Chapter 9
Neither one of them said anything about Hermione waking up in Sirius's bed. It was something they both knew was probably wrong in all reality of it, but neither one said anything. Hermione could have gotten up at any point in time and returned to her own bed, but when she opened her eyes around three o'clock in the morning she changed her mind.
Sirius laid flat on his back, his head turned slightly away from her with the moonlight accenting his perfect silhouette. His toned arms lay above the covers, one up around his head and the other carefully placed over his stomach. He looked like a sleeping dark angel next to her, far enough to give her her own personal space.
Even though the clock stood at three o'clock, Hermione found herself drifting back asleep, feeling peace and comfort. She hated to admit it, even in her groggy state, but she had never felt so comfortable, so warm and so relaxed, until that night.
Maybe it was because the room she laid in had more of her personal things among it and the general feeling of knowing that, helped. She could look over and see her old dresser, some clothes hanging in the closet on her side, a much wider window letting the moon's rays grace the room with a blue hue that seemed to radiate a more tranquil aura.
It was a shame that she'd not be able to do this often, because the very idea of sharing a bed with Sirius brought up to many dirty ideas. Something that wasn't supposed to be on her mind in this situation, but the way he started to focus his attention on her, the way he'd wear those fitting pants, the way he admitted he was responsible for her, the fact that his half naked body was sprawled out next to her, the way he was just nicer to her, forced her old childhood crush on him to resurface.
As sleep was about to reclaim her, she stole one more glimpse at him, and his rising bare chest, envisioning the lucky girl that would be able to attract Sirius Black. For a fleeting moment the butterflies in her stomach began to tickle as she pretended to be that naughty girl for him, sprawled naked under those same sheets.
As the sun rays kissed her face, turning in from the moon, Hermione woke up to the soft tinkering sounds of cups in the kitchen. She forced herself from the layers of soft blankets and left his room. She wandered out into the kitchen, greeting him good morning and then taking a seat at their little table.
She watched Sirius stir two cups of coffee, "I think we're secure enough when I ask you, don't you think what you're wearing is a little skimpy for house wear?"
Hermione crossed her legs and glanced down her tank top, taking note that she was probably showing a little more than necessary for running around the flat. "No, why? Do we have company coming this morning?"
He turned around, a cup in each hand, and set them down on the table. "No, just merely commenting that you might not be completely aware of how much you're showing."
There, he finally said it. Maybe now, she'd take the hint to put on more clothes around him, if she was going to lay around on her days and nights off. The temptation had just been too great and he was sure that if she kept her lack of clothes up, he was sure to say or do something that he might regret. It was better to nip it in the bud, before anything was to develop.
Hermione glanced down at her cup, making a mental note that he had learned to make her coffee the way she liked it. Feeling a little confident, she called him on it, "Does it bother you that I wear this? Does my lack of clothing offend you?"
He barked with laughter, quickly taking the cup away from his lips for fear that he might snort it out his nose, "Merlin's Beard, no." he chuckled, "Hell, if it was up to me, I'd rather have you walk around here naked. But, that's just my opinion and by that, I'm sure I've said too much. I was just merely trying to point it out, before I accidentally released the inner animal in me. Remember, once the dog gets let out, I am no longer responsible for my actions."
Hermione giggled and nodded, "Please, as if I would ever be your type?" she quickly threw out.
Sirius raised his eyebrows with interest as he went in for his coffee for a second time, "I don't know. You might be. I don't have a type."
"Oh, don't lie," she played it cool and confident, but deep inside her heart was fluttering like a parakeet trying to break free, "I've seen the women you go out with."
"What's wrong with them? I happened to have gone out with nice girls before I was married," he winked, carefully sipping his coffee and thoroughly loving the topic of conversation. Perhaps he'd be able to throw a few hints out there, to see if she'd bite.
Hermione giggled in the most mature way she knew how when she was serious in answering, "Oh, don't give me that. I've seen all the kinds of girls you've gone out with and they all fit the same type."
