A/N: Hello, hello, my dears, and welcome back to "Accommodations"! With the end of the semester drawing close, my writing time has severely diminished. Fortunately, I had a couple of chapters prepared for your pleasure, so I won't leave you hanging for a while.
However, I have a fabulous one-month-vacation coming up, with five Mondays affected by it. I'm hoping to manage a few thousand words next week, so that I can leave you at least with biweekly updates, but I can't promise anything and I won't rush things so close to the vacation of my dreams. :)
Anyway, we'll worry about that when we get to it. For now, you can still enjoy weekly updates of this story. The next few chapters may lack in scenes from Severus's POV, but I'm hoping that Hermione's Christmas hols will make up for it in your eyes. ;) Enjoy!
xxx Marcella
Wednesday, December 25th, 1995
Christmas morning found Hermione slightly sad not to be with her parents, but her mood brightened when she joined Ginny in opening their respective presents, and they both could laugh over the abhorrent perfume she had received from Ron. Harry had done better, gifting her the New Theory of Numerology that she'd been intending to buy for ages, but it was just so difficult to come by, and expensive at that.
From Ginny, Hermione received a journal that displayed new beauty charms every week; something she would have scoffed at earlier, but was now grateful for, considering that the professor had demanded she behave a little more like a girl, enhancing her womanly assets.
Before they went down to the kitchen, Hermione grabbed the patchwork quilt she had crafted for Kreacher. The boys, of course, mocked her for that one, but she placed it in the elf's den anyway. They were still kneeling in front of the whole in the wall that Kreacher called his home, when Sirius came in, and a discussion over the elf's whereabouts ensued.
After that, the boys and Ginny set out to help Mrs Weasley prepare lunch, and Sirius asked Hermione to help him in the pantry. Once inside, he asked her to pull out some of the vegetables stored in the cupboard there, and cornered her once she turned her back on him.
"I must say I'm disappointed, kitten," he drawled into her ear in a voice that made her spine crawl in the most delicious way. "I thought you had better taste than that."
"Than what?" Hermione asked. "You didn't even see the quilt, and knowing Kreacher, he'll probably reject it, meaning burn it, anyway. Or did you mean the tree? I swear, I didn't move any of Harry's ornaments around, I just –"
"Are you just playing naïve or are you simply still that innocent?" Sirius chuckled behind her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her as he leaned against the shelves in front of them. "You think I don't notice that your aura has changed?"
"My what?" Hermione almost shrieked, and Sirius shushed her down.
"Your aura, kitten," he reiterated. "You're not shining that bright white gold anymore. It's more of a burnished copper right now, and if you were beautiful to look at earlier, you are truly stunning now."
"What do the colours signify, Sirius?" Hermione asked tentatively, almost certain of what the answer would be.
"Who was it?" Sirius asked, ignoring her question and yet answering her and confirming her suspicion. "Please tell me it wasn't Ron, surely you have more style than that. The twins? Nah, come to think of it, they rarely do anything without the other in on the fun, and somehow I doubt that you'd go for a menage à trois for your first time.
"That only leaves Harry, then," Sirius surmised, thankfully coming to the completely wrong conclusion, "and much as I love my godson, kitten, I would have thought you might choose a real man for such an important job. Besides, believe me, kitten," and he came even closer at that; Hermione could feel his lips against her ear as he spoke, "if you decide against ginger, you may find raven to your liking, but really, even raven can't suitably compare to real black, and I'm Black personified."
"Pure Black?" Hermione joked quietly, though she realized a second too late that the joke would either be lost on Sirius, or it would give away her training.
Fortunately for her, it was the former, although it took the man behind her completely aback.
"Sure," he said, surprise colouring the short laugh he emitted, "if that is your thing, I can play the Pureblood aristocrat for you, milady. You know, you kneeling there in the kitchen, just a minute ago… I'd do pretty much everything to tap some of that."
"It's really not," Hermione hastened to deny the notion, "I was just – I don't know why I said that."
"Oh, it's alright, kitten," Sirius was quick to reassure her, "I'm up for most kinks you can come up with, and for plenty that you would never even dare to imagine."
Hermione could practically feel the cheeky wink, but chose to ignore it.
