Hermione stood in the doorway of the Burrow with Sirius even as she fell asleep, her head swimming in the last remaining dredges of alcohol lingering in her body. Her brain flipped through the moments over and over again, like a record skipping at her most favorite part of a song. His scent was burned in her memory like the end of a cigarette on her skin. She imagined the sandalwood and leather and mint as she hugged her pillow tightly against her chest and could almost feel him embracing her again. She could taste his breath as his mouth was an inch from hers before he bid her goodnight. She could feel his beard tickle her face as he gently laid a kiss on her forehead. She could feel his hands resting on her hips, his fingertips digging in ever so slightly as he teased her. The thought of Sirius in this new and exciting way made her skin prickle, and she wondered if she had ever felt this way with Ron.
One side of her wanted to feel a little guilty for this whirlwind affair beginning to blossom, but another side of her, a side that she did not realize existed until this evening, explained away the doubts with fervor (which in turn made her feel all the more guilty, for some reason). After all, Sirius was twenty years her senior, but that just meant he was mature and experienced, a breath of fresh air considering the last person she "dated." He was a mentor and her best friend's godfather, but he knew her better than she might have thought, and she trusted him to no end. He met her when she was thirteen, but back then she was a child,and now she was a woman, and a woman is perfectly capable of being with a man. She tousled with herself over the fact that something as frivolous as her budding feelings for Sirius were more than just hasty, they were reckless. They were in a war, she told herself. But really, they weren't. They had lost the war, and this was a consolation for that. Perhaps this is what happiness will look like for her. Perhaps her fight could be over, and she should consider this a victory. She nestled her face deeper into the pillow that she clenched to her chest and inhaled deeply, still smelling Sirius. Perhaps she could simply accept this and settle into Sirius in the same way that she would settle into a good book. Content, comfortable, and safe.
She awoke with a start as Ginny plopped down on her bed right beside her head, bouncing her head against the springy, worn mattress. Hermione's hair was in a tangled knot on top of her head, as she neglected to take it down from the bun the night before. Her mouth was dry and tasted like old wine, and her eyes felt sticky with dehydration. She desperately needed a glass of water and a rinse.
"You have a gentleman caller downstairs," Ginny said excitedly as Hermione rubbed her face with her fists, attempting to wake up.
"Oh, really? Who is it this time?" Hermione joked through a yawn. Ginny punched her in the arm playfully.
"Mum has been trying to force feed him breakfast, but so far he has been politely declining. I reckon you better get down there before he's not so polite anymore." Hermione knew that wasn't in Sirius nature to be impolite to Mrs. Weasley. In fact, despite his reputation from his younger years, she'd never imagine him being impolite to anybody. Ginny helped her untangle her hair and managed to tame it into a loose braid draping over her shoulder. She pulled on jeans and a loose fitting, low cut t-shirt, brushed her teeth and splashed her face, and headed down the stairs. She didn't mind her low maintenance routine as she went down to meet Sirius. If he didn't like her like this, then he didn't like her at all. Not that he had a choice in the matter anyway. She met Sirius standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting eagerly for her as he purposefully had his back toward Mrs. Weasley and the pan full of eggs, sausage, and potatoes that she was waving around.
"Good morning, Hermione," Sirius said dreamily. Hermione's stomach did a somersault as she had to remind herself how stairs worked and how not to fall down them.
"Good morning," she replied through another yawn. "Why are you here so early? Did we plan something?" She scratched her head as she wondered if they had made a rendezvous while she was under the influence. The daylight shining through the kitchen window made her wince.
"Not exactly, but I figured-"
"Sirius, if you won't eat, at least let poor Hermione have a toast and a tonic!" Mrs. Weasley said as she pushed past him and handed her a saucer with a piece of bread and a small glass with a thick orange liquid. "This will make that headache go right away, dearest," she said as she patted her on the cheek. Sirius smiled uncomfortably as Hermione downed the liquid and shoved the toast in her mouth. She could tell Sirius was eager to get out of the Burrow. As soon as they stepped across the threshold of the front door, Sirius grabbed Hermione's hand and they disapparated from the Burrow.
They landed in front of an old brick building with a rod iron fence defending the yard from the sidewalk. Sirius flicked his wand at the front of the building and the bricks began to split in two, making the front wall ten feet wider as a heavy wooden door appeared out of thin air. Hermione had last been to Grimmauld place less than a year ago, as it had been home to their meetings during the war. It was a strange feeling coming back now. Sirius opened the door and Hermione half expected for a cloud of dust to erupt in her face, but to her surprise, none did. Instead, she smelled a slight whiff of lemon furniture polish and fresh paint. As she stepped inside, she heard the excited plops of flat, bare feet coming down the stairs, and Kreacher greeted her uncharacteristically in a freshly-washed tea towel.
"Nice to see you, Miss Granger," Kreacher said with a low, scratchy voice. "I hope you enjoy the renovations that were made to the Black family residence. Kreacher certainly hopes so." Hermione looked around at where curtains of cobwebs used to cling to the corners of the vaulted ceilings and the tops of surfaces that always had an inch of dust collected on top.
