AN: Hi all! Sorry for the long wait. My life got crazy when I quit a toxic work environment, and then the next day found a could-not-pass-up job opportunity. However, it's required a lot of work outside of work, and I also run my own pottery business on the side, so needless to say, ya girl's been busy.
However, I read all comments you all leave. They keep my fire lit, even if it's just a small pilot light. But something told me to come back to my story. It might be mostly smut, and a little sub/dom drabble at that, but we will get back to act 2 very shortly! I will keep riding this creativity wave, and hope to have another chapter to you soon. As always, let me know what you think!
Hermione woke to the smell of coffee, face down on a bed that wasn't hers. Hermione opened her eyes and took stock of her surroundings. There was no denying she was in Sirius's bed, and they had slept together the night before. She saw the mug of coffee on Sirius's bedside table, steaming hot. She smiled as she recognized Sirius's charm-work—so her coffee would stay hot until she drank it. Sitting up, she pulled the bed sheet to her bare chest, and grabbed the coffee. Tucking the sheet under her arms, she allowed herself to look around Sirius's room.
She recalled the events of the night before, and blushed. She wondered absently where their clothes had gone—they'd littered the floor with them, and hadn't bothered picking them up. It appeared someone had in the time she slept.
Moving beyond that, she noticed how light the room appeared. It was exactly the opposite of what she'd expected Sirius's room to be. The bed linens were all white. The walls were painted white, and the furniture to match. The floors were the only giveaway to the Black family name—charcoal stained hardwood.
After a few sips of her coffee, she started to think about her day, what needed to be done. They'd set the date for their wedding, after all. As she finished her mental inventory of her tasks, she set her coffee down and thought again about her predicament. No clothes from the previous night, and she most certainly didn't have any of her own clothes in Sirius's room—or so she thought.
She kept the sheet wrapped around herself as she rose from the bed, hoping to borrow from Sirius's closet to get her from Sirius's room to her own while preserving her modesty. As she reached the closet door, she noticed a note magicked to the door, in Sirius's writing:
"Took the liberty of moving your things over while you slept. I hope you don't mind. – S"
Hermione's heart did a backflip as she opened the doors and found half the walk-in closet full of her clothing. There were even things in there that she was certain she had left in her old flat. For a moment, the gesture left her lightheaded. It all felt so fast—they'd only slept together once, and here her things were.
As if summoned by magic, Sirius's voice broke Hermione from her trance.
"I'm sorry if it's a bit… much," Sirius said. Hermione started, and turned around to face her fiancé.
Dressed in charcoal Muggle jeans, a green merino wool jumper that showed the top of his tattoo that started at the base of his collarbones, and wearing his hair back in a messy low-slung ponytail (she'd never seen him wear his hair that way before), Hermione felt that feeling again in the bottom of her stomach. She had noticed weeks ago that she'd never felt this feeling so much, and so consistently, for one person before. She had thought it would pass as they bonded, but it hadn't. He could still give her butterflies from across the room.
"Considering we are getting married in less than a month, I'm going to have to grow accustomed to the idea fairly quickly," Hermione said, tucking her own hair behind her ear. "How are you able to accomplish so much while I'm sleeping? I never felt like such a slacker until I started living here," Hermione said with humor, but betrayed her own insecurities.
Sirius smirked, and came to stand in front of Hermione. "I don't sleep well," Sirius said. "Haven't since Azkaban."
"I can make you some—"
"Dreamless sleep potion?" Sirius offered. He put his hands on Hermione's hips, and looked down at them as he considered his next words. "I don't want to take anything that might impair my ability to respond at a moment's notice to… anything."
Hermione swallowed, and understood. Sirius didn't want Hermione to be taken again. Suddenly his decision to move her into his room so quickly made sense.
She sighed, and placed her hands on Sirius's chest. "Sirius, nothing is going to happen to me."
Sirius looked into her amber eyes a moment, and pressed his lips together before taking her left hand off his chest, looking at the ring he'd placed there.
"Not while I'm with you, it's not. And whenever I'm not, this will take up the slack."
"What?" Hermione asked, looking at the black diamond ring flanked by marcasites.
Sirius considered Hermione a moment, and struggled with how much to tell her. "This ring has magic—old magic—in it. It gives the wearer certain… protections… from would-be assailants."
"What kind of protections, Sirius?" Hermione asked, twirling the ring on her finger pensively.
"Hermione—I hope you never have to rely on its magic, but you mustn't take it off. Not while I'm not around," Sirius said, deflecting.
