4. Free Will



Apparating was easy, thought Claire - as long as Sirius did it and all she had to do was hold on to him. It felt a bit as if her whole body had imploded and expanded again right in front of a great manor she knew from 'Wizarding Houses in Britain', one of Winterstorm's best-sellers every Christmas. Had it been a Muggle Building it would be listed in every guide, but being magical as Hogwarts it stood in the middle of a wide open field the Muggles called a golf course and none of them ever saw it. Malfoy spent a lot of money to keep the house updated with every safeguarding spell invented and took great pride in its location.

She sighed. Apparating had made her feel good, all warm and just a little bit dizzy, and there was this throbbing sound, getting faster, almost like the sound of a ... With shock she realised that she still persisted in Sirius' embrace. It was his heartbeat she heard, and the warmth she felt came from his body. Her cheek nestled against thin silk, and something hard pressed against her stomach. A bit startled she realised that it probably was not the rhinestone belt ... She was not stupid, she had read about ... that. Wizards and witches, the fundamental differences in anatomy and all. She had even seen moving diagrams that explained how children were conceived and born. And still, neither the books nor the pictures had said anything about the sweet ache in her heart, the lightness of her head and the scent of clean male skin. She sighed again and instinctively snuggled up to him even closer.

Sirius swallowed hard and closed his eyes. His body betrayed him, again.

"Claire ...," he muttered hoarsely. "We have arrived. Malfoy can see us."

She grabbed the broad collar of his robe. "I can't do this, Sirius," she whispered. "I just can't go in there. ... Too many people."

"You can and you must. It's your plan, and it's a good plan. I don't particularly like it ..." he looked so unhappy in his pink fashion robes she just had to smile. "But it is a good plan nevertheless. And you can do this."

Claire sighed and straightened. "I can do this. I am a pure blood. I am a Winterstorm. And I am ..."

"Rich ..." he prompted.

"Right."

She stood there on the lawn as if she had no care in the world and let Malfoy come down the stairs to greet them. He was a slender wizard with fair hair and pale eyes. Claire recognised his face from the society section of the 'Daily Prophet', where he appeared once in a while with his wife Narcissa attending charity events.

"My dear Miss Winterstorm ..."

Sirius hit him square on the back and gave him a big grin. "Sorry to disappoint you, old boy," he drawled, "But the lady is taken. It's Mrs White now, if you don't mind."

Malfoy's thin mouth twitched and he stared just a moment too long at Sirius' pink robes and astonishing belt.

"Ah, yes, how negligent of me. My congratulations, Mrs White. And Mr White."

Clare gave him a thin smile she had practised in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Malfoy. We are very ... happy." She laid a proprietary hand on Sirius' arm. "Why don't we go inside? It's getting chilly."



The house was breathtaking in its beauty and wealth. Malfoy did not make the effort to hide his pride. The Malfoys, he told Claire pointing out various ancestors, had come to Britain with Willibald the Confusor.

While Claire asked questions about paintings and the ancient magical objects that were displayed in glass cases, Sirius's eyes wandered off and checked out the crowd that gathered in the salon and on the terrace, drinking and chatting merrily. He recognised many faces, some from the 'Prophet', but most from the list of acquitted Death Eaters Snape had compiled for him.

"And here is the lovely Mrs White," Malfoy introduced them to an elderly couple. According to him the wizard was one of the Judges of the High Court of Magic and had only a week ago been appointed supervisor of Azkaban. "And her husband, of course."

The judge's wife looked up at Sirius and gave him a smile Claire did not like at all. She wasn't really sure what bugged her, after all the woman had not said anything. But she looked like the little girl who had stolen Claire's stuffed toy the first night in the dorm in Hogwarts. She recognised the same desire and determination in the older witch's eyes. Better to stay on Sirius's side.



Within minutes they got separated.

Sirius flirted his way through the room. He had not forgotten how to do it, and hadn't he been Hogwarts biggest flirt ever? He still could do it, a quick glance, an accidental touch ... But this was different. This was not fun, and he did not remember his female counterparts reacting so aggressively and blunt. Still, he gathered bits and pieces of information, names, locations, relations.

