FALLING SLOWLY VI: The Stars Are Fire


The last time Hermione was held like this, was the night after she learned her parents would never regain their memories.

Harry had laid in bed with her and held her until she had no more tears to shed. "No matter what, you'll always have a home with me," he'd promised.

Harry resembled his handsome father in many ways, but holding James felt immeasurably different.

A motion that she'd intended for comfort had shifted sometime in the past twenty or so minutes he'd allowed her to hold him. To explore the broad planes of his back and tapered waist with tentative fingers.

His hands pressed firmly against the middle of her back. His arms remained stiff and his shallow breaths tickled her ear.

Hermione should have pulled away ages ago.

He cooked dinner.

No man besides her best friend had done this before.

Because you knew Harry was safe.

James would never harm her, she was certain of it. He was also her best friend's father, a widower, and twice her age.

She was taking advantage of him, she was certain.

She couldn't let go.

Hermione cataloged everything about him, determined to commit the feel, and smell, and sound of him to memory. Hard muscles honed over decades flying and fighting for his son's life. The scent of the skies and spice of his magic. His uneven heartbeat against her ear.

For the nights when she woke to nightmares, she could look back and find comfort in these things. To know that someone else cared. Someone else understood.

Hermione sighed and smiled, lifting her chin to note the stubble coating his jaw. "I suppose we should eat."

His palms spasmed against her back and a strained laugh escaped with his reply. "Suppose you wouldn't want to sit in my lap while we ate?"

The low timbre of his voice against her ear, the curious blend of comfort and danger she found in his embrace shot straight through to her core, and the ache between her thighs.

Gods, you're pathetic.

She chewed on her lip, barely considering just how bad an idea this was before she blurted, "Why not?"

James froze.

Hermione pulled away to meet his gaze, convinced she had gone too far. "I'm sorry," she began, only to catch her breath at the way his pupils nearly eclipsed his hazel irises.

So rarely had she seen him without a smile, she couldn't quite make out this new expression.

"Would…" James swallowed and his hands slipped further down her back as he leaned forward. " Would you?"

"So long as you promise not to tell Harry," she teased, hopefully masking her surprise.

James winced and turned to the table and its burning candles. The apple of his throat bobbed as his gaze shifted back to her. "Marauder's honor," he solemnly swore.

"If I had a galleon for every time I've heard that…" Hermione caught one of his hands and pulled him to the seat at the head of the table. With her back safely to James, she took the opportunity to breathe.

What are you doing, Hermione?

I don't know, you tell me. This is clearly a bloody mistake.

Well, no one asked you, did they? Besides he offered…

He was surely joking!

Stop arguing with yourself and smile.

Conversation with herself concluded, Hermione prepared to face him again, only to pause. The chair before them slid back with a nudge of wandless magic. Before she could twist to see if he held his wand, a firm arm slipped around her waist. James bracketed her with his lean frame as he guided her into their shared seat.

Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch as he drew her to sit across his lap. With a flick of his hand and another burst of wordless magic, their chair slid beneath the table.

"You're quite good at that." Hermione's smile faltered beneath his heated gaze.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his solemn mouth as his gaze settled on her lips. "Lots of practice, sweetheart."

Hermione blinked and ducked her chin before he could catch her blush. She busied herself adjusting their joined placemats and tried desperately not to think about how much she wanted to kiss him, or something equally damnable.

Circe, give me strength.

"So, how should we do this?" she murmured as she lifted a fork. "Take turns? I suppose we didn't really think this through, did we?"

"Hermione."

"Yes?" She glanced over her shoulder, as his hand caught her chin and slid behind her neck.

His chest rose and fell and his fingers splayed over her stomach. "Please tell me you feel this, too."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and her breath fanned over his thumb brushing her lips. " James, I...we can't."

"Can't what?" he challenged, his voice nearer.

She shook her head and didn't dare open her eyes.

"Can't touch?" His thumb gently pulled at her lower lip. "Can't kiss?"

Hermione gasped as his lips pressed a trail along her jaw. Her eyelashes fluttered open as he lightly tugged on her curls, baring her neck to his sinful mouth. "Gods," she moaned.

James chuckled and nuzzled against her collarbone. "You certainly know how to make a bloke feel good, love."

