Chapter 121: Magical Toasties

Not wanting to see Ron's disgusted expression, Hermione waited until he and the rest of the NEWT students had left for afterschool watches before giving up on the sauerkraut and delving back into the pantry for a new craving. The sauerkraut hadn't been bad, it had just been too sour and soft, and that had left Hermione with a hankering that had a lot less to do with German food, and a lot more to do with meaty, nutty Thai food – something for which, the pantry, like a room of glorious inspiration, did have the makings for.

The first step was toast. Toast, Hermione had to say, was a silly thing to feed sick people. On its own, toast went to gummed-up far too easily for it to ever be a remedy for an oversensitive gag reflex. But Hermione hadn't any noodles, so… pumpkin seed toast.

Step two: Friar Nimiety's Cauldron Barbecue Sauce. Spread thickly over the toast. It was both sweet and tangy.

Step three: placing, closely together, almonds, macadamias, and walnuts atop the barbecue-smeared toast.

Step four: cheddar cheese. Sliced thinly and lain over the nuts.

Step five: ground turmeric, fennel seeds, and cumin dusted over the cheese. It didn't fit the Thai brief, as far as Hermione knew, but the spices smelled fantastic and she was pretty sure they'd work well with cheese.

Step six: toasting it in the oven until the cheese melted, then started to crisp, and a delicious, cheesy curry smell filled the kitchen.

It was perfect. Hermione waited only until the corner was cool enough to take a bite, and knew it was perfect immediately. She'd come up with it on the spot, and thoughts of feeling rubbish disappeared the moment the chewy goodness filled her mouth with fantastic flavour. Slightly sweet, very tangy, and meaty in a nut-crunching sort of way. Hermione felt like a culinary genius. This was something she was sure the world needed to know about. It would revolutionise toasties. And she told Sirius so.

He responded with a ponderous expression, his appraisal of the item on Hermione's plate lengthy.

'Did you say you wanted Thai food?' he asked. 'I'm being honest Hermione: I can go get you something if you want me to.'

Hermione glanced down at her toastie. No, admittedly, it looked nothing like Thai food. But that hadn't been the point. Her mouth full, she shook her head, finished chewing, and swallowed.

'It's how it tastes,' she said pointedly. 'It tastes like everything that's good about Thai food – or, perhaps Indian...'

'… Okay.'

'And pizza…' Hermione appraised the spiced top of the toastie, 'because of the cheese. And I don't think it'd taste the same without the cheese.' She took another bite, then held out the toastie to Sirius. 'Do 'ou wan' 'o 'ry some?'

It was as though Hermione had offered him a hot coal to hold in his hands. Sirius didn't exactly back up, but his torso did retreat some number of inches away from the proffered food. Hermione pushed her bite to the corner of her mouth.

'I mean it,' she assured him. 'Try it if you want. It's really good.'

Hermione had been considering the offer a marker of personal growth: she wasn't jealously guarding the brilliant toastie. Admittedly, there were plenty of ingredients left to make more of the same, but… developing food generosity as a slow learning curve was definitely an improvement all the same.

Sirius looked from her to the food, then from one to the other once again.

'It actually smells all right,' he said, sounding surprised. 'Yeah, okay, I'll try it.'

Taking the toastie from her, Sirius bit into the corner of it. He chewed contemplatively as he handed it back.

'So?' Hermione prompted.

His lips tightly closed over his mouthful, Sirius started laughing. Hermione waited, questioning him with a look, but he just laughed harder. Finally, blinking smiling eyes up at her, he nodded.

''S'okay,' he answered. Still prone to a snicker, he chewed a bit more. 'Unusual,' he answered more fully once he'd swallowed, 'but enjoyable in its own way. I won't go using up the ingredients for it, though,' he added as an assurance, and, not explaining why he'd laughed, he left it at that.

Deciding she was simply pleased to have laughter back in the kitchen, Hermione took herself into the cooking area to make a second toastie, the first in her hand and steadily being devoured. The second, the first having made her feel much better, she carried upstairs to the fourth floor with them. It did smell nice, and it tasted even better than it smelled. She'd put more spices on this one. And just a touch more cheese. It seemed balance and ratio was the secret to this recipe.

Sirius certainly wasn't holding a grudge against her, and though Hermione wasn't confident she deserved it, that definitely made her feel better. An easy comradery settled in as they considered the wall they'd wordlessly decided was in the way of their balcony.

'It's an exterior wall, Sirius,' Hermione said. 'I think it'll be continuous with the wall below it, so I don't think…' She trailed off, musing over the idea. 'I think,' she restarted, 'it'll be a better idea to construct a newer, lighter one, on top of the floorboards further in, rather than move this one. This one… it's probably better to just break it down, leaving parts of it as columns or arches to hold up the roof above…'

Sirius took all of a second to think about it.

