Fun in the doghouse

Eva Marlowe prides herself on not sticking her nose into other people's business. She has enough problems of her own and doesn't need to concern herself with others too. This is also a blatant lie. One she tells herself and others.

She has many times accused Lily of being a right busybody. She has scolded her for trying to fix everybody's mistakes and even mocked her for the unsolicited advice she could never resist giving out, but the fact was that the real fixer-upper was Eva herself. She just needed the stakes to be high enough.

She was the one who took initiative to give James some pointers on how to get into Lily's good graces and encouraged her to take a chance on him, when she had an epiphany that they were perfect for each other. She was the one who took it upon herself to singlehandedly change Regulus' mind about joining Voldemort and salvage his relationship with his brother. (She also took her failures very badly.) She was the one who decided that Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts and Gryffindor wasn't Gryffindor and the world was just wrong when Marauders fought. And she was just a little bit smug because she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she played a huge role in their reconciliation.

At present she knows it might be good for Sirius to let him stew over what an arsehole he was being for a few days. It might do him good to really think about the repercussions of his actions. The scene is still very much alive in her head. But they have all already lost so much time, missed so much of their lives, that she just can't bring herself to let him suffer even for one minute longer than necessary. She also doesn't want to lose any more sleep over this. It had been a long night.

She turns her head and looks sideways at the frown marring his handsome face. Her fingers twitch with an urge to smooth out the wrinkles and ease his dream. But the sun is already peeking through the window, and she doesn't dare to touch him for fear of waking him up.

She sighs, gets out of bed noiselessly, picks up her bra from the floor and leaves the room with one last backwards look at his sleeping form. She hates to see him suffer and she has to go do what she can about this. She has to fix this.

# # #

Tonks opens the door looking like she has just rolled out of bed. Probably because she has just rolled out of bed. Who could blame her as it was before eight on a Saturday morning. With one hand she tugs on the shirt that barely covers her arse and drags another through her pink hair. Seeing Eva at her doorstep she abandons both venues.

"Eva? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?" she asks in concern.

Eva gives her a tight smile, wringing her hands. People have been asking her that particular question a lot in the last few months. "Not really." Not knowing how to express her wish, she stares at her friend as if she could read what she wants simply by looking at her face.

"You're not here to see me, are you?" And obviously she can do just that. She is not an Auror for nothing. Eva shrugs apologetically. Tonks scrutinizes her critically and then nods, mostly to herself. "I'll go get him."

Eva gives her a grateful smile and watches as Tonks turns back to her apartment. Eva remains standing in the hall. Tonks has not invited her in, but she has left the door open, so Eva knows she is welcome to enter if she wants. They are not prone to formalities, after all, and it would not be the first time she has entered without an invite. Still, she waits in the hall, listening first to footsteps, something sliding of the nearby table and a muffled yell of pain, opening of what she assumes is bedroom door, hushed conversation and then a pair of approaching footsteps.

Remus looks equally if not more dishevelled than Tonks. He, at least, is wearing pants. Eva suppresses a smirk. He is also in a decidedly worse mood than his predecessor. He doesn't look pleased to see her and she can't really blame him. She has obviously intruded on his after party. She suspects he will be even more displeased with her when she tells him why she came. She cringes internally.

He stares at her suspiciously and she wishes she has taken the time to at least change her blouse. The once crisp white fabric is now anything but that. There is an unidentified stain above her right breast, that she has a strange urge to cover with her palm. As it would look like she is cupping her breast, she refrains. Not to mention it would draw attention to the black mascara spots that cover her sleeve from when she has wiped at her face. She only hopes there are no stains on her cheeks. She looks a mess, no matter how much she pulls at the bottom of her blouse to straighten it. Nothing can disguise the slept-in vibe of the garment.

"Remus."

"Eva. You were looking for me?" She nods. "How did you know where to-"

She shrugs apologetically. "I didn't know. I just…" She trails off, not wanting to embarrass him.

Remus nods, closing the door behind him and joining her barefoot in the hallway.

"I know what you are going to say." The words come out of his mouth heavy and guilt-ridden, but with a hint of defiance. That hint alone gives Eva a simmer of hope.

"I sincerely doubt it," she intones.

He speaks as if he has not heard her at all. "You are going to say, that I am not good enough for her and that I am too old for her, too broken, that I have nothing to offer to her, that I'm a monster and that I will drag her down with me."

Eva watches with an impassive face as he rambles on. "Really, Remus? That's what I am going to say? Don't insult me! Those are your insecurities! I've got nothing to do with them."

"So, you weren't going to say anything?" he asks disbelievingly, conveniently ignoring the point she was trying to make.

