Wedlocked
Chapter 4: Parks & Purchases

The age difference was bad enough, but the tattoos… why did he have to have tattoos?

Hermione paced the length of the entrance hall, worrying her fingernails and lower lip. At least she no longer had to worry about Mrs Black shouting at her. The fact that she would soon be the new Mrs Black did not escape her fretting mind. She just had more pressing concerns – like those damned tattoos.

"Ready?" Sirius questioned.

She turned and studied him. Blue oxford dress shirt, khaki trousers, brown shoes polished just enough to show he tried but not so much to be pretentious or overpowering. His clothes looked as normal as anyone she might approach on the street, which drew all her attention to his face. That's what she had wanted… except that now she worried his hair might be off-putting to her parents. Sadly, she suspected that he would hex her if she suggested giving him a haircut, so that would have to be the sole obvious oddity about him.

"You Muggle-up good," she commented. "No one would ever suspect you're a wizard."

"I used to spend quite a bit of time in Muggle London," he said, opening the door for her. "It was the only place I could be sure my mother wouldn't find me. Rather like you in the Wizarding world."

Her eyes narrowed automatically, glaring her annoyance at him. "I told you. My parents are wonderful."

"Well, I'm going to find out tonight, aren't I?" he grinned.

Hermione's brain filled with images of Sirius in her parents' sitting-room, glass of brandy in hand as he espoused the brilliance of Hippogriff travel over the Floo Network and shared tales of debauchery from his youth. She groaned, "You are going to behave, aren't you?"

"I always behave," Sirius insisted. His face would have looked perfectly believable if it weren't for the glint in his eye, which clearly spoke to his desire to make her parents squirm and Hermione scream.

She sighed, "Fine, let's go."

She took his arm and closed her eyes as he Apparated them both to a quiet walking path in Oxford. It took her a moment to realise where she was, but the packed dirt underfoot and narrow river with a scattering of punts gave her all the information she needed. University Parks. City centre was just a short walk from here as was her home.

"Blackwell's isn't far. This way," she said, dropping his arm and starting down the path.

He reached out and took hold of her hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. The question must have been written on her face because he smiled rather condescendingly. "Since you're set on keeping up the front that we're getting married out of love, you'd best get used to showing it," he informed her with a pat on her hand. "Wouldn't do to go through the whole damned wedding only to get sick at the idea of kissing me, now would it?"

His words were playful as was the look on his face, but she swore there was something in his eyes, some intangible sadness that had no place there and made no sense. Why would he be hurt? She hadn't done anything to cause him pain. It was he who refused to look at her most of the morning, not the other way around.

"Right," she said with only a hint of the confusion she felt seeping into her voice.

"So," he said some time later, "how did we meet? I'm assuming you want to avoid mentioning my time in Azkaban, which leaves the truth out."

Hermione considered what to tell her parents. The truth was a little discouraging. She was marrying an escaped, falsely-accused mass murderer. Even though he had been framed, Sirius had still run off with the intent to kill someone. She doubted her parents would look too kindly on that fact, and it still required explaining Voldemort attacking Harry. No, that was definitely not an option.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "that some portion of the truth is fine. They know about Harry, so I guess we met when you came to visit him at school."

"Very good spin of the truth," he nodded his approval. "Was it love at first sight?"

"No," she snorted. "That's nonsense. Besides, you were quite frightening when I first met you, not to mention that I was fourteen."

"And you're sixteen now, what's the difference?"

She frowned. "Quite a large one." He just smirked, irritating her senseless. "You're the one who wants to avoid looking like a dirty old man."

His laugh was painful to hear, derisive, and she knew the hatred she heard was directed at himself. "I really don't think that's possible in this situation," replied Sirius. "But I'm used to people thinking the worst of me."

He looked down at her, that same strange pain in his eyes. It was different from the hollow look he often got late in the evening when thoughts of Azkaban crept from the shadows and haunted him. Those were the nights everyone stayed long into the night and he drowned himself in whiskey hoping to destroy enough brain cells to make the memories pass. She wasn't sure what this pain was, she just knew it was different.

"I don't think badly of you," she insisted. "Neither does Harry or Remus or anyone else who matters."

He laughed again and his face took on a complex series of emotions that she barely had time to register let alone understand. The thought flashed through her brain that she had the rest of their lives to sort out what exactly was bothering him, provided they managed not to kill one another first.

"I thought you said it wasn't far," he said after a few more minutes of walking. "We've been going for ages."

"It isn't," she said. "The gate is just ahead and then it's only half a mile or so to city centre."

"Half a mile?" he parroted in disbelief. "What is wrong with you people? I thought you had public transport for this sort of thing."

She sighed. "How did you get such large muscles if you're so lazy?"

His bicep flexed beneath her fingers. She suspected he did it on purpose, but his face didn't show him looking at all proud of himself. "That is different," he insisted. "That is effort with a purpose. This is just tedium."

"It's exercise and a nature walk," she sniffed, annoyed that he was making fun of one of her favourite places in Oxford.

"It's boring and far too long. If I'd known it would be so far, I would have bought a damned motorcycle." His eyes lit up at the thought then dulled immediately. "Are you going to be one of those wives?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know." He nudged her in the ribs and let his voice grow nasal and mocking as he spoke like that kind of wife, "You're not getting on one of those death traps."

She snorted despite the fact that that was precisely her opinion on motorbikes. "I don't particularly like them," she said and watched his face fall. "However, you're coming to my rescue, so I wouldn't dream of denying you what you love most."

