5
He waited for the morning.
During the night, Hermione and Sirius had ended up chairs side by side. His feet were on the table, uncaring that he was still wearing his shoes and it was where they ate time to time. When you spent all night talking, things like hygiene and propriety had a tendency to disappear.
Hermione was snuggling Sirius' leather jacket, almost disappearing into it as she slept. Her feet were hidden somewhere on the chair, and it marvelled Sirius how can someone fit to a garden chair, or actually be comfortable in that position, but somehow Hermione looked happy where she was. Sirius was glad it was a Sunday and she didn't need to go to work. He'd hate to wake her up for work after keeping her awake all night, talking.
Getting up slowly, Sirius stretched his arms and legs. It was going to be a horrible day full of headache after not sleeping all night. But he couldn't find it in himself to regret it still.
Sirius leaned and carefully picked Hermione up. She opened her eyes for a second, smirked and closed them again. He chuckled lowly at her reluctance to wake up. He moved carefully in the garden and entered through the open door to the house, minding to be silent.
He climbed the stairs and came face to face with Harry.
The boy stopped in his Auror robes and looked at him, startled.
"Sirius!"
"Morning Harry," Sirius whispered, feeling shy for some unknown reason.
Harry looked at Hermione who was sleeping in his arms.
"Is she okay?" he asked.
"Of course," Sirius said, still whispering. "We talked last night, she fell asleep."
"Right," Harry said. Sirius thought he looked uncomfortable but he couldn't fathom why. "So, you'll make sure she is fine?"
Sirius grinned and nodded. "Not that she needs it, kiddo."
Harry looked at Hermione once again, then he raised his eyes to Sirius. For a second he seemed solemn and his eyes were harsh, but then he just gave Sirius a nod.
"Have fun at work," Sirius said to stop him from trying to come to conclusions. Harry laughed nervously and ran down the stairs leaving Sirius to adjust Hermione in his arms. It was getting harder and harder to carry her.
He finally reached her room and cursed slowly after seeing that her door was closed. He could try to bend and shift his hand a little to push the door open, but he wasn't sure if he could bend and straighten like that with a Hermione in his arms. He could, of course, try to open it with his feet, but that was as acrobatic and risky as the first option. He sighed and focused his magic, hoping that he'd manage the wandless spell. Sure enough, the door clicked and fell open. Feeling proud and much more self-assured than he felt in a long time, Sirius adjusted Hermione once again and entered the room.
He reached her bed and placed her on it. She moved again, looking content.
"I'll need that jacket, love," Sirius mumbled as he tried to gently take it off of her.
"No," came out of the little witch's mouth as a whine. Sirius chuckled.
"Come on now, you have a huge cover here," he tried to reason with the subconscious of the sleeping woman, who mumbled something incomprehensible back at him. Sirius bit his lips to stop himself from laughing and waking her.
He allowed his hands to sneak in the jacket and push it from her shoulders. She stirred and turned, taking Sirius' hand with her. He was trapped. The witch was holding his hand under her weight, between her and the jacket. He tried to pry it gently but somehow it didn't move. Sirius laughed. The witch was clinging to his arm.
"Come on, kitten," he began but he stopped.
They were too close. His throat dried when he heard her breath left her mouth in the shape of his name at the same time he realised that his hand was under her breast. The blood rushed down to his cock.
"Sirius," she had said.
Sirius.
Sirius jumped from the bed and took his hand while he did so. She whined.
Gods, she whined.
Sirius had forgotten how a woman could cause an erection so easily. It hadn't been easy for too long. He had begun to think that it was a thing that ordinarily happened when he started his bike when he flew with it. Something that came and went when his blood pumped. How long had it been since he felt that for a woman without convincing his mind to get excited? Without it being a task? He didn't remember.
He looked at her as she adjusted herself deep within the jacket, hugging it, disappearing into it. He mussed his hair nervously. How could he think of Hermione like that? She was the only woman he wasn't allowed to think like that, and of course, his body had ignored that.
Just your body?
That had to be the moment the voices came back.
Maybe they were already there. Except when he was with her he did not hear them.
Shut up, Sirius thought back. He looked at the sleeping girl one last time and basically ran out of the room that smelled of lavenders and Hermione.
His erection didn't leave. His heartbeat didn't calm down. All he could do was to go into his room, like he was being chased by fire, and hide there.
Mate, calm your tits. You just have a hard-on.
Shut up, James. Leave the guy alone!
What? He is acting ridiculous!
Maybe so, but you can try to be more understanding.
Lily's right, Prongs. Maybe we should opt for silence this time.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, shut up!" Sirius roared and ran to the adjoined bathroom, turning on the cold water.
He wouldn't lose his wits. He just wouldn't.
Undressing swiftly, he entered the shower, allowing the water to take out the heat from his body. He stood there, almost motionless and closed his eyes.
Why did his body react to her so?
She was precious, he knew. And impossible. Was it that, then, that excited him? That she was forbidden?