Eva shrugs. "Just that I hope to see you happy. Both of you." She hesitates, biting her lip. She has a lot to say, he's got that right. But now is not the time and she kind of hopes she won't ever have to say it. Fat chance. A part of her also thinks nothing she has to say will change what he does and how he sees himself. So, she swallows most of her words. Although, she can't resist… "And that you should remember that nobody likes things decided for them for their own good."

Eva smirks knowingly at him and Remus turns his head away from her.

"Why are you here?" he asks harshly, like he knows exactly why and doesn't want her to have any delusions.

"You are leaving today. On a mission."

"Yes."

She wets her lips, digging nails into her palms. "You have to come see him. Today. Before you go."

"No." Simple and to the point. It's nothing she hasn't expected.

"Remus-"

"No. I don't want to look at him today."

"Remus, please." She grabs onto his forearm as if afraid he will simply turn away and leave her there to speak at the wall. "You have to. You have to. Please." She resumes to begging sooner than she has thought.

"Why?" he asks, pain evident in his voice.

"Because he needs to know you forgive him."

"And if I don't?"

"You have forgiven him a long time ago. This is nothing."

"If it's nothing then why do I have to go? What does it matter?"

"Because you do. It matters. Remus…" There are no words to express how her heart breaks every time she catches the sight of a broken man that was once Sirius Black. No words to describe how she had felt when he cried into her chest. How his pain is her pain. But there is also no need to explain it to Remus. "You are all he has left."

"And you."

Eva shakes her head sadly. "It's not the same. You are all he has left of Marauders. Of James. He needs you."

Remus stares at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. "You should give yourself more credit, Eva. He needs you, too. He has always needed you. James made him decent, but you made him true to himself. You made him see, that he was more than his family. James didn't get it, couldn't grasp what the Blacks really were, how they were to him. You could see even the darkest parts of his soul, and you didn't let him succumb to this darkness."

Eva stares at her long-time friend in something akin to awe. "Remus, I…" She doesn't know what to say. "Lily was more for that kind of things."

"Lily was light that led us all. She could see good in everyone. Nobody who met her was left untouched or indifferent in face of her extraordinary kindness." Remus swallows hard as he talks about a girl that has touched all of their lives. Eva watches as old emotions prematurely age his face almost unrecognizable. She closes her eyes to avoid looking at it. "But you touched her life too. All of our lives. You could see all those ugly truths, that we tried to bury underneath our masks, and you made us face them."

Oh, Remus, if you only knew, what I haven't told you… Oh, Marlene…

"I've been numb for so many years," she whispers through her treacherous tears.

"I know."

"All my bravery-"

"Has been used to hold yourself together."

"Yes. And now it's gone. And I don't know if I can find it again," she chokes. "What good am I to anyone, drifting through life."

"You aren't drifting, Eva. I can see how hard you try, how you put yourself out there. For Sirius. For Harry. For me. That's bravery too. There's bravery in the way you walk through that door almost every day. In the way you tell stories about his parents to Harry. In the way you defend Harry against the whole Order. In the way you do that ponce's laundry. In the way you drop off a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. In the way you have come to beg me to forgive him. There's bravery in little things. You haven't lost it."

"God, Remus, why are you being so nice to me? I came here intent on begging and threats and blackmail. Whatever it took."

Remus smiles sadly at her. "I know. We have after all left him to rot in prison for twelve years." And that they can never un-know.

# # #

As Eva re-enters Grimmauld Place followed closely by a disgruntled Remus, Sirius meets them in the entry hall, looking clean shaven and freshly ironed. His appearance doesn't fool her though as a dark shadow clings to him.

Only when Eva has to control her shallow breaths, she realizes how nervous she is. How scared she is of his reaction. All the confidence of the previous night has abandoned her.

Don't show him pity. Just don't show him any pity. Don't show him compassion. Don't even try to be understanding. Straight face, Marlowe. Be indifferent. Or rather, don't look at him at all. He will read it right off your face and it will not end well.

He meets her eye only briefly and even if she has mostly managed to keep her face blank, she knows he has already condemned her before that. She never had a chance. Luckily, he mostly ignores her and focuses on Remus.

"Moony," he says, a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Sirius," he counters coolly and Sirius' face falls. Eva glances warily between the men. Well, she can't really blame Remus for making him work for his forgiveness.

Although, she doesn't necessarily want to be present for their sappy reunion. Okay, it will probably not be all that sappy but still. She shrugs to herself, mumbling something about taking a shower (not that either of them as much as glances her way) and inches away from them, disappearing upstairs, completely forgetting she doesn't actually live here and could, and probably should, go home to her own apartment and take a shower there.

