AN: So some of you have have noticed the chapters titled a little differently. I've thougth of this fic in parts for a long time but wasn't sure if I actually wanted to make it parts until this week. But it is now officially in parts - but it doens't really make a different to you guys - just we're in part one : Awakening.

TW at end of chapter

October 1977

Hermione just about made it through her afternoon classes, earning a slightly concerned look from Professor Flitwick for her inattentiveness, but otherwise unscathed. She forced herself not to appear overly eager at dinner. Knowing that Sirius would tease her for it if he spotted her wolfing down her meal in the way she wanted to.

Instead, she ate slowly. Contemplating how easy it was to divide herself into the Hermione that laughed on dates with Sirius and scolded him for distracting her during class, and the Hermione that spent her time reading books on the darkest forms of known magic.

She'd always been more private than the Marauders, always kept things to herself, but she didn't know when she'd started to separate herself into these different people. One, easy and laughing, and the other planning to let Regulus Black endure years as a Death Eater just so she could use him to get a Horcrux.

They were both her, though. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was both of them and, at her very core, human . Needing Sirius and the person she was with him to remind herself of it when the cold rationalisations of her other half threatened to overwhelm her.

She needed Sirius to appear on the days she read the paper and thought perhaps it was all hopeless. To visit her with a barking laugh and life in his eyes that she knew wouldn't be there if she failed.

So, she gave in to her more irrational desires and did as Pandora bid her. Letting herself embrace the moments of happiness between reports of the war worsening and planning how to end it.

Allowing Sirius to drag her into alcoves and make plans to meet in the Room of Requirement. Knowing that if she had any hope of making it out of this war in one piece, she needed something to live for, and as early in their relationship as it was, Sirius was it. She would never have started this with him if she thought he wasn't — even if that didn't stop her from remaining hesitant at this early stage.

Determined to wait him out, she dropped by the library to return a book before heading to the room. Stopping in one of the girls' bathrooms to cast a breath-freshening charm and to try to and tame the curls that always looked a little wilder by the evening, even without Sirius' mid-afternoon interruptions.

Finally, sure he'd be waiting for her. Hermione allowed herself to walk up to the seventh floor, surreptitiously asking the Room to show her Sirius.

When the door appeared, she opened it to a replica of his bedroom at Potter Manor and felt her eyebrows raise at the implications. Though not actually believing Sirius had that planned for them, at least not without acting out any of his more conservative fantasies first. Not that he could ever really be considered conservative, so much as some of his ideas being slightly tamer.

Instinctively removing her shoes — never entirely comfortable with the idea of wearing footwear in someone's bedroom — she dropped her bag by the door before tiptoeing over to him. Sirius, not yet having realised she had arrived, as he seemed entirely focused on the book in his hands.

She knew Sirius was smart; he had to be. An Animagus at fifteen, not to mention all the other impressive displays of magic that their pranks required, but he wasn't particularly intellectual. Preferring practical experience over theoretical debate, in a way that made sense given his often-exuberant personality, so Hermione was slightly surprised to see him reading.

Although, she supposed she shouldn't really be. The Wizarding World had appallingly few entertainment options for a society that literally had magic at their disposal, so it wasn't an uncommon pass-time and a quick glance at the cover revealed it to be a muggle book. Yet another of the small ways Sirius rebelled against his parents' views.

Creeping up behind him, she couldn't resist, for once, being the person to pull one over on him. Not after the state he'd left her in all afternoon, so she slapped her hands over his eyes while sing-songing, "Guess Who?"

Perhaps childish, she at least got the reaction she was hoping for, Sirius starting violently in surprise, crying out, "Mini, what the fuck."

Leaning over his shoulder to take in his shocked expression, she couldn't help but giggle, "I'm sorry. I've never seen you so enraptured, I couldn't resist."

Chuckling in response, he pulled her round to stand in front of him, "Well, it worked. I think you took years off."

Smiling, Hermione went to settle herself on his lap. Straddling his thighs but not quite pressing herself against him yet, "Would a kiss make it better," she asked with a mock apologetic face.

Shifting his legs so she fell into his chest, he hummed, "Couldn't hurt," before placing a searing kiss on her lips. The hand that wasn't still clutching his book coming up to her face and holding her to him.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Hermione felt a familiar haziness start to fall over her mind as she placed tiny licks against his lips, needing more than the simple kisses they were exchanging.

Before he let her, the hand that was stroking across her jawline pulled her away. Unconsciously releasing a small whining sound, she thought she saw Sirius smirk slightly but then realised he was pouting almost pitifully when he spoke again.

"I know what would make me feel better."

"Yeah?" she asked, keeping her balance by running her hands across his torso, enjoying how she could feel strong muscle through the thin cotton of his shirt.

"Umm-hmm," he agreed, before shifting her to the seat next to him, confusion crossing her face at the distance he was placing between them, "Read to me."

"What?" she replied dumbly. Still not understanding how they'd gone from the promising kisses of a few seconds ago to her on the other half of the loveseat with Sirius pressing his book into her hands.