"You think so? Humor me, Hermione. Tell me what I don't see."
"They all seem to either be ten – fifteen years younger, very rarely have I seen you with women your age-"
Sirius snorted, quite taken with her observation and leaned back in his chair to listen to her in comfort.
"They either don't have much to think on their own and make up for it with their physical attributes, or they only have their physical attributes to go on, alone. You love being doted on, you crave attention and you wish to be the only man in their life, but wish to have several women at your own disposal."
Sirius couldn't speak. He just sat there, with a dumb look on his face, never believing that he appeared like that to anyone, let alone, Hermione. For a second, and only a second he was embarrassed, but shook himself out of it to lean up and ask, "Then, what, pray tell, would be your type?"
Hermione swallowed the lump forming in her throat, "I'm not sure. I've gone out with a few different ones."
"Like that quidditch player you fancied? What ever happened to him? He was a looker with security." Sirius pried, sipping his coffee cup.
"We just grew apart." She cleared her throat, "Not much more to that, really."
"And Ron?"
She smiled, "Well, you know how that turned out." She ducked her head, letting her curls hide her blushing cheeks.
A few moments passed between them where they felt like they had one on the other, but couldn't help but grin at each other. Were one of them fishing and the other not biting? Or was it that they were both fishing, but neither of them had any bait?
Finally, Sirius emerged from behind his coffee cup and tried, "So, you don't think a young, intelligent, clever pretty witch would ever be my type?"
Hermione quickly glanced up as fast as she glanced back down at her cup, "I don't know. Said young witch might have to go out and buy a leather skirt, fishnets and stilettos to be your type."
Sirius grinned, pleased that she took his bait, "Now, as much as I wouldn't object to a young, intelligent, clever pretty witch wearing said leather skirt, fishnets and stilettos, I wouldn't require it. Something tells me that by living with another young intelligent clever pretty witch, I'd be happy with whatever she's already got."
She looked back up as he finished his comment, leaving a half grin over his lips and leaving her with a thoughtful wink. She, on the other hand, was about to jump out of her skin with excitement. The very idea of starting anything with him, this man, this rebel, this convicted, now free, felon, who's "chosen one" godson was her best friend, made her blood boil. It positively excited her. It was taboo. It was naughty. Was it wrong? Would it honestly be accepted amongst the Order if they did get together? One thing was certain, it'd convince the Ministry once and for all, if they did.
Sirius got up to go to the window where an owl was sitting and pecking away for their attention. He let the owl in, handing it a treat and taking the note that was attached to its leg.
He opened the letter, letting his coffee be refilled by the coffee maker on its own and read the letter aloud, "Dear Mr. Black, congrats once again on your recent marriage. I was deeply saddened that we never went out for drinks like I suggested, but now I, and my readers, see that you're a man that wishes to be tied down." He rolled his eyes and continued on with the letter, "It would be a great pleasure to sit down with you and your wife, Henrietta for an exclusive interview on the muggle/pureblood marriage law. Eager to hear from you, Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet."
"Henrietta? I had so much dirt on that women, and she still goes and screws up my name." Hermione mumbled as she sipped her coffee.
Glancing over at her, he was sorry their morning conversation was interrupted, but was hopeful that they might revisit the subject again, later. "So, should we do it?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders and answered, "I know you like the attention, so I guess so."
"It might stall the Ministry a bit longer, if we really sack it to them good in the story, and you know Rita will add her own comments.
"Stall them?"
Smiling to himself, Sirius took the opportunity to smoothly slide into a darker side, in order to play with her. He slowly swaggered over to her, watching her peek at him through the corner of her eye. He started to raise his hands up under his t-shirt to lift it up and over his head, exposing his half naked flesh, again, there in the kitchen.
His voice was low and seductive when he purred, "Yes, stall the Ministry." He reached a hand up to better lift her face towards him, playing the sexy character to the hilt. Hermione watched him, nervous, with big eyes, a little alarmed that he had suddenly changed right before her eyes, "Otherwise, we better get started on the baby making."
