Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; it all belongs to JK Rowling. I suppose I own the plot, in a way. And I definitely own the two prophecies!
Note: Some rather R-rated material in this chapter, I think, so readers who object: well, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. You could skip the chapter if you like (although I doubt anyone really objects to a somewhat love scene).
Summary: In dark times, prophecies predicted the rising of five who would have the power alone to defeat evil. They were the Pack.
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~ The Pack ~
Chapter Eight: Angelic Stars
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Hermione couldn't sleep. Two days after finding the Lunar Premonition, they were still no closer to discovering Voldemort's whereabouts, even with Dumbledore's help, and time was ticking away. However, that wasn't what was keeping her awake at close to midnight after a long day, although it was certainly a burden.
Sirius was the 'criminal', of course. Thinking about him, needing him, was driving her crazy and even if love wasn't part of their bargain - which was hard for her, of course - she wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone in her life. And she wasn't about to fall asleep any time soon without - well, she didn't exactly know what the with was.
This isn't getting you anywhere, and if you don't get some sleep, you're not going to be very productive tomorrow in your research, and you're not going to get any sleep any time soon unless . . .
Unless.
"Aaargh." Hermione groaned, frustrated. She flung off the quilts and climbed out of bed, marching straight for the door and stepping out into the dimly lit corridor. The empty spaces on the wall, where Black portraits once stood, seemed starkly pale against the gloomy backgrounds and she felt oddly like a ghostly fugitive traipsing these forbidden hallways.
Well, love certainly made you more dramatic! Her mouth twisted in self-mockery. She was slowly becoming disgraceful, in her strong opinion.
She came to a halt outside a door that was half open, light spilling out into the corridor. Her bare feet tingled against the floor, but she forced herself to regain some form of control and stepped into the doorway, leaning slightly against the doorframe with her arms folded. Her breath caught in her throat.
He was sitting on his bed, leaning back against the headboard with his legs splayed, one knee bent, in front of him and a book leaning against that knee. His eyes didn't look particularly tired and bored, but had a thin film over them that told her he was suffering from lack of concentration problems as well. Also, most noticeable, was the fact that he was shirtless and his lightly tanned skin and hard stomach below his chest was something she hadn't expected to see.
"Four days," she spoke up quietly, trying to focus on a part of his body that didn't threaten to melt her down. His chin . . . no, too close to the jaw, and the mouth . . . his forehead?
He looked up, obviously surprised and the film disappeared from his eyes. "Hi," he greeted her in a low voice. He nodded, his eyes darkening. "I know. We'll find him. This battle will be finished soon . . . and sooner or later, a sign of Voldemort's location will come."
"I just hope it's sooner rather than later." She sighed.
"You worry too much," he smiled. "Leave that to Molly; she's an expert. Besides, you're too young to worry so much about things, even Harry and Ron aren't so worked up."
"Because they have the utmost belief that 'Hermione will figure it out'." she said sardonically. "They seem to think my 'superior knowledge', as Ron loves to jab, will come through no matter what."
He shrugged. "Maybe they're right. I'm beginning to think you're an angel of many talents." His voice was faintly suggestive and his eyes burned with desire that Hermione knew mirrored her own. She felt the blush creep to her face and gulped.
"So . . . are you busy?" She managed to ask, in as level a voice as she could manage. Unfortunately, it came out sounding more like a frog than she might have liked.
He dropped the book, securely shut, on the bed and grinned slowly at her. Her heart began to speed up. "Not as busy as I might've hoped," he confessed regretfully. "But then again, right now, busy isn't something I want to be." He lowered his voice slightly. "Can't seem to focus."
"What's distracting you?" She asked, straightening up and walking slowly towards him. He watched her with an intense gaze that made every cell in her body alert and fiery (Damn the baby doll clothes!), but she kept her cool as she approached the bed and sat down, her back millimeters from his body.
She turned her head to look at him and he smiled, but she saw that he didn't appear as much in control as before. In fact, she watched as he swallowed hard, a frustrated muscle jerking in his jaw. "Do you really want to know what's distracting me?" he asked quietly, reaching out almost subconsciously towards her. His touch burned through the thin fabric and he absently traced patterns against her stomach.
"I couldn't sleep." She mumbled, her voice shaking slightly. "And I wanted - "
Perhaps he was a Leglimens, or maybe it was written in her eyes, because before she could speak out what she'd wanted, he was kissing her and every worry, every frustration, every shred of anger from the day dissolved into a pool of bliss as she turned towards him and kissed back, harder, passionately, needingly.
