September 25th, 2005.
Sirius sat down on the couch, pressing play on the remote and propping Hermione's feet on his lap. Her toes wriggled playfully, and she hissed at him like a kitten when he gave her ankle a playful smack. They soon lapsed into a peaceful silence, only the sound of the movie being absorbed by the walls surrounding them.
They occasionally made funny remarks on the incredulous things that happened in the story. Other times, their hands touched as they both grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at each other, opening their mouths desperately to catch the flying pieces.
He felt rather engrossed into the warmth that her body radiated, and he wondered how deep and far it went. Would he feel it on her lips if he were to—no, bad Padfoot.
"This was nice," he told her, his voice strained at his attempt of distracting himself. The last thing he wanted was for him to get a boner with her feet close enough to feel it.
She gave her beaming smile and he stared at her in awe. It was as if her radiating smile lightened up the freckles scattered across her cheeks. He promised himself he would enchant them to look like glitter under the night sky, one by one as he kissed her all over.
He groaned internally and thanked all heavens when the Floo activated and the Potters walked in. His face split into a grin when he noticed the state of James's hair and Lily's smudged lipstick.
"Well, don't you look thoroughly shagged," he announced playfully, and Hermione smacked his arm slightly.
Lily rolled her eyes while James grinned smugly, messing up his hair even further for Merlin knows what reason. Technically, it did get the redhead's attention at Hogwarts year and now, Sirius was starting to wonder if he should pull a James with Hermione.
He scowled immediately at the thought of ruining his beautiful hair. Never mind, he'll find another way.
"Nothing you weren't used to seeing before, Pads."
Sirius arched a brow. "True. But we don't want our dear Hermione to lose her innocence now, do we?"
He cajoled in amusement, grinning at the affronted look on the pretty witch's face.
Lily walked over to the other sofa, sitting down and pulling her auburn hair into a ponytail. She eyed him in disbelief and let out a loud snort. "Hermione? Innocent? You've got the wrong person." The married witch shared a knowing look with her husband and then a flustered Hermione.
"What does she know that I don't?" he demanded, looking at Hermione with his lips pursed into a pout.
James joined his wife on the couch and snickered at his expression. "Don't tell me Sirius doesn't know!"
Everyone turned to look at Hermione, whose full lips curved in amusement at his confusion. "Well," she started and briefly paused into an unnecessary, dramatic pause. "I may or may not have gotten a couple of tattoos . . ."
His breath hitched at the thought of kissing the ink etched on her soft, tanned skin—licking and sucking every line and trace of it. Something was throbbing down there, and he resisted the urge to just flee the room and head straight to have a cold shower. You're Sirius Black, he told himself. Surely, you can handle a hard-on after this long.
"Wh—" he cleared his throat and avoided a set of knowing looks, watching him mirthfully. "When did you get them?"
She tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, and he continued to gawk at it as she pondered on his question. "A couple of months after the war, I'd say," she told him, nodding to herself.
"Ah, I see. Never knew you had it in you, Kitten," he remarked with an attempt of a confident smirk. She gave him a light kick on his leg, all while blush crept up from her neck to her face. How far down did that soft pink go?
"Well, now you aren't the only one with tattoos, Black."
He swallowed down the images his mind was providing him at the reminder. "Can I see them?" he asked nonchalantly.
Her eyes widened and Lily let out a small laugh, before answering for her new friend, "Those are some pretty hard spots to find, if you know what I mean . . ."
Without missing a beat, Hermione nodded solemnly, "I may or may not have been drunk and overly confident at the time."
He nodded back mutely, not trusting his voice or even his words at the moment. If the tattoos weren't anywhere that could be seen without undressing her, then—
"How do you two know about them?" he narrowed his eyes at James, who seemed unfazed at the question.
"She told me and Lily—"
"Lily and I," Hermione interrupted and immediately ducked her head in embarrassment when they turned to look at her.
"—And she showed it to Lily, who told me what it was and . . ." he trailed off, his eyes crinkling in amusement at Sirius's desperate look to know.
The infuriating witch continued to grin like a loon, and he knew she knew of how desperately he wanted to find out what the location was and what the tattoos were.
Soon, she left the room and he sat there, gaping foolishly at the empty spot. "Fuck," he bemoaned, ignoring his old friends' snickers by flipping them the bird.
September 28th, 2005.
Hermione didn't know how long she stood there, fiddling with the cuffs of her Auror robes. Amos Diggory had requested a chance to speak to her and she'd hesitantly accepted, despite Harry's attempts at stopping her.
While the man had been under the Imperius, they soon found out that he was writing letters to someone else, discussing how they should force her to bring back their loved ones. Deep down, Hermione couldn't help the need to apologize, because just like James, Lily and Sirius, Cedric also deserved the chance to live.
Inhaling deeply, she allowed herself to approach the Azkaban guard, who informed her that the prisoner was waiting for her inside the room. She handed him her wand and silently slipped inside, taking tentative steps towards the chair that faced the man's.
She gulped down a lump at the haunted look on his face. When he finally registered her presence, he started in shock and tears began to slide down his face. "I just wanted my son back!" he sobbed and tugged at the roots of his hair with trembling hands. "I didn't know they'd make me do that!"
"I swear," she felt a hot pool of liquid spring into the corners of her eyes, but she felt the need to explain, as well, "if I knew how to do it again, I would do it. I don't . . . I don't remember the spell I used. I remember going into the room and saying something, but every time I try to recall it, it's as if there's a block placed in my mind."
Hermione didn't know why she was telling him all this. Perhaps, it was her conscience not allowing herself to move on when several people were expecting her to do something. Was she not supposed to be the brightest witch of their age? As always, the taunting question continued to slip into her mind.
"You have to be careful, regardless," he told her. It was strange hearing that from the same voice that had sent her a couple of Crucios her way. No, someone else had caused that pain, she reminded herself.
"Do you have any specific people in mind?" she asked with a hopeful tone. She needed a lead to find who he'd been approached by.
"No." He shook his head but Hermione knew he was hesitating. His breathing was quickening and drops of sweat were dripping down his forehead.
"What is it?" Hope rose quickly as he opened his mouth to give her every single detail he'd been keeping from the DMLE and she gripped the table tightly as the silence continued to stretch and—
"I think," he paused hesitantly, and she gave him an encouraging nod, "I think they are people trying to bring back You-Know-Who."