"Sirius," Hermione began in shock, "you cleaned?" Sirius nodded his head, as if he were a child who was excited to show his mom how clean his room was.
"Yes, with Kreacher's help of course."
"And you painted!" She exclaimed as she noticed the walls were now a fresh dusty rose color. She quite liked the new look of 12 Grimmauld Place. She noticed a shadow where a portrait of Sirius's mother had clung to the wall for decades.
"That likeness of my dear mother is still with us, unfortunately. I allowed Kreacher to keep it in his nest in the attic. She seems to keep much quieter up there with him." Kreacher mumbled something under his breath as he trudged slowly down the hallway toward the kitchen.
"Well I love what you've done with the place, Sirius! Much less dreary than it was." Sirius smiled and touched the small of Hermione's back, a little more reserved this morning than he was last night in the doorway. Hermione nearly jumped at his touch.
"I'm so happy you like it. I do need your help with something though," he said as he took her hand and started up the stairs to the second floor. He opened a door at the beginning on the hallway that opened into an empty bedroom.
"This will be yours. I'd like to know how you want things arranged so I can have it ready for you." Hermione was somewhat taken aback.
"My own bedroom?" She questioned Sirius. "But we will be married."
"Well, yes, but-" Sirius seemed to trip over his words. He did not expect Hermione to object. "I want you to be comfortable, and I figured having your own space would help you with that, considering we will both be shoved into the same space, I'm sure you will want your privacy." He pulled his hand away from her as she could suddenly feel a bit of tension rising.
"I definitely appreciate the sentiment," she said. "Will there be a bed in here?" She looked at him as he stared into the open room and she watched him bite the inside of his cheek, not certain how to answer her question.
"I don't see the harm in having one in here," he finally said. Hermione pouted her lip out just slightly.
"Will I be expected to sleep in here?" She asked casually, for she really did not know. The fantasy of being married to Sirius was one thing, but the reality to come was another. He was a very private man to the outside, but was he this private on the inside as well? Sirius once again did not answer right away, but shrugged his shoulder to one side. Hermione watched him struggle with the right thing to say, with the right thing to feel. Last night, the alcohol lowered their inhibitions, made them much more comfortable in each other's company, but this morning it was a little more difficult to reach that point. She didn't necessarily expect that from Sirius, but she understood. "May I see your room?" Sirius cringed a bit as he looked at her and pointed to the end of the hall.
"My room hasn't gotten the full treatment as the rest of the house yet," he said. "But I'll show you. You'll have to see it eventually I suppose." He opened the door to his bedroom and allowed Hermione to step inside. His room looked like one of a child who had grown up. There were banners on the wall displaying the Gryffindor lion, and pictures of him and his friends from his school days. A king sized four-poster bed with thick, disheveled bed sheets sat tall in the middle of the room. Laundry, parchment, and books piled on and around the desk against the window. Overall, it was exactly what Hermione expected of Sirius's living quarters.
Hermione traipsed over to the bed, flattened out the duvet, and sunk down into the fluffy mattress. Sirius remained leaning against the doorway watching her carefully, dissecting her intentions. Hermione sat on the bed and locked eyes with him, not saying a word. She wasn't feeling as bold as the evening before, but she wanted him to walk toward her, to put his hands on her hips like he had done before, to kiss her on the mouth instead of the forehead. They remained in each other's gazes for what seemed like ages before Sirius finally pushed himself up and took a few steps towards her. He stopped in front of her, about an arms length away, and looked down at her, his hair falling down over his eyebrows and enveloping his face in a curtain. She looked up at him and reached for the hem of his shirt to pull him closer to her. Hermione's heart pounded into her ears as Sirius bent down and pressed his forehead into hers, and his hand traveled the side of her face. She allowed him to nudge her upper body onto the bed, her legs dangling off the edge of it, as his lips met hers gently and his fingers swept through her hair and rested on the back of her neck, supporting her as he leaned into her. His other hand rested cozily on her hip as he cradled her against him as he kissed her, his mouth moving in a way that she wondered if she could keep up with. His lips and his tongue moved so harmoniously together, and his every movement had such a purpose. Every turn of his head, every flick of his tongue, every brush of his fingertips did something to Hermione that she had never dreamed of nibbled on Sirius's bottom lip as his hand traveled down to her thigh and he lightly grabbed a fistful of hair. She inhaled quickly in surprise and Sirius pulled away from her, wiping his lip.
"Sorry, love," he said with a smile as he smoothed down his hair. "Almost got a little carried away." He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into an upright position as she wiped her mouth, her lips rosy from his beard. She had only ever kissed two others before, and they both seemed to her now like kissing a dead fish compared to kissing Sirius. He was clearly very practiced and it made her equal parts exhilarated and nervous. Hermione looked at him and didn't bother hiding her blushing cheeks. "Surprisingly," he continued, "I didn't bring you here to snog you."
"Oh, you didn't? Then why on earth am I here?" Hermione laughed. Sirius pulled her to her feet and rested his hands on her hips. He then placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose.
"You haven't seen the kitchen yet. It's a mess."
