"...it isn't every day that a man finds out he's been dead for seven years."
"Indeed not." Hermione found Sirius's gaze disconcerting, and she looked away. Sirius must have noticed Hermione starting to look a little uncomfortable, because he backed away, apologizing in undertones. Hermione took advantage of this to slightly bow her head to him and rush of to the living room, breathing heavily for some reason or another.
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Why was she so uncomfortable? Sirius asked. He of all men knew an uncomfortable woman when he saw one, and Hermione had been practically screaming to get Sirius to back away.
It's not like I was putting the moves on her or anything, Sirius said to himself to ease his mind, tearing savagely at a piece of bread he had found in the bread box. He suddenly stopped, heart and mind and all, and one thought flitted across his brain, a repeat of the one had directly before, with an added word.
Right?
Sirius had often had it said to him that he had no sense of when to back down… when things were too close for comfort. Sirius could hardly judge others' comfort, he though wryly, when the breasts of such a shapely young woman were pressed into his chest….
He shook that from his head immediately, and found himself sweating slightly at his palms and the back of his neck. He really needed to bathe, he decided; a cold bath, a terrible little voice said, but he drowned it in his sudden thought.
He could never think of Hermione like… that. She was so much younger than he, even after having gained seven years on him. She may have been legal, but there were ethical codes to be followed. It was probably just the fact that she was the first female he had seen since having allegedly been dead for nearly a decade. That was probably it, he decided.
And, if his mind had not been completely stilled from their arousals by these thoughts, he remembered she was Harry's best friend… the late Ron's lovebird.
He went to the living room to ask where the bathroom was, and where she kept her towels.
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Trying to stem all the sorts of ideas that fluttered inside her head when envisioning a naked and soaking Sirius one wall over, Hermione turned to a report she was supposed to be writing for work. It was about a discovery that had been made years ago about life cycles, but never categorized and easily referenced. She found it difficult to concentrate, however, for the first time since school.
The water from the tap had stopped running quite some time ago, but there was the sloshing sound of movement in the tub, and Hermione wondered briefly if he was getting out of the tub. Shutting her eyes, however, only made the images more dangerous, so she held them open and tried to concentrate on the sound of her blood flowing through the ears instead of the slight sounds of the bathing man the next room over.
After too short a time, there was a knock on Hermione's door. "Co-come in." She stammered, getting quickly to her feet.
Sirius opened the door just enough to stick his head in. "Working on homework?" He asked, grinning a little.
She nodded.
He stepped all the way through the door and Hermione slightly lost her footing. She could now see that he was not dressed, at least not in the conventional sense. A towel was all that separated her from a real eyeful, and a low-placed towel at that. Thin hair covered his chest and navel; she could see the lines that led down beyond the towel, and inexplicably wanted to trace them with her hands. His muscles were well-toned, and now, after he had bathed, the smell of cinnamon practically filled the entire room.
"Sorry if I intrude." Sirius's voice was indifferent; Hermione's face snapped up, but thankfully Sirius was looking around the room instead of at her. She would have died of embarrassment to know that he had seen her—not ogling, she insisted, but at least looking—at him like that.
"No… n-no problem." Hermione said quietly.
"I was just thinking," Sirius continued, "maybe some day soon we could go to Diagon Alley or something. I mean, I have some gold, and I really need new robes…."
"I don't know if we're both well enough yet." Hermione said hastily. Something tore at her heart then; she knew that, if they were well enough to go to Diagon, Sirius was well enough to go home, to let Remus know that he still lived. Hermione felt selfish and hated herself for thinking so, but she wanted Sirius all to herself, at least for a while.
Sirius gave her a smile. "I guess not, for a little while. Just… keep it in mind, okay? I don't want to have to wear your grandfather's clothes too much longer."
Hermione said nothing, merely blushing a bright red color as Sirius left the room.
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Neither ate lunch at the same time; the day was mainly spent resting. After Hermione's hurried sandwich lunch, she lay down to take a quick nap.
She was in Grimmauld Place, but she was young, no older than fifteen. The summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts, before Sirius's death, looking forward to her sixteenth birthday in exactly one month.
She was walking along the halls, humming slightly to herself. Harry and Ron were playing wizard's chess upstairs, and Ginny was with them, cheering for Harry, who was always the underdog. Hermione had said she had to leave to get fresh air, but part of it was to break the monotony that nobody else seemed to notice or mind.
Footsteps caused Hermione to whirl around; she found herself face-to-face with Sirius Black, the owner of Grimmauld Place. He smiled.
"No need to be so jumpy. I was just wondering what you were doing out, and looking so happy." He whispered.
"I was just…" suddenly 'going for a breather' sounded quite lame. Hermione shrugged. "Well, I'm happy that my birthday's coming up."
"Right. Your sixteenth, right?" Sirius had a roguish grin on that Hermione normally would have been wary of, but at the moment she did not really care.
"Yes."
"Sixteenth is the one where you're supposed to be kissed, right?"
Hermione shrugged. "It doesn't seem that way this year."
Sirius just smiled, and leaned in, pressing his lips quickly to hers. She gasped at the suddenness of it all, but he pulled away with equal abruptness. He smirked at her gasp.
"What… was… w-what was…." She began, unable to string coherent words together.
"That," Sirius said, grin growing, "was an early birthday present from me."
He walked off, whistling.
Hermione woke up, hands sweating a little. She wondered for a moment if this was a memory or a fabrication, as she had never remembered it before. The words 'don't tell' crossed her mind.
She blushed to think that the only other person she could ask was Sirius, which she would not be doing any time soon, she thought with absolution.
It was dinnertime, she noticed, and with a sigh got ready to walk down to the kitchen once more that day, wondering quickly if she would see Sirius there.
As she placed a hand on the doorknob of her room, however, she paused, and let two fingers fall lightly on her lips, as if trying to wake up their memories. They said nothing, except causing a slight stirring in Hermione's mind, and she wondered momentarily if Sirius tasted like cinnamon.
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"Someone has breached the security of the arch." The man said with certainty.
"This is bad news." A smaller, whimpering man muttered.
"Don't you think I know that?" The first man demanded, blond hair practically flaring with his anger. "And whoever it was must be killed… for his or her own good."
The smaller man danced from foot to foot. "Must… must be killed… it is necessary… for the plan…."
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A/N: Speculations? On either who the two men are, what the plan is, or whether the "memory" is real or not, I mean. Sorry if you think this is cliffhangy, this really was the best I could do.