'All right,' he agreed, then swung the window open and stuck his head out. 'That'd be better for a Placeholder Case anyway.'

To leave portions of the brick wall that had long been the placeholder for a couple old charms would make it easier to transfer those charms onto a newly erected Placeholder Case in the spaces between the columns. All the same, that first part of the process would be like trying to remove a fence from within the hefty growth of creeper plants that had grown over it without disturbing any of the vines. What they did with the wall, breaking large gaps through the brick and just capping the gas pipes that fed the lamps, would have to come after that first difficult step. Hermione had ideas for it that she thought would look nice, preserve enough structural integrity and those windows… but while that part would be the bit that would have her nervous about renovations in a Muggle house, it was nothing compared to moving that century-old Undetectable Extension Charm.

The method their studying had indicated was best was to erect a temporary framework – a little like scaffolding – on the outside of the wall they were to modify, create a Placeholder Case using that as a steady base, and slowly and carefully shift the charms just the half inch from the wall onto their new, invisible housing Case. Once the charms were stable and properly Linked on their new placeholder, they could remove the framework, likewise slowly and carefully, and it should be stable from then on – or, at least, for a good few decades.

The process of shifting charms would be nerve-wracking, and not one they could step away from at unscheduled times. Every charm would need to be fully shifted onto the Placeholder Case before they could take a break.

And it was a process that meant Sirius's superfluous lumber ordered months before for the stairs… had a new purpose.

Looking silently smug, Sirius piled the last of the planks up against the wall. He had an "I told you it'd be useful" in his arsenal, so Hermione said nothing about it.

'I'll hand them out to you,' she told him once he'd fetched his broom.

Sirius nodded. His broom in one hand, he was once again standing in the window frame. He pressed at the underside of the roof outside the front of the house.

'Attach the planks to this and the wall below?' he checked.

'I think so.'

Sirius prodded the greying bit of cover under the roof again.

'This thing's not very strong,' he pointed out. 'Is it supposed to spring when you poke it?'

'Between the beams it covers, yes,' Hermione said, stepping over to peer up at the bit Sirius was pushing on. 'Soffits aren't made to be robust, Sirius, they're more cosmetic, and… to keep vermin out, I expect.'

Sirius turned an amused look on her.

'Of course you know that,' he said, somewhat enigmatically.

Hermione didn't have a ready response, and she didn't get a chance to voice one anyway. Sirius, gripping his broom, had jumped out of the window. It was, perhaps, an indication of how well Hermione knew the man that she didn't scream. She did poke her head out of the window, though, the last of her toastie stuffed in her mouth, to see Sirius rising back up to the level of the window, having planted himself, somewhere in his fall, comfortably atop his broom.

Sitting straight, Sirius rose higher, directing the broom with little more than his knees. His head disappeared beyond the eves, and he made a thoughtful noise.

'How often,' he called down to Hermione, 'do gutters need to be cleaned?'

'I really don't know, Sirius.'

'… This one has a garden growing in it.'

'I'd imagine it needs a clean, then.'

'Reckon you're right… Hope Kreacher has a simple fix for it.'

'What about the roof?' Hermione asked, sticking her head out of the window to project her voice up to the hovering man. His cloak rustling about his jean-clad legs was all she could see of Sirius. He was barefoot. 'Does it look intact, or are there any leaks we need to worry about?'

Sirius took his time considering it.

'… No idea.' He answered. 'Bugger… should probably check the attic for that.'

'That sounds like a good idea.'

'Hate it up there,' Sirius grumbled, lowering himself back down so his head was visible. 'Is there a service you can hire that will do that for you?'

'Likely there is,' Hermione answered, 'but as the attic is filled with things that will try to strangle most people other than you, I don't think many tradespeople would want to take the risk.'

Sirius pulled a face.

'On a lighter note,' he said, 'you look very narrow from out here Mione.'

He was outside the bounds of the Undetectable Extension Charm. Hermione assumed he was seeing the result of a warping of space.

'Like a funhouse mirror?' she asked.

'Don't know,' Sirius told her. 'Don't know what that is. You'd have to tell me.'

Both he and she glanced down at the ground. It was very far below the fourth floor. There was no way Hermione was going out there where she might fall just to be able to tell him.

'So you'll hand the planks out to me?' Sirius prompted, floating a little nearer the window.

Feeling rather short-changed by her sex, Hermione heaved each long hardwood beam up and levered it through the window where Sirius could grab it to affix it between soffit and the third floor façade. He had to do it by hand, his wand needed for sticking charms. Hermione, her back quickly starting to ache and a warning about lifting heavy things in the back of her mind, gave up on manual labour fairly quickly.