"Tell me, Sirius," she asked, and he hummed in agreement, grinding into her from behind, making her feel his approval, "who is able to see my aura?"
"Oh, just about everybody looking for it," he replied as if that was no big issue. "Many people just don't care, but Purebloods are raised to go looking for that, especially in young women, to judge whether they are 'suitable for marriage' – you know, meaning virginal, untouched. Us Order members, many of us feel it helps judge the character of a person, to find out if they can be safely approached or not."
"Many of you?" Hermione asked for clarification, hoping for Sirius to dispel her fears.
"Oh yes," he did the complete opposite, "at least all of the core members. So be prepared for some strange looks later," he joked, "and maybe for a talk with Molly, though with everything that's going on with Arthur and now Percy, perhaps you might get out of that easily.
"With the full moon drawing close, though…" Sirius took a moment to continue his thought. "Best keep your distance from Remus for a while. Not that he's a danger to you," he hurried to clarify, "but simply to make things easier for him. To have a young female so close to him come into adulthood, that can't be easy for the wolf, so close to the transformation."
Hermione shuddered at the thought that she might make things harder for her poor former professor, and behind her, Sirius groaned at the movement against him.
"But if there's someone you shouldn't keep your distance from, kitten," he added, grabbing her hips to keep her in place, "it's me. I'm up for anything if you find yourself feeling lonely at night, kitten. Or at any time of the day, really."
Grinding into her once more, Sirius sighed, then released his grip on her hips, and left the pantry, muttering something about a cold shower.
Hermione needed a moment to collect her wits and rebuild them into some semblance of reason. Sirius had just confirmed to her what she'd only suspected before: that he'd be quick to rise to the challenge of bedding her if confronted with the opportunity. All that was left was for her to decide if she wanted that now.
Come to think of it, why not? Honestly, though, why the hell not? After all, Professor Snape had demanded she stick to only him as her sexual partner only after the new year had begun, and that was still almost a week away. One precious week in which Hermione was free to experiment, to get out of her shell, to collect all the experience and all the dopamine she possibly could. Because really, Hermione thought, her first time with Professor Snape had been quite pleasant overall, but that surely couldn't have been yet what all the fuss was about?
That was decided then, she concluded, and felt a giddiness rise inside her that could not be sensibly explained. If she wanted to leave the cupboard, though – and a damper was put on her mood at the thought –, she would need to face all the adults who would realize upon first looking at her that she was a virgin no longer.
Hermione allowed her chest to heave with a generous sigh and then, feeling as put together as she could possibly be after the discussions she had just had – both the talk with Sirius and the struggle with herself –, she left the pantry to face the world.
Christmas lunch was a happy affair, though a strange experience to Hermione. Mrs Weasley was so busy with cooking and fussing, and trying to keep it together over Percy sending back his Weasley sweater, that Hermione was spared 'the Talk' from the Weasley matriarch –for today, at least.
Moody merely sent her a cursory glance, scanning her whole body, and, upon finding no signs of injuries, Hermione suspected, turned to join in on the discussion going on around him. Bill seemed to notice as well, but other than his gaze lingering on her for a second longer than on everybody else during his general scan of the room when he entered the kitchen, he gave no outward signs that anything was different.
Sirius kept shooting Hermione glances, winking at her when nobody noticed or when he could get away with it somehow, and making her feel appreciated overall. The sensation of his intense attention, even from the other end of the lunch table, caused a heat to course through Hermione's newly awakened body that she could now identify as lust, and she was looking forward to catching him alone later. When she shot him a shy, yet encouraging smile, his own grin broadened to a degree that Hermione almost feared his face might split in two over his joy. That only made her smile all the more herself, and she felt light and merry like she rarely had before.
The only person worrying her right now was Professor Lupin. He shot her glances now and again, as well, but his weren't cheeky like Sirius's were. If Hermione had been forced to put a label to them, she might have called them… hungry. Predatory. Eager for the hunt.
