AN: At this point, I feel like it's an excellent time to say that this chapter is decidedly smutty. Let's be honest- it's rated M for a reason, and I think most of us have come to expect this in M rated fanfic. Still, if that isn't your cup of tea, this is your chance to avoid the content.
Hermione began to pace back and forth, her arms drawn to her chest in subconscious protection. Sirius watched a moment as Hermione's anxiety got the better of her before he stopped her with his hands on her arms.
"Hermione," Sirius said firmly. "You can't go to Kingsley right now. It's past midnight."
"But he would want to know," Hermione said. She ran her fingers along her bottom lip. "He would, wouldn't he?"
"Yes, but not now. Besides, what did you say it said?"
"Er—the blood of the leaders is binding. He goes on to say something about ah… using their blood in a final act? Final ritual? It's þegnung or þegnunga, I can't be sure, his writing is so difficult to read. But it must be 'ritual'."
"See Hermione, you can barely piece together what it's actually saying. How are you going to go to Kingsley with barely any information?"
Hermione's expression fell. She knew Sirius was right.
"I think you've been working at this for too long. It's taken its toll on you, I can tell."
Sirius guided Hermione over to the wingback chair and she sat down compliantly. He knelt in front of her, and took her hands in his.
"I think you should hand this over to Kingsley now. The team. There has to be someone else who can translate Old English as well as you." Hermione's eyes flashed, and Sirius backpedaled. "Alright, a break then. Let the others handle it for a while and you stay back in London with me."
"Fine," Hermione said. She exhaled, as if she had been holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Sirius had taken it from her, even if only for a moment. "I knew it would be something like that. I could take the document and do a simple charm to find out if it truly was written in blood, but it's with Vincent, the American curse breaker Kingsley brought in. He's here in the castle somewhere…"
"I wouldn't let you anyway," Sirius said, his tone very final. He rubbed at Hermione's palms with his thumbs in a soothing gesture.
"Come on," Sirius said. "You're going to sleep. You can't think like this. The journal will keep for the night."
Hermione took a deep and steadying breath before nodding. She stood and scooped her papers and the journal off the floor, making a neat stack. As she set the papers and journal down on a nearby table, she gave it one final look. She wanted to continue translating, but could barely keep her eyes open.
A gentle tug at her hand brought her from her daze, and she followed Sirius.
"Which way?" Sirius asked. Hermione lead the way without a word. When she entered her rooms, Sirius paused at the doorway. Hermione turned, looking for him.
"Get some sleep then," Sirius said, turning to leave.
"No," Hermione called out, wringing her hands together. She looked around the room, from her collection of books on her desk to an assortment of potions on a dresser, avoiding Sirius's gaze. "Stay."
Sirius's eyebrows raised, and he took one step into the room, staring at Hermione.
"I can't…" Hermione cleared her throat. "I can't sleep alone tonight. I don't mean…" Hermione's eyes shot up to Sirius's finally. "Oh, Merlin on a broomstick, I don't know what I mean."
Sirius's stomach flipped a moment, and he approached the clearly exhausted witch. He smiled down at her, and placed one hand on her shoulder, and the other behind her ear, settling on her curly hair. "I do though. If you tell me to stay, I will. I have no expectations."
Expectations. Hermione's heart fluttered. She had no idea what she was doing. In her work-induced delirium, Hermione had effectively invited a man twenty years her senior into her bed. Hermione had to remind herself that they were magically bound by betrothal, and the rest was merely formality. With a final kick to her backside she reminded herself that hundreds of other witches and wizards in their position had either already married or were very close.
"I'll just grab my things. I won't be a minute." Sirius retreated from Hermione's rooms, leaving her alone, standing on the stone floor feeling like a fool.
She willed herself to get ready for bed, washing her face with tepid water from a basin, and changing into her collared nightshirt. With all the energy she could muster, she slid into her bed, shivering between the cold sheets.