Hermione nearly choked over the lack of oxygen that had vacated her lungs and she abruptly stood up in front of him, pushing past him and setting her cup in the sink, "I think we better do the interview."
Sirius relaxed his puffed out chest and broke into a fit of chuckles, quite pleased with himself with how nervous he made her. As much as he was just being playful, he knew that she saw through him, and only fought her damnedest to deflate his ego. She loved doing that.
Wednesday rolled around and Sirius went to Hermione's work at the building for the Ministry of Magic and onto the floor of her department. Compared to where she had to go for a marriage license, it was another world on her floor. People were nice, considerate and true to the good side, above all else. She held her position as an apprentice to another Auror, hoping to go out on her own in a year. If the war was over before she could be an independent, she had already planned on transferring to the Muggle Studies and Relations department as an investigator.
She heard a slight stir from a few cubicles down from hers and Hermione lifted herself up to peer over them. Walking down the hallway, Sirius sauntered in, looking around for Hermione. A few women had peered over, trying to get a glimpse of him, being that he was a celebrity of some nature. Her entire department knew that she married him, but they were shocked to have not even noticed she was even dating him prior to that.
"We tried to keep it quiet, afraid some wouldn't understand." She would reply whenever cornered in the break room by the women like a pack of hungry dogs.
One woman in her department, claimed to have gone out with him, while they were back out at school. However, when Hermione reintroduced them, he had to bite his tongue, because as hard as he may have looked coming out of Azkaban, this witch looked worse, gaining a little over two hundred pounds in his lost years. Knowing this, the witch raised her chin and pushed past Hermione, as if she had something to prove.
"Wow," Sirius added, taking hold of Hermione's hand as she led him to her cubicle. "Wow, I can't believe that was her." He was virtually stunned as he sat down in the vacant chair next to her desk. "She used to be cute, petite, brunette, not….not…"
"Shhh, Sirius, stop it!" she joked, playfully holding his hand for others to see.
"I could have been married to that?" he continued to gawk, lowering his voice so only Hermione could hear.
"You were engaged to her?" she asked, a little surprised.
"No, I dumped her before our sixth year, but you never know. What if I hadn't? I would have been condemned to a life of-"
"Stop it!" she laughed, lowering her voice and squeezing his hand. "I still have to work with that woman."
"Then protect me," he suggested, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she didn't have to stand. "Or, she might smother me with those gigantic things hiding under her blouse."
She put her arm around his neck, smiling at him and letting him hold her steady on his lap, with his arms wrapped loosely around her slender waist. He openly laughed for her, pretending to be frightened and using her as a shield.
Catching them off guard, a bright flash bulb distracted them and there standing as the smoke cleared was Rita Skeeter, dressed in a blue and white striped suit with her photographer behind her. Her quill was already poised and ready, smiling wide and cocking her left eyebrow.
"Ah, love," she started, looking into the air as if searching for a catchy headline, "Two worlds finding each other… or something of that nature." She pulled a chair closer for her to sit down and start the Quick Quotes Quill. Upon getting comfortable, she got a good look at Hermione and gasped just slightly, "Oh, it's you? You're the muggleborn he married?" Her eyes were as big as saucers as she saw them as an even bigger story than she could imagine.
"Yes, I'm the one." Hermione repeated, holding her chin high and feeling Sirius's hand squeeze her waist.
"Well," she flipped her blonde curls over her shoulder, tipping her chin down to peer at Sirius through her half moon pointy spectacles. "Sirius Black has gone and married his godson's ex-girlfriend."
"We never dated!" Hermione interjected, still trying to claim that that story wasn't right.
"Right, dear," she ignored, paying more attention to Sirius, "Sirius, tell me, what does it feel like to be incarcerated once again, but in your own home?"
"Excuse me?" Hermione squeaked.
Sirius chuckled at how poorly the interview started, but ended up putting Rita in her place a few times. Granted, not too much of it sounded like it would come out right the way they quoted it, as Rita had that reputation for not getting any bit of it right.