She takes her time making herself presentable before re-emerging from her (temporary) room. And what in the world was she thinking when she brought those jeans with her to Grimmauld Place for Christmas holidays? They had been in the back of her closet for years. And with good reason! She has to lay flat on the bed to zip them up. She really should look up a diet. Listening to the voices in the house, she approaches the library, being careful to make as much noise as possible to alert them to her presence. They'd never forgive her if she caught them in a vulnerable state. Men and their fragile egos. As if she hadn't seen both of them at their worst.

She pokes her head through the door and quickly studies them. Remus looks stern with his hands crossed over his chest and Eva has a feeling his inner professor has just had a party giving a lesson. And was now kind of smug about it. Sirius seems properly chastened. And he is genially sorry, she is sure of it. She is also sure, that now, that Remus has forgiven him, his mind has already catalogued the incident as barely important. He also looks as if he could care less about her presence, and she is honestly a little bit bummed about it. It's not as if she expected him to fall into her arms, but yesterday he wanted to practically bury himself in her and today she didn't even qualify for a friendly nod? She gets it, that he is embarrassed. But aren't they adults?

Still, she gives them a friendly smile. "I'll go make breakfast," she announces a little too chirpily. She nods to them and leaves, hoping they will join her in a better mood.

Breakfast is the height of her culinary expertise. If she manages to not burn eggs. Or toast. She somehow succeeds in only burning one batch of toast, which she disposes off before Remus and Sirius join her in the kitchen. As they sit at the table, Sirius eyeing her strangely, she potters around the stove, brings food and cutlery to the table and all the while prattles on about cooking charms she has never learned and the benefits of a morning coffee and makes a few reminders to herself about the ingredients that are running low and she should buy soon. The air is a little tense, but Remus is giving her small smiles of appreciation and Eva relaxes as she picks up a pot of coffee.

"Coffee, Remus?" she asks as she pours Sirius a cup without asking. Too chirpy, Marlowe. Tone it down!

"Yes, please."

"Really? Have we converted you? I thought you didn't like coffee."

"I could use it today," he sighs heavily.

Eva smirks. "Rough night, Remy?" she teases. Remus narrows his eyes at her, but Eva doesn't back down, staring at him challengingly. Sirius looks from one to another but doesn't ask what they are talking about.

"I don't know what you mean," he bites out. "I only meant today will be a long day."

Eva cringes, remembering today is the day he leaves on a mission. Upon closer inspection, she also sees he is completely exhausted as today is also the day of his transformation. Not to mention he has just gone through a huge emotional turmoil.

"Yes, you really should have rested last night," she comments lightly, giving him a wink. She follows this with an apologetic smile, letting him know it is all in good humour. Remus only rolls his eyes at her. "Here, you should fill up for the day." She brings the pan from the stove, putting a good portion of eggs on his plate. "You want some, Sirius?" she asks, not even waiting for his answer before she starts putting the eggs on his plate.

There's a beat of silence as he watches the plate being filled and then he looks at her slowly with something akin to resentment shining from his eyes. She has no time to brace herself.

"You know, you are not my mother. You don't need to feed me like I'm a child. I can take care of myself." The words alone could be taken as a joke, but his tone allows no room for interpretation. Eva flinches. Remus rolls his eyes exasperatedly, although none take notice of him.

Obviously, nothing has changed. What was she thinking?

"Really? You can take care of yourself?" she asks scornfully. "Care to demonstrate sometime? And your mother would sooner feed you poison rather than breakfast," she lashes out. She doesn't really think her words through. And later, she isn't proud. But she's been nervous all morning, and her jeans are digging into her stomach, and it took just one little poke to set her off. And really, can't he see she is doing everything in her power to not acknowledge the previous night? Ungrateful sod!

Remus has stopped moving altogether and Sirius pulls in air through his teeth as he stands up, towering over her.

"As if you are one to speak." He smiles maliciously at her. "Your mother wouldn't even be bothered with that much. She would simply slam the door in your face if you ever showed up there."

Eva is too shocked to say anything as Sirius says goodbye to Remus and leaves the kitchen.

What the hell? What. The. Hell? She cannot grasp what has just happened. Much less why. How have they come to this point? Have they really just resorted to ››Your mom is fatter than mine‹‹ insults?

She lets out an unexpected burst of laughter. Remus startles but only watches her warily. Eva collapses into the chair behind her, staring unfocusedly at the table full of rapidly cooling food.

"Eva, he is just-"

"You should eat. The food is getting cold," she remarks tonelessly.

Remus doesn't try again. Probably because he doesn't really know what to say to all this.

Eva leans her elbows on the table, putting her head in her hands.

