Chapter 13: In The Library

There was a faint murmur in the stairwell, but Hermione had far more important things to be concentrating on – namely, Sirius' head between her legs as she sat on top of her desk. So, the voice just faded into the background, until it was too late.

"I know Gin said not to just show up early like this but, after yesterday, I had to see if you were… Holy Jesus!"

Hermione couldn't move. She was completely stunned.

Judging by Harry's face in the open doorway, she wasn't the only one.

She felt rather than saw Sirius turn to look as well.

Harry's mouth gaped open while he blinked behind his glasses like a myopic owl. Hermione watched, motionless, as his eyes took in their position by the desk, then moved over to the rumpled bedclothes, and then back again to them.

They were… very naked.

She was facing the door from where Sirius had perched her on the desk, completely bare from top to bottom with her legs spread open, every part of her on display to Harry's eyes except where Sirius' head and shoulders blocked the view.

It was a clear sightline from the door to the desk, so Harry was also being treated to a splendid display of his godfather's very fine bottom.

He didn't look as impressed by it as Hermione had been.

There was no way that they were doing anything other than what it was. Sirius' fingers were still inside her, for Merlin's sake.

The tableau remained frozen for half a second longer, and then Harry started shaking his head and backing out of the doorway, odd choking sounds coming from his mouth.

"Harry?" she called out.

"Harry?!" echoed Sirius.

Harry didn't seem capable of saying anything at first. Finally, he croaked out, "I—I'm… uh… I'm leaving."

Sirius was on his feet more quickly than she was able to be. "Harry. Harry, wait!"

All Hermione could think was that she was still coating his fingers. When he started running after his godson, she had to call him back. "Sirius!" He threw her a look and she waved a hand at his current state. "Clothes?"

"Fuck it," he muttered, dashing back inside the room just long enough to stuff himself into his trousers from the night before. No shirt, no shoes – there wasn't time before he was off again. She could hear the wooden stairs of Number Twelve clattering with the sudden rush of feet pounding down them.

"Harry! Wait!"

Hermione wasn't near the bedsheets or she might have grabbed one of them. Instead, she made it to the top of the bannister dressed in Sirius' crumpled jacket.

She watched, transfixed, as a flurry of movement happened on different levels of the stairs. Surprisingly, she didn't hear the front door open or close through any of it. Harry was still in the house. To be honest, Hermione wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

What she did hear was the sound of Remus physically blocking Sirius from going any further down the stairs.

"Let me go, Moony!"

"No."

"I have to talk to Harry!"

"Pads! Leave him. Leave him!"

Even from her position above them, Hermione could hear the extreme effort Remus was using to keep Sirius from chasing after his godson.

"Let me talk to him," Remus said, his voice hoarse from the strain of holding Sirius back. There was a quick movement of feet, and another groan from Remus. "No, me," he insisted again.

Finally, Sirius stopped fighting. The silence echoed around the house. "Fine," he said, breathing loudly. "You talk first. I'll be upstairs."

Just before Hermione moved out of sight, she caught a glimpse of Tonks sticking her head out at an odd angle to look directly up from one landing to the other. The two witches didn't say a word, but Tonks raised her eyebrows. Colouring slightly, Hermione nodded her head. The Metamorphmagus closed her eyes, held them shut, and then nodded in return before drawing back.

Hermione disappeared from the top landing before Sirius began to make his way back up the stairs – to her room, she hoped.

When he entered, she was waiting for him on her bed, still wearing his jacket. She watched closely as he first rubbed his temples with those long, aristocratic fingers, and then dragged his hands through his hair.

What worried her, however, was that he didn't look at her.

"Sirius."

"Gods – that was the last thing I thought would happen," he muttered. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, still trying to catch his eye. "Feeling a little exposed, I guess. I didn't know the door was open."

"Neither did I," said Sirius ruefully. "You realise it was open all night?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Merlin."

He covered half his face with one hand. "We can deal with our housemates later, but… yeah. They're probably not very pleased with us, either. Might not be as shocked, though, I hope."

"Do you think Harry's still downstairs?"

"He has to be," said Sirius, leaning against the doorframe before giving a dry, unhappy laugh. "If he'd apparated home, Ginny would already be coming up those stairs to see for herself – and then probably sell tickets." There was no mirth in his face as he stared at the floor, and then the corner of her room.

"Sirius – look at me."

When he did, Hermione felt lost all over again. He looked so beautiful in the weak morning light: his hair hitting his shoulders in tousled waves, his pale skin contrasting with the dark, fitted trousers and the black ink on his chest. She even liked his feet.

