Chapter 37: Running Headlong, Pushing the Lines

Music suggestion: Safe Hands, Paper Aeroplanes

Sirius's hand was on Hermione's side. His lips were soft, moving with Hermione's – gently; cautiously. A breath slipped out of his nose.

He took her waist with both hands, and eased her away. Hermione turned, her knee moving to rest on the sofa on the other side of his lap, straddling him.

'What are you doing?' Sirius breathed, Hermione's face not far from his; her hands on his shoulders, sitting slowly on his lap.

Hermione couldn't say. Her heart seemed to be pounding in her throat, her entire body seeming to buzz. All she knew was that if this ended and she found herself alone in her room, she'd feel worse than she ever had before.

She felt his cheek against hers as her head dipped. He'd shaved today and had the five o'clock shadow to prove it. His stubble prickled against Hermione's skin. He was warm under her… against her chest – firm, long and tentative – and Hermione's breath was coming in little wisps.

'Hermione…?' It was a very soft question, little more than a breeze by Hermione's ear. It made her shiver.

She could smell him. Just a hint of smokiness in the warm puppy smell and… like the wind on a day like today, blowing autumn leaves…

'Feeling…' Hermione whispered, lifting her head, 'close to you.'

Sirius had kept his hold on her waist. His mouth was slightly open, his face caught in a still mask, as though his brain hadn't caught up with anything yet. He looked startlingly vulnerable – his face completely open. And he met her eyes.

His gaze searched Hermione's eyes. Unsure. Confused. But finding something there that made his hold on her waist more certain.

Hermione swallowed, but didn't look away. He hadn't said anything. He hadn't told her how he felt. And it made Hermione's perch on him feel more and more unsteady.

'Yes,' Sirius murmured.

'Y-yes?'

'I want you here.' He looked like he was going to say something more, but swallowed it, his eyes flitting over her face. His hands drew her closer, slowly, and Hermione caught the side of his neck, his hair tickling her fingers.

'Just… relax,' he breathed against her lips, and his hands travelled down, taking up a slow rub on the outsides of Hermione's thighs.

Relax… Hermione couldn't relax. She shivered a little on him, clutching at the back of his neck to keep his lips on hers. His mouth was hot – clinging little kisses – and so gentle… She was sitting on him! There was no way to relax!

Sirius gave her legs a couple more rubs. Hermione felt his thumb stroke her hipbone, then his hand came up, cradled her head, fingers slipping into her hair, and Hermione forgot about needing to relax.

It was as though he'd suddenly switched on some magical force, and Hermione felt so much closer to him – her lips as though he possessed them – his tongue slipping and twirling with hers; her mouth open to him. Hermione's back stretched, trying to reach him better, as Sirius pulled her torso flush against him, and the heat of his body was amazing, his hair beautifully silky in Hermione's fingers; and she felt perfectly safe – comfortable and secure in a strong embrace.

He released her a little as Hermione's hands travelled down over his t-shirt.

'Stop…' Sirius breathed as her fingers reached the hem of his top – but he wasn't giving her an instruction. He met her gaze, his face so close, cupping the back of her neck. '…whenever you want to.'

'Okay.'

And Hermione kissed him again, lifting his top just enough to get a finger on that little line of black hair. She felt Sirius smile against her lips and drew back.

'What?' she asked, rather stunned to see the smile.

Crinkled grey eyes dropped to the fingers playing around his belly.

'I did think you liked that,' he whispered, eyes smiling at her.

Hermione could feel a blush rising. Sirius chuckled a little. He kissed her soundly, then murmured, 'It's fine,' to her cheek.

'Take it off?'

'My top?'

'… Yes.'

Sirius hesitated, then shifted, ducking his head and reaching around himself for the back of his t-shirt. The parting top left his hair mussed. Sirius dropped it off the side of the sofa and looked back at Hermione. She found the little trail of hair again, low on a belly hard against her finger, and followed it up. It ended at his navel, just a few lighter hairs north of it. His chest had no hair at all, just the jet black tattoos decorating it.