Isn't that exactly what she has feared? That she will open herself up, make herself vulnerable and he will reject her? She should have just stayed away. Minded her own business. Let him hate her. She should just stop setting herself up for failure. He was always like that, and it isn't going to change anytime soon. That time he had drunkenly told her (in grotesque detail) what has transpired on the night he moved out of Grimmauld Place, he didn't speak to her at all for an entire month. Much less acknowledged her concerned glances. And after everything she has done-

And then it suddenly hits her. And she laughs again. That's what this is. It is him, that has opened up to her. He, who was vulnerable in front of her and now he is punishing her. It is not about her at all. It is about him. He has probably not even thought about her.

And suddenly she is so very angry.

"Eva?" Remus asks carefully. She must look like a lunatic to him with all that inappropriate laughing.

She lifts her head from her hands suddenly and Remus rears back at the sight of her eyes sparkling angrily.

"Excuse me, Remus," she says with an icy smile. A smile that promises pain. "You should eat your breakfast."

Remus is left with the image of her high ponytail bouncing determinately as she marches up the stairs. He flinches when the whole house reverberates from the door she has slammed somewhere in the house. He is almost happy when Mrs Black's portrait starts to scream obscenities. At least he doesn't have to hear Eva scream. And he is quite certain, she will scream.

"What do you want?" Sirius snaps at her as she enters the library without invitation. She is glad they are not in the bedroom for this.

"For you to stop acting like a fucking child!"

"I am no-"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Sirius doesn't even have the grace to look startled at her shrillness and it makes her even madder. A lock of her mutinous hair escapes, falling into her eyes and she pushes it away irately. "You always did that! Whenever you opened up to me, whenever you showed some vulnerability in front of me, you always followed it with rudeness and avoidance and sometimes downright maliciousness. And maybe you were too young to be able to feel anything but ashamed by it. Or maybe too deprived of affection as a child to be able to process someone being nice to you and not demand anything in return. And maybe I was too young to grasp anyone's emotions but my own back then. Or too hurt to be able to sympathize with your embarrassment. But we are not children anymore. I am not an insecure fifteen-year-old girl anymore and I will not allow you-"

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"-to treat me that way when the only- What?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted that way." He looks truly remorseful, and Eva deflates.

"Oh." He has sort of taken the wind out of her sails. "I had more to say. Some very good points to make. Not to mention some creative name-calling."

"You want to go on?" he asks, only half joking. She thinks on it for a second.

"Nah. It just won't have the same flair now."

"I'm sure there will be other opportunities," he smirks.

"Yes, I'm sure there will be. It is a truly splendid speech."

"I can't wait to hear it," he chuckles, tilting his head and giving her one of his patented dimpled smiles. The chick-magnet. What is he doing?

Eva rolls her eyes. "Merlin, Sirius, sometimes you make me so mad."

"You're hot when you're mad." He winks at her.

Oh God, he is doing what she thinks he's doing!

"No! No, you can't just charm your way out of a doghouse," she scolds indignantly. He gives her a mischievous grin. Damnit, Eva, bad choice of words!

"The doghouse? My favourite place. Care to join me?"

"Sirius-" But he has already advanced upon her, grabbing the finger she has unconsciously been waving at him, and made her stumble into his arms. She makes a half-arsed effort to get away from him, but he only sneaks his hand around her back, effortlessly pulling her flat to his chest.

"You know you still make the same face you always made when you were angry with me?"

"I have a different face when I'm angry with you as opposed to when I'm just angry?" She quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Exactly. I always knew when you were angry with me. Granted, when you were angry, it was usually with me."

"Then nothing much has changed, has it?"

Sirius smirks. "I guess not. Though, you seem to have gotten a bit bustier since then." He jostles her, looking down to deliberately eye her breasts.

Her lips twitch and she makes a conscious effort to bite down on her grin and narrows her eyes at him.

"What are you insinuating?"

"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm saying you seemed to have been indulging a little too much in cinnamon rolls."

"Good morning, Sunshine," Sirius sings jovially as the door slams behind him. Eva groans into her morning coffee.

"Do you have to be so fucking loud before seven in the morning?" she mutters crankily.

"But my darling Evie, I come bearing gifts." He smiles exuberantly and triumphantly presents her with a box of baked goodies.

"Ugh, Sirius, not cinnamon rolls again. They are getting to my arse," she whines, already reaching for the delicious smelling roll. She inhales deeply. Heaven.

"Should I get donuts next time? Maybe they'll go to your chest," he suggests mockingly.

Sirius ducks as a cinnamon roll comes flying at his head.

"Arsehole," she hisses. He only continues to grin. "Give me back my roll."

A mixture of mild annoyance and easy playfulness is a feeling so strong and so familiar; it brings forth a vivid memory Eva has long forgotten.

"You know cinnamon rolls only go to my arse," she says with strange gentleness. He smiles at her, and she knows he remembers too.

"Well, that's gotten bigger too," he comments, hardly containing his laughter and patting her buttock affectionately.