Sirius sat beside his friend, and for that, Hermione was grateful, knowing that he would calm Lupin down, if necessary. With this seating order, however, there was no way the werewolf could have missed the silent communication between the two of them, and at some point, he even made to stand up. Fixing Hermione with a stare that dared her to run and make him hunt her down – a look so foreign on her former professor's face that Hermione felt cold dread grip her heart, warring with the confident sense of defiant pride at being desired in this way, dangerous though it was – the werewolf moved to leave his seat. If it hadn't been for the strong grip Sirius instantly established and maintained on his friend's upper leg, forcibly keeping him down and seated where he was, Hermione did not know what Professor Lupin might have done to her, with her.
Things didn't get much better when they went out to St Mungo's after lunch, either. Sirius couldn't accompany them, for obvious reasons, so Hermione was without his protection against Lupin. She needn't have worried as much, though, she discovered. The fresh air seemed to do wonders for the clarity of the werewolf's mind, and the public did its own to keep him from any steps outside the line, even in the tight confinement of the magically enlarged car. Hermione kept close to Moody and the Weasleys, just to be safe, and that helped, as well.
Once at St Mungo's, the Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione quickly left the company of the Weasley parents, hurrying after the older Weasley siblings on the way to the tea room. That they happened upon Gilderoy Lockhart, of all people, surprised them so much that they allowed the Healer to lead them into the closed ward. And then, they met Neville's family.
When Mrs Longbottom disclosed to the four of them that her son and his wife had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione offered the appropriate reaction of shock, mirroring Ginny's expression. She had known about it since the summer, of course, combining the snippets of conversation she had caught to the realization that something of this nature had happened to the Aurors Longbottom. It came as no big surprise to her that Harry had been aware of this; Morgana knew Dumbledore trusted him with a lot of information regardless of his youth and, at times, emotional instability.
That meeting, of course, drew everybody's spirits down. Hermione was just glad when they were able to escape the Spell Damage Ward, and soon it was time to get back to Grimmauld Place. At that, her mood improved substantially, though she took care not to let everyone notice.
The rest of Christmas Day was a rather joyous affair. After dinner, everyone sat together in front of the Christmas tree, telling stories and enjoying each other's presence. When everybody made to go to bed, Hermione told Ginny to go without her, pretending that she wanted to read for a bit in the library.
Shooting Sirius a glance that he answered with a wink, understanding her feint, she went to the Black library, knowing he'd be following her later. Strolling through the aisles, Hermione received the shock of her life when she crossed around a row of shelves and found Remus Lupin standing right in front of her.
"Professor," she exclaimed in her surprise, pressing her hand to her heart to help calm its racing staccato, "I didn't see you there."
"I am known to be quite stealthy," the former professor replied. His eyes flitted to her chest and Hermione got the distinct feeling that he revelled in the panicked beating of her heart. "Have you found yet what you desire?"
His voice had taken on a teasing lilt that did little to soften the predatory smile gracing his face, and Hermione found herself scared and yet intrigued at the same time.
"Not quite yet," she answered, electing to view his question as if pertaining to a book, which it most obviously did not.
"Care for some help looking?" Lupin offered, and, without waiting for a reply, stalked closer to her. Close as he'd been before, it only took him a couple of steps until he was directly, immediately in front of her.
"Moony," a voice suddenly called from the other end of the aisle, the one closer to the door. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief; at the same moment, Remus groaned in frustration.
With a few long strides, Sirius was at Hermione's side in mere seconds. Glad for the reinforcement, for she would have yielded to the werewolf had she been left in alone in his presence for much longer – be it voluntarily or not –, Hermione inched closer to Sirius's reassuring presence. Noticing her movement, Sirius put an arm around her shoulders.
"Let's get you to bed, kitten, what do you think?" Sirius suggested, offering her a way out of Lupin's grasp and, if she interpreted his offer correctly, into his own arms.
"Yeah," Hermione readily agreed, "I find myself quite tired all of a sudden. Good night, Professor Lupin."
And with that, they were out of the room.
Climbing the stairs, Hermione was glad to see that she'd been correct in assuming Sirius meant to take her to his room.
"I thought you wanted me to get into bed?" Hermione teased.
"And I fully intend to do so," Sirius countered, winking at her cheekily, "I just never said whose bed I'd be getting you into."
When they were in front of his door, Sirius halted all of a sudden.