Hermione's eyes traced him as her fingers ran up and down over the trail. He looked bigger without the t-shirt. More substantial, his torso having definition to it. Nothing near the buff men that would pop up on the television peddling some kind of health supplement. Sirius didn't look like he'd had meat packets inserted under his skin. His strength, very densely packed into his frame, was for use, not show.

There were a few scars Hermione spotted. Just fine white lines on his skin. They didn't stand out amongst the black lines. Hermione's hand stroked back down, enjoying the tingles of the little hairs on her fingers. They touched denim and Hermione looked down. She'd expected to feel his belt, but that wasn't the highest part of his jeans now.

Flushing, Hermione pulled her eyes back up. Sirius lifted her hand and rested it on his chest.

'If you stroke me there,' he said quietly, 'that's going to happen.'

His arms rose to hold her as Hermione moved back into him, feeling the skin of his chest as his lips reclaimed hers. Sirius's hands started stroking her sides. It gave Hermione a stark memory of the first time they'd been together and her eyes shot open, seeing the warm light, not a dark room, as she tried to fight down a rough shudder that shook at a very warm centre low in her abdomen.

Sirius's hands stopped, his head moving to the side of Hermione's. He sighed.

'Do you want to stop?'

'No…'

Hermione's head rested on his shoulder. She could feel his skin on her lips and turned her head in toward his neck. His Adam's apple was a blurry, shadowed bulge so close to her eyes. She closed them as warm fingers slipped under her top. She felt his hands on her back, sliding up slowly, and sighed.

Sirius's fingers explored her back, just his thumbs giving her waist a tingling rub that trickled a sweet pleasure south as it sent nervy shocks through Hermione's arms. Then his hands were travelling upwards and the thumbs were stroking the sides of her breasts through the thin cotton of her bra.

Hermione sat up, caught the side of his head and kissed him hard. His hands went further, sending pleasant shivers down Hermione's torso as thumbs rubbed over her nipples. His hands left her and Hermione's back arched as Sirius undid her bra more easily than even she could.

Her fingers had clawed into his hair, but Sirius didn't seem to mind. He leant forward, Hermione hanging on around his neck, and ran a flat hand up her belly. Hermione was expecting it, but she gasped as adroit fingers pushed her bra up and out of the way and moaned into Sirius's mouth as he kneaded a breast, thumb running over her nipple again. Her lower body had been pressed closer to him. Hermione could feel the bulge in his jeans. She didn't know where the flash of panic ended and the squirm of excitement started – Sirius's mouth moving down to trace open-mouthed kisses along her throat.

She didn't stop him – didn't want to stop him – when Sirius sat back and lifted her top up and over her head, Hermione raising her arms to help. She pulled off her bra and sent that after her top. She didn't move back either, keeping her hips close to his and pressing herself up against him as Sirius tilted her head up and held her to him, a hand running up her back and then back down again to press her hips flush against him. Hermione squirmed on him and Sirius's grip tightened. Hermione did it again and Sirius broke away, breathing heavily.

A wicked daring made Hermione do it again and intense grey eyes fixed on her. This time she could see his hand rise to her breast, his other firm on her hip. See him lift the small mound – and then his head was dipping, back arching, and Hermione saw nothing but his hair as a hot mouth closed around her nipple.

Hermione sighed out a long and rather surprised 'Ohhh…' and threaded fingers into his hair, grappling for a brace against his knee behind her as she leant back to give him more room. She swore she could feel Sirius smile against her skin. He blew on her nipple before sucking it back into his mouth. Sirius kissed his way up her chest and gave her wildly beating pulse point a little suck. He moved a little higher, sucked her there, and murmured, voice very deep, 'Don't tease me.'

Hermione shivered, dizzy with sensation. Sirius was still tantalising her breast, his fingers twiddling the nipple. She rocked against him again, daring him to do more and found herself being abruptly hoisted into the air, Sirius standing straight up – Hermione swinging both arms around his neck and squeaking.

She was deposited back on the sofa, but Sirius didn't do anything. He didn't move away either, he just stood there, resting over her propped by a hand on the back of the chesterfield.

