Harry's godfather. Her mind whispered at her, semi-desperately. She allowed a melancholy smile to drift over her features, and wondered for a moment why she even cared. She would hold out for Ron for as long as she had to. The spell had messed up and given her the wrong person—she had to wait until she was strong enough to remedy that.
End of story.
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Hermione and Sirius both exited their rooms the next morning at the same time. Hermione looked away a little and blushed; Sirius had no shirt on, and his well-toned muscles flexed evenly as he stretched out his back and yawned. He grinned a little when she looked back up at him and waved.
She waved back.
Walking side-by-side down the narrow hall, their shoulders brushed against each other. They entered the kitchen, and Sirius immediately walked to the now decently-stocked pantry. He snorted at its contents, and then wandered over to the refrigerator. His hand reached in, then came back out, now holding a carton of eggs.
"Pans?" He asked, turning to Hermione.
"Hmm?" She had been caught up watching his movements; they were loping and graceful, much like a lazy dog's. The way his muscles flexed and slid underneath his skin, and the narrowness of his waist… she remembered with an inner sigh how wonderful it had felt to hold her arm around that waist….
"Er… pans?" Sirius repeated, in a teasing tone.
Hermione turned Weasley red and looked away, pointing to the pull-out drawer under the oven. "Thank you." Sirius said, walking over to pull it open and selecting a frying pan from inside it.
He tapped the stove with Hermione's wand, handed it back to her, and it was immediately the perfect temperature. He placed the frying pan on it to let it heat a little, and then cracked three eggs on it at once. They sizzled. Hermione's face slowly turned back to its normal color as she tucked her wand back into her pocket.
Sirius turned back to smile at Hermione. She was pointedly looking the other direction. He coughed, and she looked at him. They both blushed a little, smiling.
"How many do you want?"
"Oh, just one is fine." Hermione said airily.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Hermione, eyes wide, said, "What?"
"How about five? You've become much skinnier than you were when I last saw you… you're almost as bad as Harry was." He looked her up and down again. "No, wait… you're far worse than Harry was."
"I'm fine with one or two."
"You'll be fine with whatever I put in front of you." Sirius said, winking flirtatiously.
Hermione rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers on the table. She looked around the room, and then suddenly sat up straight, giving Sirius a direct look.
"How can you walk around like… like that when it's so cold?" She asked, with a half-smile.
He grinned. "Don't you like it?"
Hermione just snorted. Sirius sighed with a smile and leaned up against the table.
"You know what's wrong with you?" He asked, and she gave him an offended look, but then defiantly stuck out her chin.
"What?"
He leaned around the table and pecked her on the cheek.
"Nothing." He said, pulling back with that roguish grin she was just really getting to know so well.
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Sirius sat around that night, contemplating everything that had happened that day. So many near misses… he had almost begun to believe that Hermione was avoiding his advances on purpose.
"I'm not advancing on her." Sirius told himself firmly.
He looked at his own reflection. He had not even managed to convince himself. She affected him in a way no other girl had. Even as a teenager, he had been able to flirt meaninglessly with girls, throwing away their affections with ease. A kind of monster of pride reared up inside him, however, when Hermione blushed or smiled, but most especially when she laughed. He had spent the entire day cheering her up, and had gotten considerably far. She was definitely more open with him than she had been when he had first seen her.
Then again, a brick wall was more open with me than when I first saw Hermione, Sirius thought, though not without a smile.
He leaned back into bed, slowly, and just began drifting off, brainstorming ways to make Hermione happy.
One hit him with the ferocity of a Hungarian Horntail in full flight… he sat up with a gasp and looked around the room, as if to check where he was. He suddenly understood something that would make Hermione's Christmas… probably secure her happiness for the rest of her life.
How to do it was another thing entirely….
Sleep, which had been so tantalizingly close moments before, was utterly forgotten now, as Sirius paced to and fro in his room, occasionally pressing his ear to the wall between his room and Hermione's to hear her deep breathing.