Her breathless laughter and ready retort were silenced as James pulled back to rest his forehead against hers.

"Please tell me you feel this too, Hermione."

It was difficult to hold his heavy gaze, let alone form a coherent thought, with his hand creating trails over her clothed skin. "James…"

"Please, tell me you want this." His plea fell to her lips as his mouth barely brushed hers.

Hermione's fingers threaded through his unruly hair. His glasses bumped against her brow as she nodded. "I want you," she dared whisper.

James swallowed her answer with a kiss.

She couldn't breathe.

Hermione had been kissed before, rarely, and never without a small measure of regret. Always before, it had either been the wrong person, or the wrong moment. And after Ron...there had been no one. Not until this.

She couldn't think.

No one had ever kissed her like this before. As though the world might stop if he did. As if the stars would fail and the seas swallow them up if this ended. As if it would all be worth it, even the end of the world, so long as she let him kiss her.

The numbness, the overload of sensations, synapses firing madly finally brought her back to James tilting her head to angle perfectly to deepen their kiss.

She had turned in their seat to straddle his waist. When had she moved?

Both hands were now threading through his surprisingly soft black hair.

His hands were large enough to engulf her waist as he shifted her up and over and, "Oh…"

His hips shifted so even through their layers, the hard press of his erection ground just right against her clit.

Hermione pulled back with a groan and blinked until her vision settled onto a thoroughly snogged James Potter illuminated by candlelight.

Merlin, he's beautiful.

They shouldn't be doing this. He didn't belong to her, and she feared the consequences if anyone found out. But all her fears and logic were moot, because of this beautiful man. This man who taught her to fly without fear, who banished her insecurities, who dared to believe in her.

With his head flung against the back of their chair, his glasses slightly askew and his delicious mouth parted, Hermione was too tempted to ignore her first impulse. The naughty voice in her head that said to taste and take and face her conscience on the morrow.

His lips quirked in that crooked smile she'd come to love as their hips continued to shift and grind together. "I hope you realize, this isn't what I had in mind when I invited you to dinner."

Hermione smiled and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. "Oh, really?"

James nodded, his serious tone bellied by his growing smirk. "Well, maybe this came to mind as well…" His movements beneath her stilled as his smile faded. "I want you to know, I don't expect anything you aren't willing to give me. I would have quite happily held you for as long as you wanted. I will if that's all you want from me after tonight."

Her breath hitched as she realized all he was offering.

This is your chance to stop this madness and go home. Go, before you do something you really can't take back.

"I still want you," she managed before James surged forward to claim her lips again.

"Thank Godric," he murmured between kisses.

Hermione giggled, then yelped as he wandlessly banished their meal and lifted her to sit on the table.

Her legs wrapped easily around his slim waist.

His hands tugged her closer as his hips canted into hers, and there she felt him, hard and hot through their layers.

Their voices rose in a moan against the sweet friction.

His hand trailed carefully over her shirt, finger-light yet hurried, desperate to touch, careful of rejection.

Hermione gasped as his fingers caught over her nipple.

His hand hesitated, even as their hips rocked together so easily, naturally.

She caught his hand and pushed him closer until his warm palm engulfed her breast.

James's glasses dug into her neck as he sank into her, and then bent to catch the tight bud with his lips.

Hermione's fingers caught in his thick hair as her head fell back with a groan.

They were still completely clothed. How could this feel so good?

How had she never been touched like this before?

Not Viktor, not even Ron had made her so wet she had already soaked through her lace underwear.

You did not wear lace because of this.

James's voice washed over her as he straightened and trailed kisses along the open collar of her shirt, recalling her focus. "...never felt like this. Godric, what you do to me, Witch."

Hermione giggled as he sucked at a particularly ticklish spot on her neck.

James pulled back, a laugh caught in his throat, his eyes shining behind his spectacles, lips swollen and breathless. He rested his forehead against hers and their hips slowed, an unhurried rhythm as he said, "I want to make love to you, Hermione."

She blinked past the sudden sting in her eyes. "James..."