Malfoy took Claire's arm and wandered with her through the various rooms, apologising for his wife not attending the party.

"Narcissa is not very interested in politics, I am afraid," he elaborated. "How about Mr. White?"

Claire shrugged and her diamonds dazzled. "I did not marry Sirius for his interest in ... politics," she smirked. "He got his own interests, and I don't mind him teaching, but I don't want him to interfere with my businesses or ... other things."

"Teaching?" Malfoy frowned.

"Sirius is an Animagus and insists on his teaching stunt in Hogwarts."

"But he is not ..."

"Not registered, no." She gave him a condescending smile. "But all those ridiculous rules and regulations the Ministry insist upon, are only for commoners, don't you think?"

He kissed her hand. "Exactly."

Somebody raised a glass and called a toast to "Those who are not forgotten!" and Malfoy stirred Claire into the salon.

"To the Lestranges," he said solemnly.

"To the Lestranges," the crowd answered.

Claire searched for Sirius' face, but he was gone.

Slipping away from Malfoy's side, she elbowed her way out of the room, wandering the corridors and eventually upstairs to look for Sirius. When she found him, he stood close to the wall, head drawn back, hands flat against the cold stones. His breath was flat and too fast, his skin pale as death. The long black lashes and a faint stubble accentuated the rough beauty of his face.

"Sirius?"

Claire gingerly touched his cheek. The skin was clammy and cold, and he did not show a reaction, didn't even seem to know she was there. She tapped his shoulder, gave him a shake and now she really got worried. "Sirius, talk to me."

His lips moved but all she could hear was a moan, almost inaudible.

"Nooo ..."

People passed the corridor, laughing and chatting and throwing curious glances in their direction. Claire's heart skipped a beat in panic. What was she to do? Any minute one of them would approach and ask if anything was wrong.

Desperately she rose on tiptoes and kissed Sirius. Her lips touched his, and she almost jerked back with the unfamiliar sensation. She didn't know what to do, she had never kissed anybody but her parents, oh, and Roger McNamara in her second year at Hogwarts. But her kissing technique certainly had not improved since then. All she could do was close her eyes and rely on her heart. Her mother had taught her to treat people the way she'd want to be treated by them - and this was what she did now. Tenderly she took his bottom lip between hers, nibbled on it. Her tongue touched the corner of his mouth, tiny caresses, again and again followed by light kisses.

Sirius felt the darkness lift off his shoulders like a heavy cloak. When the Lestranges had been mentioned, a voice in his head had started to wail so pitifully he could hardly refrain from screaming. He had just time enough to run up the stairs and hope nobody would find him there, while he tried to fight the voices and the cold darkness. It had not been that bad for weeks.

Slowly he became aware of the sweet sensation of soft lips, warm breath, a moist tongue that teased him, dared him to open his mouth, let it in. A shudder ran over his body. The pleading in his head ceased, the voices faded and so did the suffocating darkness.

In a smooth motion he embraced the slender body of the woman who kissed him, lifted her up and pressed her against the wall. Covering her with his body, he answered her kisses, but not softly. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, explored, conquered, vanquished. He did not get the reaction he expected. The rhythm was wrong, their noses got in the way, and when he eventually bit her bottom lip, she protested softly but bluntly.

"Sirius, stop!"

She felt his cheek as if she wanted to check his temperature. And then it came to him, that she probably never had touched a man, kissed a man before him. At least not like this ...

He almost pushed her off him, held her away from his body with strong arms.

"I am OK." He said it softly so nobody but Claire would hear it. "Don't touch me, when I am like this."

"Like this?" Her voice was only a whisper. "Are you trying to say this happens often?"

He avoided her eyes.

"Sirius?"

"I can handle it." His face was all empty, the blue eyes were hard stones. "Just stay away from me." When he saw her confused and injured face, he reached for her hand in apology. "Claire, I might hurt you."

"Don't worry. You won't get the opportunity." She turned on her heel and went back into the salon.



"We shall rise to power, and then nobody will ever dare to stand in our way." Malfoy smiled at Claire like a salesman.

She touched the gilded frame of a portrait on the wall and woke one of her host's ancestors. He had the same disturbing pale eyes and pale hair. Admiring all the pictures, Claire kept her back to Malfoy, so she wouldn't have to meet his stare. The man freaked her out.

