The room was stifling.

Humid air circled in through the open window, pooling above the writhing bodies in a stagnant cloud of oppressive heat. The sheets had been kicked to the end of the bed – white cotton slicked with sweat – and still they moved together; mouths gasping for cool air and skin on fire.

The very air they breathed was rich with the taste of sweat.

BANG!

Sirius groaned, fingers digging into his lover's hip. Sweat dripped from his bangs and Remus shoved them roughly back, his brilliant golden eyes rolling back.

SLAM!

Bronze skin pressed flush against ivory and the sheen of their sex-slicked bodies caught the summer sun and made them glow. A long sigh and then Remus' soft, husky chuckle.

THUMP!

"Hermione's back..." Sirius murmured.

"Maybe," conceded Remus. "It's only been three days."

The darker of the two pushed back onto his knees, dragging his long hair off his neck and reaching for a cigarette. In a sly maneuver, Remus slipped his hands into Sirius' and stole away the small silver lighter, sliding his other hand up around his neck to pull him back down. Sirius smirked, rolling the cig to the side of his mouth, and letting himself be drawn in for a sloppy kiss to the corner of his lips. "We should go down...see what the fuss is."

Remus' grip intensified, a fresh need sparking in his eyes. He whispered,"Stay."

Sirius' brow furrowed and he frowned slightly. "Did I actually shag you silly?"

His half-hearted chuckle didn't alter Remus' forlorn look. But the lycan let Sirius slip the lighter back out of his hand, before turning onto his stomach and resting his chin on his hands. The sweet smell of cloves permeated the room as Sirius lit up and with eyes closed, Remus listened to the sound of Sirius shuffling about the room, getting dressed.

The scent of him grew and Remus sensed him bending over him before he even spoke. "Are you coming, luv?"

He turned his face into the pillow. "I'll...be down in a minute."

Sirius padded down the stairs in his bare feet, pajama bottoms slung low around his hips and nearly collided with the harried witch. She was still in her coat, the long trench flapping around her legs as she ran from room to room. Leaning against the stair's twisted banister, he watched her rush back and forth for a few minutes before speaking up.

"Welcome back."

"I can't stay," she all but yelled as she thundered past. Her anger was palpable, but since he hadn't done anything lately to piss her off, he could safely assume it wasn't directed at him. "Philistines!"

He smirked. "Problems at work, Brown-Eyes?"

"Not if I can help it – and don't smoke in the house." She yanked the half-smoked cig out of his mouth as she passed and threw it in nearby plant, much to his amusement. "The Germans expedited Balfour to Czechoslovakia while I was in the middle of negotiations and decided not to tell me!"

"Balfour?"

"The centaur," she exclaimed in exasperation. She shook a heavy book at him, hair flying wildly about her head. "I had to find out from a desk clerk – they were stalling I just know it!"

"Is that a Czech dictionary?" He asked, more interested in what she was packing than in what she was saying.

"Yes," she huffed.

"I have a Czech—"

"No, I have a Czech dictionary, because I speak Czech. And I need to do so perfectly if I'm ever to get the Czechoslovakian Ministry to release Balfour."

"Wait. You speak—"

"Oh for heaven's sake!"

She stomped off again, after throwing up her hands in frustration, and he followed her into the den. He heard her muttering under her breath as she hunted for parchment and ink, overturning quill holders and toppling stacks of mail in her frenzied search. He heard "complete disaster" and fought not to laugh.

"You got some mail while you were gone," he told her; his nonchalance an odd contrast to her disarray as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

"Not now Sirius."

Watching her carefully he said, "It's from Charlie."

"That's nice," she murmured. "Where's that damn list?"

Surprised, but no less determined to draw a reaction from her, Sirius bent around her to pull open the bottom drawer of the desk, within which all the hanging files had been shoved back to accommodate Charlie's package. He pulled out the lumpy delivery and thrust it into her hands before she could open her mouth to ask what he was doing.

Hermione took in the scrawled address and the obviously rewrapped parcel before turning those fierce brown eyes on Sirius and this time her anger was definitely directed at him.

"You opened my mail?" Her voice was low enough, but the tone behind it was anything but friendly.

Sirius shrugged. "I was curious."

"You're...you're impossible!" She seethed. Her eyes were burning and a red flush was creeping up her neck. "This is my private correspondence – you had no right!"

"It's a blouse."

"And you're an ass," she stuffed the entire parcel into her rucksack and left the room.

Sirius; however, wasn't about to let her go so easily, and with so much left unsaid. He caught her in the foyer, a strong hand on her elbow yanking her to a stop. The change in her was immediate – she was no longer flushed and snapping, her face taking on an icy calm that meant she'd moved from merely flustered to well and truly pissed off.

"I have to go," she said, looking pointedly at his hand.

"Sorry, but I'm still curious, Brown-Eyes. Because that's a very interesting piece of mail—"

"I must have left it behind," she quipped. "I should thank him for returning it to me so quickly."

"Left it where?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're driving at, but my personal life is none of your concern."

"What personal life?" he retorted. "The one you assured Remus you hadn't the time for?"

He smirked at her stubborn glare.

"What's going on?"

Hermione pulled free so quickly they both stumbled; Remus was standing at the head of the stairs, looking concerned. "Sirius? Hermione?" he ventured, when neither answered.

"It's nothing," Sirius snapped, feeling suddenly cross. "Hermione was just leaving."

Their eyes met and the disappointment reflected back at him was like a slap in the face. He'd expected disgust and anger – not this deep resignation, as if she'd expected something different out of him than what he'd shown her. The depth of her gaze drew him in and he only remembered where he was when she turned to go – neither answered Remus' question.

She'd rattled him with that look, to be sure, be he wasn't about to let her leave without sating his curiosity and before she'd reached the door, he grabbed her by the wrist, stepping right up against her, and bending low to her ear; his breath was hot against the side of her face.

"Did you fuck him?"

Hermione met his eyes again and this time it was pure anger burning back at him. She yanked the door open, slamming it against his side so suddenly that he let go without thinking.

Two steps and she was on the front stoop. A half-turn and she was gone.