Standing straight and stretching her lower back, Hermione watched Sirius affix the latest bridging beam she'd Levitated out to him six inches beyond where the last one had been stuck. Having manoeuvred it into place with appreciable ease, he now had the many foot long beam pinned to the brick with hand, foot, and knee. The first sticking charm was used below Sirius, the second above, his head craning up as he took aim with his wand. It looked like a move in a curious sort of flying sport that required expert agility and broomsmanship.

Hermione took a moment to imagine what it'd be like to be Sirius, then shook the thought free and bent down to fetch him the next beam.

And on and on it went. Placing vertical beams every six inches around the outside of the house was a drudgery of a task. Hermione had sat down as she worked Levitation charms, poking her head out of the window to find where Sirius was and send them to him.

'Lots of young guys wear corduroy pants?' he repeated, leaving the latest vertical beam stuck to the front of the house and looking back at Hermione.

Hermione let her humming slow to an end.

'The American meaning of "pants", Sirius.'

Sirius's ability to have songs survive for years in his head was proving to be not as unique as she'd once thought it. When Hermione had been a child she'd had a great love of sitting directly before the large speakers of her parents' hi-fi system – where she could feel the vibrations in their fabric covering – listening to the best of Andrew Lloyd Webber. That album was one she hadn't heard in many years, yet, beginning with Variations 1-4 – a track that hadn't even any lyrics – her mind had pulled it up from the recesses of her memory.

Hermione had the next beam floating. Sirius didn't go for it immediately. He arched his back and pinched his shoulder blades together in a move she recognised as one to crack his vertebrae.

'Mm…' he acknowledged. 'Why do they have to be so contrary?'

'I'm fairly certain across the English-speaking world we are the contrary ones when it comes to the meaning of the word "pants".'

Sirius considered that.

'Really?' he asked.

'I think so,' Hermione answered. 'Are you ready for that break, then?'

Sirius peered toward what was left of the front façade to cover with beams. He wasn't far off the corner.

'I'll do two more, then – duck!'

Rather than duck, Hermione pulled her head back behind the shelter of the window frame. The large owl that flew past her head had a furniture carry case strapped to its legs. Though much smaller and lighter than the bathtub in the case would be outside it, it was still a solid obstacle that, for that second, had threatened to give Hermione a noteworthy lump on her head. Her head unscathed, she pinched her eyes shut all the same against the clanging of the Owl Alert Fleur and Percy had charmed on the windows over Christmas.

'I've got the beam, Mione!' Sirius shouted to her over it. 'If you could shut that up?'

Hermione dropped her Levitation Charm and turned her wand instead to silencing the alarm, then releasing the owl from the package strapped to it.

'Bathtub?' Sirius asked, landing on the floor behind her. He didn't need her to speak the confirmation. With a gleeful, 'Bathtub!' he did it himself, lifting the carry case off the floor and peering into it. 'It's like getting presents every second day!' he added cheerfully.

'Presents you have to pay for,' Hermione said dryly, tucking her wand away before heading off to fetch an Unsummonable purse.

The owl had followed Sirius and the case into the bathroom when Hermione returned with the gold. While not the most difficult thing to create, the DIY shop had informed them they preferred to have their carry cases returned with the owls. The owls had obviously been informed of this preference, previous deliveries having come with owls that would snap or nip at them if Hermione and Sirius took too long to release the case's contents and reattach it to the owls' strapping.

Hermione paid the owl as Sirius got the bathtub out of its carry case. When she looked up, the large, heavy-looking tub was on the bathroom's stone pavers a solid foot and a half away from where it needed to be plumbed in. For a silent moment, she watched Sirius hoist the tub up and wriggle it nearer, then grabbed up the carry case, returned it to the owl, and saw the bird out, shutting the window after it.

'Bloody thing…' Sirius was muttering to himself when she returned to the bathroom. He'd shifted the tub right up next to the pipes sticking out of the floor and was now squatted down, one side of the tub propped up on hand and leg, peering under it to see where pipe A needed to fit into hole B. In fairness to him, it wasn't easy to see where the pipes needed to go under the thick wooden platform the tub was perched atop.

Hermione leant against the bathroom's doorframe. My husband, she thought, somewhere between resigned and appreciative, is very adorably bonkers. It was a satisfying thought, as was recognising that she felt much better than she had earlier in the day. That magical toastie had been the perfect remedy.

What she could do right now was Levitate the bathtub for Sirius – something he didn't seem to have thought of – so he could see under it and guide it into place. Hermione figured she would do that soon.

Right now… Sirius had dumped his cloak to the side. He was fun to watch. The veins that were standing on the back of his hand as he pushed the tub, by the platform it was attached to, up higher… The tattoo creeping into visibility at the top of his arm, that arm's muscles flexed… The way he used his legs like extra prehensile appendages, rather than just things to walk on. He had one bare foot hooked around a far leg of the bathtub's pedestal, keeping the tub from skidding along the floor, the underside of the tub propped up on that knee. He maneuvered like he had four equal limbs to work with, shifting his backside on his opposite heel as he craned his head down further to see under the tub.