"Hermione," he called her attention, and by the fact that he'd used her name, rather than calling her 'kitten' as he usually did, Hermione knew something serious was coming; no pun intended. "Hermione, that was really dangerous down there."
Hermione was surprised.
"But it was only Professor Lupin," she exclaimed, "surely he wouldn't do anything to hurt me?"
"You're right in assuming that Professor Lupin would never hurt you," Sirius agreed. "But that man down there, that was Moony. And he only sees a freshly plucked flower in you, and he'd eat you in a heartbeat."
"Wolves don't eat flowers, Sirius," Hermione joked, trying to dispel the tension, "they are carnivores, didn't you know?"
"Yes, I know, kitten," he answered, his expression still very much sincere, "and believe me, his desires right now are nothing if not carnal. Do not play with a werewolf so close to the full moon, Hermione, do you hear me? Don't you remember anything I told you this morning?"
Hermione looked down, embarrassed that she had failed to listen to the man who was just looking out for her, and nodded.
"I'm sorry, Sirius," she whispered, talking to her feet.
A single finger drew her face upwards by the chin until she looked into his eyes again.
"It's alright, kitten," he said, a smile once again gracing his face. "I was there to get you out in time, wasn't I, and you can make it up to me now. How does that sound?"
Hermione mirrored his smile.
"Sounds marvellous," she replied, and they were through his door.
Thursday, December 26th, 1995
When Hermione woke the next morning, it was to an arm snug around her waist and to a soreness between her thighs. A smile spread over her lips as she remembered the last night.
Sirius had been everything Professor Snape had not. He'd been wild and passionate, and he'd been all over her the moment they were through the door. His lips had been on hers in a heartbeat, only leaving them again when they both needed to get up for air. He had commanded her to undress then, but where the Potions Master's command had been clinical, Sirius's had been filled with desire.
While she'd taken off her clothes, one item at a time, Sirius's eyes had burned every patch of skin she revealed, his lips whispering warding and silencing charms to keep the noises in and the intruders out. He'd stopped her when she'd made to remove her knickers. Throwing her onto the bed in a sensual manner, not practical as the professor had been, he had been over her within the fraction of a second, closing his teeth over the seam of her knickers and drawing them down her legs.
On his way back up, every inch of her skin had been peppered with kisses – not whispered hints of kisses like Professor Snape's, but rather open-mouthed and wet. Sirius had used his tongue there and then on her legs, and even more once he'd reached the apex of her thighs. Only a few minutes later, Hermione had been screaming his name as she reached the first of many climaxes that night.
Sirius had been gentler after that, bestowing his attention and his kisses on her breasts next. Only when she'd begged him for release and for friction, had he relented and entered her. She had long been drenched by then, yet he'd taken his sweet time sliding into her. When he'd bottomed out inside her, he'd looked into her eyes with a tenderness that took her breath away. With him leaning closely over her body, his elbows propped up on either side of her, Sirius had been close to Hermione in a way no man had ever been. Hitching her legs up and around his hips, Sirius had settled into a rocking movement, with shallow thrusts at a punishing pace, if only punishing for its slowness. Only when Hermione had come, which had been a complete surprise to her, as her orgasm had crept up on her on steady feet, had he consented to a faster rhythm, rocking her world.
With a little help from his deft fingers, his hand wedged between their bodies, Hermione had come once more, with Sirius only moments behind her, and he had spilled his seed inside of her. After that, she had been truly tired out, the three orgasms having worked her body to a pleasant sleepiness.
Sirius would not let her go that easily, though. His swift fingers had begged her to come once more under their nubile attentions, and Hermione had relented, giving in to her fourth and final climax of the night. By then, it had been early morning, and the both of them had fallen almost straight asleep. Halfway into Morpheus's realm, Hermione had felt a decidedly male arm wrap around her waist and draw her close.
Upon waking up a few hours later, while it was still early in the morning, Hermione smiled, realizing that neither of them could have moved much throughout the night, as they were in exactly the same position they had fallen asleep in mere hours before.
And already, she felt something rather substantial poke her in the crease of her bum.
With Hermione wriggling around a little, Sirius roused, and, noticing her movements, was fully awake in an instant.
