DISCLAIMER: If you think I own it, then there is no hope for your sanity
Author Note: It just popped in my head: deal with it.
Later that day, Sirius had given up going around the house; Hermione would find him
and turn him on. So he decided to take a Sickly Potion that Fred and George had
invented, but still she found out and decided to take care of him.
"Sirius?"
"Yes, Hermione?" He looked over the edge of his blankets and almost
hyperventilated at the sight. Hermione stood in the door a nurse outfit: high white
heels, a tight formfitting dress with two crosses over her able breast, and knee highs.
"I heard you were sick. Do you want anything?"
"No-Not-Nothing, dear; I just want to rest."
Hermione walked over to the bed, and felt his forehead, giving Sirius a clear view of
her cleavage. "You're burning up. Let me undress you love." Sirius lay as still a
board as she stripped him down to his boxers, but one part of Sirius became hard
and stiff like a board. She smirked again and said, "Terms."
Then she left him high and dry. Or hard and dry depends on how you look at.