Note from Serade Black: Just like to JK, you're telling me the same thing: Poor Snape! Is Snape good or bad? Is he mean or nice in this story? To be honest, I'm not even a Snape-shipper, but I believe I've done him justice with this story. You'll see how it twists around… Keep reading.
This story reads the same on my LJ, so you're not missing out!
Chapter 21
"The Cat Finally Catches the Mouse"
Sirius Black had never been so happy to see number twelve Grimmauld Place before, but when he took the first few steps up the walk, allowing the disheveled building to appear before him, he sighed his appreciation that he was home.
He shrugged off his coat carefully, mindful not to use his shoulder too much. During the
vigorous testing at the Ministry, he managed to miss a sepelio hex and it struck him under his arm, severely cutting the skin. His shoulder had taken the brunt of the hex and though he considered himself a very gifted wizard, he was told it was one of the hardest to deflect.
Upon the sound of the front door closing, Hermione practically bounced down the stairs like a child, eager to inform Sirius of the latest news from Robards.
"Sirius! Excellent news," she called, turning on the last step and placing a hand affectionately under his arm to lean in to hug him. She felt particularly affectionate that evening.
He winced at the pain for a moment, then turned to welcome her as he was met with his favorite smile. Like a mouse to a trap, she yanked her hand back once she felt the bulky bandages and his reaction to her painful touch.
"Sirius, what happened? I'm so sorry," she pleaded, cupping her hand to her mouth with concern.
He reached out for her frightened hand to assure her that it wasn't her touch that was painful, "No, it's all right, love. I just got whacked by a nasty hex, I'll be fine."
"Can I do anything?" she offered, still afraid to touch him as if he were glass about to shatter. She'd never seen him shudder before.
He shook his head, ready to move on passed his weakness, "It's fine, don't worry about it. What's this news you were going to tell me, love?"
Her face fell from worry, to a slow content and then to a sincere confession, "I'm finally testing for Auror next week! We'll probably be getting certified at the same time, if all goes planned," she blurted.
The throbbing pain of his began to subside as he warmed with happiness for the young witch. Out of affection for her, he'd secretly detested being sworn in before her due to his status and was genuinely elated she was finally being recognized for her own talents.
He reached out for her hand and laid a kiss on it, "That's excellent, my dear. Come on, let's go out and celebrate," he suggested.
He intertwined their hands and started to reach for their coats. With other things in mind, she pulled him back away from the coat rack.
"Let's stay in," she suggested, distracting his attentions. "Remus is out for the night and I'd much rather stay home and cook something. If that's okay with you?"
The idea of a Friday night spent at a lewd muggle pub teased him, but it was the way she looked at him through a veil of fringe with those mysterious eyes. She bit her lip slightly, as if she felt she needed to convince him more to stay home with her. She squeezed his hand lightly and tilted her head coy. A smooth smile crept over his lips, intrigued with what she was quietly thinking. It truly didn't matter, because all she had to do was bat her eyes like a mischievous flirt and he was all hers.
Still a bit distraught over the Severus situation, her heart was torn over her otherwise pursuing heart. She wanted to believe what Snape had said about Sirius being a bad decision, but the small voice inside of her wanted so desperately to play with the bad boy, just once. She may have hated to admit it, but since his promise for "no games" he'd been a good one for her. He'd been true to his word, down to the small little subtle details of a wink, grin or sincere secret kiss meant just for her.
Was this puppy love?
"I would do anything you said, love," Sirius confirmed as if caught with an invisible lasso to her.
She tried to conceal her freshly blushed cheeks, scolding herself for the flutters in her chest. His darkening eyes perhaps alluding to more than she was suggesting, but then again, the night was young. Bracing herself, she held his hand and led him to the kitchen as his final offer was to cook for her.
oOoOo
Two hours later, still no dinner started, Hermione sat on the kitchen counter with her feet dangling over the edge. Sirius was just opening their second bottle of white wine, having devoured the first one, to go along with the dessert they skipped right to.