"Sirius, what kind of protections?" Hermione repeated, digging her heels in.
"It turns the attacker's intentions around on themselves," he said, his grey eyes going cold a moment. "But it only works on magical assaults, not physical."
"How does it work?" Hermione asked, now suddenly not so sure she wanted the thing on at all.
Sirius pressed his forehead to Hermione's, and Hermione could feel how much it meant to him.
"Alright," she whispered, and nodded. She placed her fingertips on his chin, and they both looked into each other's eyes, an understanding. "I'll keep it on."
Sirius sighed in relief, and kissed Hermione gently, slowly. His kiss turned hungry, and he wrapped one arm around Hermione's waist, lacing the fingers of his other hand into her hair.
Pressed to him the way she was, Hermione felt him growing hard against her leg. She wasn't sure she was ready so soon after last night—she still felt a bit sore—but she wanted it all the same. Sensing her hesitation, Sirius backed off, and broke their kiss, but held tight to her.
"Are you in any pain?" he asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Just some discomfort."
"I'm sorry," he said, and kissed her neck chastely. "It won't be like that after a few more times."
"I kind of like it. The reminder that you were there," she said breathily, so quiet in his ear that he thought he could have imagined it. But he had heard it, alright. He exhaled, surprised.
"You can't say things like that," Sirius said, his eyes suddenly growing dark, distant.
"Why not?" Hermione challenged, letting the sheet fall from her body, an invitation.
"Hermione," Sirius warned, and tried to stifle a pained smile. "So soon after, I don't want… I don't want to hurt you."
Sirius stepped away from Hermione, and put some distance between them.
"Sirius, if I'm to be your wife, I want all of you. I want the Sirius who will make love to me," Hermione said, and simultaneously began undoing Sirius's belt, "and I want the Sirius who will fuck me."
She didn't know what bravery had overcome her, or what fire Sirius had ignited within her. Maybe it was burning low this whole time, and finally Sirius had given oxygen to suffocating embers. She didn't have time to think about though, as Sirius gripped Hermione's hair at the base of her neck, tilting her head back with authority. She moaned as he did it. His other hand pulled her to him. His mouth was inches from her.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he said, and for a second, Hermione's stomach dropped. Had he been concealing a side of himself all along? Would this change how she felt about him?
"Why don't you educate me?" she continued pulling at his jeans, undoing the button and zipper, placing her hand over his hard cock, covered in one layer of cloth.
"Oh I will," Sirius said. "But properly, and slowly." He brazenly placed his hand on her mound, cupping her. He parted her, feeling the wetness that was already dripping down her thighs.
"I'll give you a taste, if you like," he whispered against her lips.
"Yes," Hermione moaned.
"Yes, what?" he said, repeating the exercise from last night.
"Please," Hermione said, smiling. She made a startled sound as Sirius squeezed the roots of her hair just a bit more.
"Please what?" he said.
"Please fuck me, Sirius," she said, suddenly understanding the duality of Sirius Black.
Sirius didn't wait, and he spun Hermione around, turning her to face the bed.
"Get on the bed, and place a pillow under your hips."
Hermione swiftly did as she was told, and looked over her shoulder and watched as Sirius divested himself of every piece of clothing he wore. He grabbed himself and stroked as he approached the bed. He knelt on the foot of it, but came no further.
"Spread your legs," he said, and Hermione hesitated a moment. She felt vulnerable—it was broad daylight, and to be on display like that. Was she ready?
"Let me see, baby," he said, tender a moment, putting a hand on the back of one thigh, coaxing her, reassuring her. She opened to him, and when she heard his groaning sigh of appreciation, her heart swelled.
"So beautiful," he said, and traced his fingers up her core as his stroked himself. She sighed with pleasure. "And mine."
He lowered himself over her back, and took both of her wrists in his hands, placing them just in front of her. He rested his cock gently against her entrance, thrusting forward and back, coating himself in her wetness.
"For now, if you say 'stop', I will. We'll find another signal later. Okay, Hermione?"
She nodded.
"I need you to say it, baby," he said, planting a wet kiss on the back of her neck, which made her moan out loud. How could that spot garner that noise?
"Yes," Hermione said, and without waiting any longer, Sirius pressed into Hermione slowly, but firmly, not stopping until he could go no further. Hermione whimpered in pleasure as he filled her. She felt only vague soreness from last night, but the pleasure she felt through it was exhilarating.