Hermione blinked up at him.

'What are you going to do?'

Sirius looked at her and shook his head.

'Changed my mind.'

Hermione turned her gaze down. Topless and barefoot, all Sirius was wearing were his jeans. She'd seen that image before. It was a striking one. And it actually looked better with his belt…

She raised her fingers to the buckle, Sirius's gaze following her, and tugged at it. The thick leather didn't come free easily, but Hermione got it out and grit her teeth at the clacking sound as the belt gained slack.

She didn't want to acknowledge it. Didn't want to feel it. But the room gave a little swish and Hermione's nerves shot like an electric surge had gone through her. Sirius reached down and caught her shivery hands in one of his.

'Hermione…' he sighed, looking up at her, but Hermione shook her head.

'It's just the sound,' she whispered. Sirius was searching her eyes again. Hermione didn't want to stop. She'd been enjoying it… Didn't want to leave this room she was sharing with him.

Sirius straightened up. Without his belt holding them up his jeans had slid to hang lower on his hips. Hermione tried hard to hold herself in check as Sirius reached for the button and slipped it free. It felt like some absurd moment of truth bearing down on her and her body jumped with anxiety.

Sirius's jeans dropped to the floor. He kicked his trunks off with them and Hermione bit the inside of her lip.

'I… thought you were,' Hermione flushed badly, '… hard?'

Sirius knelt down in front of her.

'I was,' he said quietly. 'I just don't find women looking at me with fear all that arousing.'

That was a good thing… Hermione met Sirius's gaze. He looked surprisingly understanding. He took her hands gently and held them.

Hermione breathed out a long breath and gripped his hands.

'You…' she said, 'make me forget… when you… just do it – when you stop thinking – pausing. I… like what you do.'

'So… you don't want me to stop?'

'Not at all… just… stop hesitating.'

Sirius's eyebrows raised at that. Hermione cleared her throat.

'Or,' she added, 'I'll tease you.'

Sirius gave a startled little bark of laugher. He sobered and said seriously, 'I'm pretty worried about scaring you, Hermione.'

Hermione sucked in her lips. She nodded.

'I know. But… that… that was very nice.'

Sirius watched her for a moment. The crinkles around his eyes grew a little deeper. He let go of her hands, grabbed her around the knees, and yanked her forward in one swift movement until Hermione's backside was on the edge of the leather sofa. Hermione had thrown a hold about his biceps. She loosened it now and met his eyes again.

Sirius was still watching her. He edged closer, his hands running up her legs, and took hold of her sides, getting between her thighs. He gave her sides a small stroke with his fingers, then caught her head and her hand at the same time and pressed his lips to hers as he sent her hand down.

He let her hand go the moment he'd positioned it and wound a cradling arm around her back. Hermione didn't lift her hand away. She'd never felt a man there, and she didn't flinch or cower. Seeing a penis, it turned out, was actually more confronting than running her fingers along one… and there was slowly but steadily becoming more of it.

Sirius's kisses were becoming more heated. He moved them down her neck and further, Hermione's back arching to him to give him access. She stroked her hand down the length of him until she reached a silky tip and felt a thumb over that. It made Sirius groan on her nipple. He scraped his teeth along it, and pulled her hand away. Hermione went for his arms instead, hanging on to thick deltoids as thumbs dipped down to stroke up the insides of her thighs.

Butterflies, sparking bubbles, tingles or winged keys – something was alive and writhing in her chest. Hermione didn't know when and where the nervy fright and the excited anticipation had become one, but they had, and the feeling was strong.

'Sirius!' she hissed.

Sirius's mouth was back on her neck. Hermione shuddered as he pulled only a bit away from her zinging skin and, breathing little wisps of air on the wet patch, asked, 'Pull away or take your jeans off?'

'Jeans off!'

Sirius's hands were on her jeans button in a second. Hermione wriggled, helping him, as he took hold of the waistband and tugged them off. He tossed them aside and knelt up again, hands back on Hermione's knees – pushing them further apart. He met Hermione's eyes, his hands sliding, hot on her skin, up the inside of her thighs. Hermione gulped and shuddered again – she didn't know with what.