He grinned, "So I can get a bike?" She nodded. "And keep drinking?" She frowned but nodded. "And smoke on the balcony?" Again she nodded. "And have sex every night with whomever I like?"

"What?"

"Kidding," he smirked. "Wizard marriages come with fidelity charms. Sex with anyone other than the person I married would cause unbearable physical pain and, given the current state of the Ministry, probably incarceration. Much as I love a roll in the sack, I'm not going back to Azkaban for it."

Hermione could only blink and try to push her blush down.

There it was. Sex. She really didn't know if it was expected of her. After Ginny first brought the idea up, she scoured the new law word-for-word, searching for any hidden innuendo or loop holes that might imply the married couples were required to fornicate. She had found nothing; the law did not demand it of them, but they would be husband and wife. Married people had sex – unmarried people, too, but that was not her concern right now. Sirius had never mentioned it, but there was a chance he might expect it as a given of married life or as compensation for saving her.

Awkward and nervous as it made her, she was desperate to speak to him about it. "Um…" she began, but he spoke over her.

"Finally, the gate!" he cried and started walking quicker. "I didn't think this bloody wilderness would ever end."

She glanced around at the manicured grass and benches beneath well-maintained trees. "Wilderness?"

"Which way?" he demanded, eyeing the pavement in either direction eagerly.

"Left," she said and was tugged that way almost immediately as her fiancé all but ran down the street, past museums, the red brick college and heavy stone walls. Hermione was curious what had him so excited, the new city, freedom or whatever it was he intended to purchase. "Turn right up ahead," she told him.

He turned the corner and continued on at a more reasonable pace now that he could see shops.

"I was expecting more people," he said as a woman in a colourful dress walked past, her camera held high as she took photographs of everything that sat still long enough.

"The colleges are out for summer," Hermione told him. "All the students are back home, so all that's left are locals and tourists."

He nodded and watched the Muggles walk around aimlessly, a smile touching his lips. "I like summer here."

She chose not to reply and let him enjoy his moment of peace, which lasted until she tugged him to a stop before the matte black storefront of her favourite bookshop.

"We're here," she said.

"I thought it would be bigger," he commented as he peered in the windows. Shrugging, he walked into the shop, Hermione still attached to his arm.

"What are you looking for?" she asked as he frowned and hummed his way through several sections without finding anything worth picking up.

"Never you mind," he chided. "You go look on your own. I don't want you ruining the surprise."

"I could help you find whatever it is you're looking for," she said.

"Get!" he shooed her away. "I've managed on my own for how many years before you came along?"

"Yes, you did a great job without anyone's help," she commented and walked away.

Hermione ducked behind a table of books, watching Sirius as he walked through the store, picking things up at random and putting them back down. She felt like she was back at Hogwarts trailing a professor Harry suspected of being in league with Voldemort.

Sirius was talking to a salesgirl, a pretty young woman in her early twenties, blond and smiling. The woman touched his arm as she leaned in and pointed to the back of the store. He winked and grinned in response to whatever she had said, but left the blond standing alone. Hermione followed as stealthily as she could, but saw him walk up the stairs. It would be impossible to follow him without being seen and she didn't know which floor he was going to. Blackwell's was deceptively small-looking from the outside. When she was younger, Hermione thought it was magic that the shop was so deep and tall when from the street it looked like just a cramped, one-story shop with flats on top. Normally, she loved that quirk of the store, but right now it was proving most irritating.

She frowned, hating that Sirius was up to something and she could not find out what.

With a huff, she began shopping, finding several books that she would have happily purchased if she had the money. She had been there close to an hour without seeing Sirius again and was beginning to worry that he had gotten lost or bored.

"May I help you?" the blond woman asked.

"Not unless you can tell me what that man was looking for," Hermione muttered.

The woman smiled. "The handsome bloke with the long hair? He said you might ask and that if you did I should tell you to stop trying to ruin all his fun."

"Git," Hermione grumbled and folded her arms. "Where is he?"

"Well, we didn't have everything he wanted, so he went down to Waterstones," the young woman informed her, checking her watch. "Said you could meet him there for coffee at noon, which gives you twenty minutes."

"What do you mean 'everything he wanted'? How many books was he after?"

"Several," the woman's smile turned knowing as she winked. "I think you'll enjoy his selection."

"Oh, god, not the bodice-rippers again," Hermione groaned. "I never should have brought them up."

"No," she giggled. "Although he did ask if there was any place to buy a bodice in town." After a brief laugh over Hermione's obvious embarrassment, the woman schooled her face into professionalism and said, "Be sure to remember your purchases at the till when you leave."

"I haven't bought anything," Hermione frowned her confusion.

The woman just smiled. "This way."

Hermione followed the woman to the front of the store and balked at the stack of books waiting for her. Every book that she had picked up and eyed with want was waiting for her. "How did you know?"

"It's my job," the woman smiled and rang up the order, taking a thick fold of notes from a black bag and depositing it in the till. She placed the change back in the bag and handed it across to Hermione, who quickly studied it and recognised it as a currency exchange bag from Gringotts bank. Sirius must have left money for her.

The blond slid the weighty bag of books across the worn counter. "Have a nice day, and congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you," Hermione replied dully. "Um… does the word 'Muggle' mean anything to you?"

The woman blinked once, twice, three times as she considered the word. "No, should it?"

"Just curious if there was a reason why you were so good at your job," Hermione commented and left before the woman could ask her what the word meant.