"Thank you for clearing me so quickly through Gringotts, Aquilon. I hope it wasn't a bother," said Hermione the following morning.

They shook hands before she settled herself and her nicer robes in the plush arm chair.

"Always a pleasure to speak with someone who doesn't require a map to locate vital orifices, Miss Granger. How are you? I haven't had any clients rushing to my office with piss all over themselves recently. Are you on holiday?"

"Assisting a friend of a friend. I believe Harry's been in touch with you?"

"Ah, yes, and Young Master Black, too. I trust he is still alive-ish?"

"As alive-ish as he gets, unfortunately. I was hoping to review his accounts with you to understand his financial status, if you have some free time."

"Normally, due to privacy and confidentiality I would have to decline, Miss Granger, you understand."

"But if he was here to give permission, even verbally?"

"That would be acceptable; we understand your unique position."

"Thank you. Would you mind giving me a moment, and the use of your floo?"

"At your leisure, madam."

"Thank you."

A flash of green, a call to Sirius' bedroom, and a bracing 'wake assisting' shot of energy later, Aquilon was alarmingly pale as Hermione dragged Sirius half-stunned onto his carpet.

"It won't stain," she assured Aquilon, and gave Sirius a quick kick in the arse. "Wake up and tell this man I have your permission."

"To do anything," promised Sirius. "Where am I?"

"Back in your bedroom," she said, heaving him back through the floo and onto his cold, dusty floor. "I'll be by at eleven. Be dressed, clean-shaven, and ready to work."

His response was interrupted by Hermione closing the floo once more.

"I apologise for the interruption. I trust that was satisfactory?"

"... Absolutely," replied Aquilon, his balls shrivelling to raisin-scale in his trousers.

"Miss Granger?"

"Hmm?"

Aquilon met her eyes as she looked up from her mound of paperwork. Her brows rose as she realized time had gotten away from her.

With a quick tap of her wand she cracked the tamper-proof seals on the files and duplicated the documents within, ignoring Aquilon's sigh of defeat.

"We just implemented those."

"I know, it took me a good week to come up with them," said Hermione, completely unsympathetic. Another tap of her wand and the pile ordered and shrank itself. "Anything else?"

A wave of his wand brought a small flurry of documents, some bound, to rest neatly upon her conjured desk. Duplication charm repeated, she rose and filed everything into a neat briefcase, obviously enhanced with an extensible charm—the same charm she now understood had been partly adapted into Sirius' pants, she remembered with a shudder.

"I'll be taking these with me," she said unnecessarily. "Thank you for your cooperation. See you again."

"A pleasure, as always," he said, offering her the jar of floo powder.

She gave him a nod, but paused as his brow creased.

"Aquilon?"

He regarded her a moment, before a small curl of his lip hinted at a smile and he shook his head.

"Nothing, Miss Granger."

"Adieu."

"Until next time," he said, and she was gone in a flash of green and groan of pain. Male pain.

A gentle chime sounded from his desk. "Sir, Malfoy Senior has arrived and would like to know if the coast is clear."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Aquilon tapped his desk with his wand and replied to his secretary. "Please inform him the deballer has left and he's welcome to join me at his convenience."

Another tap had cleared the connection and Aquilon smirked to himself.

"I'm clean! I'm dressed! I'm shaved—everywhere, for my lady's instructions were vague and I thought it best to attend to such matters with a sense of grooming initiative—ow! Hermione, you need to use your words," frowned Sirius, rubbing his zinging wrist. "And please mind the hands, they are my livelihood."

Hating it when he had a point, Hermione reigned in her urge to zap him again, choosing instead to stalk into the kitchen—where she skidded to a stop, eyes going wide.

"You renovated?"

"Er, yes."

Her eyes squeezed shut.

"Why did you renovate your kitchen, Sirius?"

"Well, it was a bit depressing."

She let out a low breath. "I meant, why did you bother renovating when you've never in your life cooked so much as an egg. Boiled water. Gotten yourself a glass of water, for that matter. Made toast."