With the sound of the cork popping in the century old kitchen, Hermione was just sweeping a ruby red strawberry into a bowl of whipped cream. Having been her favorite sweet thing, she could not resist double dipping the fingered fruit into the fluffy treat and licking it off seductively for her audience of one.
He chuckled under his breath, having been quite entertained with his company in the kitchen the last two hours. He couldn't remember enjoying a Friday night at home so much. He filled her glass first, spilling a few drops over her wrist, in which she childishly lapped the droplets up with her tongue.
As she held the glass in her hand, strawberry in the other, she was the picturesque scene for a young debutante. Although, she may have appeared a bit classier the two hours prior before the wine had inhibited her senses.
For a split second, Sirius thought himself too old to be enjoying the evening with such a young hopeful, when he remembered he was still six years younger than his generation. He made mental excuses for himself that since he was twenty-one when he went into Azkaban, he still had a right to think like one.
As Sirius set down the bottle, his hands parted her denim clad legs so he could stand between them, making any and all excuses to kiss her. In this case, she'd missed a spot on her lips where whip cream was left behind and he moved in like the Red Barron to happily catch it for her.
After a few moments of being the sole focus of Sirius's attention, she realized that there was no way she could have possibly gotten whip cream down around her neck. As his whiskers tickled her pleasantly, she giggled shamefully and set down her glass to push him away. He tilted his head back to clear his face of his long unruly black locks to better look down at her with playful eyes. His stare was cool, content and steady as if he had something erotically devious hidden up his sleeves.
With Sirius standing at a small distance in front of her, his hands resting on her thighs gently squeezing…waiting, Hermione's fingers went to the top buttons of his shirt. She began to unfasten them, one by one, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close.
Sirius gave her a casual grin, as if it were customary to have his shirt undone for him and closed his eyes when he felt her hands find their way to his bare skin to rub down his sparsely haired chest. The contact with her sent a surge through his body that forced him to rub his own hands harder against her thighs, suggesting his own caress.
"I've always wondered," she began, undoing all but the last two buttons on his shirt, "what these actually meant."
Slightly disappointed that she didn't unfasten his entire shirt, or strip off her own clothes for that matter, he looked down at the permanent markings of his past etched into his skin.
"More or less, they're there to pass the time," he started with a quiet voice.
Hermione traced a finger over the one in the center that looked like an Egyptian tribal marking and titled her head in thought, "There must be some meaning behind them."
Sirius sighed and watched the way her fingers delicately touched him, like he was fragile history, "I had that one done by a man who'd used the killing curse on his own family," he began solemnly. "When I tried to speak to him about it, it was awfully close to home when he discussed how he and his family didn't agree eye to eye."
Hermione's finger slowed to a stop as the reality of his words sunk into her, intrigued for him to continue. Knowing that knowledge was a bit of a turn on for Hermione, he played it to his advantage as he continued with his intense experience. The more he went on, divulging each word to her like he was reciting a sonnet, the more she seemed to be losing herself to an erotic euphoria.
"He was just shy of losing it completely," he began leaning in close to tell the story, his mouth dangerously close to hers, but not touching. "Meaning the Dementors favored him and his guilt," she could feel his light breath across her cheek as he continued, teasing her with the legends of Azkaban that only he could tell.
She hung on his every word, absolutely entranced by the low gravel sound of his voice.
"He couldn't take the arguing, the fighting, or the betrayal of his own family and so he ended their lives, committing his own to a life behind cold bars," he elaborated, watching her eye lids fall heavier and heavier. His lips just barely touched hers and her mouth fell open, waiting.
Sirius did not give in to her temptation and gave himself space, only an inch or two, and watched her mouth calling to him like water in a desert. He wanted to remain in complete control, at least at this point, during his story for the way she fed into it was like he was bewitching her with a new undiscovered magic he held. Just like before, the scent of her filled his senses and he mentally praised himself for his skilled talent of arousing her by one of his darkest memories.
He continued on, his words breathy and seductive, "I hated to admit it, but there were times when I once thought like him," he sounded like a dark killer. "I wanted to end my family's beliefs but it was something in Regulus that I'd hoped might supersede it, if I had left. Obviously, I was poorly disappointed."
