Chapter 13 Where are my Pants?

It was a month before she showed up at his door, and he'd had a busy time. Work had given him purpose and he was enjoying the adult responsibilities of a steady job that he had never experienced before. Harry's little boy James was a constant delight, especially as he could hand the baby back whenever he looked like the screaming was about to start! He'd made the decision to leave his family home, it really was no place for him to move on, so haunted by all the ghosts of the years. He'd found an apartment round the corner from Diagon Ally, smartly furnished, with high ceilings and large windows, it was every inch the perfect pad.

In truth it was going well, he knew Hermione was in town, he'd thought about going to see her but they hadn't spoken since their confrontation on the lawn and he wasn't entirely sure of his welcome. OK, so she didn't want to love him, or maybe she didn't love him, who knew, either way it clearly wasn't going to work out, maybe they could be friends. It would take time, and it would hurt, but it could happen.

That evening though, as he opened the door to find her on his doorstep, he knew he was a fool, they would never be friends. She was stunning; her fitted white shirt was belted at the waist and her pencil skirt ended at the knee leading to stocking encased legs and killer heels. He'd always been a sucker for the sexy businesswoman look and she pulled it off with ease.

Whatever they were, he realised, they would never be friends, he would never be able to be in the same room as this woman without thinking about fucking her, and that didn't make for a healthy friendship.

"Hermione, this is a surprise, anything I can do for you or were you trawling the streets and simply hit the wrong doorbell?" He couldn't keep the slight bite out of his voice, her arrival had thrown him and he didn't like uncertainty.

"Shut up Sirius, I have an itch." He frowned;

"So?"

"So I think you can help me with it."

With that she took a step through the door and brought his head down to hers, as her foot kicked the door shut behind her and he felt himself pressed against the wall he mentally shook his head, no, definitely not friends.

She tugged his jacket down his arms, all the while nipping at his throat, his lips, any part of him she could reach and he felt that familiar fire rising and burning. Before he knew he'd done it he'd spun her round and crashed her back against the wall, hoisting her legs round his waist and kissing her with a month's pent up lust. She whimpered as he placed heated kisses against her neck and the noise went straight to his groin. Without hesitation he carried her up the stairs, shedding items of clothing as they went and by the time he threw her onto his bed they were both topless and panting with need.

"So," she said with a smirk, "it's been a while, sure you still remember what I like?"



He almost laughed at that, remember what she liked? He'd thought of nothing but for the last month. As he kneeled down in front of her and slowly crept his fingers up the inside of her thigh to the top of her stocking, before peeling it down her leg, trailing kisses as he went, he saw her twitch and heard the moan she tried to bite back. He met her smirk with one of his own and as her panties followed her stockings and he slowly moved towards her centre he gave his answer;

"Oh, I think I'll do just fine my dear."

When he woke up she was gone, he shouldn't have been surprised, not even a note, but she had left her knickers, and he didn't begin to understand what she meant by that.

She'd not intended it. It had been a gruelling day at work and as she'd come up against one pompous arrogant jackass after another she had begun to feel her temper spiral out of control. She needed release, she needed something, and as she marched through the streets of London and caught sight of a familiar black head of hair she knew exactly what she needed. For once she stopped the voices of reason inside and decided to take what she wanted. It hadn't been hard to find out where his new flat was, Remus and coughed up his address with a frown and she had vanished before he'd had chance to question her motives.

As soon as he opened the door she knew she'd made a mistake, his hair was wet and tussled, like he'd just got out of the shower, and he still smelt like the sea, what had she been thinking, all the strange little flutters inside that she had managed to suppress for the last month had jumped right back into action. His eyes had widened for a moment at the sight of her and she felt herself once again floored by his beauty, how was it that this man wanted her?

Mind you, maybe he didn't, she hadn't heard from him, he'd made no effort to contact her, maybe what she had just imagined any feelings for her, although standing here she wasn't entirely sure there weren't feelings involved somewhere, but they were hers, not his. Either way, as she saw his eyes flicker over her she knew there was definitely lust involved, and she told herself that was all she really wanted.

He had ravaged her, in every way possible and as she looked down at his sleeping form she questioned again if she had made the right decision, bringing this back into their lives. But he was a grown man, he could make his own decisions, and she could keep control of herself. They'd made a mistake last time, had spent too much time together, made it seem too much like a relationship, and it wasn't. It categorically was not. It was sex, and this time she would make sure it stayed that way, no need for emotions to be involved.

It was only as she flooed back home she realised she had left her underwear in his bedroom, god only knows what he would make of that.