In Sirius's absence, she thought of her breakthrough. Blood magic was serious. It was foul. It was unspeakable, and Hermione knew that if the process was outlined clearly enough, Kingsley might want to set into motion the process of reversing the spell using the same blood magic. He might even want Hermione to make the attempt. The very thought made her want to vomit. Voldemort had been brought back using blood magic. Blood magic had kept him alive for those many years he was in hiding. Blood magic was a terrible taboo in the wizarding world. To actively and knowingly engage in blood magic, it was said, would taint part of a witch or wizard's soul, but Hermione had no textual support for that claim.
So wrapped up in her agony over blood magic was she that Hermione barely noticed when Sirius slid into bed beside her. His body heat radiated beside her, and Hermione felt instantly warm when he pulled her body to his. She had not stopped shivering since climbing into bed.
Sirius felt her shaking, and held her to his side tightly. Hermione turned into his chest appreciatively, resting her head on his soft, long sleeved black shirt.
"He'll want me to do it," she said against his chest.
Sirius sighed. "Hermione, Kingsley is under an intense amount of pressure, but I believe with everything I have that he would never ask you to perform blood magic."
Hermione was quiet. In her silence, Sirius pulled away from her slightly to look upon her face, adjusting his body so they were both on their sides.
"And if he does ask, Hermione, I won't allow it."
"Allow?" Hermione's voice was small. Normally such a statement would garner more of a rise from her, but she found in this moment all the fight had been drawn from her.
"Hermione, you're the strongest witch I know, and I know you'll do anything you get your mind set on… but sometimes you do too much. And I know you. If asked, you would give yourself completely to save the world. No, you and Harry and Ron gave too much of yourselves. They can't ask you to give any more than that."
He caressed her hair a moment before continuing. "I won't allow them to exploit the woman I'm going to marry that way."
Hermione's breath hitched a moment. She was very nearly close to tears. Sirius's words hit home. They had sacrificed significantly to save the wizarding world. She had sacrificed her childhood, her innocence, even some of her friends, and she knew deep down that they would continue to ask her to give more and more. If it weren't for Sirius, she would have done the noble thing and given more. She'd never had anyone who fought for her. Always the cause, but never her.
She wanted to thank him, to tell him how much it meant that he was willing to fight for her happiness, but the words stuck in her mouth.
Unwilling to lose herself to sorrow or exhaustion any longer, Hermione brazenly leaned forward and kissed Sirius, placing her hand on his chest. He was frozen a moment, allowing Hermione to kiss him first.
He responded swiftly and passionately, which seemed to surprise Hermione. He rolled her onto her back and bore down on her before pulling his head back to look at her in the pale moonlight that shone through the open window.
"Hermione, maybe this wasn't a good idea, me staying with you through the night…" He was fighting incredibly hard to keep his composure.
"I asked you," Hermione said. "I would rather feel this than what I've been feeling since all this happened. I don't want to feel that way anymore…"
Hermione was able to briefly see the hungry look in Sirius's eyes as he got all the confirmation he needed. He descended on her mouth once more, kissing her deeply and fully. Her breathing picked up, and she snaked her arms around his shoulders, lacing her fingers in his nearly shoulder length hair.
Sirius studied the way she kissed him, changing his pressure to meet hers. As he learned her mouth, he shifted his weight until he settled comfortably between her legs. With his weight on one of his elbows he rested the other on her hip. The pressure on her hip increased with every kiss.
Hermione responded to each new sensation with a soft sigh or small moan, which drove Sirius on further. Involuntarily, Sirius's body responded to Hermione, his hips tilting upward in search of contact. When he found it, he pulled away from her mouth a moment to revel in the sensation, even through the layers of fabric that separated them.
He nuzzled Hermione's nose with his and moaned in approval.
"Sirius," she breathed, "I don't want to take this too far. The founders' spell… we can't risk consummation before the wedding. We don't know what will happen."
Sirius breathed raggedly and responded feebly. "I know. We won't risk it then. But…" Sirius's hips shifted, looking for the contact that had been broken. Sirius chuckled when Hermione responded in kind. Stopping was not something either of them wanted to do.
"Do you trust me, Hermione?" Sirius looked into Hermione's eyes, some of his boyish charm returning to his own.
Hermione searched Sirius's expression and paused a moment. She had never been any further than this with Ron, or even Viktor. She found it difficult in this moment to hide her nervousness. "I do," she said feebly.
