Chapter 43: Put Some Googly Eyes on It

Music suggestion: Paper Forest, Emmy the Great

It wasn't that Hermione was aroused, not at first. Just urgent – to feel Sirius, hold him, kiss him – be as close to him as possible and revel in the fact that somehow, for some reason, he allowed it. Reciprocated it. Strongly. She caught his cheeks and pulled back to stare into his eyes. Grey, again, and gorgeous.

They crinkled in the second before Hermione shut her eyes again and pulled his head right back down. Energetic, rubbery, and firm – to the touch as he was to the eye – Sirius held her tight as Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, on her toes and pulling herself up on him to reach. Sirius squeezed her, holding her up; his fingers in Hermione's hair as he treated her to a very claiming kiss that sent sweet heat through every part of her that was pressed up hard against him.

Hermione pushed him, and Sirius went, treading backwards until he hit the side of the bed and let himself fall onto it, Hermione landing on top of him. She'd lost contact with his mouth, but found a tender spot under his jaw with her lips. He hadn't shaved that morning, and the short stubble tickled Hermione's lips – exciting, like the open vulnerability of Sirius's neck she was pressing kisses along. Like the body under her, and the hand that trailed up to feel the side of her breast.

'How,' Sirius said, his throat vibrating has he spoke, 'long do periods last?'

Hermione's lips had closed over his earlobe – something she'd never thought she'd do. She whispered into his ear, 'Over.'

'Oh, thank Merlin.'

Sirius was up, sitting, catching the side of her head and kissing her as a hand under her top worked her bra open. It snapped free and Sirius leant back, stripped off her top, grabbed Hermione, and – quite deftly – flipped her onto the bed.

A meow stilled Sirius. Hermione's startled giggles were longer to die. She felt like she'd lost her insides somewhere. Sirius, however, was staring at the other side of the bed.

'Forgot about Crookshanks,' Sirius muttered.

'He's just a cat…'

'No…' Sirius said, getting up. 'That's too weird. Okay, Crookshanks, out you go for a bit, mate.'

Moving swiftly, Sirius strode over to the door and pulled it open a crack. He and Crookshanks exchanged a long and very determined stare that set Hermione sniggering. Finally, blinking, Crookshanks backed down. He hopped off the bed and trudged for the door.

'Thanks Crookshanks,' Sirius said, and shut the door.

Hermione had sat up on the bed. Sirius cast a look at her and his eyes lingered, drifting down her chest. Hermione's cheeks grew warm, but she didn't try to cover up. She sat there, baring her exposure with fun abandon – an abandon, free from silly worries, she wanted. He'd seen it before. And he, quite obviously, liked the sight. The way his eyes were stuck on her nipples… Hermione heated up further.

Sirius pulled out his wand, lifted his eyes away, and cast what Hermione guessed was a Silencing Spell on the room. She fought what felt very much like a reckless grin.

'How loud,' Hermione asked, 'do you think I'm going to be?'

Sirius gave her an amused look. He grabbed the back of his top and shucked it off, depositing it on the floor and his wand on the bedside table.

'Be,' he said, climbing back onto the bed, 'as loud as you want. I just renewed the spell.'

'I wanted to take your top off.'

Sirius glanced over at the heap of top. He turned a raised eyebrow on Hermione.

'I can put it back on?'

Hermione laughed and shook her head. She felt lost to some sort of heady tide, rising on her knees and finding Sirius's lips with a thrilling confidence – memories of every thought she'd had that afternoon well-remembered in her head. And Sirius let her kiss him; let her find every part of his body she'd admired that day with her fingers. They fluttered across his back, taking unrestrained pleasure in the bared muscles and shallow valleys.

'You were watching, today,' he murmured, as Hermione mouth moved along a broad shoulder. It felt fantastic to her lips.

Yes, he'd noticed.

'Of course I was watching.'

'Chippendale painters turn you on?'

'You… turn me on.'

Sirius had a hand firm on her lower back. It pulled her closer, tight and hard against him; wrapped the other arm around her – like he wanted her – the same way he pulled her head up to kiss her. That was deep, his fingers twining up into her hair, his mouth hot and distracting, sweeping Hermione further along that tide of reckless attraction. Her hand found his happy trail and followed it to his belt. It led to parts she had not seen that day. Nor had she seen the little dips in his back. Her hands traced around the hem of his jeans and fingered past his belt, finding them.

