"Let's leave, Sirius." Was all she said. It was all she had to say. Sirius nodded, and, side by side, the two Disaparrated, leaving only two cups of punch and an empty stone bench in their wake.
-
-
-
"Calm down," was all Hermione said, yet something in her voice caused Sirius's angry, nonsense-yelling rampage to end abruptly. Hermione shut her eyes and sighed deeply. "Could you make dinner? I'm very hungry, and I think I need a little while to think things over a little."
Sirius shrugged, but slowly nodded, as well. Pasta. He would enjoy breaking the noodles into the boiling water, pretending the huge bunch was Scrimgeour's neck….
"Could I borrow your wand?" He asked, holding out his hand, and Hermione passed it over. He had never quite been patient enough to wait for the water to heat up after the Muggle fashion. He glanced over at Hermione quickly before leaving the room. The plain white fan once more covered her bosom, and Sirius watched as she delicately threw herself down on the couch in the den, looking up at the ceiling as if it held the secrets to life.
Sirius quickly expunged this image from his mind's eye as he turned to enter the kitchen. He tapped the wand against the burner, summoned a saucepan, and, with a muttered incantation, it filled with water which streamed from the tip of Hermione's wand. Merely setting it down on the burner caused the water inside to ripple with the excitement of heat. Sirius knew this feeling; this was Hermione, in his arms, dancing with him.
His anger faded slightly, his passion a little less so, into a kind of rationality. Within moments, the water was at a complete boil, huge rolling bubbles rising from the bottom. With his last reserves of unadulterated anger, he broke the noodles and allowed them all to fall into the heat of the water.
Sirius slowly stirred the food. He was unsure about all of his movements, as if he had been born again, these new thoughts and motions and feelings completely alien to him. He felt that, if he tread too loudly, or said anything at all, he would ruin her, ruin himself, ruin everything they had tried to be. And the love he had discovered earlier that night was still a blossom, although, he realized, it had always been there, since she had first beckoned him—not Ron—from beyond that damned arch with that demonic, slightly fluttering, tattered veil.
When the noodles were soft and paler than they had been, not too chewy as either over-cooking or under-cooking could do, he pulled the pan off the burner, and then whipped out the strainer. He wondered if he had given Hermione enough time to think, to calm down. He knew for certain that he was well calm already, prepared to speak peaceably of the situation—which did not, of course, entail that he cease from his plans to gouge out Scrimgeour's eyeballs and feed them to Hogwart's giant squid.
Fifteen minutes later, still slightly steaming spaghetti, covered in a soft marinara sauce, found its way on a sparkling clean plate to the den, and Sirius set it down on the table near where Hermione sat on the couch. She looked up at him, as if she had just been awoken from a kind of drifting daze… which, Sirius said to himself, she probably had.
"Ready to talk?" He asked, as kindly as he could.
She shrugged. "I suppose so. Although, all this time has done little to soothe me."
Sirius was silent. There were no words he could say now that would not give away his love for her, which he knew she did not want just then… thus, silence. He felt Hermione's eyes rake up his being, to be caught and held by his. The silence amplified their gazes. Sirius saw Hermione's mouth tremble a little bit. He broke the silence, hearing it in his mind shatter away like so much ice, no longer wanted or necessary.
"What is it, Hermione? What do you want?" At the aching passion in his voice, he felt Hermione's inhibitions, that wall of solidity that always lurked, unbearably cold and hard, behind her eyes, melt slowly away.
"Please, Sirius, hold me right now." She moaned, and allowed herself to be collected into his arms. She leaned against him, her breath playing along his shirt, their legs stretching out along the couch.
"I'm afraid." Hermione said, and her voice showed weakness. It was a weakness alien to Sirius, but it did not turn him off of her in any fashion; it made her feel so right, being protected by him, just as she could protect him like no other. "Afraid for you. And Lupin." She added quickly. "I wouldn't mind going to Azkaban, but…."
"No." A little nugget of fury, born in Sirius's gut when Scrimgeour had first mentioned the possibility of Hermione in Azkaban, erupted violently up through his chest and out of his mouth. "You would. That place is a living hell. I would… kill myself if ever I stood by and allowed you to go there. It would break you, as it almost broke me."
Hermione did not attempt to deny this. He could feel her shaking with suppressed tears. "Then what do I do?" She asked, and Sirius's heart went out to her. "What do we do?"
It was a subtle change, but Sirius had noticed it. The slight transition from being alone—asking what it was she should do—to asking Sirius what they could do. Together. His stomach tightened slightly, a feeling of belonging sweeping over him. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be with her for the rest of his life….