"Sirius!" she exclaims, turning to the side, trying to twist out of his grip. He only tightens his hands around her, pulling her even closer and outright laughing into her face. And no matter how thin he still is, she is defenceless against his brute male strength. "Let me go, Sirius! You're a pig!" she yells, while still struggling to get free.

"Oink, oink," he snorts. "I do love a good roll in the hay."

Eva can't help it; she laughs, sagging into his arms, all red-face and messy hair. She doesn't know why she is fighting this anyway. She had always found even his most dirty horrible jokes funny and their banter entertaining. Sophistication has never suited her, and she was terrible at pretending to be something she wasn't.

"You're incorrigible," she sighs, smiling. He smiles back, staring into her eyes.

"You know I don't care how you look, right? Never did," he says almost sombrely.

"I know."

"In fact, I always found you attractive."

Eva frowns sceptically. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did," he insists indignantly. "Since the moment you threw that block of cheese at my head."

"Yes, that was a romantic statement," she says sarcastically. "And we were twelve!"

"Your point being?"

Eva rolls her eyes. "That you were a pervert even at twelve."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I'm taking it as one."

"Why do you have to twist all of my words around?"

"Because you make it so easy."

"Then I guess I'll have to make it harder."

He pushes his pelvis against hers. "You already did." She walked right into that one.

Through her very tight jeans, there's no mistaking the hardness pressing against her. An excited tingle travels from her groin to her stomach, up her spine and her shoulders and right down to her fingers. Eva realizes she is holding onto his shirt when her grip tightens, twisting the fabric in her fist. She breathes in through her slightly open lips. She locks her eyes with his, finding craving and challenge in his dilated pupils. He wants her, there's no doubt about that. But he's leaving the last call to her. He's waiting. He's giving her an easy out. It's the defining moment; she could tell a joke, push him away and still end this amicably if a little awkwardly. Or she could take a chance. She considers pushing him away for a short moment. What for then again, Marlowe? It's not going to spare you any pain. Haven't you learnt yet? The pain will come, one way or another. You might as well enjoy while happiness lasts. And she wants this. She wants this so badly.

She smirks, grinding her pelvis against his, keeping their eyes locked. "Then I should do something about that," she says suggestively.

Watching her closely he gives her a slow grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he exclaims in relief, cupping her arse and practically dragging her on top on him.

She finds herself laughing into his mouth. He captures her mouth in a searing kiss, leaving her breathless and brainless. His mouth on hers is demanding, searching, nibbling, intense. Always intense. And she doesn't hold back either. She's so sick of holding back. Her hands travel over his chest, to his shoulders, tangling in his hair, pulling, combing, caressing. He breaks the kiss, and her head instinctively moves to the side for easy access as his mouth travels down her chin to her neck, biting, grazing, sucking, licking. She closes her eyes, moaning in ecstasy. Her inner muscles contract, and she presses herself to him as much as physically possible, pulling at his head, urging him for more. He squeezes her arse repeatedly, pressing her to him as if he can't get her close enough even when they are already so close, she isn't sure if rapid heartbeat in her ears is his or her own.

He thrusts his hips forward and she half breathes, half moans. Heat spreads through her body. She lifts her knee, hooking her long leg around him, rubbing herself against his thigh. His large palm creeps from her arse down her thigh appreciatively. He moves them backwards, half dragging, half carrying her, and she finds herself perched on the backrest of the couch. One of his hands finds the naked skin of her lower back under her shirt and she shivers at the touch. His other hand slips between her jean clad legs, drawing circles on the inside of her thigh, at first teasingly, his fingertips only grazing the top of her thighs and then higher and higher until he is rubbing his palm against her sex and her breaths come out hasher and harsher. She moans unashamedly, squeezing her knees around his waist. She pulsates with want; hot and damp and wanting.

Her hand searches for something to grip to steady herself but as they are in the middle of the room, she finds no satisfactory piece of furniture. Instead, she grips his shoulder, digging her nails into his flesh, pulling herself higher up his body in turn tilting her pelvis slightly so he simply presses his fingers against her, and she buries her head into his chest. She inhales deeply, her nostrils filling with smell of washed laundry and subtle cologne. He always hated fruity or flowery smells. Or even the one of pine needles she once tried to convince him to. (The laundry detergent was on sale.)

She kisses the bare skin under the open collar of his button-down shirt. Wanting more skin, she fists the edge of his shirt, pulling on the material to get rid of it. His hand abandons the position between her legs, and she moans in protest. He smirks, pulling the shirt over his head even if it might have been easier to just unbutton the last two buttons. She lunges for his mouth and her hands are immediately all over his chest and back, touching, caressing, massaging his taut muscles. He buries his hand into her hair, ruining what was left of her ponytail. Her thick hair spills over her shoulders and he seems to take pleasure in combing his fingers through it.