"Stop that right now, kitten," he growled, his voice still sleepy, "if you don't want to start something you're not prepared for."
"Does that feel like I'm not prepared for this?" Hermione asked, wriggling around and lifting her leg in a way that Sirius's hard shaft met the wetness between her thighs.
"Well, in that case, a very good morning to you, kitten," Sirius drawled into her ear, and she could practically hear the half-satisfied, half-anticipative smile on his face, "are you ready for your breakfast? I'm sure I have some cream for your sweet kitty here somewhere."
He slid inside her, and their combined sighs sounded as if they were synchronized.
"Sweet Circe, kitten," Sirius groaned between slow pumps into her core, "where have you been all my life?"
"Not born, half of it," Hermione sighed back, "the other half, jailbait."
"If I'd had any of this before, kitten," came the reply, "I'd have been too happy for the Dementors to have any effect on me. If I died right now, it would be happy."
"If you died right now, it would be a huge pity," Hermione countered. "You promised this kitten some cream, if I remember correctly."
A chuckle was the only answer she got, for after that, Sirius concentrated all his attention on their combined pleasure. Together, they came a generous while later, both sated and content.
"Now, kitten," Sirius eventually said, after they'd both cuddled together for a while, neither of them willing to move, "you'd better get back to your room and change, or there will be hell to pay later if Ginny or Molly notice you're still wearing the same clothes from yesterday."
Hermione sighed and turned around to meet his face.
"I guess you're right," she admitted, her frustration audible in her voice. "This was awesome, though."
"It was," Sirius agreed, kissing her once more with a smile on his face, "but you still have to go now."
"Alright, alright," Hermione countered, "I'm going."
Collecting her clothes, she dressed quickly. Her hand on the door knob, she turned back once more.
"Thank you, Sirius," she said with a heavy heart, "I'll never forget this night."
"Me neither, kitten," Sirius replied, though Hermione failed to put a name to the expression now on his face.
Before she could ask, or say any more, he had turned around in the bed, his back now to the door. Assuming he meant to catch some more sleep, as neither of them had had much of that this night, and since it was still early in the morning, Hermione allowed him his privacy. She couldn't help the slight pang of hurt at his casual dismissal, though.
The rest of the day was spent with Harry and the Weasley children. Or at least, that was how the day started out and how Hermione thought it might continue. Soon after lunch, however, did they split up. The Weasleys kept together and, respecting their privacy, Harry and Hermione kept their distance. It wasn't long before Harry sought out his godfather and the two of them locked themselves in with Buckbeak. Hermione, being who she was, decided not to be upset at being left alone like that and elected to instead enjoy her new-found solitude in the Black family library.
Curled up on one of the ostentatious leather sofas in front of the luxurious fireplace, Hermione immersed herself in one of the older and subsequently rarer tomes on Arithmancy. It appeared that time had flown by, though Hermione felt like no time had passed at all, before someone fell into the seat next to her.
"Hiding yourself away, kitten?"
Hermione forced herself to ignore the hurt she had felt when he'd practically dismissed her from his room earlier that day, and smiled sweetly at Sirius.
"Not at all," she replied. "I'm merely enjoying the fact that everybody seems to enjoy somebody else's company above my own, and that is quite alright."
Sirius looked taken aback at her casual statement, but gave no reply to that. Perhaps he had none.
"You missed dinner," he said instead.
"I'm not hungry."
They sat in silence for a little while. Hermione had already turned back to the volume on her lap, when Sirius stated, all of a sudden:
"It wasn't Harry."
Hermione grinned.
"I never said it was," she countered. "That was your own conclusion and I never contradicted you."
"But it was none of the boys."
"No," Hermione agreed readily, "none of the boys."
"Bill?"
Hermione merely threw her head back in laughter and returned to her chapter.
"Not Bill, then," Sirius mused to himself.
Turning to face him, Hermione asked, "How come you're so interested, anyway?"
Sirius Black was no man to blush, but his expression showed that this would have been the occasion to do so.
"I'm just wondering who I need to compare to," he admitted.
"Why?" Hermione shot back. "I thought you were quite satisfied before you threw me out of your room, and I told you that I enjoyed our night as well, so what does that matter to you now?"
