Chapter 44: Custard Questions

Music suggestion: Cross-Eyed Mary, Jethro Tull

As Sirius learned the previous night, he didn't need to tackle the ground floor corridor topless to be treated to a very horny Hermione at bedtime. He'd climbed into bed after Hermione, who had the covers pulled right up to her neck, to find her naked and, once he discovered that, giggling, under them.

And she wanted it. Wanted him. An insane development.

Way too young. Way too innocent. Sirius drifted very slowly up the path to Remus and Dora's cottage. The first one was still true. Way too innocent didn't seem to fly any longer. Hermione shoving his head down between her legs did not qualify as "innocent". She would be still though, had Sirius not introduced her to it.

There was something of a conundrum. Hermione was only no longer innocent because Sirius had made her so. And that had its own surprising and powerful attraction. Once scared enough of him to launch away from him the moment he touched her, all of a sudden the young woman now stripped naked for him with a very impish grin. Took point and made sure he knew exactly what she wanted.

Trusted him. Solidly. And astoundingly. While, also, being the one who lead the way. The both seemed to work synergistically. She was on the petite side, no match for Sirius if he wanted to refuse – or forced her into anything. But she just didn't seem to care about that. She called the shots, and trusted he'd follow them.

And it seemed wrong.

She was small – and young. Taller, rounder, more solid – that had been his type. Older – than he'd been, which had been nineteen only many years ago. Curves. Nice, round curves. Soft. Hermione was soft – her skin was. But not in the same way. She felt breakable… Crushable. Like a teenager.

If Sirius had been pushed to come up with his ideal woman… it wouldn't have been Hermione. Practical, opinionated… little prefect.

And then Hermione would laugh, let loose – her hair a mess and her brown eyes alight with joy… She'd joke, and tease him. She'd push him down and climb on top of him. Blush even though she was right there, on top of him, with his cock in her hand – this strange little spitfire that seemed so proper most of the time – who wasn't, at all. And every little touch she gave him felt loaded with affection. Every time he told her something those soulful brown eyes were intent on him. With the righteous temper of a redhead, and the unflappable determination of… her. And she seemed to hold so much more – such an enormous personality contained within a body that was small, brown-haired and unremarkably dressed.

That… was a very appealing type.

However weak she looked, she seemed to be able to take on anything. Every little thing he told her. She'd look sad for a bit, but that was it. She didn't look at him any differently after that. Climb onto a broom despite the fact that she looked like she was about to drop off out of sheer terror. Do it again for their fun in a Quidditch match a little while later. Grip him and wrap her arms around him despite the fact that he'd just yelled at her – make him feel like an arse for it all the while she was letting him know he was forgiven. Be set to sobbing because of him, then shove into his room and ask him to come out and be with her. Find his belt buckle terrifying, then strip it open.

Trusted him enough to open up and tell him anything. Trusted him to burst into tears before him, somehow thinking he'd help. Demanding the same confidences from him – wheedling some ability to be helpful out of him. Coaxing humour out of him – dropping a lust for life, need for responsibility, and a sense of purpose right on top of him.

It was a bizarre whirlwind of a buoyant holiday Sirius had found himself in. Abruptly, his world seemed to include a girlfriend. A first girlfriend, something that was strange enough for him, let alone a man that was nearly forty. One he hadn't picked – had just ended up, quite determinedly on his lap. One whose moral compass was far easier to follow than his – his being one that pointed in every direction when he remembered to look at it. One who made him a better lover, out of both necessity and her obvious appreciation for it. One who was his godson's school friend. One he had no idea what to do with. And she wasn't here, and Sirius wasn't sure he knew where he was going.

Sirius had stopped in the middle of the path, staring at an overgrown hedge. Partly because he had images of a naked teenager in his brain, and that was not something he wanted to walk into Remus's house with. Partly because he was yet to work out what he wanted from Remus.

And Sirius was sleeping so much better than he had in a very long time. No damp chill seemed to reach him when he had that lithe warm body up against him, snoozing happily away, content in his arms; able to be disturbed – or injured – if he lashed out. The nightmares had been less for a while, and he hadn't had one for a couple weeks. The worry he'd have one didn't reach him in the dark when Hermione was there. He could think about it. Hope he wouldn't. But not worry about it. It was a profound relief he'd forgotten existed.

They were all great reasons. Fabulous reasons. They were easy justifications when he was there, with Hermione's compass, and it pointed forward, not a hasty double-back.