But the grey eyes were kind and familiar and trained on hers. He bent down and pressed a brief kiss to the top of her leg. Hermione reached for his head and pulled him to her, slipping her fingers into his hair and finding his mouth just as Sirius's fingers changed course and headed back down her thighs.

Hermione groaned in protest and Sirius smiled into the kiss. Hermione sucked his lip between hers – yanked at his arms – and he cracked a little chuckle.

'All right then,' he murmured, and his hands moved back up again, headed straight for a part of Hermione that seemed able to burn hot and wet and tingle with wonton sensitivity all at the same time. His thumb brushed at her through her panties and Hermione clutched at his shoulders. It was insane – ridiculous to be touched there – and like the mad exultation of jumping off a high precipice. Sirius ran a finger down then back up again, down and up… as he returned his mouth to Hermione's neck and cupped one of her breasts in eager, kneading fingers.

Hermione's head tipped back. Sirius plied his mouth to the side of her exposed throat, sucking and nipping gently at it.

'You're wet…' He murmured, his voice like liquid chocolate, and slid his fingers past the edge of her panties.

'Oooh… god!'

Sirius chuckled. His thumb had positioned itself perfectly on the little nub that shot shuddering waves of pleasure through Hermione. He rubbed it, and slid his fingers up and down, between her folds, tantalising her.

'Very wet,' he whispered right in Hermione's ear; a finger slipped inside her, and Hermione didn't bolt. She didn't flinch – she sunk her fingernails into Sirius's back and cooed as her breast was sucked into his mouth. He twiddled his tongue over her nipple, rubbed her clitoris, and fit a second finger inside her, quirking them up against a much deeper spot that had Hermione trying to wrap her legs around Sirius.

'I can't get much closer,' Sirius said, amused, to her chest. He hadn't let up and Hermione had slumped back against the backrest; Sirius bent over her, held down hard by her arms.

Hermione was panting, clinging to him over his back.

'Yes… you can!'

Sirius slowed his fingers and looked at her. Hermione stuck her thumbs into her panties and squirmed them most of the way off. Without question, Sirius took them the rest of the way. He pulled her hips flush against him – but too high. Hermione sat up and grabbed for him, and Sirius sent her arms around his neck. He held her thighs, got a foot under him, and stood up, turning and grabbing the backrest of the sofa as he lowered Hermione onto it.

He was above her, his handsome face pinker than usual, his eyes more heavy-lidded. He was watching her. He ran a thumb between her breasts, his fingers tickling a nipple, right down to give her clitoris a swirl, his eyes rising to lock with Hermione's.

'You sure?' he breathed.

Hermione hadn't let her legs fall from around his hips. They tightened their grip.

'Yes.'

Sirius lowered, pushing one of her legs higher with fingers that pressed firmly into her thigh. He dropped to an elbow over her.

He was hard – very hard – and seemed a lot larger than he had to Hermione's hand when the blunt tip pressed against her. Sirius gave her a quick kiss and then rose to meet her eyes.

It was odd – its own sort of odd. She'd asked for it, and it wasn't the first time she'd done that. Hermione knew why Sirius was watching her so closely. The ghost of horror was there, and it was both old and something that mattered. But it didn't hurt this time, and it didn't seem the amazing thrill she'd thought it would be when she asked for it this night.

What it was was bluntly satisfying and not satisfying at all at the same time. Hermione released a long breath, definitely invaded but stretched and full in a way that was nice and just, surprisingly easily, grew deeper.

Sirius came to a stop, pressed into her. His eyes had pinched.

'You okay?' Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a low bark of a laugh.

'Yeah,' he breathed and caught the armrest, his bicep rising.