Hermione snickered quietly to herself. Sirius, shoving his hair back with his wand between his fingers, didn't seem to hear her. She watched for one more moment, then moved in to help him with the tub.

The bathtub in place, she left Sirius to plumb it in properly. Hermione had little hope they'd return to sicking beams to the outside of the house today. The light was fading and the room was chilly. She lit the lamps and stoked the fire up until it crackled merrily in its antiquated grate.

Hermione had left one of her texts, From Gamp's Unifying Socialism to Minchinism by Watbling Draggy, in the corner of the room. She sat to it. It, even by her standards, was a boring book. Economic history simply couldn't be entertaining.

It wouldn't hold Hermione's attention at all right now. She didn't even try. She peered into the bathroom, watching Sirius shift around the bathtub, affixing it to the pipes. Then she shut her eyes.

A Professor Black wouldn't be at all surprised she wasn't interested in her History of Magic textbook. He'd find it amusing. Would quirk an eyebrow at her if she was trying to catch up on her History studies in his classroom.

Hermione squinted one eye open. Sirius was still absorbed in pottering about his new bathtub. She pinched the eye shut again.

Maybe he'd give her a detention for not focusing on her Potions work. It wasn't something that would make a lot of sense to do… but if he wanted to give her a detention…

Hermione's previous imaginings had envisioned a Professor with long, shaggy black hair appraising her potion over her shoulder or stepping in close behind her in his office. That her mind had already been there meant those ideas were less enticing this time around. This time…

Like Sirius trying to act the pureblood part of the equation with robes he hated, having a posting as a teacher would make him feel he had a role he needed to play. He'd be decently rubbish at playing that role if the Professorly role model he selected was someone like Minerva. Sirius was a person who often looked like what was going on inside his head was him finding the situation he was in amusing. But he'd manage something that could be called in charge of his class when sitting at the front of that classroom. And he'd probably usually do it in robes, just to be conventional about it.

Hermione called to mind a moment with said professor, walking down towards the Forbidden Forest for… some reason she didn't bother to devise. The imagining was visual, it didn't need reasons. They were alone, and it was a rare moment where her professor was in a simple t-shirt and jeans. He was laughing at something she'd said, in that moment seeming not a member of staff, but just a peer to laugh with. A tall, very attractive, older… peer to laugh with.

It was an easy thing to imagine. Hermione had been there, walking beside a Sirius that didn't quite yet feel like a peer. Walked beside him as he loped along like some sexy other in just a t-shirt and jeans, able to lean casually against a wall and feel spells; who knew what to do, and Hermione could just follow him. Or… the two of them walking through sheep-filled fields towards a watch. She'd lived it: ending up holding his hand on their stroll for a happenstance of a reason; feeling holding his hand wasn't quite as things should be, even as she gained an unspoken little thrill from doing so. It was either a revisionist way of looking at their history, or just an exercise in her viewing it with the clarity of hindsight. Viewing their history that way, regardless of how to describe how she was viewing it, did add an absorbing romantic enjoyment to the thoughts.

And it was easy to twist all of that into some parallel world where he was her professor and she was… feeling very naughty.

Hermione took another peek towards the bathroom. She couldn't see Sirius, but she could hear him moving about hastily inside the bathroom. There was a decent possibility he'd bust a pipe trying to attach the bathtub. She shut her eyes once again.

So… Professor Black was striding along next to her… laughing. He seemed very capable, though someone who probably would burst a pipe here and there… and then fix it himself so she didn't have to worry about it. His t-shirt fluttered in the breeze, flattening itself against his chest. It made a more naïve imagined version of Hermione take greater notice of his square, broad shoulders… the flat firmness of his torso… and the suggestive denim protrusion below that narrow trail of black hair the imagined world inside her head didn't need to question how this naïve version of her knew was there.

That was something Hermione would like to revise into her history: taking more un-frightened time to notice what was thrilling about Sirius before… ending up straddled over his lap snogging him.

Then again, straddling over his lap and snogging him currently felt like a fine thing to do. If Sirius came out of the bathroom right now… Hermione would just have to finish her imaginings some other time.

He wasn't coming out of the bathroom. He was still fiddling. Hermione went back to the world inside her head.

What would she have liked to have noticed more before they were sharing a bed? Maybe… that appreciative look Mr Tall Dark and Sexy could treat her to. Turning it on her, his grey eyes catching a light that made them look paler; more ethereal. A lingering look, that could make Hermione hot and wet and balloon her chest all at once. To feel liked – enjoyed – without having that be something that could be said. Not yet. He'd say it. And that had been wonderful…

And in Hermione's imaginings that was a bad thing – a naughty thing. Something neither he nor she should think or feel.