Remus and Dora's place was a nice little cottage. Sirius had been here as a teenager, when Remus's parents had owned it. Only on two occasions. Remus's mother had been ill, in her own way. Her illness hadn't been so much a lie as an excuse for Remus to disappear on full moons. She'd had a television. Remus had put up with them when Sirius and James had sat, mesmerised, in front of it. Remus knew that story. It'd be interesting to share it with Hermione.

The front door opened.

'Sirius?'

Remus was in the doorway, watching him. He'd be alone but for Teddy. It was why Sirius had chosen now to visit.

The greatest question hanging over Sirius's head was how long? How long should he let this insane relationship continue? How long would Hermione want it to? Sirius had no idea, and every ounce of that consideration felt dicey with confused dread – the should being the only part Remus could give reassurance for. Remus had married and had a child with the little girl Sirius had babysat. If anyone could understand the question of should, it was Remus.

Sirius took a step forward, then stopped. Remus had Teddy gripped tightly in one arm. He was turned so Teddy was almost entirely behind him. His other hand was in his robes pocket. On his wand.

Holding up both unarmed hands, Sirius started up the path again. He came to a stop before the single step up to the door. He didn't drop his hands.

'Go for it,' Sirius prompted.

Remus watched him warily.

'What colour,' he said, 'did you dye your hair in fourth year, and what was my response to it?'

'I dyed it bright yellow,' Sirius answered, 'with red and purple streaks, and you told me…' Sirius thought back. A dull chill ran the length of his spine. 'You told me I looked like a washed-out bumblebee living up Rumspringa as a Rastafarian – sans green. I'm me, Remus. And I don't think bumblebees do Rumspringa.'

Remus was silent for a few seconds, Teddy still hidden behind him.

'Pink chickens,' he said.

Sirius cracked a grin. He got the gist immediately, it was just hard to remember which of the responses they'd devised more than a lifetime ago went with this one.

'Something about snow?' he said. 'Look pretty in the snow? Can't camouflage in it… Oh… maybe something about dancing a jig in the snow?'

'Look pretty dancing a jig in the snow,' Remus provided. It had been enough. He eased back and let Sirius in.

Teddy gurgled. The baby was looking up at Sirius. Today, Teddy just looked like himself. He treated Sirius to another moment of curious staring, then smiled with chubby cheeks and reached a tiny hand out for him.

Though comfortable enough with him to hand his baby over to Sirius, Remus was still eyeing Sirius closely.

'What were you doing?' Remus asked.

Sirius looked down at the baby in his arms. Teddy was making curious noises as he snagged at Sirius's hair.

'Thinking,' Sirius answered simply.

Remus had no skill with Legilimency. He'd never needed it to know things Sirius hadn't wanted him to. He read people, not minds. A little too late, Sirius wondered whether Remus could smell Hermione on him. How good, exactly, Remus's nose was wasn't something Sirius had ever asked. His focus had always been on irritation with the werewolf when he told Sirius off for something Remus had just worked out on his own.

Sirius gave Teddy a light squeeze.

'Ah!' Teddy said, trying to get Sirius's hair in his mouth.

'Oh really?' Sirius said, raising his eyebrows and shooting a quick look at Remus. 'He did that?'

Teddy blew a sloppy raspberry.

'Cor,' Sirius uttered, astonished. 'Shocking! What else, Teds?'

Teddy met Sirius's eyes. He grinned, showing gums and almost another two teeth, and produced a very impressive dolphin noise.

'Mm…' Sirius nodded. 'Don't worry, I'll have a chat with him.' He wiggled a couple fingers on Teddy's side and was treated to a gurgling laugh.

Remus didn't look as impressed. Before Sirius could come up with some ridiculous thing to accuse him of, Remus had turned away, calling back, 'Don't listen to anything he tells you. I've been a model father.'

Lucky baby. Sirius walked over to a sofa and dumped the shoulder bag he was carrying onto it. The bottles inside clinked against each other. He took a seat on the other side of the sofa and leant against the cushion-covered armrest.

Teddy could sit up reasonably well now. Though Sirius settled him on his lap with the sofa's backrest behind him, Teddy didn't lean back. He was too busy reaching for the hem of Sirius's overrobes. Sirius collected the sides of them and wrapped them around Teddy. It surprised the little boy. Sirius felt the baby's head lift against the top of the fabric. Teddy gave him a big-eyed look when the robes fell away.