He rocked back, then pushed in again, slowly and gently. Hermione's hand found his back, feeling the cautious undulation of tense muscles. She could see his eyes. They didn't leave hers, and, somehow, that was comfortable. She could feel his hair at the side of his handsome face, the roll of his back, staying slow and careful – and, unexpected but a welcome newness, she felt his hips come to press up against hers, pull away, then rock not just into her, but up against her again. Felt him deep, and found that was easy – found, more, that it stretched her even more intimately, made her warmer everywhere and between her legs; made her ability to breathe feel shallow.

Tender. It was tender. One of Sirius's hands shifting to cradle the back of her shoulder as Hermione's arms and legs tightened and clung around him. The skin over her clitoris felt tight; the little spot being pressed and rocked into. And, bit by invaded bit, like being teetered forward and then back again, it started feeling very nice.

Sirius rested down more against her, his belly flush with Hermione's. His cheek pressed into a taught forearm, the arm flexing again and again as he tugged a little against the armrest. His eyes slipped shut, his backside tightened, and he thrust harder, ground a little against Hermione's clitoris, nudging deep and firm inside her.

Hermione released a little squeak.

Sirius stopped. His eyes opening, he stared at her. For Hermione, it broke the tender little moment. She dug her fingers into his back.

'For Christ's sake Sirius!' she snapped. 'I'm enjoying it! Do I have to stay –' Watching her narrowly, Sirius had pulled back and thrust forward, even harder, 'silent!' The last word was a choked squeak.

'No,' Sirius huffed, suddenly less cautious. He caught and pushed Hermione's listing thigh back up as his back undulated again. 'Make as much noise… as you want.'

Now he didn't stop. And he was no longer slow or gentle. Him speeding up, Hermione grappled to keep herself wrapped around him. Sirius grabbed for the armrest again. His head lowered back to his arm, breathing heavily but keeping his eyes on Hermione as he delved into an onslaught – like he'd decided she was good for it now – that she felt unprepared for but wasn't about to halt.

Upon her, as though she hadn't been realising it all this while, was just how gorgeous he was. In that moment Hermione loved him there, between her legs – and then he sped up further, adroit and powerful, and Hermione's face pushed itself into his shoulder – abruptly sure something inside her was loosening – relaxing – even as her legs clenched him harder. She was blissfully warm, trying not to shriek with every thrust, as something desperately sweet, like a pooling of tense, hot honey, built abruptly to maddening heights right where Sirius was inside her.

It broke - every beautiful bit of fantastic tension exploding into sugary shrapnel inside her, and Hermione bit down on Sirius's shoulder to avoid screaming.

She'd never experienced anything quite like it – and it didn't end quickly. Aftershock after aftershock surged through her, every time Sirius shoved back against her, knocking at her – his movements getting jerky, barely withdrawing. He'd dropped his forehead on the hand gripping the armrest and his eyes were shut. His jaw very tight, an arm having worked its way under Hermione gripping her, he heaved an open-mouthed breath, jerked hard into Hermione, then again and again – jaw shutting as he gave a guttural groan.

He sagged. Hermione let her legs fall to the sofa but kept hold of his shoulders. Taking a few breaths, Sirius turned his head on his hand and uttered breathlessly, 'Oh… fuck…'

Lying flat on her back below him, basking in some kind of sunshine yellow torpor, Hermione looked up.

She giggled.

'You okay?' she asked.

Sirius's eyes cracked open. His face softened into an exhausted smile. Sighing, he blinked a few times, as though clearing his eyes.

'Been a very long time…'

Not really, but Hermione could guess he meant since the last time he'd enjoyed it.

'You don't seem to have forgotten anything.'

Sirius snorted a little laugh. He blinked down at her, watching her.

'You look pretty like that,' he said softly.

A blush heated up Hermione's neck and cheeks.

'I… look pretty lying under you?'

Sirius's eyes crinkled with humour.

'No – well…' he smiled a little more. 'Yeah, admittedly. But I meant… your cheeks are pink and your hair is a mess.'

'You like my hair when it's a mess?'

'Yeah, I do.' Sirius lifted his head and brought his hand down from the armrest. 'And,' he added sliding a knee under him, 'you look happy.'