"I did, too! When I was on my own, post-Azkaban—er, pre-Veil—I had to get myself my own meals."

She felt a migraine creep tauntingly across her skull, and kept her eyes shut. "Yes, but you hunted as a dog or stole. You weren't cooking."

"Well, I also thought someone else may want to cook in a nice place. Someday. Perhaps."

She covered her face with her hands. "Good gods, Sirius, you make your call girls cook for you?! What kind of sick, twisted domestic fantasies do you harbour… No, stop, please, I can feel you about to open your mouth and make everything worse." She let out a long sigh. "Well, that explains the slew of construction invoices that said, 'Wifely Needs'. It's a relief, in its own way." She had been a bit worried it was something male-enhancement inclined.

Sirius' brow furrowed as he opened his mouth, reaching for her again, but Hermione shook her head, heaved a sigh, and straightened once more, walking away from him.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Oh, it's heaps better than it was," she gushed. "Actually," she was about to hate herself and regret this, she knew it, but soldiered on. "Actually, it's very nice. If you wouldn't mind giving me the name of your reno company, I may give them a ring later."

She did a full circle of the room, and found him watching her, face relaxed and… very, very widely smiling.

Her heart sank to her stomach… and fluttered. Awkwardly. "Sirius? What did you do?"

"Can I show you the bedroom?" he asked excitedly.

In that moment their eyes met.

—and then he yipped in pain.

"No," she said, blowing on the smoking tip of her wand. Hm. If this kept up, she may need to get a resiliometer added to it, to prevent it overheating.

"So, did you and Aquilon sort things out this morning? How are things looking?"

Seated at his lovely, dark polished wood kitchen banquette, Hermione wrapped her hands around her cup of tea.

"Aquilon was a good choice," she said. Unlike the solicitor. "He has things mostly in order."

"But?"

She shrugged. "I want to see the big picture, not just the individual investments and expenses. It's going to take me more than a morning to do that, Sirius. I'll beg your patience. Hopefully I'll have a better idea within the week."

He nodded. "Fair enough. No major concerns, though?"

She chuckled, relaxing for the first time now that they were having a proper conversation. Acting like adults. Responsible adults, at that. "Now that I understand the 'Wifely Needs' referred to your kitchen," she grinned, "I think we're in better shape than we'd expected."

Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, Sirius smiled at her.

"Hmm?"

He shook his head. "Just glad to hear things aren't as dire as you'd believed. I'm not entirely useless, you know. Growing up a Black, I did need to know my way around investments. Aquilon's fine on his feet, too. I don't intend to squander what I have."

Fair enough, thought Hermione. "If I see anything that concerns me, I will let you know directly."

He laughed aloud, the sound rich and enticing, and far too resonant within her, Hermione thought with a small tingle. Of apprehension. Obviously apprehension. Deliciously warming apprehension.

"I've never doubted you or your abilities, Hermione," he said, smiling widely at her.

Unbearably warming apprehension with a side of coiling anticipation. Merlin's fluffy underpants, had he spiked the tea?

"Everything all right?" Sirius asked, the bright shine fading from his eyes a moment as they narrowed in on her, intent.

"Fine. Just fine. Just thinking."

"That wasn't your thinking face. That was your dawning-realization-of-traitorous-suspicions face. I recognize it from… uh… Would you like some more tea?"

"No!"

He eyebrows rose.

"Er, I mean, no thank you. I'm feeling… just a bit under the weather."

"Well, with all the work going on at your house at the moment, you probably didn't get a lick of sleep this week. Are they due to finish soon? I hadn't realized you were having so much done."

"Ah… It'll be done when it's done," she said, gesturing vaguely with her cup. What in god's name was in the tea? When he'd said the word 'lick', why, she'd practically…

Hermione's legs tightened together as she fidgeted.