The hair on the back of her neck started to raise and a chill over her bare skin settled, forcing her to practically shudder under his touch. Hermione pressed her hand against his chest, so that she might cover the tattoo. His story concerned her over his state of mind, but she knew he'd come out of that dark lonely imprisonment. She felt his heart beat under his fingers, felt his breath as he spoke and looked upon him like an icon. He was a legend in his own right, a lucky individual who escaped death twice and now lived to tell the story of real pain and betrayal. It was only when his fingers touched her sad face, did she remember that he was real, that he was pouring his heart out to her, and probably was the only time he'd spoke about it.
What made her so important? Why was someone like him, attracted to someone like her and why now, did they feel like they were the only two that mattered in the world?
Her look was sad, mournful even, and every bit of it was out of her control. She couldn't go back and heal the pain he'd gone through, she wasn't able to turn back time and not allow Harry to go through his bereavement like he did. She was powerless against the tragic events that had passed all before she existed in this world.
Her concerned appearance was one of the most romantic things he'd witnessed for him and just like that he felt the overpowering hunger to taste her lips strong and hard, as if it were his last chance.
He crushed his lips against hers, erupting a low submissive growl. She welcomed him gratefully and wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, mindful of his injury, wishing she could take away all his pain and suffering and make him believe that he was safe, he was "home".
His blood was starting to warm and it wasn't because of the wine that flooded his system. It was the serenity that this young twenty-one year-old witch gave him, allowing him to leave his inhibitions and otherwise required gestures away and just be himself. The inner child that was forever locked up in an unforgiving cell to be forgotten, was now released and introduced to the new life he couldn't imagine having.
This girl, this witch, this once bushy-haired brunette that wrapped her legs tightly around his waist to never let him go, panted under his hold. Her hands traveled down his arms and over his shirt, dipping inside to touch his firm flesh. She traced her fingers lightly over him, enjoying the sensual contact she was giving him as she rested her hands flat against his chest.
He held a hand under her neck to twist her around to meet him, kiss for sensual deep kiss, loving her soft curls falling over his hand. His other hand kneaded her thigh roughly, restraining his insatiable urge to manhandle her harder as she gripped his shirt aggressively to meet him. Her back straightened and his hand traveled down to her waist where he gently squeezed.
The irrational side of Hermione pushed him off of her to give space to hop down off the counter. Once she had two steady feet planted on the ground and his hands were completely removed of her, she slowly back stepped to the stairs that would lead them out of the kitchen.
Quick thinking reminded her that the house was empty. Remus was far from Grimmauld Place, since the window displayed the bright full moon in the sky outside. It was so intense that not many lanterns in the house were lit, since the luminous object provided ample light, even in dark shadowed corners.
The portraits' prying eyes peeked in on them, after hearing their playful banter downstairs in the kitchen. It was only too obvious where the twitterpated ones were going as the electricity between them was enough to run the entire house.
Hermione walked backwards as Sirius grinned that side smirk all the way to the staircase. They were like moths to a flame to one another and the moment seemed to thicken the second their lips were torn apart to walk up from the kitchen. When Hermione didn't reach for him, he knew it was just she prolonging evening's event.
They were both at the bottom of the stairway, watching one another to see who was going to make the next move. Hermione lifted herself up on the first step and turned around to face him below her. She rested a hand on the banister casually, using it to steady herself if she needed to flee in a hurry should she have second thoughts to what she was suggesting. But, when he looked at her with those tempting dark eyes and pale unbuttoned chest, she knew she wasn't going to run. Not to get away from him, anyway.
He exuded that alluring aura that any woman would fall into a piddle for, but Hermione was strong. She had learned to work with it, or against it, so that he wasn't entirely in control at all times. Though he gazed up at her as if she were a mouthwatering dessert he wished to devour, showing his weakness, he still managed to keep a cool demeanor throughout their simple little game of cat and mouse.
For a moment, she faltered and forced herself to look away from his intense stare. She bit her lip, reflecting her innocence, as he played on her weakness. When he placed a hand on top of hers resting there on the banister, she pulled it away with a sly smirk. She needed to prove she was anything but easy.