He spoke again before she could protest. "Please, just for tonight, I want you to not think about anything beyond this house." He smiled as he kissed her nose, then feathered kisses over her cheeks, catching her tears before they fell. "I haven't been with anyone in..." he swallowed and bumped his nose alongside hers as he begged, "You can say no. Merlin, I want you more than I've ever wanted another Witch. But if you ask me to stop, gods damn me, I'll stop for you, Hermione."

Her blood raced with his words, her magic crackled in the air around them, sparking in her hair. His skin against hers was electric, and Morgana help her, she wanted more. She wanted everything.

"But if you let me, I will spend the rest of tonight worshiping you. Will you let me do that, Witch?" He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, and she shuddered.

This was a horrible idea.

Kissing him was bad enough as admitting that what she'd been feeling was mutual.

Oh, Gods, he feels it too.

"Yes..." she said.

James froze and gasped at her admission. Had he really thought she would deny him?

No one in their right mind would deny this Wizard.

She blinked, startled as he suddenly caught her jaw in his palm and pressed a slow, deepening kiss to her mouth.

His lips...Godric...how had she not noticed his lips were just the perfect size, perfect for teasing and coaxing sounds she hadn't known she could make.

She had only gone all the way once with Ron, an awful, awkward affair in the tent before the worst happened, not a week after. Hermione had no basis for comparison. James had been married before, and an available bachelor for as long as she was aware. Yet his hands trembled as he slid them over her shoulders and her waist, and finally cupped her arse to lift her into his arms.

Hermione smiled as he marched out of the dining room, carrying her down the lantern-lit hall. "I can walk, you know," she teased with a kiss on his neck.

"Oh, I know." James squeezed her thighs, and continued on, climbing stairs as though she weighed nothing. "I just don't want to let you go."

Hermione giggled and hid her blush in his shoulder. How could he make her feel so carefree and cared for at once?

He doesn't really know you...warned a voice at the back of her mind.

As if he'd read her thoughts, James turned into her hair and murmured, "Don't think, just feel."

Hermione tightened her hold about his neck and whispered, "Okay."

And then they were suddenly behind a door. He had her pressed against it, one hand on her arse as he undid the first few buttons of her blouse.

Hermione gasped as he bent to kiss every new inch of exposed flesh.

"So beautiful," he said into her skin.

She lost track of time beneath his affections and caught brief glances of the dark, wood-paneled bedroom. Of the mantle covered in moving pictures, the painting of the stars twinkling behind clouds, and a large four-poster bed. Hermione shuddered as his hand undid the button of her jeans, and his long fingers discovered just how wet she was for him.

"Perfect," he groaned as he chased her pleasure.

She cried out as he rubbed over her slick sex.

And then the room spun as James lifted her in a heady rush and brought her to lay against a fluffy, burgundy duvet.

She propped on her elbows and gasped as James stripped out of his shirt, exposing surprisingly sun-kissed skin. His muscles flexed and rippled as he tossed the shirt aside. The body of a man, and how sinfully glorious he was.

His smile was nearly blinding in the moonlight pouring through his window.

Hermione blushed as he caught her stare.

"Please, feel free to admire, love."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You already know you're beautiful, right?" The words caught in her throat as her mind caught up with her and her flush spread down her bare neck.

James's smile faded and his breath caught as he removed his spectacles and set them on the bedside dresser. He climbed beside her on his knees and ran careful hands over her smooth legs.

Thank Merlin we shaved tonight, came the errant thought.

Now would be the perfect time for you to shut up!

"No more thinking," she murmured.

James glanced briefly to her lips, a flicker of curiosity swallowed by renewed hunger in his reverent gaze. "May I see you, Hermione?"

She shuddered and hesitated only a moment before reaching to unbutton her top. His heavy gaze tracked her movements as his hand tensed and clenched at her thigh. "Are you sure you can see well enough for this?" she breathlessly teased.

His startled laughter filled his lovely gaze with something deeper than lust, or the fondness she'd grown used to the past few days. "Why don't I help you out of these clothes and we can find out together?"

Her eyelashes fluttered as James pulled the fabric of her shirt free from her tight jeans and covered her chest with kisses.

There were stars spelled to his bloody ceiling. As she blinked in awe, as her hands caught in his hair and his mouth covered her bare breast for the first time, the clusters and galaxies seemed to come down to float above them.

She lost herself to the way he nearly ripped her jeans aside, the way he tongued her through her lacy underwear before banishing the garment without apology and ravished her anew.