Her hand grazes his stomach, and he sucks in a breath. Eva smiles to herself, he always was sensitive to those feathery touches. She doesn't stop though; she puts her hand down the front of his pants, praising herself on buying him jeans that actually fit. There's no way he could get his hand into her skin-tight jeans. Though, he would probably take it as a challenge. She fondles him gently and feels him grow even harder in her hand. Something akin to whimper comes out of his mouth and he buries his forehead into her neck.

"You have to stop this," he grounds out, although he makes no move to stop her.

"Why's that?" she whispers into his ear, feeling him shiver. One hand still in his pants, she raises her other hand to stroke the back of his neck, mussing his hair.

"Otherwise, it's gonna be all over too soon," he mumbles into her neck, clearly desperate. She giggle-chuckles at this, squeezing him a little tighter. "Eva!" he gasps, biting her shoulder through her shirt. She laughs lightly again but does pull her hand out of his pants. She doesn't want this to be over too soon, either. She is still very much clothed.

"You have too many clothes on." Sirius obviously has the same idea.

"Well, get on to it then," she urges eagerly. He kisses her heatedly again.

"Patience." He doesn't mind in the slightest, though.

He reaches for the edge of her shirt, breaking another kiss as he pulls her shirt over her head, disposing of it carelessly. He doesn't return to her swollen tender lips but pulls down the cups of her bra, cupping her breasts, eying them with interest. Eva raises an eyebrow.

"They really have gotten bigger," he observes with wonder.

Eva rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Really, Sirius, I didn't take you for much of a breast-guy. I thought you were more of an arse-guy."

Sirius scoffs at this. "Every man is a breast-guy. I'm just a your arse-guy," he says with a wolfish smile.

She shrieks in surprise as he once again squeezes her arse and tips them both over the backrest onto the couch. She falls onto her back and Sirius lands on her, purposefully pressing himself against her and she immediately forgets to scold him. He then turns his attention to her breasts, kissing her skin softly, gently, like she is something precious. (She hates rough handling of her breasts.) She gets goosebumps all over her skin. He turns his eyes to her as she bends her knees, so he lays between her legs. He trails kisses up her chest to her mouth, one hand still stroking her breast and the other fumbling with the zipper of her jeans. He pulls at the zipper a few times before cursing as he figures the task might require more of his attention. He kneels on the couch and uses both hands to pull down her zipper and undo her button. Eva immediately sighs with relief. Those pants really are a torture device.

"Bloody hell, what's with those pants? You glued them on or something?" he asks impatiently as he tries his hardest to peel the jeans of her arse.

"Or something," she says amused.

"Make your arse spectacular though," he comments, freeing her right knee.

"I hope you had a good look as they are going straight to rubbish." He sighs disappointedly. "They make for terrible access," she reminds him.

He seems to consider it. "You're right." He frees the last of her feet. "We'll burn it later," he shrugs, throwing the garment in general direction of an unlit fireplace. She laughs at his enthusiasm.

"Fine with me."

He watches her for a moment as she lays there in her underwear on the couch of his mother's library in the light of the late morning (late morning for goodness's sake!) and she figures the light probably does not do her any favours. She's not worried, though. Not with the way he can't tear his eyes away from her. She beckons him with a small smile, and he doesn't hesitate to descend upon her. They kiss feverishly, passionately, playfully. He unclasps her bra, fumbling a bit with the clasp before he triumphantly disposes of another of her garments. She trembles as he trails wet kisses down her neck and her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach and further down to the edge of her knickers. He rubs a palm over her wet knickers, then hooks a finger around the fabric, teasing her with his fingertip.

"Sirius," she warns breathlessly, arching her back, pushing into his hand. He puts another finger inside her knickers and rubs her more purposefully this time. Eva clenches fingers of one hand around the backrest and buries her other hand in Sirius' hair rather forcefully. Muscles of her legs, from her arse down to her toes are clenched tightly as he rubs and squeezes and pulls and presses- Oh god, presses on all the right points. His hand slides more and more easily as it gets wet and slick, and she is about to explode with pressure. But she wants him. She wants him.

She pulls on his hair trying to bring him to her, unable to communicate with words. Seeing the look in her eyes, vulnerable, open, wanting, he complies immediately. Not breaking eye contact, hand still in her knickers, he puts a knee between her legs and raises himself up her body to kiss her. With something deep and meaningful and unending and unable to describe later.

She reaches down to unzip his pants, having a far easier job of it than he did. He manoeuvres himself out of it easily too, simultaneously removing his underwear. She reaches for him, rubbing, squeezing, stroking, coaxing. He breathes harshly and erratically into her, puffs of hot air hitting her sweaty neck. She squeezes and he thrusts his hips downwards, pressing himself against her still knickered pelvic bone. Her breathe catches in her throat at the feeling of almost painful pleasure, that builds in her as his hardness pushes against her, throbbing, swollen, hot, moist, ready.