"What?" Sirius asked, clearly shocked.
"I asked, what does that matter to you now?"
"No no," he shook his head, "before that."
"I enjoyed our night," Hermione repeated, blushing.
"Oh, believe me, kitten," Sirius smiled, though he appeared worried still, "it was hard to miss that, with you sighing my name and clawing at my back like that. I still have the marks to show for it. But that's not what I meant."
His face was now the epitome of his first name.
"You said I threw you out of my room?"
"Well," Hermione worried her lip between her teeth, "that's what you did. You told me to get out before anybody saw me, and turned your back on me before I even got to the door. And it's alright, really," she hastened to assure him when his expression darkened visibly, "it's okay, I can cope with that, I mean, we never said that this would ever happen again; it was just – I guess, I was just a little surprised, that's all. I'm all over it now, don't worry. I'll be mature about all of this."
"But –" Sirius stocked, then began anew. "But I never threw you out! You were going and said you'd never forget about our night together, as if it was already so firmly fixed in the past for you that it would, nor could, happen ever again. I thought you were dumping me, for lack of a better word!"
"You thought that?" Hermione asked, now shocked herself. "Why would I do that? We're not even together in the first place! And I loved our night together, why would I wish to never experience a repeat performance?"
"Well, I'm glad you think so, kitten," Sirius smiled, and the mood palpably lifted. "Because I feel the same way. And believe me, I enjoy you being mature about things, preferably with your legs wrapped around my hips and your sweet little kitty wrapped around my –"
"Sirius!" Hermione exclaimed, cutting him off, embarrassed in the most pleasant way, and yet inexplicably aroused at his crass words.
He leaned over, closed the book in her lap and put it on the small side-table next to the couch, and was already drawing her to lie under him, when Hermione stopped him with a hand gently put against his chest. His broad, muscular chest, her brain was quick and kind enough to remind her, as she felt the muscles ripple under her fingers, his strong heart beating a soothing rhythm that begged her own heart to join in.
"Sirius," Hermione whispered, for his face was so close to hers that anything louder must have felt like a scream to him, "Sirius, we still need to be mature about this. I'd like to know what I'm getting into here. Please."
Sirius scrunched up his face, obviously disliking the direction their evening was taken.
"Listen, Sirius," Hermione took the discussion in hand, "I'm enjoying our time together, but I'm not looking for some kind of… emotional commitment, if you know what I mean. I'm not looking to go official with you, or to chain you down as my boyfriend. I just… I enjoy exploring things with you, learning about… things… and if it's alright, I'd like to keep it like that – simple."
Suddenly, a smile broke out over Sirius's face again.
"I like that, kitten," he said, relieved. "I can do simple. And I can do you," he whispered, leaning closer again and trailing kisses along the shell of her ear.
Heat was already pooling low in Hermione's belly, and she knew that he'd have her ready to receive him in no time.
"How about," Sirius suggested, "we take this up to my room, huh? Then I can show you all the things a good, nice boyfriend," he ground into her with every word, "would never dare to do to a fierce little lioness like you. Sound good?"
Hermione scrambling to get out from underneath him in her haste to follow his suggestion was all the answer he needed, apparently. He chuckled into her ear once more, before releasing her and watching her hurry to the door.
Almost out into the corridor, Hermione looked back to see if Sirius was actually following her or if that had simply been his own, singularly excruciating way of teasing her. She found the man appreciating her backside with a thorough, longing glance.
"Oh, don't worry, kitten," Sirius assured her when he realized she was perusing him. "I'm coming. In fact, I'll be coming very soon, I think, and so will you. I'm just taking the time to admire your beautiful bum," he explained, swaggering over to her. "And I think," he leaned close to her ear once more, "I know exactly which way I'll take you first."
Hermione knew in that moment that no foreplay would be necessary tonight. She was ready to melt into a puddle of delirious goo under Sirius's attentions right there and then.
"Now go on, little lioness," Sirius shooed her out the door, "I wish to see that sweet arse of yours sway up the stairs. You know, to give me a little taste, before I feast on you."
Coming up: Chapter twenty-eight, wherein a fairytale metaphor is utilized.