Sirius gasped, feigning great shock, and draped the robes over Teddy's head again.

'Where's Teddy?' he said. 'I can't see him! Where'd he go?'

The fuzzy-haired head reappeared. Teddy had only needed two tries to get the game. His face scrunched suddenly into a little smile as Sirius gasped hugely again, staring, wide-eyed at the baby.

He'd gotten the kid gurgling with laughter when a teacup, complete with saucer, floated over to him from the kitchen.

'I don't like tea,' Sirius called to Remus.

'Drink it,' Remus said, coming over with his own teacup. 'It's good for you.'

Sirius snorted.

'What, it'll put hairs on my chest?'

Remus cast him an amused look as he handed Teddy a couple rice biscuits.

'It's far too late for that, Sirius,' he said, setting his teacup on the coffee table. Nothing changed in Remus's face, but Sirius saw the slow way he sat down on the other sofa and his quiet sigh when he relaxed on it. The house was clean, though. Cleaner than it had been when Remus had been in a worse state. He was well enough to be able to clean it around Teddy and being second in command for the Order, then. For Remus, that indicated not-too-terrible health.

Sirius collected his teacup from the air. It wasn't easy to watch how quickly age was claiming Remus. He knew Remus had been furnished with a selection of potions by Poppy. For aches, pains, and several more that were supposed to keep his bones and joints going. Sirius hoped Remus was taking them. He couldn't in the week he was to take the Wolfsbane potion, and he'd need as much help as he could get before then. Remus's transformations were getting worse. There were only so many times a person's body could be brutally warped into an unnatural shape and back again before it stopped working properly.

'He likes you,' Remus said, indicating Teddy with his teacup.

Sirius looked down. Teddy was gumming on his biscuit, a few spitty bits of it already decorating his trousers. His hair was now a shock of scruffy black. Teddy met Sirius's eye, his chin wet with saliva.

'I look like his grandmother,' Sirius said, rubbing the baby's hair.

'He puts up more of a fuss for his grandmother,' Remus said. 'You're the only one we can hand him to that he'll be consistently immediately comfortable with.' He took a sip of tea. 'You don't sound like Andromeda,' Remus added. 'You've put notably more effort into trying to get rid of a posh accent.'

Sirius snorted into his teacup. He shot Remus a sceptical look.

'Don't lie to me,' Remus said smoothly. 'You sounded pompously out of the upper echelons when I first met you.'

And Remus wasn't the first one to point that out. James had on a few occasions. Sirius swallowed his mouthful of tea.

'You're welcome,' he told Remus.

Remus acknowledged it with a tilt of his head. He set his teacup down.

'How are the renovations going?'

Remus was watching him. Sirius looked down and scooped up some of the larger bits of chewed and dropped rice biscuit. He held them in a palm for when Teddy decided he wanted to try eating them again.

'Need to work out what I want to do with the stairs,' he answered. 'I started on the first floor landing this morning.'

Sirius could feel Remus's evaluating gaze. For want of anything better to do, Sirius took another sip of tea. The bland liquid did nothing for him but warm his mouth. Remus hadn't even put sugar in it.

'You've always been happier with a few passions under your belt,' Remus observed mildly.

Under his belt was a little too close to the truth for Sirius. He looked up at Remus. The clever bugger was still watching him.

'And with a family,' Remus went on, rather too knowing. 'You've long been adept at adopting ones you want.' He looked pointedly at Teddy, the baby snagging at Sirius's hair as he munched.

Sirius wiped a bit of biscuit off Teddy's chin.

'Don't analyse me, Remus.'

The werewolf was silent for a time. Sirius held up his palm and let Teddy scrounge around for which gummed biscuit bits he wanted to return to. Sirius dunked an uneaten piece into his tea and gave the rice rusk a try. It was even more bland than the tea. Poor kid.

'Do you want children?' Remus asked curiously.

Sirius didn't have an answer, so he didn't give one.

'Dora remembers you,' Remus pressed. 'She was disappointed when you couldn't come to visit them anymore. She always had a good time with you. Andromeda has spoken similarly. I know she regrets becoming suspicious of you.'

Andromeda had started telling Sirius he'd make a good father back when he'd been sixteen and nowhere near interested in it.

'You find that weird, don't you?' Sirius said.