"Power," she mused and her voice sounded much more bored than she felt. "But I already have power. You'd be surprised how little there is money or a name can't buy."

She looked across the library through the open door to Sirius, who stood by the fireplace in the salon, letting one of his admirers refill his goblet, not for the first time. Nobody could have guessed that the very same wizard had only an hour ago been nothing but a wreck, trying to melt into the wall, uttering wordless moans of absolute terror. His voice had taken on a slight drawl now, an uncertainty that called of a goblet too many. She could only hope he was that good an actor and not really drunk.

Malfoy had followed her gaze and smiled knowingly. "Ah, Mr White. Quite a specimen you got there. I think we agree on the benefits of pure blood. Physical features always inherit well."

"He is tall and handsome, and even cousin Valerius could not find a fault in his blood-line."

"Well, but obviously Sirius is not ... very bright, is he?" Malfoy scowled at the little group by the fireplace.

"I got brains enough myself, thank you very much," she replied with raised eyebrows.

He stepped closer and kissed her hand. "I like that in a woman."

I bet you do, thought Claire and forced herself to not pull back her hand too fast. "But tell me again, why should I want more power?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Most of the people who follow Voldemort do it for petty things. Sex. Money. Safety. You and I, we have all this. And still, the Dark Lord can give us something we can not buy. Power beyond anything you can imagine."

She just looked at him. His face had gone red and there was something in his eyes that reminded her of how Coco looked when she talked about Harry Potter. Worship. Idolisation.

She clasped her hand in front and kept her face blank. "Power," she repeated.

"Power to do what ever you like. Without any authority questioning you."

"Whatever I like?"

His eyes burned. "Take. Hurt. Kill. Whatever you like. Absolute power."

"That sounds ... fascinating."

"It does, doesn't it? But the fight for supremacy is expensive. Bribes. Curses. The Master's needs ... They must be financed."

"The Master's needs?"

He waved his hand impatiently. "Later. For now this is all I can tell you. He rewards his servants thousandfold. But he also punishes thousandfold, rest assured."

"But some of his supporters are still prisoners in Azkaban. I assume the Lestranges you toasted are amongst those who are being punished?"

Malfoy's face turned an angry red. "The Lestranges are loyal. And the reward they'll receive from his hands will make up for all the years in Azkaban. And soon."



Sirius sat in a chair by the fire and stretched his long legs. He vowed silently he would never ever give a witch the once-over. Why hadn't anybody told him how humiliating it was when they stared at you like hungry hyenas would stare at a piece of meat?

He hated the silk robes he wore, because they gave these witches - and even some of the wizards - the excuse to touch him just to enthuse about how elegantly the material showed off the muscles of his chest. And now the judge's wife sat next to him and let her hand wander up his thigh ... Abruptly he rose and sauntered over to the decanter of wine.

A small witch with reddish curls ran her hand through his hair and he gritted his teeth. The urge to push her away was almost overwhelming. The most disturbing thing was that Claire's touch could arouse him so instantly and the much franker touch of Malfoy's friends just made him sick. After so many years without physical contact, without sex, one should suppose he'd take any opportunity to get a willing woman into his bed - or on the couch in the study as one of the witches had suggested. But then, he had not even entered Claire's bedroom ...

Honour. It was all he had left. That, and the promise he had given James and Lily. He'd avenge their death and protect Harry. And if playing the stud of Britain's richest witch helped him to keep that promise, he'd do it.

He flexed his biceps when his audience demanded it giggling.

"Ah Sirius," gasped one of the witches and gave him a hungry smile. "You must come to our next party. The flavour of entertainment will be different, but I trust you'll like it."

"The flavour?" he drawled.

"It is so ... boring when everyone is ... willing." She traced his jaw with a sharp fingernail. "Malfoy insists on consent in his house. But then again - what is magic for?"

He stared at her quizzically, but she didn't even look at his face but kept her attention to his body.

"Just one word from you and I'd be very ... consenting."

Sirius' blood froze.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking?" he asked suggestively.

She rose on tiptoes and whispered into his ear, but not without sticking her tongue in it first. "Imperius ..."