Hermione's nose scrunched up. That line of thinking would get boring quickly. Or, maybe, it'd make her following fantasy more enjoyable…

She and Professor Black had reached the Forbidden Forest. The eyes he turned on her now, listening intently to what she was saying, were darker in the dimness… his t-shirt barely hiding the body beneath it from appreciation. But Hermione wasn't allowed to do anything more than take secret looks. Couldn't push it off him… couldn't trace his happy trail with eager fingers; couldn't press an open kiss to his skin.

That line of prohibitionist thinking did get boring. Impatient, Hermione hurried her imaginings along. Perhaps… something in the forest that made them both duck for cover behind a tree. The same tree. They had to press closely together to be hidden… like when Hermione had been startled by the house elf through the window of the Carrows' estate. When Sirius had grabbed her and pressed her up against him, his hand over her mouth and her body pinned to the heated firmness of his. That was a moment Hermione wished she'd enjoyed more at the time.

She enjoyed the imagined moment instead. Enjoyed the stolen contact with the man. Whatever it was that had them hiding behind the tree was inconsequential. Hermione forgot the cause for being in that position. They weren't in danger… she was just being held tightly around the middle by her dashing professor… up against a tree.

And his hand was moving. Feeling the indent of her waist; indecent exploring on the part of him. His breath warm on her neck. A man that couldn't be hers, that was seeking a secret feel hidden from prying eyes by the trees of the forest.

Hermione's imaginings sped up after that. A steamy kiss that was likewise secret and not allowed… then, jumping to it impatiently, being pinned up against the tree with her skirts around her waist… A very forbidden, and very rigid, cock pushing into her. Stretching her open…

Hermione gave up on her imaginings. She peeled her eyes open and saw the bathtub through the bathroom door being tested by Sirius, the taps running smoothly. The rest of it had been imaginings. The ravenous need to have a very hard and nicely hot tool shoved deeply into her was not.

Had she been able to foresee this delectable turn her afternoon would take, Hermione would have worn a skirt. She could still wear a skirt…

Shuffling out of sight of Sirius, moving quickly now lest he come out of the bathroom too soon, Hermione Summoned herself the swishy red one. Between changing as swiftly and quietly as she could into it, she shut the door and locked it. She left her panties in the corner with her socks and jeans. Best to make it all easier.

Hermione tiptoed back to her book, opened it to a random page, and lay face-down in front of it, propped up on her elbows; pretending to read. By planned intent, it was her backside Sirius would see first exiting the bathroom. Pulling her hair out of her ponytail, Hermione let it down around her head, using it to screen the little smile she tried to suppress. Her feet picked up, hooked playfully at the ankles, and swung jauntily in the air behind her. She'd better not have a long time to wait.

There were sounds behind her. Sirius turned the taps off. Now it was just the gurgling of a working drain. Sirius made a low, contemplative hum. It wasn't because of her, Hermione figured. Not yet. He still sounded like he was contemplating the tub, that hum too far away for her to be the cause of it.

Sirius got to his feet as the gurgling drained away with the last of the water. His bare feet padded over the floor. He was finished, then.

'All sorted!' he called to her. 'Bathroom's done! Want to come see?'

No. Hermione wanted him to come see.

'In a bit,' she called back. 'I'm sure you've done a wonderful job! But I'm thinking on something else just now.'

'Mm?' It wasn't a noise that sounded disappointed. Even if Sirius was, he'd understand in about five steps. He was taking them. The empty room, lit by nothing more than flickering gas lamps, was around Hermione, feeling bare and filled with possibilities; and Sirius was walking up behind her, his footfalls more audible as he moved from stone pavers to hardwood floorboards. Hermione's hair screening a gleeful smile she couldn't subdue, she unhooked her ankles, swung them around in the air, then hooked them back together the other way around.

Sirius made another little 'Mm…' It wasn't a question this time. It was a deeper sound; more thoughtful. Hermione fought a snicker with pinched lips. He was a smart man. And he was coming to a stop just behind her. His feet must be no more than a foot away from her knees.

'What are you studying?' he asked, and he was using that tone. The one an octave deeper – both smoother and more gravelly. The tone he knew made her pinch her knees together.

'Erm…' Hermione hadn't been studying anything other than his anatomy in her mind's eye. She took a look at the page she'd flipped the book open on. 'The problems with some long-dead Minister's economic policies.'

'Riveting,' Sirius said. He trailed a finger, tickling her, over the underside of her foot. It made Hermione squirm; made her feel even more unprotected from what he might want to do to her. 'Well, I can leave you to it.'

He'd better not even pretend to move away.