"If it gets to be too much, you're welcome to stay here. There's loads of room. Lots of bedrooms to choose from. The pool in the back is finished, and the gardens, and the gazebo with the built-in, state-of-the-art, climate-controlled library and—"

Hermione's eyes were so round they hurt. And she swallowed a moan.

Had he just said the magic words?

Her heart thudded to a stop in her chest, and a flood of uncertainty washed through her. "You… you moved the library outside?" What had those poor books ever done to him! Even if they were in a… but did he just say climate-controlled…?

"Moved? Oh, heavens no!"

"Ah…" The butterflies in her stomach swarmed, and she tried to tamp them down, even as her heart skipped as he looked down at his cup, fumbling with it like an awkward teenager.

"I made another one. In case y—anyone felt like having a nice read outside in the garden. With precious, archaic, climate-sensitive historical relics and scrolls." He shifted in his seat, ran a hand too casually through his hair; pressed his lips together and swallowed, clearing his throat. "Or, you know, paperbacks."

—Unsuccessfully. She was quite unsuccessful in controlling those raging butterflies. Dreadfully so. Because now she would have given damn near anything to see this pinnacle of modern charm engineering that was catered to preserving BOOKS. Oh heavens help her, she may need a new pair of knickers.

Her mouth dry, Hermione nodded. "That's… quite impressive. Do you read there, too?"

"No."

Ah. She felt her brows retreat back to their Standard Disappointed In Sirius glower. Well, that was a welcome relief, she thought, only mildly disappointed. For a second there, she'd been…

"It's where I compose. A… creative conservatory." He glanced up from his cup at her, his shoulders tense.

Meanwhile, Hermione's blood pressure rose again as she remembered—was absolutely not fixated, by any stretch of her vivid imagination—him saying, "lick", and she re-doubled her glare. There. That should fix it.

"Would you... " Seeing her glower, his voice trailed off. Then he shook his head, glancing down at his cup again.

"Never mind," he sighed, voice quiet. For the first time in ages, he sounded his true, tired age.

Also for the first time, Hermione felt the butterflies dissipate almost sadly when he hadn't offered to share more with her.

"How goes the battle?" Harry's voice carried over the mobile phone Hermione positioned in front of her on the ancient, filigreed desk in Sirius' (now quite bright and inviting) study. She tapped the speaker button on, grateful for the magic-dampeners she had set around it. The size of tic tacs, they had come in particularly handy around her more sensitive electronics.

She blew out a long breath, and stretched. "My head is bloody but unbowed," she said.

"How bad is it?"

"The finances? Actually, far, far better than expected. Thank heavens for Aquilon. I do need to speak to Sirius about some of the ways he's filed these receipts, though. Do you know what "Worm Bait" could refer to? Or maybe "Asylum"?"

"Nope," lied Harry through his teeth. "You could ask him, though."

"He's practising right now. If he's being productive, I don't want to take him away from it," she said. She shuffled the pile she finished, to neaten it. "Also, it keeps him out of my hair."

"Ah, how goes the hair?"

"It's behaving, no thanks to your trouble-making. How is the search for the new manager going?"

"A bit slow, but we have some good candidates. The Aurors are vetting the ones you reviewed. We're being extra thorough, just like you instructed on your 'memo'."

"It wasn't that long."

"It was forty two pages with another ten in appendix. On telling us how to do our jobs."

"I included some very useful insights into Muggle search methods," she retorted. "I still think we can give a broader range to the Wizard Wireless Internetwork another go."

"Until we have more legislation in place to protect minors from accessing that much wizarding pornography—"

"How was I to know that was the first thing the Wizengamot would search for at the initial inquiry! On the projector. In front of an audience…"

Harry sighed. "Yes," was all he said.

"You should never have let yourself be filmed doing that, you know," she muttered.

She could tell Harry was staring at the ceiling, praying for patience, going by how strained his voice was. "Hindsight is 20/20. Unfortunately."

They were quiet a moment as Hermione moved on to another batch of papers.

"I spoke to Malfoy the other day," he said.

Hermione smirked. "Junior or Senior."