"Read to me," he repeated, "I'm invested."

Glancing down at Stephen King's The Shining, Hermione had never felt so confused in her life. That same haziness from earlier still clouding her mind as she stared at the cover. This was his plan? To have her to read to him. This was what he'd riled her up all afternoon for. A Stephen King novel? A horror story?

Had she been any less dazed after an afternoon of fantasising and that suddenly cut off kiss, she probably would have clued into the fact he was playing a trick on her sooner. But as it was, she gave into that damnable pout and settled back against the seat. Moving to tuck her legs under her but Sirius trapped them in his hand, pulling them into his lap.

Looking at him in confusion, he shot her a glance that told her to get on with it, so Hermione cracked the spine and tried her best to start reading aloud, purposefully ignoring the fact he'd pulled off her knee socks.

She lasted maybe two minutes before one of his hands wrapped around her foot, rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of her inner ankle. Stuttering slightly, Sirius gave no indication he'd noticed, so Hermione carried on as best she could.

Not processing a word she was saying, instead focused on the way Sirius trailed his hands up and down her calves. Fingers pressing into some sensitive spot behind her knee that Hermione didn't realise she had, but that made goosebumps break out across her body.

Brushing his fingers against that spot again, she whimpered, "Sirius," without meaning too. His head instantly spinning to face her with a cocky smirk.

"Doing okay there, Kitten?"

Finally, her brain processed the last ten minutes and realised this had been some elaborate prank and a way to put her even more on edge.

"Did you really want me to read to you," she asked, incredulous, her tone showing on her face.

Suppressing yet another smirk, he answered, "I wanted to see your face when I told you that it was what I wanted." He grinned at the last part, amused by his game.

Sitting up, she went to hit him with the book in reprimand, chuckling, "Prat," to show she wasn't really angry.

He caught her hands before she could and pulled her back towards him, resettling her on his lap. Eliminating any space between them, he placed his lips back on hers, whispering, "Forgive me?" against them.

"Maybe," she fake pouted back, mocking his earlier expression.

"Hmm, guess I'll have to earn it then."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, hissing slightly in pleasure as he slid a hand under her skirt. Easily falling back into the need he'd abandoned earlier, but that had never abated. Her fingers flicking open buttons of his shirt, she ran her lips across his collarbones, huffing against his skin at the feel of his thumb stroking along the edge of her knickers.

Returning her lips to his, she explored his mouth. Tasting, teasing each other before she had to break away to let out a keening whimper when he finally brushed against the soaked lace covering her centre.

Using the way she'd moved her head as she gasped, he latched onto her neck, running his teeth across the sensitive skin under her earlobe. Hermione was a shuddering mess in his lap, barely able to feel her legs.

Desperately needing more, needing him to touch her with more than the maddening brushes over her knickers. Needing to fall into the pleasurable abyss that was sure to come if he'd just press a little harder, a little more specifically, but Sirius had other plans.

Sliding his hands to her arse, he pulled them even closer together, her core pressing against him so she could feel the hard length hidden beneath his trousers. He didn't give her time to grind against him as she so desperately wanted to, though.

Shifting his weight to stand as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms clinging to his shoulders to balance herself as he carried her towards the bed. Hermione's own petiteness and Sirius' years of hitting bludgers finally making themselves useful.

Lowering her down on the bed, he pressed a few more kisses to her lips before whispering a question, "This okay?"

She nodded enthusiastically, knowing he'd stop whatever it was he had planned as soon as she showed the slightest hesitation and needing to know what he intended.

"Good," he growled, and Hermione felt herself clench at his tone.

Placing himself on top of her, his lips were hot against hers. His body, a welcome weight even if he kept most of it off her, propped up on his elbows. His thigh slid between her legs, pressing against her heat, but doing nothing more than tempt her.

Parting their lips, he started trailing kisses down her neck. Slower and more deliberately than he ever had before, each one caused her breath to come out just a little more shuddery. The shaky exhales eventually giving into quiet moans as he continued to tease her, pressing himself against her but not enough to do anything but make her need more.

"Sirius," she whined. Voice breathless, she almost didn't recognise herself as she pressed her chest up against his, trying to show that she needed something, anything . Friction, or for his hands to do more than just stroke teasingly along her rib cage. To reach up and play with her nipples or down to explore under the lace that lay between her legs.

"Hmmm," he hummed in question, the soft vibrations a new sensation where his lips were still pressed beneath her earlobe, it made her want to grind against him, but he kept her hips pinned beneath him.

"Please," she begged again.

He chuckled darkly. Pleased with the desperate state he'd coaxed her into before replying "Patience," as he started placing tiny nips followed by a soothing lathe of his tongue along her neck.

"I thought that wasn't a virtue you had," she eventually managed to reply. The words strained and breathless as his thumb rubbed in slow arches under her breast.

"To hear more of those little moans, Kitten. I'll learn."