'I was hoping for your views,' Hermione said. 'Would you say, Sirius, you're more capitalist, or more socialist?'

'… I reckon power and money creates a situation that encourages corruption whatever your economy is set up as. And I reckon St Mungos should be free for those who can't afford it.'

'That's what you're thinking?'

'I'm thinking…' Sirius had lowered himself next to her, sitting on his haunches. His finger trailed down the back of Hermione's calf. '… I've come to expect this skirt to not be coupled with a pair of knickers.'

Hermione fought a snicker.

'Do you want to check?' she asked.

Sirius's finger dipped in behind her knee, then continued its way up. He didn't speak. His response was that trailing finger, it moving from skin it tickled to areas that chose to tingle instead. It slipped under her skirt, then, an inch later, up over Hermione's buttock.

'If you're going to start studying like this more often,' he told her, 'I'm going to have to start disallowing people from visiting – and you're going to have to get better at barring me entry from rooms.'

Hermione's head dipped towards her arms.

'I'm not barring you entry from anything.'

'Really?' Sirius said. 'Then why are your knees pressed together?'

Hermione unhooked her ankles and dropped her legs to the floor. She didn't part her knees, but he could now. What she did do was wriggle a little to press her backside up off the floor.

'You sure there are no knickers?' she whispered.

Sirius made a thoughtful hum.

'There may be a skimpy pair,' he said softly. It was followed by his hand, all five fingers now, trailing back up over her buttocks. He found the crease between them and followed it down. Not far enough. He lifted his hand away and caught the back of Hermione's thigh instead. Moving nearer, he casually flicked her skirt up over her backside, then caught the other thigh so he had both in both hands. He turned the flesh there, separating Hermione's legs, and made another thoughtful noise.

'Still not sure,' he murmured, though Hermione had zero doubt he was getting an eyeful. He'd leant right over her, and Hermione could feel air on her nether regions. From how that area felt, she was pretty sure half her body's blood supply had made its way down there. It was heating the air around it.

Her backside pushed up, everything visible, was evidently not enough for Sirius. His hands slid higher up her thighs until his thumbs rested on either side of swollen feeling lips. Catching her flesh in both hands once again, he pulled her buttocks apart, appraising her from above.

'No…' he answered slowly. 'No knickers, I don't think.'

He let her go, only one hand remaining to stroke the inside of Hermione's thigh. He started slowly, his hand travelling just a smidge higher with every stroke. Hermione whimpered into pinched lips. She wriggled her backside in the air. Sirius responded by catching her buttock in one warm hand, still stroking the inside of her thigh. He pushed the buttock aside, looking down at her again, as the sides of his fingers reached high enough up her thigh that they bushed against parted lips that felt hotter than his hand.

'Though…' Sirius let her buttock go. His fingers travelled back down her leg, then reversed direction, heading up. 'I can't be too sure…'

His fingers ran right the way up, met Hermione's folds, and delved between them. Now very slippery, they circled over her clitoris; slipped back between her folds and rubbed deeply against her. It was little more than a brazen and lewd groping, and it had Hermione's body very tense, working hard to press her backside up as high as it would go.

'Are you checking for knickers,' she huffed to arms planted hard on the floor, 'or testing how wet I am?'

'Oh I know you're wet, Mione,' Sirius rumbled back, a finger teasing her opening. 'Your pussy doesn't go that colour of pink without being very wet.'

Hermione whimpered. Though he'd touched her there, he hadn't slipped a finger into her. He was back to just fondling her with a firm hand.

'Did the long-dead Minister do something sexy?'

'Of course not,' Hermione moaned, his fingers assaulting her clitoris again. Her hips rotated against his hand. 'When has anyone but you ever had me like this?'

'So I can add plumbing in bathtubs to sanding skirting boards and fixing my bike?'

'Plumbing,' Hermione muttered, 'sanding, fixing… just moving… sticking your fingers into me…'

'Well I'm not going to do that,' Sirius murmured. 'I'm pretty sure this,' he gave her nether regions a rougher rub, 'wants something bigger than my finger.'

Hermione dropped her forehead to her arms and blew a breath out through lips that had tightened into an "o". Sirius gave a low chuckle.

'Sirius,' she said to the floor, 'get your trousers off.'

He did so, promptly. Letting go of her and standing up. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione watched him shuck off his trousers, then his pants. His shameless fondling had made the insides of her thighs wet. Leaving her feeling perfectly debauched, it cooled her skin.

But cooling wasn't how it was to be left. Sirius's hands were back on the tops of her thighs again. He spread her open, her legs suddenly pinned on either side by his knees, and sent his face down. His breath blew out against what once again felt like very warm wetness, then his tongue was there, seeking deep between her folds, twiddling at her.