His lips broke away from hers and began to trace a path of soft kisses and gentle nibbling to her ear, sucking on her earlobe, and moving down her neck. At the same time, his shifted positions effortlessly, so that when she began to lick the thin sheen of salty sweat lining his bare shoulders, he was sort of above her, and sort of on his side, so than none of his weight was entirely on her. His breathing became ragged and unsteady as she kissed lower on his chest and then he slid lower and kissed her softly first, so that she could taste his mouth and he could taste hers.
And as his hands brushed her thigh, his tongue licked along her lips so that they parted slightly and he slid his tongue into her mouth. She thought her pulse and heart were going to explode from the speed they were racing, matched only by his own, and as he stroked the hollows of her tongue and mouth with his, she felt a shiver run down her spine and one warm, strong arm slid under her to draw them closer together.
"I shouldn't be doing this," he murmured raggedly as she traced her fingers lightly across his chest, kissing the desire in the perspiration lining his skin. "You're so young, Harry would kill - "
"Harry and Ron would only find it amusing and they and Remus would leap at the chance to tease us," Hermione whispered against his hair as his roving, soft mouth moved to her neck and began nibbling and licking lower to her collarbone. "Besides, I'm of age, no one can tell me what to do anymore - so technically, what we're doing, is perfectly all right."
He chuckled against her collarbone, the vibrations sending sparks shooting throughout her already trembling body. "It sure as hell feels better than 'all right'."
She laughed, but in her position, it came out as a soft, seductive sound and his sharp intake of breath told her the effect had worked. It was her turn to stop breathing and feel the tremendous flames as his lips reached top of her nightie, where the dip between her more womanly attributes was visible, and he kissed along the edge of the fabric, sending her body into tremors that he steadied and calmed just by the fiery hot touch of his arms and hands holding her securely.
"Sirius . . ." She moaned.
His voice was hoarse and unsteady. "God, 'Mione, don't say my name like that or I might lose all control whatsoever. This . . . you and me . . . it works."
"That's certainly an understatement." She smiled. He wasn't going to go any further; not yet, and as much as they both wanted to, she couldn't help but feel a surge of ecstasy at that. He did care.
He pulled back slightly, hands now on either side of her body, and looked into her eyes. She felt like she might drown in the intensity and tenderness in those deep, coffee depths, and his slowly moved one hand to trace her moist lips with his thumb; his hands were trembling slightly and his body sexily sheened with sweat.
He gave her that slow, heart-stoppingly sexy grin and then bent back down to kiss her, and she returned it with equal longing, love pouring out of every one of her cells, wishing he felt it too. The kiss turned soft and gentle and then he kissed her on the forehead, both of them breathless. She slowly sat up and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly, resting her head against the warm safety of his damp shoulder. He hugged her back, with equal fervour, and she couldn't help thinking . . .
"Hell," he chuckled softly, but his tone told her he meant it. "I could get addicted to this."
She smiled, feeling his heart beat hard under her fingers. That was exactly what she'd been thinking.
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"You're up early." Ron teased when Hermione walked into the kitchen at eight o' clock the next morning, having slept incredibly well, safely held in Sirius's arms with his heartbeat below her head. "Usually you work so late, you're only in time for lunch."
"I took a bit of a break last night." Hermione said, certain she deserved a Muggle Academy Award for not blushing, especially since Sirius was at the table as well, watching her intensely. She looked at Remus. "We don't have too much time."
He nodded, lowering the research book he was reading. "I know, but I think we could all do with a couple of hours of relaxation this morning," he smiled, grinning at Harry, who was smiling and picking at his toast with the air of someone who was both worried, nervous and excited. "I know Harry and Ron have a Quidditch match at eleven o' clock."
"Keeping again?" Hermione asked Ron, smiling as she went over to the window and looking outside. Nothing interesting.
Ron grinned. "Yeah, Dennis Creevey hurt his arm, so Dumbledore asked if I'd fill in for this match."
"Gryffindor versus Slytherin," Sirius said with a grin, a slightly ironic twist to his expression that they all understood. "Rather symbolic for a first match this year, don't you think? Hope you two know 'Mione, Remus and I will all be there, cheering in red."
"Our hearts will be in our mouths." Hermione teased, grinning across at Remus. "So you two better show those snakes that the lions will always win."
"It's going to be nasty, Harry," Ron sighed. "Even though Malfoy against you - no comparison, mate."
Harry shook his head. "They'll be playing dirty today. Half those gits are the kids of Death Eaters. It's more than a match, so being the better team won't necessarily help us."
"But a few well-placed hexes and defenses from the sidelines will." Hermione pointed out, headng back towards the table and her chair, one which was positioned very close to Sirius.
"'Mione, you can't interfere, that's against school rules!" both Ron and Harry looked scandalized, if not a little amused and eager.