"Junior. About Senior."

"I hope you gave him my regards."

"Stop snickering like that, it's… kind of giving me the creeps, to be honest. Actually, we did talk about you a moment. Malfoy—Junior—said he was looking to talk shop with you—"

"Pick my brain over a meal so he doesn't have to say he had to 'ask' me for help or list me as a consultant."

Behind Hermione, the sound of footsteps thudded calmly down the hall; she ignored them in favour of turning up the volume on her phone.

"—true enough. Anyway, he wanted to sit down with you sometime soon. Will you be free for lunch any time this week?"

Glancing at her schedule, she evaluated their options.

"You said the Aurors won't be finished those BG checks for another how long?"

"At least a few days."

"Then yes. I have some time. I can't move forward with my next step until they give me some answers."

"Right. I'll floo Malfoy and get back to you with a time."

"Do thank his excellency for deigning to speak with and accommodate me in his schedule."

Harry laughed. "He would say the same right back at you, you know. You two are more alike than you realize."

"And exactly why we need to be supervised when we interact. We'd off each other, otherwise."

"It'd be a helluva show, though." Harry was grinning, she knew. She could hear it in his voice.

"So is Cirque du Soleil."

"Cirque is far less dangerous. As a performer."

"Granted," she said, smiling, too.

"Anything else you need while you're on sabbatical?"

"A sabbatical."

"... Did I tell you the moat's done and looks fantastic?"

"Wonderful. Fill it with crocodiles."

She heard Harry swallow.

"And those little birds that like to sit on the crocodiles and feast on their parasites."

Harry remained silent.

"Crocodiles, Harry. Big ones, small ones, some the size of your—" She sang out, only for Harry to choke on his own spit.

"Crocodiles. We'll… we'll see to that for you."

"Thank you, Harry. You're a dream."

"I'm also bordering on debt."

"Hmm. Time to make another video, then?"

In his sanctuary, surrounded by windows on all sides, Sirius strummed Sisqo. Yes, he was supposed to be practising. Or composing. Or something vaguely productive. His mind was distracted, though.

Due to the indoor renovations her own home was undergoing, she'd agreed to work from his study that day. He'd thought it would be an excellent opportunity to convince her to try out his new in-ground, twelve-person hot tub with built-in back massagers. Preferably slightly naked. Somehow she'd found the willpower to decline and insist she was happy to toil away in the damn study. Worse still, fully clothed. A tragedy he still strove to surmount.

When he'd invited her to come work in the 'gazebo', his own refuge, she'd blinked in temptation, but insisted again the study was more appropriate.

Damnit all, what did a man have to do to get her attention? He was sure the conservatory-slash-garden-library would do the trick.

What was he missing?

Did she… good heavens, was she already interested in someone else?

No, he decided. Harry would have told him if that were the case.

Wouldn't he?

Pursing his lips, Sirius looked around his studio once more before calling it a morning. He would have more time to practice again later.

He stepped into the hallway that led to the study just in time to hear Harry and Hermione's voices.

Then his heart sank into his stomach.

Hermione was… meeting with Draco Malfoy?

Wait. He frowned. Like Hell she was.

"Come, Sisqo. We have work to do! Time for walkies."

"What do you mean you're going 'out'? Out where? When? For how long?"

"For… work?"

Hermione glanced at Sirius balefully. "Really?"

"Mm-hmmm," he said, his voice higher than he'd really meant it to be.

"Because you hadn't mentioned anywhere on the schedule that you needed to go out today." She took the opportunity to lean back in the leather seat to stretch her back and roll her neck. Surrounded by paperwork, highlighters and folders of all sizes, she was the anchor to his storm of finances, tethering it all to shore so it wouldn't be torn asunder by the squall of his… lifestyle.

Sirius nodded to himself mentally and pressed his lips together. "I'm a grown man, Hermione. Technically old enough to be…" Stop that train of thought right there, slam on the brakes. "To manage some affairs of my own without supervision."