Remus barely hesitated.

'That you looked after my wife when she was a child,' he stated. 'Yes, I do. Do you condemn me for it?'

'No,' Sirius answered honestly.

'No,' Remus repeated. 'And it appears no one else does either. Regardless, it'd do no good, just harm, for me to change things now.'

And if Remus was as aware of Sirius as Sirius worried he was, then that statement held a great deal of meaning.

Sirius's wedding band was in Teddy's fingers again. The baby would have both his parents' to play with, but he seemed fascinated with Sirius's. Teddy tried to tug it off. Sirius positioned a thumb to keep it on his finger. It wouldn't do to lose it. Or have Teddy swallow it.

'I'm more the fun uncle,' Sirius answered finally.

'That,' Remus said quietly, 'is not true.'

It irritated Sirius, or, rather, this latest in a long history of fatherhood-pestering irritated Sirius, but he didn't look up.

'What example,' he demanded, 'do I have to follow, Remus? My own father's? I don't think I need to tell you –'

'You've never needed a role model, Sirius,' Remus said, cutting him off. 'Just someone to be loyal to. People who depend on you. And someone who will kick you back into line if you need it.'

Sirius stayed silent. He had no argument he wanted to voice. Not a single person had worried about him spending time with their children. Not Andromeda, and she'd had a little girl. Both Harry, as a baby, and Teddy had just been shoved into Sirius's arms. He'd held Harry on the day Harry had been born, because, somehow, Lily was mental enough to think he could hold a newborn. And if Sirius cared to think on it, their trust scared him.

He lifted Teddy and let the baby try to stand on his knees. Teddy did well. He bounced himself a bit, looking around – over the back of the sofa, over at his father, before spotting Sirius again and trying to grab his nose. Sirius tilted his head up and pretended to try to bite Teddy's fingers.

'What's going on with Bill's friend?' he asked Remus.

Remus didn't call him up on the change of subject. He let Sirius fend off Teddy's reaching hands with gnashing teeth a bit longer before responding.

'Brian is not in the country yet,' Remus said over Teddy's giggles. 'But he has a meeting with the Ministry scheduled. He is in communication with Bill and Kingsley. Bill believes Brian is more than capable of gaining Umbridge's trust and intrigue. He hasn't specified why, not to me, at least, though I get the impression Brian has a way of endearing people to him – particularly women. Bill has said he's a skilled Occlumens and adept at a playing a role, so long, reportedly, as he stays away from alcohol. It does appear Brian is interested in joining the Order.'

Sirius frowned at him. Sight unseen, it seemed ridiculous to invite a foreign wizard, known to be a good liar, into the Order to be their spy. Ridiculous that he'd be interested in joining.

'And we trust him?' he said. 'Just like that?'

'I believe Kingsley is planning on plying him with alcohol,' Remus said lightly, 'and testing him mercilessly.'

Sirius would like to be there for that. He hadn't Kingsley's skill, but he was skilled enough to know when people were lying to him.

'What is in the bag?'

Sirius looked over.

'Wolfsbane Potion,' he answered. 'A week's supply. I have more. And the antidote's there if I've brewed it incorrectly.' Very seriously, Sirius looked at Remus. 'Do not take it,' he said clearly, 'unless Dora or someone is with you. If it is poison, you won't have time to drink the antidote yourself.'

Remus nodded, looking unconcerned.

'I mean it Remus.'

'I have no doubt you have brewed it correctly.'

Sirius narrowed his eyes and Remus smiled.

'Certainly,' he said, placating, 'I will have Dora watch me drink it.'

'I still think,' Sirius said, focusing back on Teddy, 'that you should transform somewhere far away from here. The first time with the potion, at least. Just until we know it works as it should. You still have the cellar here?'

Collecting the baby, Sirius slid off the sofa and lay Teddy, tummy-down, on the rug. He looked up to see Remus give his answer in a single nod. It was a grim place, the cottage's cellar. Reinforced many years ago by Remus's father to keep an immature werewolf contained. Tame, the fully-grown werewolf Remus was could transform in it and be no danger to anyone outside. Not tame… it wasn't worth the risk.

Wobbly on pudgy little arms, Teddy was trying to push himself up onto hands and knees. He squirmed his legs to help, and tracked backwards a couple inches.

'Would you,' Remus said quietly, 'let Dora know…? Contact her for me, if it is safe for her to join me?'