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At midnight, Hermione woke up and looked around her room. For some reason, she could not get comfortable. She had awoken so many times already that night, each time after reliving that made-up moment with Sirius in the hall of Grimmauld Place, so many years ago.
She needed to do something, and nothing in her room offered her any entertainment. She put on a thin dressing gown over her bedclothes and breezed out into the hall, winding it to the den.
When she entered, however, she found that she was not the only one up so late. Sirius looked up from the couch, where he had been reading a book. He smiled at her, laying it down around numerous other books on the floor.
"You keep a tight ship in here." He said sarcastically. Hermione's eyes shot quizzically to the book, but when he just shrugged, she let it drop.
"Yeah, well, I have to, with such distinguished company around here." Hermione said, and Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Ouch. That hurt."
There was a silence enough for the Hogwarts Express to pass through the conversation, before Hermione, nervously shifting weight from one foot to the other, finally broke it, blurting out, "Do you remember the summer when… well, before my fifth year, when the boys and I stayed with you at Grimmauld Place?"
"Always snooping around, you were, with those Extendables." Sirius said, scooting over to allow Hermione room to lie next to him on the couch. Hesitantly, she did so. "You were… what, sixteen then?"
"Fifteen. It was a month or so before my sixteenth birthday."
Sirius's eye gleamed. "I remember. I think I gave you a certain… present then, didn't I?"
Hermione froze. It was real. She did not know if she was more surprised that it had actually happened or disappointed that Sirius could speak of it with such nonchalance.
She blushed brick red, and Sirius, noticing this, suddenly went pale and stiff. "Wait…" he said, wheels clicking into place in his head, "that wasn't… your first, was it?" He had heard about how women bonded with the person who gave them their first kiss, if even on a subconscious level. Although you wouldn't mind Hermione having a thing for you, would you, you dog?
"No." Hermione said vehemently, shaking her head. "But…" her blush, if possible, deepened, "it was definitely the best." She paused, then said, "Still is."
Sirius froze.
Hermione looked at him, measuring quickly, with an almost panicked look on her face. Definitely embarrassed. Mainly panicked. She began to stand up.
"Sorry if I've made you uncomfortable…."
"No." Sirius said instantly, shooting out his arm to pull Hermione back down. "You stay right here."
Very tentatively, she lay back down. He wrapped an arm around her.
"You're staying with me until we both fall asleep."
Hermione began to fizz, heart pounding wildly, thrashing about inside her chest, and indeed she wondered if she would ever sleep again. Yet somehow, when Sirius's breathing evened out on her ear, a wave of calm crashed over her, and she found it easy to fall asleep in his arms.
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Hermione awoke. Trying very hard not to jolt Sirius about, she checked her watch. It was about three in the morning. She rolled out from inside his embrace, feeling a slight emptiness as she did.
He stirred, and immediately rolled to take up the part of the couch she had previously occupied. For a moment, she knelt beside the couch, admiring how he looked when he slept. His arms and legs were helter-skelter, his hair disheveled as it never was during the day. His face looked so much at peace, his lips slightly parted. Hermione wondered what it would be like if she kissed those lips, porcelain in the moonlight….
She leaned to do so, but Sirius stirred again, mumbling something, and tossed his head the other way. Hermione froze, then leaned and kissed his cheek, gingerly, pulling the cover at his feet up around his chest. Her heart had picked up its slow, heavy beating once more, and currently resided somewhere inside her throat.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, and then to his.
Pushing off the ground, she wandered back to her room, and, just before going through the door, turned to look back at Sirius sleeping. She smiled at him, and then turned out the den light.
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A/N: Haha, yeah, you only wish I had ended it back then. No, you're stuck with me for a good while. I guarantee you'll know who the blond man is (some of you probably do already) by the time I wrap this up. WooT for George lovers across the planet! He's the better twin!