Response to "wine" drabble prompt.
All characters and their origins property of J.K. Rowling. Hermione is 18 or older unless otherwise stated.
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The door gave a final click behind the last of the stragglers, leaving Sirius alone to deal with the young witch who was slumped in an overstuffed chair in his parlour. The dying fire combined with the few oil lamps cast a soft glow over her features.
He sighed and quietly walked over, plucking away the half-empty wine glass that was wedged precariously between her curled legs and the arm of the chair, and setting it on the side table. He peered into her face, half obscured by the unruly brown tresses that had escaped their restraints hours ago. Without thinking he gently tucked an errant curl behind her ear, jumping slightly when she sighed and moved her cheek into his palm. Her eyes remained closed but her tongue darted out to moisten her wine stained lips as she muttered incoherently in her sleep.
Sirius exhaled and allowed himself a rare moment to outwardly admire the witch before him as a man, and not as her best friend's godfather. His thumb grazed the soft skin of her temple absently as he leaned in closer. Oh, to taste those sweet lips...
She shifted again, allowing him to slip his other arm under legs while he moved his hand under her shoulders, gently lifting her out of the chair. He closed his eyes briefly when she moved against him, her arms curling around his neck as she snuggled closer to his chest. He gritted his teeth and, convinced she was still asleep, trained his intent on the upstairs spare bedroom.
He was halfway up the landing when one of her hands slid seductively down his chest and he felt her lips nuzzling the sensitive spot just below his jawline, causing him to stumble.