Slowly, Sirius looked up at him. Remus's stance previously had been a very certain "no" on the subject of Dora seeing him as the wolf. That he was an enormous threat to her on full moon nights was only part of it. Seeing it was not the same as knowing Remus to be a werewolf.

'You want her to be there?'

Remus didn't answer immediately. He met Sirius's eyes before rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

'She wants to see.'

'I can contact her,' Sirius agreed. 'If it's safe for me to transform and do that, it'll be safe enough for her.'

Remus shook his head. Just a little. He looked past Sirius at the wall behind him, his hand tracing down his face. Safe was relative. Sirius didn't need to be told that. Even tame Remus could still infect others if he bit them. It didn't make him harmless – it gave his wolf Remus's mind, and that was as good as safe, as far as Sirius was concerned. For him. Sirius could transform in an instant. Sirius had been there, keeping Remus in check, for a great many years. Sirius would and often had beaten Remus's wolf to a pulp when he'd needed to. Dora hadn't.

'After I transform,' Remus said finally. 'I do not want her seeing that part.'

Teddy had started to fuss. Frustrated, Sirius guessed, with his inability to get himself up. Teddy had wiggled further backward along the rug, gave a grunt, and squirmed himself onto his back.

'Good job!' Sirius praised.

The baby was not pleased. He pulled a sad face, wriggling on his back. Sirius hoisted him up, sat Teddy on his knee, and conjured a big red beetle, directing it to scuttle over Teddy's legs.

'Dora wants him to see too.'

Sirius directed the beetle away along the floor, then brought it back for Teddy to try to grab it.

'You'd never bite your own son.'

Remus stayed silent for a time.

'No,' he agreed, very quietly. 'Not when I'm in control. That is not what I'm most concerned about. How would it be, for a child to see his father as a wolf once a month. Growing up with that.'

'About as bad as seeing his mother with menstrual rage.'

'Sirius…'

Sirius left Teddy to snatch for the beetle. He hadn't been joking.

'Dad's a wolf once a month,' he said. 'So what? If I ever do have kids, they'll have a dad who's a dog sometimes. I wouldn't bite them, but that doesn't mean they can't understand that other dogs might.'

'It is not the same.'

'Don't let him see the transformation,' Sirius said. He paused, added a huge centipede to romp with the beetle, and went on, 'That's what'll upset him. Don't let him hear it. You're not scary when you're calm as a wolf. But you can bet him hearing you in pain would upset him.'

Remus didn't look convinced. He looked pale.

'Teddy will get a better childhood,' Sirius continued, 'regardless, than either of us did. If I'd had a good dad, I wouldn't have given a toss that he was a werewolf. I'd have fed his wolf dog treats in a bowl and try to ride him. Who gives a toss if it's weird? He's already a Metamorphmagus, and his godfather's an internationally recognised hero. How furry his dad is once a month is just another interesting part of what he grows up with. And,' Sirius added, on an afterthought, 'what would affect him more is a father that hid from him, too ashamed to ever let him see what he was.'

It was blunt, but Remus didn't get angry. He rubbed his eyes, finished his tea, and slid off the sofa to join them on the floor. Teddy had caught the beetle. He waved it in the air, beaming at Remus, and then tried to eat it. Sirius halted that one and Remus sent a bunny hopping their way that distracted Teddy completely.

It left a hollowness in Sirius's chest, watching Remus with Teddy. Sirius had passed the baby over when Teddy had tried to reach for Remus, and the gentle smile in Remus's face taking Teddy back stuck in Sirius's mind. Remus spoke to Teddy far more easily than Sirius did. He didn't hoick Teddy's arms above his head and kiss the baby all over his little tummy and chest, as Dora did, but he did lay down on the floor beside Teddy and pull a different expression every time Teddy looked over. He did return the cuddle Teddy sought from him, and kissed the little boy's head.

Having left them at Teddy's nap time, Sirius sat on his own front doorstep and pulled out a cigarette. He'd never seen Remus with a baby before Teddy. They'd grown suspicious of Remus not long after Harry's birth.

It was one of those moments where Sirius felt strangely old. So much had changed around him, and the differences seemed to sit on him, all at once, as he looked out at the derelict square that actually appeared better maintained than it had been in his youth.

Whatever Remus worried about, it was good to see the man with a kid who obviously loved him. Good to see Remus in a position of authority in the Order.

It was just weird.