"If you could manage your own affairs, any of them, in any capacity, I wouldn't be holding Harry's purse strings by his short & curlies, Sirius. Or yours." She set down her quill. "What are you doing? Do you need a bodyguard or security detail? Is it shopping? Drinking? Whoring?"

"What a charming life you think I lead."

"Deflection isn't working in your favour right now."

"I'm going to meet with Gerard at a little coffee shop near his home. Possibly a walk with him and his dog. It isn't a grand adventure," he said. "I just want to go visit my friend."

Merlin, he hated how petulant and whiny he sounded.

"I'm not eight years old. I'm a grown man."

Her brow spiked.

"You are. With a rather rabid fanbase who track your movements, and who are more than a bit worked up right now with the announcement of your new album. Add the fact that you may be considering taking yourself off the market and they're a tinderbox waiting for a spark. Don't feed or underestimate the trolls, Sirius."

"I feel like I should defend my fanbase, but I still remember what happened in Budapest…"

Both Hermione's brows lifted to her hairline as her eyes widened.

He waved her concern—and curiosity—off. "Fine. But I don't want a burly security guard. Someone who'd blend in would be nice."

"Do you have a preferred company?"

"As the last few ended up being shams that my fanclubs had set up to have their own members get closer to me, unfortunately, no."

He refused to let Hermione's deep inhale sway him.

"Let me call in a favour or two."

"No! Only one person."

She pursed her lips. "One person. To guard you against the hoards of your fangirls."

"... and fanboys."

She closed her eyes briefly. "One big favour, then."

"Who are you going to call?"

Hermione fixed her level stare upon Sirius, and he may have felt his balls simultaneously tingle and shrivel up under her gaze. How did she do that? he wondered, awed and wanting.

And he realized, fuck, now he wanted her punishment, too.

"You agreed."

"No."

"Or you can stay here and hide out in your playhouse."

"Sanctuary! It's my sanctuary, thank you. And no."

Hermione shrugged. "Then you go with your bodyguard. And don't antagonize him. He's here to guard you and keep you alive; how alive is up to the two of you. I'm too busy to referee and I'm quite sure he's too talented to miss."

"Hey!"

"Don't 'hey' me. I gave you options. Take it or leave it."

Feeling his body's twenty some odd years warring with emotion and hormones, Sirius took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"Fine. Come along, Severus."

"Oh, do I get to dog your steps now? How delightful."

Sirius' shoulders tensed. "Did it have to be him?"

"One person. He's the best in the business. Or, not in the business…. Depending on how you look at it."

"How you two arranged it so you owed each other favours is...," muttered Sirius under his breath as he and Severus stepped outside.

When he saw Severus give a slow, sly smirk at him and turn away he should have known better.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the dark wizard purred.

"And you're to stay out of earshot. I don't need my personal conversations all over the paparazzi again."

"You overvalue your importance," drawled Severus as they apparated together.

"I should make you swear an oath. Not just for me, but for Hermione, too."

Severus turned to face Sirius, glancing over the man as if he were dung he'd found clinging to his shoe.

"Hermione and I do not require oaths to do our jobs, Black. We've never compromised on… privacy. Or confidences."

He paused a beat, watching Sirius once more before that hint of a smirk reappeared. "Our exchanges are freely given and consensual, always," he said, latching onto something he saw in Sirius' expression.

"Stay behind me," said Sirius as they approached the café.

Severus was mentally rolling his eyes, Sirius knew it. "I get the privilege of watching your back? Oh, thank you, thank you."

It would have really pissed Sirius off, if he hadn't noticed that Severus had been stunning, deflecting, confunding and disabling rabid fans left, right and center since they'd apparated into this quieter, more fashionable area of London, and neither batting an eye nor breaking a sweat as he did so.

Damn, the man was good.

To Be Continued…

AN: Still another few chapters to go. Many outstanding thanks to uchiha.s for all her support as I wrote this little bit of fun. :) Hope you're enjoying!