He cleared his throat and the witch took it as an approval and conjured a business card. "My husband is not jealous," she smiled. "In fact, he might even join us."

Sirius saw Malfoy leave the library and whisper into the ear of a young wizard. They shared a silent joke and left. Claire was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly alarmed Sirius handed the goblet to the witch and gave her the sly smile she expected. "Excuse me for a moment, a call of nature."

The witch licked her lips. "If you need any help ..."

But the object of her desire had already pushed his way through the crowd that barred the doors of the salon.

Just as Claire had wandered around looking for him an hour ago, Sirius now made his way through the maze of rooms, staircases and wings of the old house. More than once he disturbed a couple in a closet, and after apologising the first time, he simply slammed the door after a while with growing worry.



Claire could not think. Or more precisely, she could think, but it was awfully hard, as if her brain had turned into sticky toffee. Every though needed so much effort, and it seemed so much easier to just comply to the orders of the wizard next to her.

She had met Carl Prenner outside the study, when Malfoy had excused himself to talk to a few newly arrived guests. He had seemed friendly enough and had promised to show her some of Malfoy's most precious first editions in the library. And now she kneeled in front of him and just could not decide to get up. He had cast some spell, one she did not know, had never read about ... She tried to fight the compulsion to do as he told her and almost surfaced from the sleepiness of her brain. But then the wizard grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake.

She winced, but gave in.

Her hands moved over his crotch obediently, unbuttoning his fly one button after the other.



Sirius did not trust his eyes when he opened the door to the library.

One glance at Claire's empty face and he knew she did not act out of free will. His stomach revolted when he recognised what was going on. He drew his wand.

"Finite incantatem!"

At once Claire's hands fell down. The expression on her face turned from empty obedience to utter horror.

"You fucking bastard!" Sirius grabbed the wizards robe at the neck and shoved his face into the wall. Prenner screamed. Blood shot from his broken nose, soiling Sirius' hand when he hit him square in the face.

Claire still kneeled at the floor, aware now, shaking with disgust and nausea. Her robe was torn at the breasts, and her arms and neck hurt where Prenner had dug his fingers into her flesh.

Sirius let go of Prenner and pushed the wailing wizard into a corner. Kneeling next to Claire, he reached out to touch her face and winced when she recoiled. The glance he gave Prenner was murderous.

"If you ever come near my wife again, I'll kill you." Plan or not, spy- identity or not, he'd kill the bastard, he vowed silently.

Malfoy pushed into the room, alarmed by the shouts. For a moment he froze, taking in the scene, Claire kneeling, Prenner bleeding, Sirius fuming.

"Your ... friend ... tried to rape my wife."

"Have you gone mad?" Malfoy yelled at Prenner, his face red with fury. "She is not some piece of meat you can use for your entertainment!"

"But fhe complied! You faid I could have anybody who ...," wailed the wizard, who clutched his smashed nose with both hands.

"She did not consent." Sirius' voice was icy. And although the kneeling wizard still looked ridiculous in his oh-so-fashionable robes and boots, Malfoy stepped back in sudden unease. "He cast the Unforgivable Curse on her."

"Is that true?"

Prenner bowed his head and avoided Malfoy's pale stare.

Malfoy drew his wand and pointed it at Prenner.

"Crucio!"

The wizard started to scream, oblivious to the broken nose now. He went down, thrashing and crying in agony. Finally when his fingernails drew blood, Malfoy took the curse back and turned to Claire.

"An unforgivable error deserves an Unforgivable Curse."

Claire allowed Sirius to help her stand, and he avoided to touch her more than necessary. She clenched her fists and stepped away from Malfoy, from the sobbing wizard on the floor, from the few people who had entered when they heard Prenner's screams. She had to keep up the appearance of the shrewd noble-witch until they had left, she reminded herself. Even if she felt like crying ...

"We shall leave now. Thank you for this very ... informative ... evening."

Malfoy's voice bore a tinge of worry. "Our arrangement, Mrs White. Is it still up?"

Claire raised one pale eyebrow and gave him a condescending smile. "You'll understand that I am not fully convinced yet, Malfoy. How am I to trust a wizard who can't even control his fellow conspirators?"