All of it. Nothing seemed quite normal. So what, Sirius had said. So what if Remus was much older than Dora. So what if he was a werewolf. They were a nice little family. And Remus was happy. Notoriously incapable of feeling he should be, Sirius could see that happiness all the same in the wizard – around all his worries.

The autumn wind picked up, blowing leaves into melodious swirls on the road before Sirius. He liked autumn. He'd never really thought about it before, but it was nice. A sense of change in the air. Able to be smelled. With sunshine that was still warm, but more orange, as the afternoon dwindled, than summer sun. Browns, reds, yellows, and oranges in the trees in the square and landed on the grass below it. The few lingering green leaves.

He'd be fifty when Hermione was thirty. He was messed up. Hell, they were all messed up. Sirius lit another cigarette from the previous one. They didn't seem to bother Hermione any more.

He drank and he smoked. He had a history of being a cad. He had a history of being a decent enough person to be loved and trusted. He had a temper even Dumbledore had noticed and done something to deal with. And a mind that was careless until he slowed down and took a moment to think about things. Until he gave up smoking… he should make a point to do this more often. Maybe after a run. Then his muscles would be tired and he could just sit and think.

Sirius could feel his body slow. He took another lungful of smoke and blew it toward the leaves. It didn't reach, so he tried smoke rings.

He was on a new leaf. He'd turned over from a previous one, and he liked this one. It was brown. He didn't know how long it would last before it crumbled, or whether or not it'd be a good thing when it did. But he'd never been that great with impulse control. He stubbed out his cigarette, Vanished it, and stood up.

He'd need to repaint his front door. Maybe red. That would look good on a door. Sirius shut it behind him and stood in the entryway. The corridor's carpet still had to go. He'd finished sanding away the plaster above it. The stairs bothered him. But the house down here was bright. White, filled with sunshine, and no longer musty.

'Sirius?' Hermione's voice called from the sitting room. He followed it and saw her look up from the translations she was making from the house elf book. Her cheeks rounded in a cheery smile when she spotted him, her big brown eyes warm as she looked at him. She'd been pulling at her hair as she worked. Curly tendrils were hanging around her head, fingered from her plait.

Bending over the armrest of the sofa, Sirius kissed the top of her head. He was treated to a pleased look as Hermione's head tilted up to see him. He found that cupid's bow lip with his and Hermione held the side of his head. Keeping him there. However messed up he was. Smiling into his kiss as Sirius stoked her cheek with his thumb.

'How's Teddy?' Hermione asked when Sirius broke away.

'Seems fine,' Sirius answered, kneeling down beside the sofa. He crossed his arms over the armrest and watched Hermione look happily back at him.

'Is the teething still bad?'

'… It doesn't seem to be. But then, that can be better sometimes, worse others.'

'You didn't ask, did you?' Hermione said.

'… No.'

Hermione snickered.

'What?' Sirius asked.

Hermione shook her head, still sniggering.

'That would be the first thing I'd ask!' she said, amused. 'What did you two talk about for two hours, then?'

A great many things.

'I donno,' Sirius answered, and Hermione laughed harder.

'Does Remus look any fatter?' Hermione chuckled.

Sirius thought about it.

'No,' he answered. 'Remus has always been skinny. I don't think he can get fat.'

'That'd make two of you,' Hermione said.

That was hardly the strongest similarity between them.

'I can get fat.'

Hermione gave him a disbelieving look.

'I can,' Sirius insisted. 'If I try hard enough.'

'There is no way!' Hermione laughed. 'You have far too much energy!'

She just needed to give him a few years.

'Help me remove the carpet in the corridor?' Sirius asked.

Hermione set her books aside and followed him out into the corridor. She rolled her sleeves up and stepped over the flap of carpet Sirius had gotten up in the corner. Together, they shoved and rolled the carpet, Unsticking it from the floorboards below foot by foot. It was a long one, continuous along the length of the corridor. Hermione was breathing heavily and prettily pink-cheeked halfway through. When they finally finished she turned and slumped down against the huge roll of carpet, resting the back of her head on it.

Sirius leant over her, hands on the roll on either side of her head. Her collar was a v-neck. He could see down it well enough from where he was standing. White cotton with triangular cups, the sexiest thing about her bra was what was inside it – and what was there was heaving with her breaths, Hermione's nipples getting pointier and pointer as she watched Sirius stare down at her.