Not five minutes ago, his head had been between her thighs. And now…

"Remus has gone to talk to him. He wouldn't… he stopped me from—" He broke off with an even deeper sigh.

"I know," she said softly.

"I know we have to talk, too," said Sirius carefully, "but… Merlin, I can't even think straight if you're naked. I just can't."

Standing, Hermione sadly peeled off his jacket. Goosebumps broke out across her flesh. It was cold in the room without Sirius or his clothes warming her. She held the coat out to him; his fingers touched hers as he took it.

Sirius swallowed loudly as he looked at her bare body and then passed a hand over his eyes again.

"Give me a few minutes," he said. "And, you'll never hear me say this again, but – can you please put something on?"

Now the dry laugh was hers in a puff from her nostrils, her mouth a firm line.

"Okay," she agreed. "A few minutes."

To give him credit, Sirius was back in less than ten.

He wore a navy-blue dress shirt, the uppermost of his tattoos just visible at the neck. He'd traded the formal trousers for an old pair of jeans. She thought he might have brushed his hair. Hermione had managed to find some black leggings and a loose top, but she felt too dazed to search for more. Her head was too full of thoughts.

The first thing Sirius did was to stride over and kiss her. He teased at her lips, both of his hands cradling her head. It was a soft, sweet embrace, without the fiery lust from the night before or the sexy playfulness earlier that morning.

When he finally let her go, she searched his face. "Was that a good morning or a goodbye?"

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Exhaling loudly, he tilted his head back with his eyes shut. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I need to think."

"About Harry, or about everything we said last night?"

"I can handle Harry."

"You're going to have to tell him something."

Sirius snorted. "That'll be a conversation for the ages. 'Hello, Harry, son. Yes, that was me with my head between Hermione's legs. My bad for not shutting the door'."

"That sounds perfect," Hermione deadpanned.

"I thought so."

Hermione wove her fingers through his, watching their hands rather than his face. "Do you still think you're bad for me?"

With downcast eyes, Sirius nodded.

She peered at him. "Do you still see me as some breakable, innocent thing?"

The side-eye he gave her reassured her that he hadn't forgotten a thing from their night together. "No," he whispered lowly.

"Do you still think you'll hurt me?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"This hurts me, too, Sirius," she stated plainly. "After last night, to think that you can just stop…"

His response didn't really answer her concerns. "We didn't do anything wrong last night," he said.

"No?"

"No."

"But you think we should give each other time. Even if—?"

He nodded quickly, running his hands up and down along her arms. The movement was warming but also a bit removed from how closely he had held her through all the hours leading up to now.

Hermione paused and then decided to let him in on her plan. "I was thinking as I got dressed."

"I'm sorry."

"That I was thinking?" she asked.

His eyes twinkled for the first time since Harry had interrupted them. "No, that you had to get dressed." His hands gripped her arms just a little tighter. "But, you know… you naked." He breathed out softly between his lips.

"Yes?"

He stared straight at her. "I can't resist that."

"Good to know," she said, smiling as much as she could. "Still. I think I might go away, for a while."

"You don't have to do that," he said firmly.

"I think best without distractions."

"Is that what I am now?"

"In the best sense," she clarified, before breaking away from his hands and walking over to her desk. She trailed her fingers along its surface, remembering.

There was a self-sacrificial streak in Hermione that she often tried to fight against, but it rose to the surface now. She had to give Sirius every option in the world so that he could feel free, even if it killed her.

"If I do go," she continued, trying to find the right words, "then we both should really take that time to think about what's happened. All of it. And if that means – I can't believe I'm actually saying this – but if that means that you need to see Aurora Sinistra again, do it."

"What's that?!"

She turned to look at Sirius, taking in the irate confusion on his face.

"Just what kind of a mad slag do you think I am?" he asked sharply.

"I don't mean it like that," she answered quickly. "You said last night that you had gone through the motions with her. Maybe you need to spend time with someone like her in order to see if that's still the case. To compare her with how you know it is with me. And, if that's the case, I can understand it. To a point. I would get very upset if you went to bed with her."

A muscle was jumping in Sirius' face as he glared at her. His eyes were silver daggers. "What is this? Rules for Romantic Entanglements by Professor Hermione Granger?"

"Hardly." She looked down at the floor, trying to gather the strength to make him understand. "Sirius, I don't know what I'm doing here. You said all those things last night and then we were here and I've never felt like that, and now we have to deal with Harry." She suddenly felt so tired. "When you leave this room, or when I leave this house, everything might change. I need some basic parameters."

