A/N: Again a bit late, but so much work to do, I had barely the time to write this one. Anyway, enjoy!

Warning: This chapter consists some sexual content, so if you're not into reading that, just skip the part in italics.

Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is JKR's, the rest is my imagination.

Fever

''…Really? They actually use needles?'' This was, seemingly, the hundredth story I've told Sirius for that night. It was starting to dawn slowly and I was looking at the weak sunrays which were fighting the thick material of old curtains, draped over an old-fashioned, huge window. I was lying horizontally across the bed, like the last time, my legs dangling off the edge from knees to toes, my lids feeling tired and heavy on my eyes and I was literally forcing myself not to fall asleep. I don't know what that was, but I was feeling some sort of sympathy for Sirius, not wanting to leave him in that rotten dark room to agonize in his painful insomnia, or scream in his unnecessarily real nightmares.

So I just kept talking for hours, sometimes about our shared happy memories, sometimes my own ones from childhood, and right now I was talking about Muggles and their medicine; precisely-vaccines. And Sirius never looked more alert and interested. Or at least, never in those two months of my stay.

''Actual needles. And I remember my own screaming when the doctors came to me with one of those syringes in their hands. I was freaking terrified.'' I glanced at Sirius, who was slumped against the headboard with his legs carefully folded as if he was afraid even of a small touch. Strands of his soft looking black hair were falling gracefully around his angular face, somehow softening his dangerous exterior. Only then I noticed his half-buttoned white shirt, which was in the past probably very expensive and bought only for some special occasions, and his hard, naked chest and tattoos peaking. I recognized the one of the Leo constellation on his collar bone instantly; I was, after all, very familiar with his body before. The other tattoos, some kind of runes and symbols, I couldn't recognize. He probably got those after our breakup. But, where were the scars? I remembered clearly his rule-Tattoo next to a scar, to remind him of a person who had inflicted it.

And now, squinting on the yellowish light at his lean body, I couldn't see even one scar next to those tattoos. And, curse my female nature, I just had to check him out a little.

He looked like some sort of fallen angel, lean, but not so skinny anymore, his slender hands casually clasped in his lap and his face calm and emotionless, as always, with only those dark black circles around his eyes to ruin that almost perfect, symmetrical, aristocratic face. And those haunted eyes which had seen the horrors I couldn't wrap my mind around, were now looking directly at me with one raised brow.

Realizing I was caught in my little ogling escapade, my eyes quickly cleared and I was suddenly awake with my own embarrassment. He just kept looking me steadily while I was starting to blush like some stupid teenager. And then I analyzed my ridiculous situation quickly, and like a good and sensible adult I was, I snorted, I don't even know why. And he let one amused chuckle make his face look younger once again.

A snort was followed by one giggle attack, which was interrupted with unsuccessfully stifled yawn. It was a long day and night for me after all, and I was still sore all over from my mission.

''Oh, sorr- I mean, you're tired and I completely…'' Sirius got all fussy and self-berating and tumbled over his words, looking completely lost. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, scowling at his own incoherence. ''Shit. You should go to sleep now.''

I nodded and wanted to close my eyes and just pass out on his bed, but my mind still wasn't that much mushy from exhaustion, so I just dragged myself out of the bed, not glancing at the mirror attached to the open door of the closet, knowing I would just scare myself to death with my looks.

I yawned once more and stretched my arms above my head, completely forgetting that I was wearing only little satin nightdress and completely missing Sirius' look.

Before I closed the door behind me I waved and smiled when he nodded, acknowledging my little goodbye.

I don't know how it was possible for us to get to the truce, or even some sort of friendship, but in those dreamless nights, full of stories and easy chats, we made it. Now, the old house with stale smell stopped bothering me so much and I felt less trapped than before. Our little late-night meetings hadn't been happening every night and they weren't even regular. It was the unspoken agreement between the two of us, that whenever I heard him, I would go to his room and wake him up. He wasn't questioning me, or even starting the conversation. He was just there for me to play a little hero and help him chase his demons away for the night. He would let me tell him some story and I was trying not to mention the Potters, unless it was some happy and easy memory. Pettigrew wasn't mentioned even once, like he hadn't even existed in our lives.

Sometimes, he would let me talk until my lips got completely dry and my throat scratched, never cutting me off, just asking something which would continue the conversation - short and husky and whispered, in the sort of way that would make my insides flutter a little.

Sometimes, he would let me fall asleep on his bed, lying horizontally with my legs dangling from the edge, breathing in the mix of stale air and heavy, male scent of cypress, tobacco and just a dash of something citrusy and fresh. He would wake me up just when the sun started rising and I would saunter off, tumbling around in the dark and trying not to trip in the process.

He would never move from his corner on the bed, next to the headboard, always with folded legs. He would never let me see him clearly, with fade lights coming from the outside. He would never let me be in his room for too long, forbidding me to see something more except the shadows and lines of his furniture.

He would never button up all of his shirt, leaving for me just enough to sneak some glance on his perfect body and making me slightly hot and bothered, a little more with every next time.

And I would get irritated with my own perverted, depraved thoughts.

It was the last day of kids' holiday and the young ones were nervous with anticipation, leaving all the worry to us, oldies. We were currently having an Order meeting to plan the safest way for Harry's arrival to Hogwarts, and I was trying not to get distracted with the fact that the place on the head of the table was empty. It was regarding his godson's security and good health, and Sirius, the stubborn man he was, nevertheless wasn't attending the meeting.