She fumbles with the edge of her knickers, trying to remove the last barrier between them. He helps her, pulling them down her legs urgently. She flicks them away with her toes. She raises her hips slightly, impatient. Her whole body pulsates with want. Sirius responds with urgency of his own. In one swift move he shifts her a little on her side so they can both fit on the narrow couch. His open-mouthed breathes mixing with hers, he gives her a hooded look, full of vulnerability, and loneliness, and longing for acceptance, for love, for forgiveness, for human touch, for something, for her. He needs her and she will give him whatever she has to give. Always. Keeping eye-contact, she responds by angling her pelvis towards him and guiding him, gently but firmly between her legs and he easily slides into her, wet and slick and soft and aching and so, so ready.

They move in slow rhythm and Eva finds herself clinging to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, greedily, almost desperately grasping at the sweaty skin, that keeps slipping from her grip. She cannot get close enough. As the pressure builds and he increases his rhythm, they keep their eyes open. Her breathing gets more and more erratic, and she can feel sweat above her upper lip appear. She gasps at the mix of pleasure and sweet torture every time he hits just that spot. Again and again and just once more. Almost. Yes, just there. She meets his thrusts with equal enthusiasm, angling her pelvis so he hits just the right spot, impatiently coming closer and closer to climaxing. Once more. And again and… Oh…

She throws her head backwards and her eyesight blurs. Her spine bends and her heels dig into the couch. Her muscles contract almost to the point of cramping as she squeezes her thighs around his hips. Her inner muscles pulsate around him as she rides out waves of release and as he pushes into her with renewed strength, quivering with exertion, hitting that clutch of sensitive nerves, the pressure rebuilds and multiplies, consuming her whole. In her daze she is only half-aware when he comes with one last spasm, groaning into her neck, drops of sweat dripping off his fine hair and landing on her hot skin. His nose ends up pressed against the space between her chin and neck and his hair tickles her ear and for awhile neither moves, staying locked in this position, waiting for their breathing to calm and their bodies to start working again.

She watches, blinking lazily as he pulls out of her, awkwardly stretching his hand to reach for his wand somewhere amid a pile of clothes on the floor and cleans up the mess. She shivers at a gust of cold air on her sweaty skin, and he produces a throw blanket from somewhere behind their heads, pulling it over both of them. Eva gives him a small smile and lifts her head just enough for him to settle his arm underneath her neck, pulling her against his side. She watches his face intently, studying his eyes, tracking the relaxed lines of his face. And he watches her just as carefully. A strange calmness comes over her, settling her heartbeat and filling her chest and warming her limbs. She feels no need to move or do anything or take care of anything. She feels like everything is just as it should be. She feels right for the first time in years. For the first time since that night, he went to prison. She is not alone.

Eva Marlowe would be the first to tell you that sex is a purely physical event but even she knows this was something more. And while she wouldn't go as far as calling it spiritual, it definitely was filled with emotions. So many emotions, she cannot put name to them. It feels as if they have finally found each other again. As if they have come together on the same wavelength. As if there are no more secrets about anything and they have been united in their pain and suffering and memories and joy and nostalgia and the truths, that no one else knows. It is as if that last barrier that both of them were keeping between them, has finally been torn down. And while none of this should have anything to do with sex, it undoubtedly does. And of course it does; it's not going to be a conversation that resolves anything when it's them.

They are both content to not speak at all for a while. Eva revels in this embrace, in warm skin against her and strong hands around her body. She watches the pale hand resting lightly on her elbow. The hand, not gripping but still emitting kind of a raw strength. The hand that has pushed her out of danger numerous times. The hand that has held a new-born baby with ease but also incredible firmness. The hand that steadied her when she slipped and would never let her fall. The hand that was her safety. She has always felt safe with Sirius. Always. Unconditionally safe. Even as a schoolgirl. Even when she wanted to rip his head off and he could only talk to her in snarls. Even when they didn't really know each other. She always knew he will protect her. She never thought, not even for a second, not even a fleeting thought, that he could ever betray them. Never, never, never. And when that safety net has been ripped away from her, she has never again felt safe. Not only could she never again trust her own judgement, she could never again lean on anybody. Never again did she accept anybody's hand when she was about to fall. Never again did she let herself be caught by somebody's hands. Not physically. Certainly not metaphorically.

Eva doesn't realize she's crying until Sirius runs his finger across her cheek, catching her tears.

"Why are you crying, hm?" he asks gently. There's no real urgency behind the question, though. Like on some level, he knows what she's thinking. Instead of answering something she hardly knows where to begin explaining, she buries her face into his shoulder, dropping even more tears. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" he jokes, and she laughs through her tears, her face still pressed against him.