"Like no new lovers?" he snorted.

"If you like."

"Good. Because I don't want Redwine anywhere near you."

She reared back. "Do you think that, after last night, I would want him?"

"Didn't you just accuse me of wanting to fuck Aurora?"

She winced, knowing her previous words had been all wrong.

"I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"You didn't think at all!" he roared.

"I said it to be helpful!"

"Helpful?!" Rolling his eyes, he half-turned away and stared at the still-open door. "I should go downstairs."

"Already?" she asked. "Is that wise?"

"Whatever Remus had to say to Harry, he should have said it by now." When Sirius looked back at her, she was unnerved at the fury coming off him in waves. Raising a finger, he spoke sharply: "You stay here. Don't even think of leaving until I get back. We are not done."

Hurt by his sudden shift in tone, she felt her own anger take over. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Don't. Leave."

"Go talk to Harry," she seethed. "Go!"

"Hermione." He wasn't heading towards the door. "Promise me."

She clenched her jaw and held his eyes. "All right," she ground out at last. "I won't go until you're back."

Breathing heavily, he gave her a curt nod. "Good. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Neither of them moved.

Hermione never knew if he broke first or if she did, but suddenly he had her in his arms, and she was wrapped tightly around him, hoping he might crack.

Smashing their lips together, they held on through a single, fierce kiss.

It was not a kind embrace. It was wounded and savage and dark – all the things he had said he was, deep down: all the things she knew she could be, too.

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. Sirius ran his fingers over her mouth and then walked out. He paused for a moment, his hand wrapped around the doorframe, giving Hermione a final glance. He still looked furious. Then he was gone.

Not knowing what to do with herself, she went over to the window and stared out at the long stretch of London rooftops, listening to Sirius' footsteps fade away down the stairs.


Remus stopped Sirius just outside the library.

"How is he?" Sirius asked.

"Stunned," the werewolf replied. "Shocked. Traumatised. Seeing you naked does bad things to people, Pads."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Nice. Seriously, though, Moony – what am I walking into?"

Remus shrugged, his hands open and apart. "I honestly don't know. He was very loud at the beginning. Now he seems to have quieted down."

Sirius paused again before opening the closed door. "Are you and my cousin going to want to have a run at us later as well?"

Remus' mouth pulled to one side. "About that – we might owe you a bit of an apology. Tonks heard you two come home last night. Once we knew what was happening, I threw a silencing charm on Hermione's room from the landing. I, uh… I didn't check to see if her door was closed when I did it. Harry couldn't have known he was walking into anything, because he couldn't hear either of you until it was too late. Neither could we. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, my friend. I could have at least checked to make sure she and I were properly alone. We just… didn't notice."

Remus' warm hand clasped Sirius on the shoulder. "Brace yourself. If he's anything like James, he's going to be fuming – about a lot of things."

"Merlin's balls," he cursed softly, and then pushed the door open.

Sirius walked into the room that had once been his father's study. Remus and Hermione had repurposed it months ago into a floor-to-ceiling library with a much happier and less haunted atmosphere.

Harry was standing at the fireplace, his hands braced on the mantle.

Sirius took a deep breath and closed the door behind him. It seemed the room was still haunted after all.

"Thank you for not leaving," Sirius began.

Harry looked over at his godfather and then away again. "Remus convinced me to stay. At least until you had told me the truth."

"The truth?" asked Sirius quizzically.

Harry didn't turn around. To fill the silence, Sirius moved over to one of the leather wingbacks facing the fireplace and sat down, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"So… I suppose you want an explanation."

"Yes," said Harry stiffly. "I do."

Circe, this was going to be awkward.

"Well," Sirius began. "Yes. When—well, when two people like each other… Oh, Merlin." He ran his hands down his face and steepled his fingers across his mouth, drawing long breaths.

"Sirius."

"Yes?"

He looked up to see his godson now facing him fully, his back against the mantlepiece. Harry's arms were crossed tightly. There was no fire going this early in the day, so the room was still quite dark. The heavy curtains that Hermione had decided not to replace might have worked well in giving the room a cosy feeling in the late afternoon, but right now they made the place feel oddly dull and washed out.

"Do you remember, years ago, when you and Remus gave me 'The Talk'?"

Sirius smiled at the memory. "We did do that, didn't we?"

Harry didn't smile back.

