wasn't sure where she was, because the ceiling she was looking at wasn't the one she was accustomed to. The sounds of Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger gently snoring nearby wasn't evident either. To her left, there was a bedside table, empty except two candles that were burned down to the quick, barely living flames within a melted pool of sallow wax that had coated both the hooked candleholders and most of the top of the wooden surface. The room smelled like sweat and burning wickers, a not entirely unpleasant blend. The room was awash in the thin golden-red light of dawn, setting affable shadows against all it touched.
What was more, she was, she realized, completely naked, lying on her back, quite warm . . . and not alone.
She turned her head to the right, feeling her long hair pulling taut beneath the small of her back, and saw Sirius Black.
His profile was visible in the dim half-light, the golden glow illuminating the pared shape of his jaw line, the soft curve of his forehead, the gentle gather of his lips, the roughness of his unshaven chin. He was breathing gently, still perfectly peaceful in sleep, unperturbed by her movement. His scant blanket, threadbare and worn, was pulled down to his navel, and Rane could see that she wasn't the only one that was at least mostly nude. One arm was slung around her, cupping her shoulder with a gentle unconscious concern. His body was extraordinarily warm against hers, the calm motions of his respiration pressing against her bare ribs.
And now, it was all beginning to come back to her . . . Her middle-of-the-night excursion to the terrace to beleaguer her insomnia, not dissimilar from any other evening; finding Sirius sitting there, smoking a clandestine cigarette away from Molly's prying eyes; their kiss, so completely unforeseen; and then . . .
Jesus Christ, did we fuck?
The thought struck her as almost . . . Well, implausible. She, Rane, was . . . Well, nobody, really. She was twenty-five, freshly through the Auror examination, had hardly seen battle, had been recruited by the Order of the Phoenix not even a year ago, and her only claim to any kind of real reputation was her stupid goddamned half-bloodedness. Her father, an Elven warrior and a wizard, and her Muggle mother had passed on that bullshit to her. And since she'd found out, just under nine years ago, she had been stoically convinced that companionless was the only way she could ensue, not only for her career, but for the stigma of her parentage. Save her father, there were no other Elves employed in the Ministry of Magic, and for that matter there were hardly any Elves within the magical community itself. They stayed within their own ranks, and the wizards and witches stayed in theirs; Rane, alone in her pairing between them, was caught gracelessly in the middle of this not-quite-hostile duality.
Apart entirely from any of this, she hadn't so much as kissed anyone for longer than she could recall. Yet here she lay, in bed with Sirius goddam Black, who she'd known only since Voldemort's return, who she'd sat across from in Order meetings and clinked mugs of wine with over meals, who had shown her one afternoon on a whim how to properly greet his pet hippogriff, Buckbeak, for whom she'd always fostered a certain affection. She had liked his affability, his easy grace, his astute eyes, the way he seemed to fear few things. The rest of the Order members had seemed stiff and painfully somber; Sirius was the one that would catch her eye across the table and wink when Mad-Eye said something particularly barmy. One evening, after Dumbledore had concluded a meeting and Rane was gathering up plates and goblets for Molly, Sirius had offhandedly asked her if she was married.
No one's even managed to put up with me for more than a couple of hours yet, she'd replied with droll surprise. It had been true enough; her burgeoning career as an Auror coupled with her dealings with the Elves kept her very occupied and very isolated, a bit of a double-edged sword in many ways. The idea of marriage had occurred to her only insofar that it granted her absolution from her mother's occasional queries; the idea of a relationship hardly entered her mind at all. The four or five times in the past year that she'd halfheartedly agreed to some proposal from a bloke at work or something had finished quickly after her suitors had realized how little time and effort she was actually prepared to put in, how quickly her interest lapsed into courtesy and then into apathy.
Well, I've managed to put up with you all evening, Sirius had replied, gathering up his own stack of plates, though I do wish you'd have left that accent in America, it's awful . . .
Rane had put on an ersatz English lilt, screwing up her face at him. Oh, do forgive me, guv'nah, terribly sorry . . .
Not at all, ma'am, not at all, Sirius had replied pertly in an exaggerated Texas drawl, and Rane had snorted, kicking at him playfully. He had thrown her a coy grin over one shoulder as he'd gone loping off into the kitchen with his dishes, and Rane, who had only a nodding acquaintance with proper flirting, had felt an abrupt and completely unexpected warmth in her belly at the sight of that grin.