She hits him lightly on the chest, but her tears do slowly subside. He does know how to deal with her. He keeps rubbing her elbow until she is ready to turn her face upwards and meet his eyes.

"You remember that time we went to my house to get the last of my things after seventh year?" she asks quietly.

Sirius raises an eyebrow at the random turn that the conversation has taken. "Yeeees?"

"I- I was terrified to go."

"I know."

"You do?" she frowns.

"Not only did you insist we climb into your house through a second story window at which you almost broke your neck, exhibiting all of your athletic abilities, you also kept up a stream of sarcastic commentary and self-degrading jokes. I could read you pretty well." He smiles at her.

"Oh." He waits for her to continue. "That was the only time I set foot into Jonathan's room after- Well, after he killed himself." She hasn't taken anything out of his room, just left it as it was, untouched from the day he died. Mostly she stared upwards until a hand on her forearm interrupted her staring contest with the ceiling beam. Are you ready to go? Yes. She was more than ready. Maybe it was kind of pointless really to go back, since she never intended to go back home much less live there, but that room has been haunting her for years. That door, she had passed with eyes averted and an urgency in her step. "I would never go without you."

She doesn't elaborate on how he made her feel safe even in the place of her biggest fear. How she knew he will save her. Even from herself. Especially from herself.

Watching that hand, wrapped around her, she feels safe for the first time in years. She is not alone.

Eva doesn't remember nodding off, but she wakes up with a tiny gasp. She looks down to find them both wrapped in a throw blanket and her eyes trail the contours of their intervened bodies to meet his eyes that watch her intently. She pauses for a second before relaxing and resting her cheek back onto his shoulder.

"I fell asleep."

"You seemed tired. It was just a short nap though."

She yawns, nodding. "I didn't sleep all that well last night," she comments absentmindedly.

Sirius stiffens slightly. "Where did you sleep last night?" he asks carefully.

She looks at him incredulously. "In your bed."

"Oh." He averts his eyes. "You weren't there in the morning."

Eva stares at him, as it finally occurs to her why he was in such a snippy mood in the morning. "Sirius." She waits for him to meet her eyes. "I was there all night. I only got up early to catch Remus before he left for his mission."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because. Because I knew it will eat you up if you two don't smooth things over."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. I hate to see you in pain. Don't you know that, you idiot?"

"Oi, no insults when we're naked," he scolds. But his eyes are soft and his smile almost whimsy.

"When did that become a rule?"

"Just now," he says with finality, kissing her on the mouth. "Now, are you rested enough for another round?"

Eva looks around pretending to think about it. "I could be. But I want a bed. Why are we on this musty couch when we have a house full of beds?"

"Beats me." Sirius shrugs. "Do you think we can apparate horizontally?" he ponders, his expression just serious enough, that it horrifies a former girlfriend of a notorious prankster and risk taker.

"Absolutely not! I do not want to explain to my colleagues how I got to be horizontally splinched when they wheel me into St Mungo's!"

"You're such a spoilsport," he accuses her.

"We said no insults when we're naked," she reminds him.

"This was not an insult, just-"

"Losing interest here," she drawls. "If-" She shrieks as he suddenly picks her up and throws her over his shoulder. It was always his favourite trick. She has no idea how he does it; she is not some anorexic teenager. "Sirius!"

"You're being difficult. Let's go!"

Well, she didn't want to walk anyway. She can only hope Kreacher doesn't see her naked bum on the way to bedroom.

Next time Tonks asks how it was (as she is sure to do), Eva is pretty certain she will not be able to contain a big, dreamy, cat-that-ate-a-canary smile on her lips. It's a wonder if she will be able to prevent a gushing review of Sirius' amazing skills in bed and what it did to her. But she will tell her of that second round. The one that was playful and a little kinky and full of outlandish conversation. The one she had to pause midway to go pee and her foot cramped and Sirius complained of backpain at a strange twist, and she put a pillow under her arse to relieve muscle tightness and he leaned his elbows on her hair almost scalping her.

She will most certainly not even begin to explain how it moved something deep inside her.

Author's note: Sooo… It took me more than a year to write a halfway decent sex scene. I really should get laid more. Ok, maybe I just have difficulty writing positive emotions in general. You would think I'm some kind of middle-aged Scrouge. I'm not really, either middle age or a grouchy person. Completely normal here. Average. Of sorts.

Anyway, it really is hard to write a sex scene that comes off at least somewhat real and not too sappy. I mean, this is romance novel so some sappiness is required, I didn't want it to be totally raw. I was trying to find some kind of balance. Am still not sure if this is what I was going for, but it is what it is now…