"I don't know." He hated to sound so lost and broken, but he could hardly help it. He was, after all, both lost and broken.
Hermione was quiet, but determined. "Well… we've got to do something."
Sirius just nodded, unable to say anything. He did not want to sound even more pathetic than he had already managed to do. He stroked her hair lightly; it felt wonderful, curly and not over-dried under his fingers. Attempting to bask in this feeling, he bit his lip.
A slight shift in the weight distribution on the couch, and Sirius's eyes reopened, to see Hermione looking deeply at him, almost achingly. "Don't we?"
"Oh yes," said Sirius softly. "We most certainly do." He let out a huge sigh as she turned her head away again. His hand stopped stroking her hair, his slightly cold fingers burying themselves in this. "But for now… there's nothing. Maybe we should just get some sleep."
There was a pause. Hermione then said, tentatively, "I don't want to leave you right now."
Sirius shook his head. "You don't have to." He pulled her wand from the sash at her waist and waved it at the chair across the room, across which was draped a blanket. "Accio blanket!" He muttered, and it flew to him, opening and settling over them with grace. Satisfied, Sirius slowly slipped his hand under the blanket and attempted to find the sash, tucking the wand back where it went. He was almost certain that his hand brushed against a few parts of Hermione that, perhaps, it should not have brushed against, but she said nothing, so he decided not to bring it up, even in apology.
"Thanks." She muttered after a second. She snuggled closer to him.
He smiled into her hair. "Er… no problem, Hermione. Goodnight."
She was already asleep.
-
-
-
Hermione's eyes felt almost pasted together with that thickness as befits any early morning awakening. She felt odd, almost pushed, as she pried them apart with sheer force. Her back was warm, ever so warm….
She turned slightly and saw Sirius there. His eyes were shut, but something about the content look on his face told her that he was not asleep. She moved her elbow very slightly to nudge him, and his eyes opened, dreamily. He smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Hermione." He said softly.
She smiled, but it was a troubled one. "Merry Christmas, Sirius." She said. Painstakingly, she rolled off of the couch and to her feet.
"Where are you going? It's too cold to be out and about." Sirius said, sitting up and wrapping the blanket a little more effectively around himself to suit his now vertical position.
She shrugged. "I was going to make breakfast, if you'd like…." Her voice trailed off.
"Alright," said Sirius, stretching out his legs a little. "Then come on in here, and we can open presents."
Hermione bit her lip and blushed. Presents? How had he known that she had gotten him something? How had he known to get her anything at all? Despite how close of friends they had become since his return from beyond the veil, she doubted sincerely that he had the measure of her yet, so as to get her something marvelous. Despite this knowledge, however, she felt something build up inside of her core… he had bought her something? Slowly, she nodded to Sirius, however, and turned around to wander into the kitchen, pulling a pan out and warming up the oven as she leaned back and thought rather deeply.
She suddenly felt rather bad for what she had gotten him—it was only a scarf, the one that she had knitted that did not look as deranged as all of the others did. It had the old Gryffindor colors on it, shining with pride. He had been taken to cold spells every now and then recently, and she thought a nice, warm scarf may do him well. It was wrapped in a knobby little package and stuck in the corner of the living room. She had, of course, wanted to get him something much better, but money was scarce these days, and shopping time ever more so. She heaved a sigh and cracked an egg over the now steaming surface of the pan.
Sirius ambled in a few long minutes later, after Hermione's first eggs was done and steaming on a plate, the second, sizzling on the pan and being tended to. For a long time, they stayed that way—Hermione, cooking, unaware that she was being watched, and Sirius's eyes solemnly raking up and down Hermione's fatigued physique. Finally, however, Sirius cleared his throat, and Hermione turned to peer at him over her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" She inquired.
He half smiled. "I thought I'd warm some milk for hot chocolate."
Hermione found herself smiling, as well. "Sure… I'm up for that."
-
-
-
AN: I am SO sorry. Both that I haven't updated since, like, January 1st, and that this is so short. I was away from any computer at all for a really long time. But I hope you liked this general fluff - and I will be working a little harder on updating from now on. Also, for you who asked, I'm sixteen now (yesterday was my birthday), but wrote, obviously, all but the last bit of this chapter as a fifteen-year-old.
I've been working on a lot, including other, completely different Sirimione fics, which I'll try to get up here sometime this summer. There look to be two sort of Here With Me length ones, and maybe a novel length. Exciting, isn't it? XD I wrote them with you guys in mind, of course.
Review, and I'll give you a cookie! Also, I'm still looking for someone who knows the pertinence of the fic titles... seriously just type them in to google, and I'm sure you'll find out...