Sirius broke away with a little 'Mumph…'. He grabbed her legs and tugged. Losing balance, Hermione fell back onto the bed. It knocked her breath out, and that just made her pleasingly dizzy.

'Stop me,' Sirius murmured, coming above her, 'if –'

'I'm not going to stop you.'

Hermione's fingers threaded into his hair as he kissed down her neck, along her collarbone, and, excitingly, further. His hair tickled her skin, the ends just touching it. Hermione's fingers picked out his shoulder blade, rising out of his back as he moved down. And then… moved back up her chest –

Hermione groaned and pushed on the top of his head. Sirius chuckled.

'Yes Ma'am,' he whispered, and headed back down again. But he wasn't as obedient as he could be. He treated the very top of her breast to a long, open mouthed kiss. Then, another just a fraction of an inch below that.

'Sirius!'

Sirius chuckled again, traced his lips lower so they ran over her nipple, paused above it until Hermione shoved at his head again, and, abruptly, took the nipple into his mouth. Hermione cooed, running her fingers though his hair – and then, nipple still in his mouth, he started doing something to it that had Hermione cooing again and pushing on the back of his head. She shifted, getting her knees up and around him – getting him between them.

Her nipple popped out of his mouth and he moved over to the other one. Hermione watched, mesmerised, as he caught it in his mouth. Sirius looked up at her and his eyes smiled, watching her. He sucked, then let the nipple go – not taking care of it. Hermione huffed at him.

'What do you want me to do with it?' he asked in a very seductive whisper.

'The same thing,' Hermione said irritably, pushing his head back down, 'you did to the other one!'

Sirius grinned at her. He lowered his head.

'This?' he rumbled, and Hermione didn't need to direct him further. He knew, and he did it well, Hermione's head pressing back into the bed behind her as she sighed out.

He didn't stay there long, however. Not long enough. He headed further down, despite the grip Hermione had on his hair. Hermione went to push herself up, but his tongue was dipping into her navel, his thumbs on the sides of her breasts, and she fell back, figuring he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sirius sucked on a spot just above her jeans, then sat back on his heels, fingers working her jeans open. Hermione's hips lifted, almost of their own accord, then landed back down as her jeans and panties were pulled straight off above her head. Sirius tossed them off the bed and Hermione gazed down at him.

Her feet had returned to the bed on either side of him, Sirius knelt right between her legs. Hermione had never felt more exposed; growing, somehow, even hotter as Sirius looked down at her – but his hands were back on her skin, resting on the insides of her thighs. And he was staring straight at a very secret part of her.

Hermione's lips pinched. She felt hot all over, not just in her cheeks and chest. She didn't want to sit up. Sirius wasn't looking with anything that made her want to recoil – he wasn't anything that made her want to reconsider her behaviour. Being unrestrained seemed as fine with Sirius as lying bare before him. He traced her with very interested eyes.

'You're –' Hermione sucked a quick breath, 'staring…'

Sirius looked up at her. A thumb brushed the top of Hermione's pubic bone. Sirius's hand was very warm on the top of her leg.

'You left a patch,' he whispered.

Hermione had. The parts of her pubic hair that disgusted her the most… she couldn't stop shaving those. But she'd left a section to grow, right where Sirius's thumb was stroking her.

'I… yes, I did…'

Sirius's eyes headed back down her body. He slid his body back into a corner of the bed, lowering over her, and ran his fingers through the short hairs.

'I like it,' he said quietly, shifted himself a little further back, and lowered his face even closer.

Now Hermione did push herself up onto her elbows. She watched him closely – warily. Sirius looked up at her. His lips pursed and he blew a stream of air straight between her legs.

'Sirius…' Hermione uttered, of her voice hiking strangely.

Sirius's hands were on her thighs, pushing them up and to the side.

'Mm?' he hummed, extended his tongue, and licked her folds.

'Sirius!'

His head came up, looking amused. He watched Hermione's face for a second, then rumbled, probably deliberately, 'You'll enjoy it.'