My mind flicked back to the short, but effective row Sirius and Remus had that afternoon. I was doing dishes and eavesdropping a little, but it wasn't that hard since Sirius was barking profanities and angry grunts instead of clever and witty comebacks we were used to in the past. I had to admit, he'd got back a little of his old spunk in the last couple of days, but now his nervousness with the fact that Harry was leaving bubbled within him and essentially worsened his mood. Remus was convincing Sirius to stop being pigheaded and think a little in how much danger he would put Harry and himself if he went to the platform with them, and it looked like Remus' seemingly eternal patience was just coming to the edge.

The tempers were flaring quickly and I was, honestly, a little bit worried if I had to intervene between the two raging friends, when Tonks got into the room and saved the day. Remus' back was turned from the door and he couldn't see her, but he quickly shut up and took a deep breath, as if he was sniffing the air and quickly calmed down, like a junkie on his fix. It was in the same time beautiful and sad to watch; the way he paid attention to Tonks' ranting and looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world… except he was trying to cover that up with careful indifference. He was still trying to push her away, but I could see all of his walls crumbling down whenever she spoke to him. And then she put a hand on his shoulder, and easy excuse for a brief touch and he visibly relaxed. I was marveling at his own stupidity regarding that girl and all the reasons he was trying to come up with not to be with her, and I didn't even notice when Sirius fled the room. I only heard the door slamming shut and angry thumping up the stairs.

He didn't come down to the meeting at all. It finished and all of the members dragged themselves on their own merry ways, leaving me alone in the kitchen. It was already pretty late and I was yet again sleep-deprived and tired, because I was talking to Sirius until six the previous morning. After I showered and got ready for bed, I got back to the kitchen and stalked to the cupboards to take some biscuits before bed, and while I was rummaging through the shelves I didn't hear anyone coming behind me. So when I finally found those biscuits and turned around, I nearly jumped from my skin. Sirius was standing just a meter away from me, looking positively dangerous. It was not just because he was pissed off, but because he was wearing the black button-up and black slacks, with his hair slightly wet. I gulped when his scent invaded my senses and barely succeeded to sound normal.

''Merlin, Black, you startled me. What are you doing, sneaking around this late?'' Only when I looked at his face bravely, did I see the look he was giving me. He was standing there frozen, with his eyes hooded and so dark grey they were almost black, raking up and down my barely covered body, in short, satin, pale blue nightdress. Then he took a step towards me, like a panther stalking its prey and my breath hitched in my throat.

''Why aren't you sleeping?'' His voice was husky and dark and it was like a liquid lust to my ears.

''I-'' I looked him in the eye only to see the still present greed in them and I could feel hotness boiling in my stomach. ''I was just thinking about tomorrow. You know, nervous.'' My voice was awfully breathy and I cringed inwardly.

Then he took another step towards me and he was inappropriately close and invading all of my senses and I could feel his body heat and his chest brushed against mine and I was painfully aware of him, there, and…

''Nervous?'' He ducked his head so there were mere inches separating us, our noses almost brushing and I flushed with sudden, unwanted arousal. This is Sirius Black, ex-convict, half-madman, very unstable person! Get a grip!

But his voice was so husky and his smirk so hot that I couldn't keep my eyes off him, or my knickers off getting wet.

I gulped again, feeling goose bumps all over my arms and legs and on the back of my neck, trying to calm my breathing and resist the urge to tangle my hands in his hair and pull him roughly down, just an inch, for our lips to meet. I was wishing to just look away from those sinful lips and lustful eyes, almost feeling imperiused to want to do what he ordered. I was screaming to myself that my mind was taking a wrong route, that I should run away immediately, that I should push him away and go to sleep…

He chuckled darkly, probably finding my bewilderment mixed with painful arousal quite amusing. What's got into him, for fuck's sake? Where is all this coming from?

But his smirk remained on his face, and his hands (un)fortunately remained in his pockets. And he casually took a step back, careful indifference covering his hunger, and sauntered off, like that tension-full episode never happened. And I just stood there, with biscuits completely forgotten in my hand, breathing heavily and trying not to panic at my own behavior.

His hands were everywhere at once, his scent and dark grey eyes trapping my mind and blocking any coherent thought. His weight was pinning me to the bed and it was primal, and rough and needy and necessary, all at once. I was naked and tangled in my cotton sheets and surrounded by his muscular form and he was looking down at me with greed and passion, just like before, just like the times I couldn't forget, no matter how hard I was trying.

And then his head dropped onto my neck, throat, breasts, stomach, making my skin burn with every little touch and nib. It was almost painful to feel that much. There weren't any boundaries, there was no part of me to resist, to tell me to stop, and I was finally free to do what I wanted.

My hands found their way in his hair, then down his broad back, scratching and pulling him even closer than he already was. And I heard that dark chuckle somewhere around my nipple and I felt his hard-on somewhere on my thigh and I wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me, rough and demanding, thrusting and bringing me to my bliss, again and again.

He pulled his head up to meet my eyes, looking so sinful with his black hair disheveled by my hands, I whimpered in need.

Now I could feel his length resting right on my core and I wanted to go crazy. He pulled his pelvis a little upward, preparing himself.

''Nervous?'' Husky and breathy and smirking and so, so hot.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a start, jumping up in my bed all alone, sweaty and unbearably aroused. Slowly creeping my hand down to the hem of my knickers, I was searching for my release, vividly remembering that dream and leaving embarrassment for tomorrow morning.