Sirius began to rock inside her, slow, but hard. This felt so much more different than the night before. It felt somehow deeper, igniting something primal in her she never knew she had.
She moaned wantonly, distantly aware of how she must sound. She was sure she was saying his name, over and over, a mantra, a prayer that only he could answer.
She felt him grow harder, if that was even possible, and as if overtaken by another person entirely, Hermione said the word that Sirius had hoped to hear.
"Harder," she said in a pitiful tone.
Sirius sighed, pleased she wanted it that way, and snapped his hips into her just as he reached as deep as he would go. Sirius knew Hermione didn't know any better, but he planned to spoil her, fucking her hard in a way most men never understood 'hard' to mean.
Hard, soft, Sirius would give her whatever she wanted. He had known that since the beginning. He was her slave, contrary to how it might seem as he dominated her for the first time.
"Hermione," Sirius coaxed, "let go. Come on my cock. Come for me."
Hermione began to unconsciously hold her breath, and she came almost instantly, like she had been waiting for permission, whimpering as she did so. Sirius came with her, filling her completely, for the second time in several hours.
They rode this high down together, moaning and whimpering. When Sirius was completely spent, he relaxed, letting her wrists go, kissing her back sweetly.
When he had pulled out of her, Hermione hummed at the loss of him. He laid on the bed beside her, and pulled her to him, enveloping her in his arms. "I love you," he muttered onto the top of her head. "Merlin, I do."
"I love you, Sirius," Hermione said.
After a moment, Sirius stood up. "Stay there," he said, and reappeared a moment later. He carried in his hand a damp towel, casting a cooling charm on it with his wand he had recovered from the floor. When he reached the bed again, he took one of Hermione's knees in his hand, and coaxed her leg to the side.
"Trust me," he said, and Hermione did. He pressed the cold, wet compress to her core, a shock initially. She hissed at the changed in temperature, and after a second, she sighed in relief.
"Oh," she said. She hummed in appreciation. "Er… will I always need this?" she asked, meaning the towel.
"It doesn't help that this was your second time, love," he said, and propped himself on his side beside her. "But not unless you want it hard enough to leave you a little sore. And for my part… I don't like it this way all the time."
Hermione nodded, and thought about what she'd just done with Sirius. What she had just learned about herself. It frightened her, and she didn't know why.
Sirius was picking up on where her head was, and he smirked, pulling her to him again. "What we just did—dominance and submission—it doesn't mean anything about a person's character. It doesn't make you bad, or good. It might actually provide you with something you would never get in the real world. My headstrong Gryffindor girl."
Hermione smiled, and pressed her hand to Sirius's tattooed chest.
"You're safe with me, Hermione. Pleasure can be whatever we want it to be."
Hermione pressed her lips together a moment. "When you were with other women—what if I don't want it the way they did? Will I…" Hermione found herself tearing up. She choked back the tears, and pressed on. "Will I be enough for you?"
Sirius looked suddenly as if he had been doused with ice water. "Hermione Granger," he said, propping himself on his elbow, looking down on her. He caressed her cheek with his finger, wiping away a tear that had escaped, and was headed for her ear. "No one else matters now. I only want you. Forever."
Hermione smiled, and couldn't stop the tears that came. Sirius came down to kiss her gently, but assertively, hoping she could feel his sincerity.
After some time, Hermione had taken enough deep breaths that she was smiling and laughing gently at how happy she was.
"No tears on your birthday, Miss Granger," Sirius said, a twinkle in his eye.
Hermione's mouth hung open. She laughed again, and pressed her hand to her forehead. "How could I have forgotten?"
"Lucky you have me to remember these things," Sirius said, and sat up.
"Now, lazy bones, if you're quite done, I have a whole day planned for us," Sirius said playfully. He smiled and headed to the master bathroom, where he started a shower for the both of them.
After breakfast, Hermione and Sirius stepped onto the landing of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione looked to Sirius expectantly.
"Well, we've got a wedding to plan," Sirius said, and held her hand. "I have some venues for us to look at."
"They're still available? We've procrastinated so much, Sirius."
He squeezed her hand gently. "You'll see." He winked at her.
Hermione sighed, and relinquished control of the day, which of course was hard for her. "Alright," she said, but put her finger up at Sirius. "But no motorcycle." They held their silence a moment. "I don't think I can manage that right now," Hermione admitted, walking down the steps, hoping to avoid Sirius's eyes. He let out a great, deep laugh, and followed her down the stairs.