Hermione didn't stop him, and Sirius, still watching her, lowered his face back down and slipped his tongue between her labia.

'Ohhh… god…' Hermione breathed and flopped back on the bed. She could feel Sirius's laughter, his body shaking with it between her legs. He lapped at her again and Hermione felt one of her thinner folds be sucked into his mouth.

'Ahg… How,' she uttered, shoving herself back up, 'can you put your mouth there?'

Sirius chuckled, and as his mouth was around her clitoris…

'Oh – ah!'

'Too sensitive?' Sirius asked, pulling back a bit.

'Oooh… no!'

Sirius pushed her legs wider. His hands looked fantastic gripped around her thighs.

'Grab a pillow,' he murmured, 'if you want to see.'

Hermione thought about it for a second, then dropped back and reached up for a pillow. She lost focus as Sirius's mouth returned to her – sucking – his tongue sliding deep against her, hot and slippery; probing. Her fingers found his hair and curled into it.

'Merlin…' she moaned. 'You're good…'

'And you,' Sirius breathed against her, 'are very wet.'

Hermione met that with a mumble. Hell, if he wanted to be there with that, he was free to. She didn't even need to push his head to get him to go back to what he'd been doing. He had her thighs in his hands, her as open for him as she'd ever been, and his tongue was sliding between her folds, up and down… again and again, then up to swirl at a clitoris that danced into Hermione's panting pleasure. He sucked – and mouthed – and Hermione thought she was hotter there than his mouth was.

Then trailed down, and Hermione felt a tongue pushing even more intimately at her. She was up, tugging at his hair – tugging at him, hardly noticing startled grey eyes as she grappled for his belt.

'Oh!' Sirius said on a breath of air, his thumbs pushing into the waistband of his jeans to help – Hermione barely registering the sound his belt buckle made when she finally got it undone. She was pulling at the opening of his jeans, mouth on his jaw, and his jeans came down. Hermione gave his trunks a solid shove, grabbed him, and fell back.

Sirius's elbows landed on the bed on either side of her. Hermione had him in her hand, and he was very hard – perfectly hard.

'Merlin's pants, Mione,' Sirius uttered, watching her – but it was an appreciative look, and Hermione saw his lips make the next words as he breathed them: 'Cor Blimey… you're beautiful…'

That was perfect, and Sirius's back rolled down, Hermione planting him exactly where she needed him. Hermione cried out, gripping his shoulders – a hand flat on his back, pushing him into her as Sirius filled her – wonderfully, insanely full – and his mouth was on her neck…

She could take him – she could take him all the way, deep, and love it. It was a perfect change. In that moment Hermione knew herself as a new woman: wild, lost in something fantastic, happy, free, and moaning audibly. It was amazing – and it was Sirius. Gorgeous, helpful, astoundingly skilled, fun, sullen, enigmatic – unknowable, half-stranger Sirius. And that was crazy. And brilliant.

When his head came up he wasn't amused anymore. He was fantastic, and sexy, and giving her exactly what she wanted; and when he kissed her Hermione didn't give a damn where his mouth had been. Her legs were around him, trying to squeeze him more deeply into her, and when she started panting loudly, his face buried in her neck. Not kissing her, just huffing hot breaths against her skin.

Hermione felt her eyes roll back into her head. Recognised her toes curling. Her body went oddly limp as sudden waves of ludicrously intense pleasure coursed through her. The world was white, dancing stars – though she knew her eyes were closed.

Her muscles were jelly. They'd dropped onto the bed. When Hermione could peel her eyes open, Sirius was staring down at her, his body still and resting heavily on her. He was panting openly.

'Bloody hell… Hermione…' He uttered, and dropped his head on her shoulder.

'Did you…' Hermione lifted a weary arm to hold the back of his head. 'Erm… finish?'

Sirius started laughing, the sound breathless.

'Hard not to,' he said, hoarse. 'You squeezed me like a vice.'

'Is that… a good thing?'

Sirius just laughed harder. He heaved himself up and tipped onto the bed beside her. His answer was nothing more than a sidelong look he cast her.

'So you liked it, did you?' he asked.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't blush. Then again, she was probably so flushed already she and anyone else wouldn't be able to tell. She pinched her lips against a wide smile.