Just taunting her: Sirius was up a second later, shifting himself higher up her body. He rested his weight down, only enough to press into her rump; make immodest and very heated contact right at the apex of her thighs with his testicles. He leant forwards, slipping his hands under Hermione's blouse, and she felt his erection, hard and thick. He leant further, his fingers tickling up her bare sides, and pressed his penis just a little between her buttocks.

Squirming, Hermione tried to shift herself higher; get the angle right. She knew it to be a vein attempt even as she tried. Sirius caught her waist and held it, not letting her turn his taunting into anything more. Hermione harrumphed to her arms.

'You know what I want,' she muttered at him as Sirius snickered quietly. 'Shift down, Sirius!'

Sirius hummed his dissent. His fingers had moved to the middle of her back. With a quick pull, he'd undone her bra, Hermione's breasts feeling the sudden release. First one nipple, then the other, was plucked very gently by his fingers before his hands flattened to them, cupping both boobs.

'Firmer,' he said appreciatively, giving them a cautious knead. 'Tender?'

Not when he was being that gentle.

'No,' Hermione grumbled to the floor. 'Just terribly insufficient considering what you were doing before.'

Sirius rested a little more of his weight down on her. It added tantalising pressure to the heat between her legs; felt very dirty. He shifted only a little, rocking his hips, letting her feel his erection, as the shifting pressure against swollen flesh gave Hermione only a tiny hint of having her need addressed.

'Are you going to shift down sometime soon?' Hermione asked as Sirius's attention returned to toying lightly with her nipples.

'Mm…' Sirius leant further over her. He swept her hair off one side of her neck and caught the skin of it in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. 'No,' he answered, and he didn't sound so much like he was teasing her now. 'I'm not ploughing a pregnant woman belly-first into a hard floor, Mione.'

Hermione made a face. Of course he'd think of that right now.

'What if I got up on all fours?' she suggested.

Sirius didn't respond to that one. His mouth was back on her neck, and then he was pulling Hermione upright against him, hauling her blouse up off her head as she sat up on her knees; the departing top freeing her to lean back against him as Sirius climbed, instead, between her knees, pushing them open.

Toying hands came from arms Sirius wrapped around her, her back arching as Sirius reprised his crude fondling. His erection was hard against her lower back, mouth hot and wet on her neck, his fingers making a merciless assault on her nipples and clitoris – Hermione sent a hand into his hair and tugged him for a kiss achieved over her shoulder, her back twisting in a muddle of limbs. Until Hermione started panting, pressing her hips down on Sirius's fingers, and he let up.

Breathing heavily, Hermione rested her head back against his shoulder, Sirius's fingers stroking lightly up and down over her belly, delving below for only tempting little touches. Though frustrating, it was better he'd stopped that when he had. Hermione freed an arm and reached behind her, finding the hard rod poking her spine and stroking it.

It was a heady tangle of a position, the only thing marring it the cotton of Sirius's top shielding his skin from her. She'd been wanting taunting fingers and a deep entry from behind. Now she still wanted that, but wanted it with skin and kisses. Hermione's fingers tangled in Sirius's t-shirt, pushing it up, twisting against him, an arm hooking around his neck to get his lips to hers.

Sirius wasn't taunting her any longer. Detaching her, he got his top off, and then his hand was around the side of Hermione's head, strong fingers in her hair – a stronger arm holding her tight against the bare skin of a very nice, broad chest. He met her lips, leaning down over her shoulder; kissing her in that clinging, probing way that seemed hungry – that drowned out the world as Hermione felt gripped to him, his fingers pressing into her skin. She twisted more, trying to get her fingers to feel the side of his jaw, and Sirius, for once not stable, toppled.

His back hit the floorboards with a thunk. Hermione came back to awareness, held up from falling with him by both his hands, backside-down on his middle.

'Oh…' she uttered, and Sirius started snickering.

'Sorry,' he said, letting her go as Hermione sat up.

He moved – shifting – trying to lie flat. Thankfully not crushed in the fall, his cock was there between Hermione's legs, lined with veins and its head ruddy. Poor thing, Hermione thought, and heedless of Sirius's attempts to move, scrunched down and sucked its tip into her mouth.

'Owhh…' Sirius uttered, pausing, then, with a quieter thump, he dumped his head on the ground.

His knees were up, his feet on the ground. The ache lifting beams had put in Hermione's back wasn't being benefited by scrunching down. She gave up, grabbed his knees and used them as a handhold as she raised herself up. It wasn't from behind, but… positioning his erection, Hermione sat straight down.

'Oh god…'

Hanging onto his knees, Hermione dropped her head to her arms. Sirius let out a held breath through puffed lips. He'd grabbed her hips. Letting go of them now, he rubbed her bent back with a flat hand.

'That what you wanted?' he asked, rather smug.

Hermione picked her head up and patted his knee.