He was moving away – getting up. Hermione hung on to his shoulders, suddenly worried she was to be left to sit, cooling and naked, on her own.

Sirius barely seemed to change his plan. He sat up, Hermione coming with him, and, his arm sliding down her back, kept Hermione against him. He got his feet on the floor and Hermione was on his lap once more.

His penis had slid out of her with a horribly embarrassing noise, but Sirius didn't seem to notice. He'd rested heavily against the chesterfield, his head tipped onto the backrest and his arms looped lightly around Hermione. She sat very still on his thigh, knees bent under her. She hadn't thought of the practicalities of sitting on him when she'd hung on, but she knew what was coming next now.

Hermione's cheeks flushed very hot as she felt the awful dripping and oozing sensation – right above Sirius's thigh.

Sirius may not notice embarrassing noises, but he did notice that and Hermione's horrified squeak. He looked down, then up at Hermione's glowing face, and raised an eyebrow.

'I'm sorry!' Hermione breathed, mortified. 'I should have thought of that!'

But Sirius just chuckled tiredly.

'Thanks for returning it.' Sirius chuckled again as Hermione hid her face in her hands. 'It's really not that big a deal, Mione. Where's my wand?'

Poking out of his jeans pocket. Sirius dragged the jeans over with a foot and caught up his wand in his toes. Hermione reached to grab it for him but Sirius got there first. He cast a quick cleaning charm and left his wand on the seat next to them, head tipping back to rest, eyes closed, on the back of the sofa.

'Tired?' Hermione whispered.

Sirius sighed out of his nose.

'I'm an old man, Hermione,' he said quietly. 'I can't go bounding around after sex anymore.'

'You…' Hermione watched him, surprised. 'Old man?' she said, amused. 'You say that after you've just lifted and maneuvered me around several times – like it's nothing?'

That did make a little twitch appear in the corner of Sirius's mouth.

'I didn't say I wasn't in shape.'

Hermione shook her head, though she knew Sirius wouldn't see.

'You're only in your thirties.'

'Late thirties,' Sirius said gruffly.

Hermione sat, quiet, trailing her eyes over him. He didn't look it. He looked… perhaps only about thirty. He didn't really act it, either. Physically, he'd have aged in Azkaban, but… maybe not mentally, as much. So… if she took those twelve years off his age, and subtracted another two for the years he'd been dead, that would make him about twenty four. It seemed a more appropriate estimate.

Her eyes lingered, as he lounged. Despite the general familial resemblance, Hermione thought Sirius stood out boldly from the Blacks. It was the warmth in his features, making the hard planes and aristocratic poise look somehow gentler. The gentle look could disappear in an instant, Hermione knew… but… most of the time…

And there was some other quality… almost rock star-like, that made even a genial Sirius very conspicuous.

Hermione's gaze traced the little lines around his eyes; the faint rise of those firmer spots beyond the corners of his mouth… tiny gestures towards wrinkle lines on either side of them. She wanted to feel them with her lips, but she held back. With the heat of passion replaced by placid sobriety – for all she was currently straddling his leg – Hermione had no idea how free she was to touch him… feel him.

He had a hand on her middle, another on her thigh. He was touching her. So she lifted a tentative finger and ran it over one of the firmer patches, wondering whether it felt that way or just looked it. Hermione couldn't tell until Sirius's mouth moved and it was as though a muscle, flexing just a little, was right under her finger.

He'd cracked his eyes open, watching her as she looked at him. Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder.

'I think,' Hermione whispered, 'you'd look good in leather trousers.'

Sirius's eyebrow quirked and Hermione fought a blushing smile.

'Have you ever worn leather trousers?' he asked, voice a comforting rumble.

'No…'

'They are incredibly,' Sirius said significantly, 'uncomfortable.'

Hermione grinned.

'You've tried them, then?'

'I had a pair once,' Sirius answered. 'Wore them only a few times before I gave up on them. I probably have a photo of it.'

Hermione snickered.

'I'd like to see that photo.'

'Oh yeah?' Sirius said interestedly. 'Is that your thing?'