'Oh yes,' she said, very honestly.

Sirius smiled. He looked quite satisfied.

'Told you you would.'

He looked down, groaned, and started wriggling the rest of the way out of his jeans and pants. With a tired huff, he kicked them off the bed.

Hermione rolled into him. Sirius pulled his arm free and let Hermione rest her head on his chest, wrapping the arm around her. He rubbed her arm.

'You,' she said, very quietly, 'think I'm beautiful?'

Sirius was silent for a long moment. But his hand had picked up rubbing her arm again.

'Yes,' he whispered. 'I do.'

'Good,' Hermione said.

'You thought I didn't?'

Hermione tried to work out a response to that.

'You're… much sexier than me,' she whispered finally.

Sirius gripped her arm.

'I don't find myself particularly sexy,' he whispered back. 'You're the one with the boobs.'

Hermione smiled, then laughed, shaking her head against him. She calmed slowly and took a long breath.

'Your wand's on the bedside table,' she told him. 'Mine's in my jeans… I don't know where those are. And Crookshanks is still outside… He'd want to come back in.'

Sirius didn't move. Hermione didn't either.

'Sirius,' she murmured, tracing his happy trail with a finger, 'we're going to need covers too…'

Sirius groaned. He lifted a hand into the air.

'Accio wand,' he said.

It took only a second, and then Hermione pushed herself up on an elbow, staring at the hand that was now holding a wand.

'That worked…' she said stupidly.

'Mm…' Sirius pointed his wand at the door and it opened, a meow heralding the return of Crookshanks.

'Did you know it would work?' Hermione asked, staring down at him.

'Nah,' Sirius said, pointing his wand at the lamps. They extinguished. 'Just gave it a shot.'

Sirius shut the door, then reached over to plant his wand on Hermione's bedside table. He grabbed at the top of the covers, and they pulled themselves up enough to crawl under them.

Hermione lay with Crookshanks before her and Sirius curled in behind, his arm around her. She felt the back of his knuckles with her fingers. It was his right hand. She knew the scars were there. But that wasn't what her mind was focusing on.

He hadn't been upset this time. The past two times she'd known him to use wandless magic… The first he'd been fighting to stop her suffocating and bleeding to death. The second he'd been… in whatever turmoil he had been facing his father's bedroom.

Wandless magic wasn't impossible. Hermione had done it herself, as a child. When she'd been very upset. She hadn't managed it since then, but she'd seen Remus and Dumbledore use it. It was possible, though something that took extensive practice with a particular spell, great emotion, or dire circumstances. Just giving it a shot, lying, relaxed, on a bed, was not… how you managed it, as far as Hermione knew.

Unless… you were Sirius, apparently. The wizard who could sense spell fields merely by proximity. Who knew specialised areas of magic like the back of his own hand – became an Animagus at the age of sixteen, and had, according to Remus, been the creative one in their group. With a ridiculous amount of buoyant energy…

Hermione bit the inside of her lip. She had a new worry now. Wasn't it said that the candle that burnt brightest burnt the shortest? She held Sirius's hand to her. If he could wield his magic like he could use his energy… people always got tired eventually. Even Sirius did. How long could both hold out?

Sirius shifted in closer behind her. Hermione could feel his groin against her backside. His hand moved down to her hip, holding her still as his legs curled up behind hers, before wrapping his arm around her middle again. He wanted her there. And he wasn't dead now. He was alive again. Very alive.

His sleepy voice wished her a good night, using the truncated version of her name he only did when they were alone. Hermione reached behind her and rubbed his side, wanting him to stay forever, as she wished him the same.

As Sirius shifted, his arm repositioning a little under Hermione's pillow, a more welcome train of thought tempted her.

She'd experienced a few orgasms before him – many years ago when she'd been… curious. Perhaps she just wasn't remembering them that well, but Hermione was certain they hadn't been as good, by far – else she'd have tried it more recently.

She shifted a bit against him, enjoying the feel and Sirius's hand flattening against her belly, holding her to him. He'd hold her all night. He had been doing so, and he'd do so again tonight. He seemed to like it that way, and Hermione wasn't about to dissuade him. She closed her eyes, reaching to hold Sirius's hand. He laced his fingers with hers.