He moaned as she rode his face to blinding climax, and still, he refused to let her go.

He cradled her in his arms after banishing the rest of his clothes, a dreadfully risky spell, the cocky bastard.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped as he slid into her, stretching her inner walls so much more deeply and sure.

And then their eyes locked as she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked and, "Oh, gods, Hermione," he said, long lashes fluttering.

His magic escaped his control and wrapped tightly around hers, coaxing her from the inner walls she usually kept contained.

Except for him. Only for him.

Tears slipped into her hair as the stars swirled slowly behind him as he picked up his pace, hips snapping against hers. He caught the arch of her back and shifted her up and her nails dug into his back as he hit her, "Right there! Oh, James, I'm...I'm going to..."

He surged forward to catch her cries with his lips.

She carried the stars with her behind her closed lids.


It was the way he'd held her after that eventually broke her. The way he'd spoken benedictions into her skin as he quite literally worshiped her body after sating his initial thirst.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione. I've never felt so drawn to another's magic before. Never thought I could feel like this again."

It was the fragility behind his adoration, the way he nuzzled against her, ignoring the growing hardness pressing against her calf as he pulled her leg to straddle above him, to taste her again.

It was the way he moaned her name as she returned the favor, but she could hardly resist tasting him just as he had tasted her. Or to savor the wicked glee she felt, tasting them both on his pulsing shaft.

And yet the words he whispered as they clung together on the cusp of sleep were what frightened her most. "Stay with me...love you."

Stay with me.

She stayed for as long as she could bear it, containing her sobs as she waited for sleep to claim him.

Love you.

She tried to stay.

But he didn't really bloody know her.

This is your fault. You should have told him. You shouldn't have been so selfish.

Dark thoughts followed her as she lingered, passably dressed, boots in hand as she watched the rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, his full lips quirked at the corner.

Selfish.

She tasted blood on her lip as she slipped out of the bedroom and retraced their path back to the kitchens. The house was darker and hollow without James's presence.

He's still upstairs. It's not too late to go back.

Shut up! It's better this way!

...for you.

She'd nearly made it to the back entrance when a familiar voice cut through the shadows, "Well isn't this a pleasant surprise."

Hermione caught her breath as she whirled around to find Sirius Black nursing a drink at the kitchen table. "S-Sirus," she sputtered.

He looked different in the half-light, the dim lantern by the door casting a murky glow over his aristocratic features. "Hello, Kitten. Running off so soon?" He lifted his glass as though in a toast before knocking back the amber liquid.

Something ugly rose in her chest, a dark writhing thing that carried all her worst impulses, the thing that the war had born. "Who are you to judge?"

Sirius's weak smile flattened and he set his glass down firmly before slowly rising on slightly unsteady feet.

Hermione tensed, fully aware she stood with her top buttons mismatched, her hair a wild frenzy, her shoes in her hands, wand tucked in her pocket like a mad loon. She refused to give ground, even as the ugly thing gave way once more to crippling shame, and fresh tears spilled over her cheeks.

Sirius paused, his expression flickering, and then shook his head. "You're right. I can't judge because I know this. I've done this. And nothing I say could be worse than what you'll say to yourself later."

Hermione closed her eyes and searched for something more, something of the beauty James had given her earlier. "Please look after him for me. I...just don't want to hurt him."

Sirius smiled as he closed the remaining distance and tugged on one of her curls, the same way he'd done years ago when he became more than just Harry's godfather. The year they became friends. "The only way you could hurt him is to not give him a chance."

"I..." she caught herself and turned the doorknob behind her. "Please tell James thank you for the flying lessons. I—won't be needing them now."

"Hermione, wait—"

Sirius reached for her but she shook her head and stepped out the door, careless of her socks and the way the dew soaked through them immediately. She thought of James's wet socks and fought back the bubble of irrational laughter as she whispered lowly, "I wish I could be what he needs."


Review: Thank you so much to all of you who have been following Falling Slowly. I know this chapter is a bit of a roller coaster, but I hope you guys still enjoyed the ride. And don't worry about the ending. Remember, this is "angst with a happy ending." ;)


Chapter title borrowed from Shakespeare:

"Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love."