"I will stop if you tell me to," he said reassuringly. When she remained silent, Sirius took this as tacit consent, and shifted his weight so he was no longer between her legs.
In an instant, he was on his side, his weight supported on one elbow, and his hand on Hermione's stomach. Her nightshirt had ridden up to her hips, leaving the smallest peek of her white knickers exposed.
In the calm that passed between the two of them, Sirius leaned down and kissed Hermione more gently and lovingly. His hand increased its pressure on her stomach, and he slowly moved it down an inch at a time. Soon he felt Hermione trembling under his touch, unsure what his next move would be.
He pulled back from their kiss to watch her expressions change. He knew what he would find when his hand met the apex of her thighs, but he had no idea just how intensely Hermione had been responding to him.
He touched her sensitive skin through the thin fabric of her knickers and found that it had been soaked through completely. He sighed appreciatively as he parted her through the fabric, feeling for the sensitive nerves.
The small mewling noises she had been making turned to a sharp gasp as Sirius slid his middle finger under the fabric deftly, feeling at her wetness completely. Her hand shot instinctively to his shoulder for support, and gripped at the toned muscle she found there.
Her eyes opened completely, and she stared helplessly into Sirius's eyes. He made a gentle shushing noise as he began to circle the spot that drew such a reaction from her.
Sirius fought the intense curiosity within him. With every moment, he felt more and more possessive of Hermione, wanting every part of her. He knew she was young, but his vanity threatened to get the best of him.
Heady with lust, Sirius's resolve crumbled, and he had to ask. "Had anyone ever touched you this way, Hermione?"
Hermione bit her lower lip and shook her head so slightly that Sirius might have missed it. He smiled to himself and continued with his movements. With every pass, Hermione's body trembled more and more, and she found herself grinding her hips in response.
Sirius knew he would send Hermione over the edge with his next few actions. He stopped his work, giving Hermione a slight reprieve, and hooked his fingers into the band of her now-useless undergarment. Looking into her eyes for some sign of protest, Sirius began to gently tug them off. When he found none, he pulled them completely from Hermione's body, and tossed them onto the floor.
Carefully he returned to what he had been doing, causing Hermione to resume her ragged breathing. With some hesitation, Sirius placed a finger slowly inside her, causing her to cry out. Her hand shot from his shoulder to his hair, gripping firmly for dear life.
As Hermione relaxed and began to move her hips again, Sirius picked up his pace, pulling in and out, curving his finger upwards to find the spot that would send her over the edge. As she began to tremble, Sirius knew she was close. As she cried out, she gripped the roots of his hair tightly, which only turned him on more.
Her cries grew smaller, and her eyes were no longer tightly shut but open a hair, hazed in pleasure.
Sirius smiled in self-satisfaction. He had been dreaming of what it might be like to see and hear Hermione come, and it was even better than he had imagined. He brought his mouth down to hers, and kissed her lips lightly.
"You are incredible," he said, bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting her. He hummed in approval.
Her breathing slowed. After what seemed like ages, Hermione came down from her high, and pulled Sirius down into a kiss.
"Sirius," she said, her eyes heavy with pleasure and exhaustion.
He smiled contentedly. It didn't take a Seer to know that Hermione was on the verge of sleep. He really couldn't complain—he had brought her to that precipice.
She moved her hand to Sirius's chest, and moved it downward, only to have it stopped gently by him. He kissed her palm.
"Next time," he said sweetly.
Before she could respond, Hermione had been carried off to sleep, with Sirius Black gazing down at her in awe. As she breathed small, shallow breaths, Sirius kissed her forehead, careful not to wake her. He collapsed beside Hermione, on his back, hooking one of his arms behind his head. For all the unhappiness that had befallen him, he never thought that he would be able to feel something so pure and light ever again. With a deep sense of contentment, Sirius fell asleep beside Hermione, the girl who was miraculously turning him into a reflection of the best parts of his former self.
AN: I am sorry for the lapse in updates. I had a busy week or so leading up to Thanksgiving. I think you should expect another update soon, in order to make up for the lapse.