Sirius's body was halfway under Hermione's when consciousness reclaimed her amidst dawning sunshine through windows unimpeded by curtains. She lifted her head and looked up. How she'd ended up with a breast squished against his chest and a leg between his, she didn't know, but it didn't seem to have done much to affect Sirius's sleep.

Sirius's eyes were shut, his face peaceful; breathing slowly and deeply. Hermione pushed herself up to see him better, and felt the aches: in her back, knees, elbows, between her legs, and, worst, in the breast she'd had squished between her and the very solid body below her. It felt like that one time Hermione had gone to the gym with her mother and they'd tried all the machines – except for the warm ache in her nether regions. That was all Sirius. As was her breast, but, as Hermione was on top of him, that was probably more her fault. Though it would probably hurt less if he wasn't quite so firm.

Hermione tried to ignore it, watching Sirius snooze, but it hurt more and more as the blood returned to it. Ow… she thought, and shifted slowly over Sirius, freeing a hand to massage it.

Deep, sleepy chuckles met the action. A hand traced up Hermione's arm toward the breast she was massaging. Hermione looked back up. Sirius wasn't sleeping. He'd cracked a heavy-lidded eye open and was watching her.

'Any chance,' he said, 'that's intended to arouse me?'

'Erm… no. It hurts… A lot of me hurts, actually…'

Sirius's face drew into a grimace.

'Sorry…' he said. 'Too rough?'

'No –' Hermione broke off on a laugh. 'Not you. Well… yes you, for one part. You leave me feeling like I was… plundered by something quite hard, long, and thick.'

'Plundered?' Sirius repeated.

Hermione snickered.

'Have a better word?'

'Shagged,' Sirius mumbled. 'It's down there if you want to tell it off.'

Hermione started to laugh. She spotted Sirius's sleepy grin before she dissolved over his chest.

'Well,' Sirius murmured, 'you nearly pulled my head off, and then screamed in my ear. So if you feel very shagged, I think you're doing well.'

'… Did I hurt you?'

Sirius blinked both eyes open. They smiled at Hermione.

'No,' he said. 'You're not that strong, Mione.' His eyes shut again. 'Give me a few years, though,' he added, 'and you'll have to be more careful with my decrepit body.'

Hermione smacked him, straight on the chest. It seemed what Sirius had been waiting for and his grin returned. Under his threat of age, though… What Sirius had said… promised a lot. He may not have meant it.

Sirius's eyes reopened.

'But you do make clear,' he said, 'exactly what you want. That's nice. Just don't pull all my hair out, okay?'

'I screamed?'

Sirius smiled.

'Oh yeah, you did.'

Hermione suppressed an embarrassed smile.

'How's your back?' she asked.

'A bit scratched,' he told her. 'But you didn't bite me this time.'

'That's an improvement.'

Sirius chuckled, making rumbles Hermione felt deep in his chest.

'I don't mind, Mione.'

Hermione watched his eyes slip back shut.

'When,' she asked, 'did I end up on top of you?'

'Donno,' he answered. 'Some time in the night.'

'Did it wake you?'

'For a minute. I figured you were good there and just went back to sleep.'

It didn't seem to bother Sirius that Hermione was still perched on top of him either. Her arms were resting on his chest, rising and falling as he breathed slowly.

'When,' she asked, more hesitantly, 'was the last time you had sex?'

Sirius cracked an eye open.

'Pretty sure you were there,' he said.

'I meant,' Hermione whispered, 'before me?'

'... Before Azkaban.'

That was seventeen years ago. Hermione would have just turned two…

Sirius was looking back at her.

'When,' he said quietly, 'was I supposed to have had sex between then and now? Azkaban's far from an aphrodisiac, and, after, I was a wanted fugitive, Hermione. Even if I'd met someone who didn't see me as a criminal – somehow – I wasn't interested. And, you may think me attractive now, Mione, but I wasn't then – you know that as well as I do. I was missing six teeth.'

Hermione stared at him.

'You were?'

'Mm.'

Hermione looked. Sirius's mouth was closed, but she knew his mouth. Quite intimately.

'You're not missing them now,' she whispered.

Sirius looked silently back at her for a second.