Remus chuckled. "Maybe so, but the rule doesn't apply for long-time graduates and ex-teachers, now does it? Don't worry; we'll be there to make sure you two stay safely on your brooms."
"Yeah, I'm looking forward to cursing Draco Malfoy." Sirius said with a mixture of amused eagerness and grimness.
Hermione paused mid-step and raised her eyebrows at him. "What do you have against him?" she wondered, sitting down unbearably close to Sirius because their legs brushed and she could feel his body heat radiate.
"Harry told me he's been making a play for you lately, and asked you to go out with him three days ago." Sirius stated point-blank.
Remus dived behind his book, clearly to conceal his amusement. Ron's eyes popped wide and Harry's jaw dropped. Hermione felt her own heart stop.
"Pardon?" She squeaked, managing to shoot Harry a weak glare for that treachery. He shrugged helplessly, looking like he was fighting laughter.
"Well, yeah. He's got no right, and so I'm going to hex him."
This sounded so like the Marauder that they all knew and loved that Hermione would have been content to let the matter drop, had Ron not chosen that moment to ask a question that was obviously causing him great curiosity and the semblance of a snigger.
"Sirius, you jealous, mate?"
Remus's eyes, brimming with laughter, appeared over the top of his book. Hermione choked on her own tongue, and almost did so again when Sirius turned slightly his his chair and slipped his arms around her, pulling her closer in something of a cuddle. Ron looked like he was in danger of breaking his jaw on the floor.
Sirius coughed. "Uh - well - I wouldn't say I was 'jealous' persay - "
Hermione looked up at him. "You're jealous?" She asked, amazed, feeling a blush tinge her cheeks. If Sirius was protectively jealous . . . that meant he had some feelings for her other than their inferno-resembling desire.
"All right." He mumbled. "Yes, I'm jealous."
"But why?" she demanded, perplexed. "I don't feel anything for Malfoy, except for loathing and scorn. I don't even think he's good-looking and I most certainly don't love him. I lo - " she broke off hurriedly. Apart from the stares she was receiving from her the other three people closest to her in the world, it wouldn't do to tell Sirius that she was in love with him!
He tightened his arms around her waist and lowered his head, with its sexy shadow of stubble, to nuzzle her neck. "That helps." he murmured against her skin, which was flaming hot from emotion, desire and a flicker of embarrassment.
"Ahem." Remus cleared his throat rather shakily, his voice quivering with obvious mirth. "As much as I hate to ruin an obviously special moment, I'd like to inform you both that this is a breakfast table and there are three other people here on the verge of losing their appetites."
Sirius and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione said sheepishly: "Sorry."
"All right." Harry dropped his bit of toast and looked between them closely. "Since 'Mione will blush and stare at her plate, or worse, tell me to mind my own business - " his eyes twinkled. " - Sirius, are you and Hermione together?"
"Mind your own business." Hermione couldn't resist rejoinding, smiling.
Sirius nodded. "Yeah." he said simply. He sighed. "Listen, Harry, I know it's probably not what you had in mind, and it's probably weird for you guys - I mean James's son's best friend and James's best friend - but - but I can't stay away." (Hermione's jaw dropped)
"Well, you're right about the weird part, but that just takes getting used to," Ron said cheerfully, and Hermione noticed the wink he exchanged with Remus. "And at least, this gives us all something to take our minds off You-Know - Voldemort - so it works out."
"Yeah, Sirius, are you guys kidding? I think its pretty cool!" Harry said. "Sure, it's not exactly the picture I had in mind, but the more I think about it, the more I figure there's no pair I'd rather see than my godfather with my best friend."
Remus grinned. "I did tell you, Sirius, that your concerns were misplaced."
"Don't you two have practice?" Hermione said quickly, eager to get rid of the two keen stares focused on her, as much as she loved them both. They grinned and hopped up.
"So we'll see you at the match," Harry said. "Sirius, keep the hexes in mind for Malfoy, I'll get him as close to the Gryffindor stands as possible."
Ron grinned. "Yeah, after all, I wouldn't want any other guy - regardless of the paternal-Death-Eater status - messing with my girl."
Harry slapped him a discreet high-five, Remus doubled over with laughter, Hermione blushed and glared at Ron, and Sirius laughed, flushing slightly at the whole 'my girl' inclusion.
And for those moments, there were zero thoughts of Lord Voldemort.
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TBC.
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A/N: The next update may take a couple of days (unless I can finish the chapter today), but I hope to finish the story before I go out of town (waaah!) on Saturday or Tuesday - please keep reviewing and if there are any suggestions you guys have to make, make them! Anyway, enjoy the story (as always)!