Mostly, the attention was on Sirius, being the known celebrity and Rita continued on to compare his new marriage to a muggleborn to that of being incarcerated in Azkaban. As usual, Sirius put on the charm, played up the part and was lucky to "cop-a-feel" over Hermione's rear as he strategically placed it there to keep her on his lap during the interview.
With a friendly good-bye, and one more chance to have Sirius take Rita up on drinks when he was free, the blabbering reporter left with her photographer in tow.
"Well, that went horribly." Hermione said, standing up from Sirius's lap. He remained in the seat, tilting his head back and letting his dark locks fall behind his shoulders.
"Not necessarily. It cleared a bit up, and now I'm sure the Ministry might start kissing our arses over it. Don't worry." He charmed, grinning up at her and reaching for her hand.
"And the nerve of that woman! Flirting with you, right in front of me." She let him take her hand in his and gently squeezed it, "She had no shame."
Sirius feigned shock, "Why Hermione, would we be jealous?"
"No." she quietly said, looking away from him and focusing on a paper on her desk.
"I think you were…" he purred, "But, not to worry, I wouldn't touch her with even Draco's dirty wand."
Hermione turned her head to hide her smile, secretly pleased.
"Come on, let's go get lunch." He suggested, standing up and tugging her behind him.
"I can't, Sirius. I've got a lot of work to catch up on. We've got this lead that Narcissa-"
"No, no. Break now. Don't make me carry you out of here. I want to have lunch with you and you have no say in it." He smiled, shaking his head to allow his pretty dark locks to flick around his face.
Hermione managed to get playfully dragged along the corridor of her office, standing quite the opposite of her "husband". Sirius trucked along in fitted leather pants, fresh from riding his motorcycle, blue t-shirt, jean jacket and boots. Whereas, Hermione balanced well being tugged along in medium heels, knee's length A-line purple skirt and a white short sleeved button up shirt. While playfully fighting against him, Sirius protested that he was taking her out to lunch to a few familiar faces that he knew, like Kingsley Shaklebot.
Hermione was passing her boss's door, when she reached out to grab it. She pulled against Sirius, forcing him to stop suddenly. She stuck her head in the doorway, "My husband is taking me out to lunch. Is that okay?" she smiled when she glanced over at Sirius who was making impatient sounds.
Her boss nodded, not saying too much other than to be back on time and with the final words, Sirius pulled her to him, threw his arm around her waist and held her tight against him.
Later that evening, back at home, Sirius and Hermione had kept their new routine of reading together at the end of the night. Just like Saturday, they did it from Sirius's room, rather than the couch. Hermione enjoyed having his company next to her when she read and felt no threat of being taken advantage of, while lying in the Lion's Den. They were comfortable enough with this routine to not ask for anything more, and Hermione would return to her own bedroom whenever one started to nod off.
Hermione closed her book and glanced over at Sirius who was finishing up the last sentence he was on, before looking back at her. Once he did, she sat up and took a deep breath to ready herself. She had been mentally planning her next move all day. She thought about how she would go about it, how he might take it, and hoped it wouldn't go in the wrong direction.
So, as she sat up and collected herself to leave, she slowly leaned over and placed a gentle chaste kiss on his cheek, causing him to close his eyes from the feather-like touch of her lips.
When Sirius looked over and saw her coming in, he had no idea what she was going to do. For a few seconds, he thought she might just be fluffing up his pillow or leaning in to say something. Never would he think that she was going to make the sincere effort to leave a kiss on his cheek. He felt a light flutter in his chest which he couldn't explain and felt, slightly, foolish to even be thinking anything for this girl.
She leaned back with a slight curve in her lips and began to slowly slide off the bed to leave. In a fraction of a second, Sirius decided that he needed to stall her. See her longer. Smell her scent. Without thinking, he quickly reached out, dropping his book on his chest, and took her hand, before it was completely out of his grasp. She stopped and glanced over at him, waiting for him to say something.