'No,' he said, 'Remus regrew them for me. You know you have a true friend when he can look into you your rotting mouth for long enough to perform dental spells.'

Hermione swallowed.

'Did they… fall out in Azkaban?'

'Five of them,' Sirius answered. 'The sixth somewhere near Madrid.' Sirius shifted, pushing himself up more against his pillow, Hermione going with him. 'They didn't fall out, Hermione. I pulled them out.'

Hermione could feel the inside of her own mouth – feel how firmly her teeth sat in her gums.

'Why?' she breathed.

Sirius looked baldly back at her. Hermione's parents were dentists. She could guess the answer. Sirius gave it anyway. She'd asked.

'Abscesses. Scurvy. Take your pick. It was both. There's no toothpaste in Azkaban. And no toothpaste that can last twelve years. I think seventy two hours is the most they're advertising now.'

Hermione had wanted to know about Azkaban. But these bite-sized pieces of suffering were hard to hear. The little details seemed worse than a general description. She'd seen her parents' tools for pulling teeth – heard the stories. It wasn't always easy to get the whole tooth out. They could break.

'They don't feed you well in Azkaban either,' Sirius finished, and Hermione worked to keep her eyes on him.

'How'd you get them out?' Hermione whispered.

Sirius sighed.

'You don't want to hear it.'

'How'd you get them out?' Hermione repeated.

'Why do you want to know?'

Hermione peered sadly down at him.

'Because I'm here,' she whispered. 'Because I knew you after Azkaban. Because that's always haunted me – but here you are, and you're healthy – you smile – and I w-want to know!'

'Hermione…' Sirius took a deep breath. 'With anything,' he answered. 'A rock – my fingers – a bit of broken plate. Whatever I had.'

Hermione spent a long but singular moment trying not to cry – trying not to grip him too tightly. She cleared her throat.

'You want me to know,' she stated. Not giving him time to respond, she moved a hand to the side of his mouth. 'Let me see?'

Sirius took a few seconds, but he did bare his teeth. Hermione wasn't trained, far from it. But she could see pink gums and white, squarish teeth, canines a little longer than her own. He had a bit of crowding on the bottom teeth, but the rest were straight.

Hermione leant down and kissed him.

'They look good now,' she told him, and kissed him again. He returned it.

'Did the Ministry know,' Hermione said, moving only a little away from him, 'that you'd left the country?'

'With Buckbeak?' Hermione nodded, and Sirius continued. 'I don't know. I transformed right before we crossed the Border, to try to fool the Border, but I don't know if that works on it. Didn't stay that way long. It's hard not to fall off a Hippogriff when you're a dog.'

It might do. The Border only sensed human traffic. There were few enough Animagi that maybe they could pass the Border without detection. Hermione tried to move on from their previous conversation and Sirius indulged her, answering when she asked how far south he went, whether his previous travels had helped him find his way around… They hadn't, Sirius had just done a lot of guesswork to get down into the north of Africa.

They'd moved, Sirius sitting up and Hermione facing him on his lap, her knees against pillows. Sirius's hands were on Hermione's legs. She held them there.

'Hermione,' Sirius said, breaking a brief and gentle silence, 'sex… is okay, then, for you? You don't still… have concerns about it?'

Hermione frowned at him. She was as naked as he was, straddled across his lap – having spent the previous night doing far more than that.

'Did… I seem concerned last night?'

'No,' Sirius said. 'That's why I'm asking.'

It seemed a little ridiculous. Hermione was on top of him. She may feel particularly small compared to him, but when she'd wanted something, he'd given it to her. She could stop him any time she needed to – it was up to her. She didn't feel scared, didn't feel pushed into anything she didn't want; rather, she felt almost in charge.

Hermione looked down. Soft, slumped over, Sirius's penis wasn't anywhere near frightening. It was just a floppy and very strange organ Hermione couldn't possibly imagine possessing. When it was hard and stood straight up, though…

With a single finger, Hermione traced it. She hadn't really looked at it hard.

'Hermione?'

'No, I wasn't worried,' Hermione said. Her finger hesitated, then curled away, a thought clouding her mind. 'You're not…' She stopped, unsure. 'Not… just doing this to… make it better for me, are you?'