He punctuated it by sucking particularly hard against her throat, and the noise Hermione made was somewhere between a gasp and a cry — a perfect representation of the unrelenting desire coursing through her.

Needing to do something , she brought her hands to her collar, failing to understand how he'd made her this desperate without even unbuttoning her shirt, but deciding that while they hadn't gone that far yet, it was time. Having spent plenty of time, with fingers reaching under clothes but not quite daring to bare more skin to each other before now.

Before she could start undoing the buttons, his hands caught hers. His fingers threading through her own and guiding them up to either side of her head, pressing them into the mattress.

"That's my job, you're stealing there," he teased, "I told you I had plans, and I have one for each of those little buttons."

Trailing his hands down her exposed forearms, Hermione shuddered at the touch, the skin there unexpectedly sensitive and causing tremors to run through her whole body.

He counted them as he undid the first three buttons, tracing his tongue along her collarbones and chuckling as she whimpered. Hermione moved to thread her fingers through his hair. Wanting to feel his locks brushing against her skin and wanting to direct him to every piece of her that craved more direct attention. Wanting him to stroke his lips over every part of her, but also to focus on the areas of her begging for his attention.

He stopped her again, though. Guiding her hands back up to her head and pinning them there while he explored further down her shirt with his mouth, her fingers curling around his as her breath hitched with each inch he moved further down.

Eventually, he ran out of skin. Needing to undo more buttons, he pressed just the slightest bit of his weight against her hands in a final warning not to move them before coming back down to her shirt and counting down more buttons.

Trailing his lips down her sternum, Hermione fought to keep her hands where he wanted them. Wanting to clutch at something, his hair, his hands, the bedsheets. Anything to release some of the tension in her body but knowing that it wouldn't provide the actual release she needed.

Drawing her shirt apart, Hermione felt the cool air hit her skin and trembled at the contrast between it and Sirius' warm breath as he ran his lips over her upper breast before coming to an abrupt pause. Pulling away from her so rapidly, Hermione shot up in concern. Not sure what could have caused him to stop so suddenly.

"What the fuck is that," he asked, eyes wide, gesturing at the scar Hermione had all but forgotten about that lay atop her left breast.

It had long since faded from the fresh pink it had been last June and was now a pale silver, barely noticeable against her skin. Kingsley had certainly never noticed. Though Hermione supposed he'd never undressed her quite so intently, and most of their time had been spent in dark alcoves or avoiding each other, so he'd never got the chance to.

Sirius, though, was still staring at the scar with horror across his face.

"It's nothing," she tried to reassure but knew he wouldn't accept that as an answer.

"That's not nothing, Hermione! That's deliberate. Who did that to you?"

"No one! No one did it to me."

"You did it to yourself?" he asked, even more horrified than before.

"No," she cried, not knowing how to explain. She hadn't technically done to it herself, not really, but she couldn't tell him what it was. "Sirius, really, it's nothing."

"No, it's fucking not. Where is it from?"

"I can't explain," she cried again, feeling tears form in her eyes through her panic. It had never occurred to her she would need an explanation because she'd forgotten about it. It was just another of the marks on her body, like the tiny scar on her ankle or the odd mole where the sun had been overly harsh on her pale skin.

But looking at Sirius' face flash between concern and anger, Hermione was furious at herself for her lack of foresight.

"What do you mean you can't explain. That's intentional Hermione, someone had to carve that into you."

"No, they didn't. I promise," again, sort of a lie, but there was no explanation for how she got it. "Remember, I told you there were things I can't tell you. That they're not my secrets to tell. This is one of them. And I swear, I swear, I'm fine. Nobody did anything to me ."

She stressed the last word, staring deep into those grey eyes. Noting how his pupils were still dilated, though it less from desire and more from rage as she begged him to understand what she was saying.

She watched as something akin to understanding crossed through them, though it didn't lessen the anger there. Instead, hardening them into a steely marble as his gaze turned, assessing.

"It's not your scar?" he questioned, and she shook her head in agreement. Watching as he processed the words and grasped what she was really saying.

They both knew that magic worked in strange ways and what she was implying wasn't out of the question. Especially not with a scar that looked like hers did. Clearly intentional, and obviously a rune to anyone who knew enough to recognise it as such. Something Hermione knew Sirius did.

Still, she couldn't tell him any more than that. Couldn't risk him prying into where it came from and what it meant because she wasn't ready to tell him about Riddle and didn't know if she ever would be

So, instead, she begged, "But please, I can't tell you anything about it."

Any sympathy was struck from his face as it went dark, growling angrily, "You're seriously not going to tell me."

"I can't," she almost sobbed, "I'm sorry."

"Fine," he spat, fury evident in his tone and expression. He threw himself off the bed and started storming towards the door, and Hermione felt panicked for yet another reason, calling out a desperate,

"Wait!"

"What," he snapped, not even turning back to look at her.

"Please don't tell anyone," she begged and watched as his shoulders bunched together in anger.

"Fine – I won't. I'll keep another one of your fucking secrets," he snarled before thundering out of the room altogether.

TW: sexual content