Now, lying in bed with him, she placed the palm of her hand against his bristly cheek and moved his face closer to hers. His eyes fluttered open, surprisingly gray, the reddish glow of the dawn reflected within them like deep flames.
"Hi," Rane said tentatively.
"Hi," Sirius replied softly, his voice gravelly with sleep. One hand reached up, pushed the tendrils of her hair from her face. "You're still here."
"I told you I'd stay," Rane said. She leaned forward and brushed her lips on his gently.
Sirius stretched richly, groaning, resettling his arm around her, and moved onto one side so that he could look down at her properly.
"So," he said, running his fingers up her arm lightly, "let's hear it."
Rane lifted her eyebrows questioningly.
"How are you feeling about everything now morning's come?"
"Everything?" said Rane.
"Yes, everything. The sex bit in particular."
"We had sex? Oh, my god . . . "
Sirius chuckled, but his eyes remained fixed on her, serious and perhaps a touch anxious.
"Come on, out with it."
Rane took a breath and let it out. "How do I feel about it," she said pensively. She thought for a moment, feeling Sirius's eyes on her. In truth, the sex bit, as Sirius had put it, wasn't the first thing that had come to her mind when he'd asked her how she felt; it was what he had almost said afterwards that leapt into her mind. But she felt she wasn't quite equipped to tackle that one just yet; best leave that for when the sun was a little higher in the sky.
"I can't believe it happened," she said at length, looking at him frankly. "But I'm glad it did."
"Ohthankfuck," Sirius said in one word, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his free hand. He dragged it to his chin, staring at her over his fingers. "You aren't upset?" He asked her, his voice muffled.
She shook her head. "Are you . . . ?"
Sirius stopped her words with his mouth, placing one warm hand on her cheek. "Never thought it'd happen," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "I'm glad as fuck that it did, though."
"Me too," Rane replied truthfully. She sighed. "This next part is going to be a bit harder . . . "
"Bit harder than what, me?" Sirius asked, grinning at her.
Rane cocked an eyebrow at him. "D'you have any idea how I'm going to get out of here without letting the whole headquarters know I spent the night with you?"
Sirius sat up, his brow furrowed. "Blimey . . . Hadn't thought of that . . . "
"Do you think everyone's already awake?" she asked him anxiously. "Ginny and Hermione and the rest of them?"
"Dunno," said Sirius pensively. "We'll be alright, though. You go down first, that's all. None the wiser."
"I hope Dumbledore and Mad Eye aren't here," Rane murmured worriedly.
"Dumbledore wouldn't have you on the outs just because you slept with me, Rane," Sirius said, looking at her in surprise. "Mad Eye wouldn't either, for that matter. He's a nutter, he might give you a hard time about it, but he wouldn't -"
"I've only just passed my exams, how do you think it's going to look?" she murmured, rubbing her face. "Being posted on guard here and then ending up . . . Well, ending up here," she finished, rather apologetically. "Office hooker status guaranteed for life in the Order, no doubt about it . . ."
"You worry too much," Sirius grumbled, throwing the blankets off of him and straightening. Nude, he stood with his back to Rane, stretching richly and Rane had a moment to admire the long muscles in his back flexing in the contrast of the golden morning glow.
A moment of silence passed between them. Sirius had laced his hands behind his neck, his shoulder flexed. Presently, he placed them on his hips and looked down, the fine hairs on the crown of his head glowing in the morning light like a crown. Rane could hear birds chirping dimly.
"So, is that it, then?" he said, very quietly, not looking at her.
"What do you mean?"
Sirius didn't face her, not quite; he half-turned, though, so that Rane could make out some of his profile through the sheet of his hair, moving minutely with his gentle breath. He was still looking at the floor, as if ashamed.
"Will I . . ." His throat worked as he swallowed. "Will I see you again?"
Rane threw the blankets off of her as well and went to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face between his shoulder blades and basking in the pleasant morning smell of him. She felt him relax in her grip, felt the tips of his fingers brushing lightly against her forearm. And now, she was thinking again about the night before. The suddenness of what had happened, the furor of it - it hadn't been like the times she was used to. It wasn't one of her one-night stands with some Johnny-come-lately from who-gives-a-shit-where, some wizard from a tavern she'd stopped in after her duty was finished perhaps, a dry business-like transaction that had led to the mindless, methodical motions of two unaffiliated participants who parted ways as quickly as they'd come together, the encounter forgotten by noon. It hadn't even been like the handful of men she'd dated, men who were far more enamored by her than she had been with them. This had been hard, full of unspoken emotion, and wit the fury and rushing, slightly frantic ardor of floodgates flung wide open after what had been perhaps months of amassing rumination.