She couldn't meet his eyes, and the silence Sirius left felt cold.

'Spending every night sleeping with you?' he said slowly.

'That, and the rest of it…?'

'No,' Sirius said, voice low, 'I'm not just serving as your practise body. I'm not telling you every little detail I don't want to revisit because I'm trying to fix your fear of sex –'

'Sorry!' Hermione moaned, finally meeting his eyes and feeling pathetic. 'Sorry – no I don't really believe it! I'm just… being silly,' she finished, very quietly. 'Sorry…'

Sirius didn't seem that angry – not angry enough to start shouting at her. His eyes were searching hers, and, all of a sudden, Hermione felt it as a piercing look. She flinched, looking away, before staring back at him. For a brief moment, she'd had the startling sense he could see quite a lot of what she was thinking and feeling. But he didn't have the look of a trained Legilimens – not the glinting stare Kingsley had treated Petal to. And his gaze was softening rapidly.

'Then,' he said, 'you're underestimating how selfish I am.'

Considering the few fumbling advances Hermione had fended off before, Sirius made a terrible practise body. She would have a tough time not comparing anyone else unfavourably to him now.

She touched him again, softly, looking down. Sirius didn't stop her. Even with only soft trails of her fingers over the flaccid length, Sirius started to harden. He didn't do anything. He just watched her.

The change was fascinating: steady, not visibly swift, but occurred a lot faster than Hermione thought it would. He seemed to double in length, and maybe more than that in breadth, though the ruddy head appeared well before then – and it a bizarre thing all on its own. If Hermione were to stick googly eyes on it… it'd look rather a lot like fictitious depictions of aliens.

And with that thought in her head, Hermione found it much harder to see… well what she was seeing as anything threatening. It jutted out at her in a decidedly aggressive way, the skin raised in a tracing of veins. Confrontingly male, as she'd long found Sirius – certainly not a body part that would look anything but wrong in the bedroom she'd grown up in.

Hermione's eyes ran up the body it was attached to. No, the tattoos wouldn't have been appropriate in her old bedroom either… nor the broad, square shoulders…

Sirius's eyebrows were raised. There was a decent pooling of humour in his face.

'It's harder than the rest of you,' Hermione said. She wasn't surprised when Sirius's face split and he started laughing.

'That's it?' he asked.

'That's fairly impressive,' Hermione told him. 'The rest of you is quite hard. How do you walk around with that in your trousers?'

'Easily,' Sirius chuckled, 'when it's soft. When it's erect: not so easily.' He took a breath, trying to sober. 'You can squish a penis when it's flaccid,' he went on, still looking amused. 'Not when it's hard. Much more vulnerable then.'

Hermione looked back down. She could understand the mechanics of it, it was just difficult to attribute the word "vulnerable" to what she was looking at. She gripped it and Sirius stopped laughing.

'I thought you were sore?' he said.

'Not too sore…'

They only remembered Crookshanks was still in the room when he came out, meowing and disgruntled, from under the bed. He hopped on top of it to stand straight on Sirius's chest as Sirius panted and watched the cat with disquieted eyes – no amount of Hermione telling him Crookshanks walked around with his backside bared able to make Sirius more comfortable with the idea of a feline witness.

It wasn't easy to sit to breakfast with Harry and Ginny after that. Especially when the part Hermione was sitting on felt swollen and bruised and still seemed… on the heated and wet side. It got even worse when Hermione realised she'd taken Harry's seat, sitting right next to Sirius, before the other two had arrived in the kitchen. Harry made no issue of it, merely taking a seat across the table. Ginny, in the previous day's clothes, seemed perfectly at ease, and Hermione envied her for it. Envied both of them: neither Hermione nor Sirius were stupid, but the fact that Ginny had very obviously spent the night wasn't something that made either uncomfortable. Largely, Hermione was sure, because she wasn't Ginny's mother.

Maybe, Hermione thought, tucking into porridge, she should ask Sirius to see what he could do to Heal her down there next time – before she came down to breakfast. That might make things easier. Asking him to do that would be awkward all on its own, but nowhere near as awkward as sitting there across the table from Harry, feeling like, just maybe, a bit more of Sirius's semen was oozing out of a particularly well-shagged part of her.