"You did. It was Christmas of fifth year. I was fifteen. Remus sat there," said Harry, pointing to the chair Sirius sat in now, before turning to the fireplace, "and you stood here, and you two took turns telling me about how a good wizard treats witches and how to perform a safe contraception charm and what to do when I liked a girl. You were very clear about making sure I knew that, when things got going, a witch always had to—" He broke off, clearly uncomfortable. "A witch always had to climax before I did. That was completely embarrassing for me to hear, so I've never been able to forget it."

"I stand by that advice," said Sirius hotly. "That was good godfatherly advice, Harry."

Whatever calm Harry had been holding onto instantly evaporated. "But never, in a thousand years, did I think when you told me – in great detail – how to go down on a witch, that I would one day see you doing exactly that to my best friend!"

Sirius pushed his fingers against his forehead, begging silently for strength. "Yes, well. First of all, I never wanted you to see that either. I think that's fairly obvious. And, second, well – can't you just see this as a very odd bookend to that first conversation?"

Harry's face was deathly pale. One of his hands now held onto the corner of the mantle. "Sirius. I have to know. When we were here before, when you gave me that talk, had you… had it already started wi—"

Sirius leapt to his feet, appalled. "No! Circe wept! No. Harry, come on!"

Harry just glared at him.

"NO!" Sirius bellowed. "Never! I like witches, Harry, not little girls. For fuck's sake! I never looked at Hermione twice back then, I swear it!"

Although, he suddenly thought as her words from dinner came barrelling back at him, she apparently had been looking at him – and that information would now go with him to his grave.

"On my love for your parents, Harry, I swear it. Okay?"

Harry was gripping the mantle so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "Then how long has this been going on?"

"Well," said Sirius before taking a moment to think about the best possible answer. "This… this was the first time I'd ever been in her room."

He had hoped that would do it.

It didn't.

"Since when do you limit yourself to bedrooms?" Harry sneered.

Sirius hung his head. "This was our first night together."

"Rough luck on you, then."

"Rather."

Sirius searched for the words to make his godson understand. He and Harry had become close again since his return – but Sirius had never talked about Hermione through any of it, apart from the vaguest mentions of her growing obsession with the spell, or her annoying habit of replacing all of his tea with caffeine-free alternatives.

He had said nothing about their encounters nearly every morning where one of them – usually him – was fresh out of the shower.

Nothing about their flirty way of finishing each other's sentences, or the soft touches they gave each other in passing on the stairs.

Nothing about the motorcycle rides or the way he looked for extra reasons to make her blush.

Nothing about that first night in the kitchen, when she had somehow entered his soul.

Without knowing any of that, Sirius realised it would be impossible for Harry to just accept that things had finally changed for the better; that this had been a long time coming. More pressing, however, was that he had to show his godson that what he and Hermione had done was in no way depraved or wretched.

"The thing is," Sirius began, "well, Hermione grew up. A wizard would have to be blind not to see how amazing she is. I mean, just look at her! Now, don't get me wrong, she can be beyond infuriating half the time, but she's also bloody brilliant and so damn sexy…"

"I don't want to hear about that!"

Sirius shut his eyes. "Sorry."

"So," Harry said awkwardly, "you're together now?"

Honesty. That was key. If he lied to his boy at all right now, he was scuppered.

"It's… it's complicated, Harry."

"What's complicated about it?"

Sirius paused, slowly pushing the air out of his nostrils. This was taking a turn he wasn't happy with. "To be honest, that's none of your business. It's between Hermione and me."

Harry whirled on him. "That's not good enough!"

"What?"

"Look – Hermione doesn't have many people. Her parents haven't been all that welcoming for a while. It's never been right between them since they got their memories back. For all intents and purposes, I am her family now."

"I know that," said Sirius.

"So."

"So?" He couldn't help the raised eyebrow.

"So, I need to look out for her. I don't want her to get hurt if you're still being… you." The last word dripped with poison. Sirius took it to heart, and it hurt. It hurt a lot.

"Such a high opinion you must have of me, son."

Harry's eyes were cold and cutting. "Sirius. You know what you mean to me. But you are not perfect."

"No," he agreed, "I'm not."

"You've never even had a steady girlfriend that I know about. You just shag witches and move on."

Sirius didn't know what to say. He was wounded all over again by the cruel cut to Harry's gaze as the younger man stared at him.

"Face it: you could never be serious about anyone – so leave her alone."

That did it.

Sirius closed his eyes; when he opened them again, he was gripped by one of the coldest rages of his life. Ice filled every sinew and muscle in his body as he glared at this jumped-up git who dared to tell him what to do – or with whom.