'No,' Hermione denied as Sirius watched her, amused. 'I… quite like your jeans, actually.'

Sirius chuckled and picked his head properly up off the top of the backrest.

'Never fear, then, I was planning on continuing wearing those.' Sirius gave his nose a wiggle and patted Hermione's side with his fingers. 'We should… get up.'

Hermione looked around, a new ounce of sense returning. They were in the sitting room. Right by the front door. Off the most traversed corridor in the house.

She got off of Sirius's lap and found her top, pulling it on without a bra.

'Did…' she said nervously, 'Harry come in, do you think?'

Sirius shoved his hair out of his face. He was stark naked, standing up after collecting his trunks from the floor. That he was Harry's godfather wasn't lost on Hermione. She didn't think it was lost on Sirius either. They hadn't been loud – not really. But the sitting room door being closed was unusual enough for… Harry to investigate. The idea that anyone other than Harry may have heard that didn't seem as bad right now.

'No,' Sirius answered. 'I didn't hear the front door.' He tugged on the tight pair of black shorts and met Hermione's eye. 'Unless he came in before me?'

Hermione shook her head.

'I was here. I was listening for the front door.'

Hermione yanked on panties and jeans, then cast two Cleansing Charms on the sofa. The first was to clean it of anything that may be there. The second was to try to avoid the utter mortification she'd experience seeing anyone sit on it.

Sirius didn't bother with belt or t-shirt. He had them both in his hand as he trod to the door. Hermione hovered behind him and watched Sirius crack it open and peer out into the corridor beyond. He pulled the door open.

'No one,' he said, leading the way out.

Hermione followed behind him as Sirius started up the stairs.

His jeans were fantastic on him. Hermione had never seen a man fit a pair of jeans quite as well as Sirius did. He'd make a good Levis advert, the waistband sitting low on his hips, displaying the thin trail of hair Hermione knew now did go right the way down.

She couldn't well describe what a nice backside was, but Sirius had one, looking as firm and densely muscular as the rest of him. Hermione eyed it as he climbed the stairs just ahead of her. Her eyes trailed upwards and watched a solid back that flexed a little around two small hollows just above his waistband. There weren't any black lines on Sirius's back. Hermione's eyes caught sight of the multiple slim white lines of a scar that splayed like badly cracked glass across and around one of his shoulder blades.

He could have gotten it from anything. Duelling as a member of the Order. Messing around at Hogwarts with his friends. But Hermione's heart felt the worst option.

She slid her hand into Sirius's and was gratified to feel his fingers close around her palm. He slowed, letting her catch up, before continuing with Hermione walking beside him. They neared then reached the third floor landing, where, any other day, they would have headed in opposite directions.

Hermione didn't want to. It wasn't as though she hated her bedroom. She hadn't any affection for it – didn't feel anywhere near at home in it – but it had been refuge for her on a number of occasions.

It was just that a refuge and feeling sad were intimately linked. Too much had changed this night. Her room… was how things had been before, and Hermione didn't want to go back to that.

So Hermione didn't let go of Sirius's hand. He slowed to a stop on the landing and turned to face her. It was the moment he'd say goodnight.

Hermione stared up at him. It was a crazy idea… but she'd vastly prefer it. Wouldn't she?

Sirius didn't wish her a good night. He eyed her face, his hand warm around Hermione's. Then he stepped toward his bedroom and Hermione went with him.

Author's Note

The big thing that made me want to write this chapter this way was that the timing of this development in their relationship is pretty inappropriate, despite the fact that it went well. Hermione's just been bleeding out, they both feel pretty terrible, he hurt her quite a bit with what he said, and she unintentionally hurt him…

Nothing without future consequences, I'm sorry to tell you. It's not all rainbows and butterflies after this.

Also, there's a lot of transcribing involved in posting these, especially when posting a whole bunch of chapters like today. I try to make sure nothing gets messed up in the transfer, but if it looks like anything went wrong, a section was deleted or everything devolves suddenly into characters that look like a cat walked over the keyboard... please let me know and I'll fix it.