'Put your knees down.'

Sirius complied. Perched atop him, Hermione was now sitting square on his pelvis. She leant forwards, resting herself against his thighs.

'Oh it's good,' she sighed. 'Very good.'

Deep, stretched, and very full, all in one sudden plunge. All a little too much, but Hermione would take it over too little. Still, she kept still for a moment longer, needing to acclimate.

'Too tight?'

'… Very deep angle,' Hermione answered. Sirius's fingers were trailing through the hair hanging down her back. His fingers continued, following the line of her spine. She tried a rock against him, then stopped. 'And nothing to hold onto.'

'You told me to put my knees down.'

To make him go deeper. And that had worked. But after that… the pounding was the bit Hermione wanted, not the rocking.

'Is there any position you would be happy ploughing me into the floor in?'

'Nope,' Sirius answered. 'If you want that, we're going to have to go find a bed.'

'Humph.'

'Come face the other way,' Sirius said, tugging on her hip. 'I'll help you.'

Hermione didn't question it. She didn't know how, but he probably did have a way to help her. She looked down, then lifted her foot over his legs, swivelling her backside around, careful not to twist or bend his penis. Vulnerable when hard, he'd said. So she went cautiously, a stiff rod her pivot. Facing Sirius, she got her leg over his torso and planted it on the other side of him. Then she caught sight of Sirius's face.

Much like he had in her imaginings, Sirius was looking like he was laughing internally at the situation he was in. He glanced down pointedly, then back up at Hermione's face.

'That was easier than getting up?' he asked.

'No,' Hermione said primly, 'I just didn't want to get up. So,' she bounced a little on him, 'how're you planning on helping?'

Sirius wiggled an itchy nose, likely smothering a smile as he did, and sat up. In a second, Hermione was engulfed in his arms, his lips back on hers, her back arching once again to meet him. He pulled both her legs out, Hermione squirming to plant her feet on the floor, and took hold of her hips, his fingers curling right around and digging into her buttocks.

It wasn't quite the long pull out and rough shove in Hermione had been after, but with more of him to hang onto and Sirius yanking her back down onto him, it worked quickly and satisfyingly. Then she was hastily repositioning herself, Sirius flopping back onto the floor, and being tightly gripped in his arms as he thrust roughly into her from below.

Sirius's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He released the latest grip he'd gotten on Hermione's buttock and shifted the arm up to wrap it around her back. In the jelly pose that followed a good and much-needed orgasm, Hermione had sprawled flat atop him. Pillowed on his chest, her head rose and fell with his breathing. It was a nice little cocoon, being ensconced within Sirius's embrace like this, splayed over his warmth and up off the floor. She could feel his penis softening within her. For no reason she could provide, that was nice too. Intimate.

'So you understood what I was after the moment you saw the skirt?' she asked.

Low in his chest seemed where Sirius's sated chuckles originated. The feel of them tickled somewhere deep in Hermione's belly.

'The come-fuck-me pose in the skirt you'd changed into?' he returned. 'Yeah, I cottoned on.'

Hermione snickered. She turned to bury her face in his chest. He smelled nice, and his skin did feel good to her lips. She hadn't done that part of what she'd been interested in… Nor had she paid much attention to his happy trail. Taking stock of her insides… Hermione figured she'd probably be able to go for a second round in a little bit. If he was up for it, she'd do that then.

For now… Hermione pushed herself onto her arms. Sirius peeled his eyes open and looked up at her. There was something nice in his expression. She may have shouted at him over an irrational dread of lack of peanut butter only hours before, but Sirius looked… like he hadn't a concern in the world.

Hermione contemplated it, the attractive lightness in his features; the relaxation of his body. A deep happiness…

They were in the fourth floor bedroom. Hermione remembered it with a returning awareness of the bare room around her. Wondered if he could ever hold her here, Sirius had said. He had. He'd held her tight, and did so much more. Perhaps a question of whether he could ever make love to her here had been in his mind. Hermione hadn't even considered it. She'd been greedy, not sparing a thought for how Sirius might feel about doing that in this room.

The only vestige of the room's former odiousness was the fireplace, and Sirius had taken to that with a heavy hand. It wasn't just unpapered, he'd stripped the wall around it back to the brick and even smashed away the marble surround. All it was now was an unfished-looking black metal box attached to a grate and chimney, something Sirius had half a plan to just brick around with whatever bricks they salvaged from the wall.

'You look good,' Hermione told him.

Sirius's eyes crinkled.

'Just a general compliment,' he said, 'or do I look different from usual?'

'You look happy.'

Sirius chuckled. He gave Hermione's side a rub.

'T'was a good shag,' he said, and left it at that. Hermione didn't say it to remind him of where he was, she was fairly certain Sirius knew it well enough on his own.