"Look, are we finished here?" he said angrily. "I, for one, am not fond of having to explain myself to a pup like you."

"Pup?!"

Every breath was making Sirius more incensed. "Like I said – Hermione is all grown up. She doesn't need you being an overbearing prat on her behalf."

Now it was Harry's turn to swell up with resentment. "Overbearing? Because I actually care for her, unlike you?"

Sirius got right up into his face. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Come off it, Sirius!" Harry yelled loudly. "You slept with Professor Sinistra two days ago!"

"I did not."

Harry didn't listen. "Then I walk in today and find you…"

Sirius' gaze was chilling. "I think the words you're looking for are 'licking Hermione's quim' – and it was incredible."

"SHUT UP! You shut up about her!"

"Harry, Hermione's no virgin! She knew wha—" Sirius never got to finish that sentence. Harry's fist had ploughed into his jaw with a wicked punch before the words were out of his mouth.

Knocked back, Sirius brought a hand up to his face, tasting blood, not quite believing what had just happened.

Then instinct took over, godsons bedamned.

Grabbing Harry by his collar, he shoved the younger man up against the wall next to the hearth, hard enough to shake the bookcase. "It's like that, is it?" he snarled.

"Let go of me!"

"Not bloody likely!"

Harry got in another swipe at his ribs before Sirius teed up the boy's jaw in his hand and had at him.

The echoing crack around the library was shocking, louder by far than when Harry had punched him. The famous glasses flew off Harry's face; seconds later, the two men were grappling at one another, brawling across the room, each trying to hit the other anywhere it might hurt.

By the time Remus barged into the room, both men were bleeding, cuts on their faces, clothing torn, and the room in complete disarray.

The werewolf wrangled Sirius off Harry, having to use both arms and almost all of his lupine strength to separate them.

"Hit me all you want!" spat Harry, his lip bleeding heavily. "Go ahead! That doesn't change the fact that you should NOT be with her!"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, boy!"

"You don't deserve her!" Harry shouted.

"I KNOW THAT!" Sirius roared back.

The words punctured Harry like darts in a balloon. He sagged to the floor while Sirius strained to free himself from Remus' hold and kept yelling.

"Do you think I don't know that, Harry?! That's why I stayed away from her for so long! It's why I've been trying to convince her to stop! Do you really think I'm that selfish? Do you?"

Harry looked up from his bruised and battered position on the floor. "I think you're the bastard who shagged two women in two days, and one of them is my best friend."

Sirius made a final tug at Remus' arms and pulled himself loose. Spitting blood on the floor from the cut on his tongue, he glared at Harry.

"And did you ask her about any of this before having a go at me?" he glowered. "Of course not. Tell me, does Hermione really factor into any of this for you? Has she ever asked you to protect her from Big Bad Me? Or are you just being a presumptuous little prick?"

Harry made half an effort to get back up on his feet before Remus stepped in between them. "That's enough," he growled.

Neither man dared to question the alpha wolf in the room.

Sirius didn't try to get near Harry again, but he still wasn't done. "If you ask me, Harry, you're a just toddler in a tantrum because someone's played with one of your toys. You've decided what's best for Hermione and that's all that matters. What she wants doesn't play into this at all, does it? And I'm the bastard here? You've just treated her worse in the last five minutes than I ever have."

Moving towards the door, he paused and then turned back.

"I won't throw you out of this house," announced Sirius, "because you're family and I love you, even when you're being a horse's ass. But don't you dare think of going after Hermione about any of this until you get your fucking story straight."

"YOU'RE TWICE HER AGE!" Harry screamed.

Sirius tossed his hair back and did his best to look like a Black, despite the blood dribbling from his temple and an ugly bruise already purpling his jaw.

"If she doesn't mind, who the hell are you to judge?"

Remus caught Sirius' eye. "Go. I'll take it from here."

"Do that," said Sirius imperiously. "I have another hornet's nest to deal with upstairs." He took one last look at where his godson was sitting on the floor, trying to put his glasses back on. "I'm sorry for what you saw, Harry. Neither of us wanted you to find out like that. I'm sorry you think so badly of me – that you believe I would ever use Hermione just for sex. But, I am not sorry that I was with her last night – and I never will be."

Sirius waited a beat, hoping Harry would say something.

A sullen look was the only answer he received.

Pulling down his cuffs and shirt as if they were his best robes, Sirius swept out of the room: broken, bleeding, and even more frustrated than when he had come downstairs.