Rane tightened her grip briefly, then placed a gentle kiss on Sirius's back. "I don't know," she said, her voice muffled against him. She paused, then added, "I want to."
"You do?" His voice, timid, so frighteningly unlike his usual boisterous affect.
Rane nodded against him.
Sirius took a big breath and released it, squeezing her wrist. "Good."
"Good morning, Rane!"
Rane grinned at Remus as she came into the dining room where everyone was down for breakfast, hoping she didn't look as guilty as she felt. Remus, Molly and Arthur were busying themselves with bacon and the Daily Prophet on the far side of the table; Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Harry had taken up spots nearer the door, and she was glad for her part that Hermione in particular was facing away from her; Hermione was as clever as any grown witch and Rane felt certain that if anyone was capable of calling her out aside from Dumbledore or Mad Eye (neither of which, thankfully, was in evidence), it was her. She sat down beside Ron Weasley and took a cinnamon roll.
"Oh, hello, Rane, dear," said Molly, waving her wand; an old-fashioned mug of coffee manifested itself, and she slid it towards Rane with a smile. "We didn't think we'd see you for a bit, I was certain you'd be exhausted after pulling night duty Friday."
"Well, you know me, practically nocturnal anyway," Rane said, taking the coffee gratefully. "Did you guys sleep okay?"
"Like a rock," said Ron, yawning.
"I did as well," said Ginny, "Didn't even hear you get up, actually - did you, Hermione?"
"No, I didn't either," Hermione agreed, looking at Rane over the rim of her coffee.
"Were you up again late last night?" Harry asked her, glancing sidelong at her. "I thought I heard you coming in from the terrace."
"I did, yeah," Rane replied carefully, silently ruing her conversation about not sleeping well with Harry a few nights prior. "I hope I didn't wake you up . . ."
"When did you come back to bed, anyway?" Hermione asked. She was still looking at Rane over her mug.
Rane made a bit of a business of stuffing more of her roll into her mouth, but was rescued by Arthur, who had just lowered his Prophet.
"Any news from Dumbledore?"
"Nothing yet," said Remus, sipping his coffee. "Last I heard from him was a fortnight ago."
"I haven't talked to him since he assigned me duty last week," said Rane, kindling to this welcome change of topic. "I'm sure he's busy."
"Have you been to the Ministry yet this weekend?" Arthur asked her. "Kingsley asked me to tell you to come see him in his office before the week is out, he wants to discuss Sirius -"
Rane choked on her coffee and began to cough.
"- and what's being told to the Minister about his location," Arthur finished, setting down his mug and looking at her with some concern. "Are you alright? Went down the wrong pipe, did it?"
"Fine!" Rane spluttered.
"Yes, well," said Arthur, eyeing her, "do be sure to pop in and pay him a visit when you get to the office, won't you?"
"'Course!" Rane replied in a strangled voice, "I'll go see him as soon as I'm -"
"Top o' the morning to ye!" cried a genial, familiar voice behind her.
A moment later, Sirius had sat himself down beside Remus, directly across the table from her. Rane stared at him.
"Alright, Sirius?" said Harry.
"Delightful!" Sirius replied, looking positively jolly. "You lot look like a sprightly bunch this morning!"
Unlike Rane, he didn't look even remotely uncomfortable; indeed, he was the picture of good health, ruddy and freshly shaven, looking rather dapper in a casual blazer, his long black hair tamed into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. If you didn't know better you'd think he got lucky last night, Rane thought to herself, and had to lower her face into her coffee cup to hide her smile.
"You look quite dashing today," said Molly, looking at him with some surprise.
"Well, thank you," said Sirius, nodding to her graciously while choosing a kipper from the plate in the center of the table.
"What's the occasion?" asked Ron, gnawing on a strip of bacon. "Hot date or something?"
Rane cleared her throat loudly.
"Well, you never know," said Sirius loftily. "You're looking lovely today, Rane."
"I - I mean, I'm - um - am I?"
"Pretty as a picture," said Sirius. "Isn't she, Mooney? Certainly a lovely thing."
