The garden of The Burrow. The first time he can ever visit anybody in ages. In fifteen years, to be exact. He just sits in the autumn sun and feels the warmth on his skin. Wamth he has missed for so long. His black hair falls onto his shoulders. His skin is still pale from all those years he has been locked away from light, but it is getting better day by day.

From far away, he hears voices, voices from his beloved ones. His godson Harry, who has grown into a young man, as has his best friend Ron Weasley. Ron's sister and brothers, they are all noisily enjoying the last sunny days of the year. For him, these are the first sunny days of his new life.

Sirius streches his long legs in front of him, relaxing, rethinking those last few weeks, weeks in freedom. He has been cleared of all charges, they said he was innocent, innocent at last. Now he can go wherever he wants. And he chose here, with his friends and family.

Sirius lets his thoughts wander, his new, free thoughts. He gets sleepy and allows himself to do so, finally he can give himself in to daydreams again, after all those years when dreams were nothing but nightmares and constant alertness was the only thing that kept him alive. Dreams and memories mix up, make him smile.

He sees the past few weeks, the warm welcome, the partys in the garden,

…a new, unknown smile on soft red lips…,

Quidditch with the kids,

…streaks of sun-gold in dark brown curls…

He thinks of all the conversations, of the jokes,

…letting our thoughts wander toghether, to places belonging entirely to the two of us….

He smiles, when he thinks of the taste of Mrs. Weasley's delicious food, drinks in the circle of his friends,

…Butterbeer, slowly wiped away from those sensual lips…

Sirius sees the candles, enlightening the remainigs of dinner in the garden in late summer nights,

…when only the two of us were still outside, invisible in the dark, watching the stars, no need to talk, the moonlight making chocolte eyes sparkle, (or was it the moonlight?)…

Sirius hears the sound of joyful music, voices of friends in the air,

…breath meeting suntanned shoulders, neck, following the delicate lines of that perfect, warm body…her arms, thrown around his neck, being close, finally after waiting much too long. After all those weeks since he had first seen her again, since he had discovered an attraction that first seemed impossible, then impossibly strong. The moment last night, when they found theirselves alone in the garden again, after everyone had gone to bed, trying not to look at each other, knowing that it would be impossible to resist this time – and failing.The first taste of her lips, tenderly at first, but very soon deeper, more demanding. Her body pressing against his, lost for logic and sensibility.

Then her hand in his when he leads her up to his bedroom.
The slow movement of the same hand, peeling away one strap of her light red summer dress, the other one falling by itself. The dress on the floor, her stepping over it, stepping towards him on the bed, never breaking the look between them.
She is so beautiful, she feels so perfect in his arms when he embraces her, pulls her towards him. Then the feeling of her skin on his, he lowers her onto the bed, making her tremble by tracing every inch of her body, by kissing, tasting every spot he can reach. He can smell her flavour, she smells like warm wood and roses, female and sweet…
Her hands around his face, when she pulls him up, to kiss him, she looks into his eyes, nodding slowly and he fulfills her wish, his own wish.

Him inside her, their movements so perfect toghether, breathlessly clinging to each other, desire and lust washing over them like an allmighty wave.
He forgets who he was, now he is just the man she looks at this way, when he is deep insinde her, the man whose name sounds so perfect when she whispers it, moans it, smiles it. She belongs to him now and he knows he won't need any other possesion for the rest of his life. When he watches the sun rise slowly outside the window, throwing streaks of light through the curtains on her naked skin as she sleeps beside him, he is almost jealous, because he can't watch her being touched by anything but his own hands.
And she wakes up, looking into his eyes, her hair wild and tangled, her voice still a bit husky from all the sweet word she whispered to him last night… She nuzzles against his chest.

Sirius draws a deep breath, hungry for the sweet, sunny air. It smells like grass and birdsong, like warm breezes and a long summer, like warm wood and roses.

Sirus opens his eyes. She is sitting next to him, her smiling eyes meeting his. "What are you thinking of?"

Sirius leans in to her, so close that he could almost kiss her and whispers against her lips: "I don't think, I dream. I dream of you, Hermione."