"Prenner will be punished for what he did, you have my word. Crucio is nothing compared to what Our Lord Voldemort will do to him."

Claire knew she should feel sorry for Prenner, but she didn't.

"I'll think about it, Malfoy."

"You'll receive another invitation. I can only hope that then you'll see how well organised we are."

"My wife is ... exhausted. We shall leave now," interrupted Sirius bluntly. He gently pushed Claire out of the house, shielding her from curious glances when he felt her composure was about to fall to pieces any moment now.

"Oh, and Malfoy, old boy ..." he stared at the wizard and kept the slightly dumb expression of Mr White although he felt like throttling their host on his own threshold. "You won't mind, will you?"

Wiping off his bloodstained hands on Malfoy's pristine robes, he turned, drew Claire in his arms and Disapparated.



He Apparated in front of Winterstorm Manor, clutching Claire close to him.

"It's over," he murmured soothingly. "You have been very brave, baby."

Claire stared at him and a sudden violent spasm shook her body. She broke down to her knees, retching and gasping and finally throwing up on the flowerbed and Sirius' dress-robes. He held back her hair and waited patiently. Imperius meant not only mind rape, but also a violation of the body. The reaction was only natural, and probably cleansing for all he knew. He had seen strong wizards, big heavy guys who, when snapping out of the Unforgiven Curse, cried like infants.

When she was all empty, he simply swept her up. He knew she was too weak to walk even the few steps to the entrance of her house. He pushed open the door with his foot and carried her up the stairs, not stopping to answer the desperate questions of Claire's elves.

"Back off," he said through gritted teeth and pushed open the bathroom door. "She'll be fine."

He wasn't so confident when he looked into her face. She was pale as death.

Muttering a spell he ran her a bath and didn't bother with the semi-magical appliances that dispensed soap but conjured what he needed while he undressed his wife. The grey robes were ruined, but she would not have worn them ever again anyway after what had happened. He threw the shreds of fabric into a corner and made a mental note to ask Coco to dispose of it before Claire stumbled upon it again.

Claire stood like a statue, motionless but for a violent shudder now and then. Cursing softly, Sirius picked the pins out of her hair and tied it up. When she was undressed he lifted her up and sat her into the bath. She seemed to relax a little in the warmth and he cupped her chin and coaxed her to look at him.

"Baby, listen to me."

His voice was very gentle and he took great care to not let any of the anger shine through, the fury he felt when he remembered her empty face and that bastard's hands on her. "You can wash it off, OK?" He put the cloth in her limp hand and closed her fingers around it. "He is nothing but dirt, and you can wash it off."

She bowed her head and suddenly her whole body heaved in great big sobs. Helplessly Sirius watched her cry, and could think of nothing but holding her hand and the damn wash cloth. Eventually she calmed down a little.

"Sorry I threw up on you," she sobbed.

"My favourite robes," he gave her a shaky grin.

"I'll buy you new ones."

"Let Serene pick them. Her taste is simple immaculate, I've been told." That made her laugh. And while Sirius undressed and took a shower, Claire scrubbed every inch of her skin until she felt she had scraped away every molecule of Malfoy, his friends, his house and whatever had happened there.

When Sirius stepped out of the shower, the tub was empty. He shook the water from his hair like the big black dog would do, and shrugged into the thick night-blue robe that somebody - Claire, not Serene, he suspected - had bought for him.

Claire sat in the big four poster bed of hers, propped on the pillows, a blanket covering her body very demurely considering he had seen her stark naked only minutes ago.

Sirius sat down on the side of the bed, carefully not to touch her. She looked much better now, her hair fastened in a loose braid, her skin slightly reddened from the fierce wash.

"Do you want me to get Peagreen or Coco?" he asked.

Claire reached out and touched his bare chest without meeting his eyes. The skin felt warm under her trembling hands. Biting her tongue in concentration she dared to slide her fingers further under his robes until Sirius caught her wrist.

"Claire, look at me," he said softly.

Her eyes were huge and shimmered with uncried tears.

"You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do," she whispered. "Don't you understand, Sirius? If I don't, then these pictures, the screams, the ... blood ... will always be with me."