With a sly step behind her, she ascended up to the second stair. Sirius's dark features changed as if a cool breeze of "game" just swept over his skin. As he raised his chin proudly, the lighting cast shadows over his face, making him appear like a rugged dark prince.
"You're quite keen on your little games, aren't you?" he whispered.
Hermione licked her lips subconsciously and replied, "No more than you, Mr. Black."
He was quiet, like he was thinking of something clever to retort. Instead, he followed her step for step as she slowly rose herself to the next stair, with him quick to follow. She said nothing more about it and slowly teased him all the way up to the landing with both of their bedrooms.
She slowly turned around, mentally signaling him to follow her. He remained at the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall to watch her. He felt that their time together at that moment was a little too good to be true and he felt like there was a catch. One last taunt before she really let him get to her.
As if she'd just met him in a pub, she used no words to get him to follow her and as she stopped at her bedroom door, she placed one hand on the door frame and glanced back at him with a quirked eyebrow. His willpower was weakening and he casually pushed himself off the wall to slowly saunter over to her, answering to her beckoning. As he approached her, his eyes waiting patiently and his lips curved in a teasing smirk, he waiting for her next move.
She turned around to face him completely, her head tilted child-like. Sirius filled in the space between them and pushed up to her, hoping to be verbally invited in. He had his rules.
His body slinked up to hers and placed both his hands on the doorframe to lean in, not passing over her threshold. Memories of a muggle high school flashed into her brain from the movies she'd seen, as he reminded her of the most popular boy in school talking to her. His face got closer to hers as he leaned down, hoping she'd meet him in the middle for a much deserved kiss.
She lifted a hand to his scruffy chiseled jaw instead. His hair fell over his cheeks as he tilted his face into her inviting palm. Her thumb crossed over his swollen lips and she slowly dropped her hand down his chest and off of his body, taking two steps backwards into her room
Sirius remained still, hands still up on the wooden frame around her door, watching her carefully. He had his rules.
Hermione froze. Seeing him stand there, like a model in a magazine, and it came to her. She was having that strange feeling of deja' vu'. She had that very strong feeling that she'd gone or seen this happen to them all before. The way he stood, the way he smelled, where they were…
Then it hit her…she had dreamt this very moment. A few months ago, before she and Sirius were as serious as they were now, she had experienced a very intense dream re-enacting this very moment. She remembered walking up the stairs, she remembered stopping in her room and she remembered him standing just like he was now, and saying something that melted her every muscle. It was his self discipline that had turned her on most of all. She'd silently wished for him to follow her into her bedroom, but he responded with such a simple sentence that evidently was a rule for him.
With that in mind, she wanted to know if what she'd dreamt had actually been a foreshadowing of this moment now.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, tilting her head in question.
"I cannot come into your room, unless you invite me," he said simply.
…that was it.
His look was sincere. Ever the gentleman, much to her surprise, this threw Hermione. She found that his simple act of chastity had left her breathless enough to part her lips only, rendering her speechless.
As if her arousal had gone into overdrive, he was the sexiest man she'd ever met. Down to the way his slender tattooed fingers strummed on the door frame, waiting for her to make a move. Instead of speaking, she rushed to close the space between them and lifted herself up to him, giving him that kiss he had earned.
He could have been an animal. He could have forced himself on her with no explanation, but instead he held himself before the threshold to her bedroom. His restraint and self control was deliciously sexy and Hermione wanted nothing than to nip his lower lip with passion by her own teeth.
When she touched his lips, she reached up around his neck so that she could pull his face back to hers in order to bite that lip. He was incredibly responsive, to no surprise, and gladly swept her up in his arms tightly, to ensure the prevention of her escape.
With slow, subtle urging he managed to get her to take a few steps away from her bedroom and follow along with him down the hallway. Just a few small paces and his back was pressed up against his own door.
"Of course, then there is always my room where I have no rules," he confessed, tugging her inside.
With absolutely no reservations, Hermione was easily persuaded into falling against him and allowing herself to be pulled inside his bedroom. With a suave well-rehearsed kick, he shut the door behind them and slowly, but anxiously walked her to the bed.