'Are you… satisfied, Sirius?'

Sirius pulled his eyes away from her breasts and looked at Hermione's face.

'Sorry…'

'No…' Hermione shook her head. 'No I don't mean that. I mean… look, don't take it as me not thinking much of you – you know I do. I'm…' she grimaced, 'insecure, Sirius. I… are you satisfied... with me?'

Sometimes… women boggled the pants off Sirius. He'd been satisfied, with her, a good several times lately.

'What?' he asked.

'I'm…' Hermione's face was growing that wavering, uncertain look. Her eyes were switching between his, her lips a little too closed. 'Well,' she said, her voice a bit more high-pitched than usual, 'I'm… not much to look at. I don't have…' she gestured to her chest over the breasts Sirius had just been admiring, 'big boobs… Or anything… particularly eye-catching…'

Sirius stared down at her for a moment longer, then looked down her top again.

'Take that off,' he said, 'and I'll show you how eye-catching your boobs are.'

It didn't get rid of the sad uncertainty in Hermione's face, so Sirius switched tactics. He lowered until he was kneeling over her and tried to figure out what step came after that.

'Yes,' he said slowly, 'I'm satisfied.'

That was all he had. Hermione's lips compressed, her eyes uncomfortably bright, and Sirius got a sense he was expected to say more than that. She nodded, breaking eye contact.

Sirius took a stab.

'I was just looking at your boobs, Mione… That – doesn't that indicate I like them? They're… very perky. Really perky. They slope upwards… and that's very nice…'

'And… the rest of me?'

Sirius frowned at her. He'd given up suppressing what he thought of her bit by bit over the past week. But Hermione was sitting there, her hands clasped in her lap, looking surprisingly near to tears. Sirius had no idea what he'd done to send her there.

'You know what I like about your body?' he said quietly. 'I like your eyes, your hair, your cheeks, this,' he traced the cupid's bow of her top lip, 'your chin – oddly like it more when you're angry. Your nose –'

'My nose?'

It was working. Hermione looked happier.

'Pointy,' Sirius said. 'It slopes a little. It's cute.' Hermione touched her nose, trying to feel what he was seeing. 'Your backside –'

'When did you see my backside?'

'This morning,' Sirius answered. 'You've been naked in my room repeatedly, Hermione. And I've felt it often enough recently. It's perky too. All of you is perky. And I like your waist. That's very sweet. And, did you know you have a cute navel?'

Now Hermione was giggling.

'Do I?'

'Yup. And…' Sirius looked, very deliberately, down at her lap. 'That's nice too. And your hands – and wrists. And arms… shoulders…'

Sirius figured he was done. Hermione looked very pleased.

'So, yes,' he finished. 'I'm satisfied, Mione. I didn't think I'd been making a secret of that, but if you want me to tell you how much I like a part of you, I will.'

'My feet?' Hermione sniggered.

'… I don't have a foot fetish.'

'But I have such pretty toes!'

Sirius started laughing. Hermione sniggered into him, leaning forward, holding the side of his neck. Her hand trailed up the side of his face and Sirius needed to turn only a little to meet her lips. Hermione's hand trailed up and down, rubbing his stubble.

'Don't shave tomorrow,' she whispered.

'Why not?'

'Because you seem to get a five o'clock shadow by midday, and it's scratchy. When the hairs are longer they tickle instead. And that's… tingly.'

'Tingly?' Sirius murmured, and Hermione giggled as she found his lips again. Problem was, if Sirius didn't shave, it didn't take him long to start looking like a vagabond. She was right, though. Sometime in the past twenty years his facial hair had picked up its growth pace. Funny, considering the hair growth on the rest of him was rather lacking. But he could put it off for a day, if she liked the tingles.

He got to his feet and held a hand out to her. Hermione gripped it and let him pull her up. She looked at him for a long, appreciative moment, then caught his head again. It was a little while before Sirius got around to Vanishing the carpet.

As much as Sirius liked the idea that the house was becoming a more and more attractive place for people to just stop by, that people did stop by did put a damper on what he could do in his ground floor corridor. Hermione had fetched herself a bowl of custard, interestingly topped with a bit of table cream, and had sat on the stairs to watch Sirius varnish the floor. It wasn't a long process, and it wasn't an arduous one: all Sirius did was step just into the sitting room, tip quite a bit of the varnish on the floor, and start spreading it thinly with his wand.