"And whenever you think about ... sex, the pictures will overshadow any pleasure you might feel," he said very softly, more to himself.

She nodded ever so lightly. "Make them go away, Sirius."

His breath faltered. "How do you know I am not like ... that bastard at Malfoy's? What if I ..."

"You could have come into my bedroom anytime. You could have forced me, but you didn't."

"I told you, I'd only take what you were willing to give.."

"That's how I know you are not like him."

Her hands wandered freely over his shoulders, his arms. He was all muscles and sinew, hard, lean, so very different from her own body. And then she kissed him, still unfamiliar with the intimate touch of lips against lips, but desperately.

Sirius pushed her back, gently but unmistakably.

"The first time you fuck, it should be with a wizard you love."

He did not look at her. The offer that he could have her, here, now, made him dizzy with need and desire. He had wanted her all evening long, watching her with Malfoy. 'Good Godric,' he thought in self-loathing, 'even when that pig had her under the Imperius, I wanted her.'

She shook her head so desperately the hair strands escaped from the loose braid.

"I'd rather ... fuck ... a wizard I trust."

Her skin blushed easily and he watched the embarrassment crawl up to the roots of her hair. "But if you don't want me ..." Her voice broke and she pulled up the blanket in a desperate effort to recover a minor amount of decency.

Sirius touched her breast where the blanket met bare skin and slowly, gently pulled her defence away. She offered herself, freely, and he felt he was not strong enough, not noble enough, to refuse. He slid the palms of his hands over her smooth skin with the wonder of rediscovering something he had almost forgotten. But then the rhythm came back to him, had always been there like a song. Claire heard him murmur something, soft reassuring words.

His kissed her again, and slowly she got into it, suddenly all naked, bare skin against bare skin. His hands teased and stroked, coaxed and led the way, touched her in places that made her sigh and other places that made her bite her lips.

He was big, and when he entered her, Claire could not stifle a gasp of pain. Sirius stopped at once, shoulders and arms trembling with tension.

"Did I hurt you?" His words were but a moan, and she saw in his face how hard it came to him to not give in to the rapture.

"Go on, Sirius. Don't stop now, please," she begged. Heat spread over her body and she pushed the pain to the back of her mind. It was still there, but only located in one spot, and there were so many other, better things to feel. The weight of his muscular body, his naked skin against hers, the sweet taste of his mouth ...

"It's been a while," he moaned close to her ear. "I am not sure if I can restrain any longer."

Claire's hands ventured down his back and stroked over his taunt buttocks.

"Don't hold back," she whispered. "

Something, her words, the touch of her hands, the scent of sweat, broke the dam.

"I am sorry, baby," he groaned, and thrust almost violently. "I am so sorry."

All Claire could do was hold on for dear life and hope he would not squash her through sheer physical strength, when the muscular body pounded onto her, filling her to the limit, almost tearing her apart. She registered every wordless moan, every feverish caress his hands spread over her skin. And when he suddenly froze and then exploded in her very core, with a sound that was closer to a cry than a groan, she could do nothing but bury her hands in his hair and hold him.



"Just give me ten minutes to catch my breath," he panted laying on his back afterwards, the linen sheets casually covering his lower body. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry." She propped herself on one elbow and smiled shyly. "I liked it well enough. It felt ... good."

"Good!" he groaned and covered his eyes with his arm in mock despair.

Claire watched him, saw his chest heave and sink, and the slight layer of sweat that covered his skin.

"What's wrong with good?"

"Nothing," he replied slowly. "But your first time should be better than this. Not just good. It should be memorable."

"Oh, believe me ..."

He sat up, lazy, catlike, and stretched. Claire liked the way his muscles played under the tanned skin so much she could not refrain from touching his chest. There was a fine line of hair trailing down past his stomach.

"Believe me, I'll remember you," she whispered. Always, she thought. When this charade is over and you are gone, I'll remember this very moment.

His blue eyes sought hers. "I don't want you to remember me for the pain. I want you to remember me for the pleasure."

In honest confusion she shook her head.

"There was not much pain." Her voice had gone all shaky while he was looking at her.

Sirius took her hand and placed its palm over his heart. "This time there will be just pleasure."