"Quite beautiful," Remus agreed politely. "Just like her mum."
"Yes, quite beautiful, I agree," Sirius said softly, resting his chin on his fist and staring at her with unfiltered affection.
"Perhaps you should ask her boyfriend before you try to flirt with her, Sirius," said Ginny around her orange juice, looking severely at him. "He won't love that . . ."
"Should we ask your boyfriend first?" Sirius asked her, looking into her eyes.
Rane mumbled something into her cinnamon roll.
"Sorry, what?" Harry said, glancing up at her. "I didn't quite -"
"I said, I don't have one," Rane said a tad louder, her cheeks chipmunk-like in their fullness. "A boyfriend, I mean."
"Ah," said Sirius, nodding at Harry. "Well. In any case . . . lovely."
Rane had flushed a deep crimson. She stared into Sirius's face, feeling a mixture of exasperation and affection towards him that quite tied her tongue. And now, of course, everyone else was looking at her too, bewildered by her inelegance. In particular, Molly and Hermione were watching her with sudden curiosity; Harry, meanwhile, was attempting to rub the fingerprints off his wand with a wad of his jumper and Ron was picking kipper out of his teeth.
"Thanks," Rane finished gracelessly, and crammed a wad of cinnamon roll into her mouth, hoping she wouldn't be asked to comment further.
There was a slightly awkward silence at the table, broken only by Ron's unlovely chewing sounds.
"Are you alright, Rane?" Remus asked her.
Rane cleared her throat and met his eyes, straightening a little. "Yeah! I'm - I'm really - I'm good, thanks. How are you?"
Remus's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "I'm quite good, thank you."
"Well!" said Arthur, clapping his hands and standing up, seemingly quite oblivious to the tension. "I best be off. Molly, love, I'll try to be home tonight for supper straightaway."
"Of course, dear," said Molly as Arthur bent and planted a kiss on her temple.
"Arthur, I'd been meaning to tell you," said Remus, mercifully turning his attention from Rane for a moment, "there was something I would like you to research in the Ministry archives for me regarding Rodolphus Lestrange . . ."
While Remus was speaking to Arthur, Rane turned a sharp eye on Sirius over her coffee mug. He was smirking at her, crunching idly on a kipper.
WHAT . . . the . . . HELL?! she mouthed at him.
"It's fine!" Sirius said in a low voice, leaning across the table to address her. Harry and Ron, Rane noticed, were speaking together, but Hermione was watching their exchange with interest. "What are you so worried about, anyway?"
"Worried?" Hermione said. "Who's worried? About what?"
"Nothing," said Rane quickly, "it's just -"
"She's worried," said Sirius loudly, speaking over her, "that someone might get the wrong idea because we were both up last night and met out on the veranda."
And now, of course, Ron and Harry were listening too, and Rane took such a large gulp of coffee that her throat seared, feeling her forehead burning.
"What d'you mean?" said Ron.
"Like, you met out there?" Harry chimed in, looking between them.
"No!" Sirius replied. He had lost none of his conviviality, Rane noticed, and she grudgingly admired him for it. "No, we both just . . . Couldn't sleep."
"Oh, were you smoking again?" said Hermione.
Now it was Sirius's turn to look astonished. Rane laughed in spite of herself at his unmistakable surprise.
"What? Smoking, I don't -!"
"Well, I've seen you out there, haven't I?" said Hermione loftily, stirring her coffee. "It's quite alright, I won't tell Mrs. Weasley . . . "
"I - well, alright, so . . . I suppose I may have been smoking," said Sirius, ruffled. "And Rane couldn't sleep either, so we both just -"
"We just sat together on the porch," Rane interrupted, casting Sirius a dark glance. "And it was just -"
"Did you two snog?" said Ron suddenly.
Rane and Sirius were both stunned into silence at this. Ron, still chewing his kipper, was looking at them with frank, polite interest.
"Well?" he said after a moment. "Did you?"
Rane and Sirius exchanged a look, and what Rane saw on Sirius's reddening face - total and absolute bafflement - made her laugh.
"We . . . Well, never mind," she said, still laughing helplessly.
"Ron, old man, what a thing to say!" said Sirius, though he was grinning too.
Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, but Rane was too busy looking across the table at Sirius, who had met her eyes. She held his gaze, busily admiring his tenacity if nothing else, thinking that in spite of everything she'd made a good choice.