Sirius just looked at her, afraid of what might actually leave his lips once he allowed them to speak. Up until now, he was full of witty innuendos, but until she pressed forward and offered him that innocent kiss on the cheek, his brain was as blank as the soul of prisoner after a Dementor's Kiss. Nothing intelligent came to mind that would convince her otherwise to stay.
"Don't go." He whispered in an unsteady voice.
Hermione locked eyes with him, mentally scolding herself for making such a bold move on him. Her body stilled, waiting for him to continue, as her pulse started to throb in her throat. Surely, he wasn't serious.
"Stay here, tonight." He rasped, his voice straining to keep up with his thoughts, trying to form a decent sentence.
She smiled, but it quickly faltered, afraid she wasn't hearing it right, "What?"
"Stay with me, tonight. Like the way you did Saturday, night." He smirked and added, "I'll be a perfect gentleman."
Hermione looked away, as if thoroughly thinking of the damage it might do, if she did stay. She wasn't sure if she could willingly stay there, not touch him and have a pleasant nights sleep.
She stood up from the bed and hesitantly replied, "I can't."
In a second, Sirius felt his heart fall. He was so close to feeling the heat that radiated off her skin like a soothing kettle that he felt he said too much. He had scared her away. He had grown so accustomed to having her in the house, he was sure it wasn't going to be easy after this arrangement was over. Ever since he found the letter from her parents, lying on the kitchen counter inviting her home for the weekend for a "breather" as they called it, it finally donned on him that they weren't really married.
They lived a nice life together, but only as friends; only as secure and comfortable roommates. He felt that the two had an undeclared, indecisive chemistry, but was weary about bringing it up. He felt a subtle burning from her eyes whenever she got a good look at him and it sent him reeling. He felt vulnerable around her, like he would do anything she asked, if only….she'd ask. It was one thing to break the rules and initiate something with her, she being twenty-one years his junior. But, it had already been established that he wasn't like Remus. He wasn't in his right mind of being someone about to embrace the age of forty; he'd been cheated, lied to and thrown away to be forgotten. Since he'd returned from the Veil, he promised himself to try and recapture those lost years with grace, dignity and "fucking" style, as he called it.
He was going to live his life the way he wanted, in the manner of his choosing. He'd cat around the way he always wanted, he'd drink until he passed out, party with the best of them, defend anyone that was on his side, and gladly sacrifice himself for Harry or anyone else in the Order.
It was a hectic life to lead, from an outside eye, but what plagued him the most was how dramatically it had changed in only two months. Seen only as an assignment, he Sirius was learning a great deal about himself and even more about a person that was, literally, thrown at him. As it was pointed out to him, just that weekend, he was finally learning to look inside the box, rather than just its exterior. What he thought he needed was turning out to not be what he wanted.
And here it stood, unable to put into words, the fact that he had just asked Hermione to spend the night with him with no strings attached. He craved the warmth of the female flesh, yes, but in Hermione it was something else, something much more. Something almost wholesome. She walked her walk, but not in a slinky way he so often followed. She blushed, but not after a dirty proposition. She laughed, but never at him. She was just Hermione.
Hermione returned to her own room, dashing to the door the second she rounded the corner into the hallway. She quickly stepped inside, shut her door and dropped her book. She felt her hands beginning to tremble, her stomach beginning to churn and her lips beginning to redden as she bit them hard to suppress her giddiness.
She paced the area in front of her bed, half wanting to just crawl into it and hide under the covers, the other wanting so desperately to go back into his room and take him up on his offer. But, it was rash. It was wrong. It was a bad idea. No one would understand.
But, then again, that was the idea. What better way to convince them, then for it to be real?
Hermione entertained the idea for a little longer, wondering if Mr. Black would have been as gentlemanly as he said he would. Finally allowing the right decision to win, she climbed into her own bed, pulled the covers up by her face and slowly allowed herself to drift off to sleep as she cursed herself for leaving his room in the first place.