"I thought ..." she blushed again, "you looked like ... you experienced intense pleasure."

Her account of the situation was so sincere and so accurate it made him laugh.

"Oh, I did."

"So it was OK?"

"Claire," he said softly and with the same sincerity he saw in her eyes. "It was more than OK. But I see this as a ... " He sought for a concept she'd understand. "A deal. Both sides need to win to call a deal satisfying, don't they?"

She slowly nodded.

"Sometimes the satisfaction can result just from being able to give release, to give comfort. But normally both parties should receive. After all those ... empty years ... I couldn't think clearly. But normally I'd have waited for you."

"Waited for me?"

He laughed softly and the sound made Claire shiver with anticipation.

"What am I supposed to do?"

He drew her closer. "Nothing. Just shut your eyes. Concentrate on what you feel."

His mouth brushed her bottom lip and wandered deeper, along the side of her neck to the hollow of her throat and further to her left breast. She felt his tongue drawing lazy circles around the nipple and as it grew harder, his mouth closed around it and gave it a cautious suckling.

He smiled when she gasped, and continued, now stronger and faster, giving both breast equal attention until Claire squirmed under him with delight.

"Imagine you are standing on a tower," he whispered and his breath caressed her stomach. Parting her thighs he started to lick, kiss, tease, where he had only touched before.

"The sun is shining and you can see forever."

Claire felt heat rise, like the sun he was talking about. He moved back to her mouth, kissed her, entered her with his tongue. She opened her lips with the same desire she parted her legs for him, and he kept teasing and caressing until she moved her hips, gently but unmistakably.

She was tense, as if she expected it to hurt again, but this time he moved slowly, waited until he could feel her response. Taking in her soft moans he gave her time to adapt, time to enjoy the unfamiliar feeling until he was fully buried in her. Then he began to move in slow, long strokes, concentrating only on pleasuring her.

"And you spread your arms, like wings ....

Claire answered him, instinctively, unrefined, driven by need. She held on to him with both hands, brows furrowed in concentration. But he did not want her like this, not so attentive. He wanted her to stop thinking.

"And feel the edge of the wall under your feet ..."

His thrusts got harder, faster, and his big hand, still buried between their bodies, never ceased to caress the one spot that seemed to be the source of the heat that surged over her in waves. He intently watched her face, to find the moment when she was ready. But then her whole body spoke to him, and the way she trusted him in this moment of absolute vulnerability aroused him even more than the soft moans from her mouth.

"And fly..."

Claire cried out his name in utter surprise and exultation. She pushed off and flew - right into the white light, and it melted her into a warm, soft, shapeless being. From a distance she heard Sirius groan, felt a last, even more forceful thrust. Then he collapsed on her and for a while they remained like this, still connected, one body.



Sirius was heavy, he was tall and he almost suffocated her. Claire nudged him carefully. When he showed no reaction, she eventually could not think of anything else but to bite into his shoulder to make him get off her. It took Sirius all the energy he had left to turn over and gather her in his arms.

Still breathless and exquisitely exhausted Claire settled against his big body. She found a position that seemed natural, her head in the crook of his neck, one arm over his chest, one leg over his hips.

"You were right," she smiled and inhaled the scent of his skin.. "That was better than good."

"I am always right."

"Of course you are, Professor White," she chuckled. "Now, can we do it again?"

Laughingly she fought against him and let him pin her down to the bed.

"Woman, are you trying to kill me?"

She kissed his earlobe, just because it was there, just because she could do it. "No. I'd rather sleep a bit."

Sirius turned his head and rubbed his cheek against her forehead. He could not remember if sex had always had that effect on him, but he suddenly felt at home, here, next to this woman, in this bed. Just now, just tonight, he tried to convince himself, he'd allow the desire to be at home to be fulfilled.

"Claire?"

She gave a wordless sleepy mumble.

"Mind if I stay a while?"

Instead of an answer she snuggled closer into his arms.

Sirius held her tight, like a child would hold a comforter to ward off the loneliness and the cold of night. He remembered holding his brothers like this when they were afraid and their mother cried in the next room, oblivious to her children.

"Sleep, baby," he whispered.

And so she did.

And after a while Sirius drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep as well.



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