'Ooh… no,' Hermione uttered, and Sirius looked up. Not him, he determined. Hermione was twisted around, looking at Crookshanks.

'Don't let him on the varnish,' Sirius said. 'It's not dry yet.'

'He won't,' Hermione said. She'd hunkered over her bowl of cream-topped custard. 'He's too interested in what I'm eating!'

Sirius could see that. Crookshanks had stood up on his hind legs, his front paws on Hermione's shoulder. He peered down into her bowl before giving a little meow. A surprisingly pathetic little meow for Crookshanks, who usually produced determined ones. He tried to elongate himself – stretching his head down between Hermione's shielding arms to get at the bowl.

'The cream?' Sirius guessed.

'The custard!'

'Really?'

Hermione had stood straight up, her bowl held high above Crookshanks's head. He didn't look so happy about it. He was treading this way and that, knocking up against Hermione's legs.

'He loves custard!' Hermione told Sirius. She paused to spoon herself some, swallowed, and frowned down at the cat who'd stood up against her leg, both front paws on her thigh, mewing and staring earnestly up at her. 'And he makes me feel so guilty! No, Crookshanks!' she said to the cat. 'You don't brush your teeth! You can't have any!'

Sirius chuckled. It was a very amusing image. Stood on the stairs with a cat trying to climb her, Hermione had just fed herself another spoonful. She shot Sirius a dirty look before turning her eyes down on Crookshanks again, threatening him with toothpaste if he sunk his claws into her.

'Aw, but Hermione,' Sirius complained, laughing, 'he wants some! Look at him – he's starving!'

''E is no'!' Hermione grumbled through a new mouthful. She swallowed. 'He gets plenty of good, healthy food! You do!' she insisted to the cat. Crookshanks mewed pathetically, giving Hermione desperate eyes.

Sirius had to go back to pouring more varnish and spreading it right to the edges before it got gloopy. When he returned his eyes to the stairs Hermione was crouched down, letting Crookshanks lick the scrapings left in the bowl.

Sirius laughed.

'That's how he knows he loves it!'

Hermione directed her guilty look toward him.

'I know!' she moaned. 'But I just couldn't stand it anymore!'

'What are you going to do about his teeth?' Sirius asked.

Crookshanks was lapping, single-mindedly, at every remnant in the bowl. Hermione grimaced down at him.

'… Not tell my parents?' she suggested.

It made Sirius laugh harder.

He lay, later, in the dark and the sleepy afterglow with Hermione, her naked and pleased, spooned close in and secure before him. She was breathing so softly Sirius couldn't hear it, but he could feel it. He had a hand tucked under her side, just below her breast. With every breath she took it brushed along the side of his hand. Hermione liked his hand there. She was holding his wrist.

Sirius's face tipped until he could smell her hair. She smelled like the Hogwarts library. It probably wouldn't sound too complimentary if he told her that, but Sirius liked it – much more than he'd ever liked the Hogwarts library. Like sipping tea in it on a warm autumn afternoon. The smell of tea was nicer than the taste of it.

But as the afterglow waned, something settled and then twined, more and more forcefully, in the pit of Sirius's stomach. Not any of his old troubles. This one was new: dread of a returning reality.

He didn't think Hermione was asleep. Not fully, at least. He whispered her name and got a sleepy 'Hmmmm?' in response.

'Hermione…' Sirius whispered again. 'I've… never been more satisfied.'

Hermione took a deep breath. She turned over, rolling under Sirius's arm to face him. The streetlight outside gave Sirius the general shape of her face and the impression of open eyes; the whites visible, her irises like deep pools. Her hand found the side of his face and traced it gently.

'That's nice to hear,' she whispered back, leant in, and kissed him. Softly, tenderly. Like every feel of his lips was something she greatly enjoyed.

Reality didn't need to return tonight. It could wait.

Author's Note

That's all for today!

I want to take the chance to wish you all a happy New Year, and all the hope for 2022!

2021 was a year only made less of a twat for me by the recent addition to our family of a very tiny kitten who is sleeping on my desk beside me right now. So I'm going to wish a sad farewell to all left behind in 2021, a contemptuous goodbye for all the shit the year threw, a great gratitude for not taking more than it did from us, and a very hopeful welcome to 2022!

Wishing you all a lack of natural disasters, effective vaccinations, good heath, abiding love, hugs, and fun!

Happy incoming 2022!