The thought disgusted him. Could he be so shallow?
He had noticed himself noticing her. He had noticed the way she yawned when she entered the kitchen, and he had noticed her hair looking glorious when sun hit her head. He had noticed that she liked walking barefoot, and her self-assured gait, her all too knowing smirk, her lips creating an 'O' when she realised something…
Heat gathered in his body despite the cold water. His hard-on was even more prominent now. He allowed his forehead to fall to the tiles and let out a sigh. He wouldn't touch himself imagining her.
He couldn't.
Any woman, he thought. Pick any other woman, you stupid man.
Sirius searched his mind, to bring out another fantasy, and for some wretched reason, they all had her face. He tried to think of something ghastly, enough to shock him out of his arousal. He tried to think of Transfiguration theories, but it only brought thoughts of her stronger.
The more he tried to stop thinking about her, the more insistent it became. He used to be much better at stopping his imagination taking control over his mind. The scent of lavender was still filling his nostrils, reminding him how close they were just moments ago and the feel of her breast as his hand had been trapped between her and his jacket.
His hand moved of its own accord and he grabbed the insistent hardness. He had been so close to her. He had been right there, hovering above when her presence washed over his being. He squeezed his fist as he recalled her soft sigh. He remembered how she leaned over the table back in the garden, and how he had seen a glimpse of the swell of her breast.
What colour were her nipples? How sensitive were they? Would she sigh if he'd took them between his lips and teased them? What sound would she make if he'd sucked them in, would she like it if he'd use his teeth a little?
Would she like it if he'd used them more than a little?
Would her legs fall open for him, or would he have to use his hands to pry them to fall between them?
Would she be wet?
Would her lips drop his name again?
How would she feel if he were inside of her? Would she be silent or loud, or maybe both?
Maybe they could gradually fall into that heated rhythm, and he'd manage to turn her silent moans into desperate cries, and maybe, if he'd be so lucky, she'd fall apart and he'd fall apart and-
Fuck.
He felt the world halt, and everything flashed bright. Just like that, the reality came crashing down, along with it came the guilt and shame. He washed in silence, his heartbeat finally calming down.
He left the bathroom after taking his wand from his discarded trousers. The bedroom was filled with sunlight now. He wore a pair of pyjamas that he had left on his unmade bed the day before and then sat in his armchair by the window.
Firewhiskey would be good right about now, he thought.
I don't think so, came the voice of Remus.
Yeah, mate. You need to sleep.
"You guys are dead," Sirius said. "I'm sure that makes my sleeping pattern none of your business."
You really wanna spend the day drunk, then passed out?
Sirius snorted. He had no will left in him to try to defy the fact that he was hearing voices. He wished Hermione was there with him, she'd eventually make some sense of this mess he was in.
Except now, he heard Remus say, and it was almost as if he was resting his behind on the window sill, the mess includes her.
"It appears to be," Sirius accepted and swirled his wand in his hand. He had bought it sometime after his return. He still missed his wand made of English Oak, but Aurors had broken it when he was captured.
After his return, they had given his belongings back to him. The leather jacket he had been arrested in, which currently was wrapped around Hermione, the muggle lighter with a pinup etched on that Lily gave him on his eighteenth birthday, three galleons and some number of knuts, some dungbombs that he used to use as pranks and later as distraction against Death Eaters and his wand that chose him when he was eleven in two pieces had been presented to him in a pile. The dragon heartstrings had been dead already, no longer glowing with magical power that they once harnessed. The body of the oak had lost its shine and had cracks on them. No chance for saving it, he had thought. The young Auror that gave them to him looked apologetic, and Sirius had wished he could have been angry with her. But it hadn't been her fault. He wasn't sure whose fault any of it was.
He is changing the subject.
I'm well aware Prongs.
What will we do about it Moony?
We can talk about the fact that he had just jerked off to fantasies of the biggest swot Hogwarts has ever seen?
That dirty old dog!
"Fuck off, Prongs," Sirius said.
Why was he grinning like a fool? Prongs was dead.
Oh, this again, James' voice rang. I don't know why you are so fixated on me being corporeal, Sirius. Were you harbouring some sort of crush on me?
"I'm not changing the subject," Sirius grumbled opting to answer the real matter that his friends wanted to talk about instead of playing the Embarrass the Marauder game.
Really? Wand metaphors? Really Padfoot?
He has a Blackthorn wand, now, Remus was saying, as if he was defending Sirius' choice of nonexistent metaphor. Black-thorn. Get it?
Oh, when you put it that way...
Sirius laughed, exasperated. The ghosts of his friends laughed along with him.
"She is too young for me," he said only later. "She is Harry's friend. James, you need to see why she can't be for me."
I do, James said. But, then again, she is a grown woman. It would be weird if you raised Harry, and I don't know, threw birthday parties that she came to visit your home in the summer.
It would be weird if you've seen her grow up before your eyes, Remus added. But you didn't. She has become a woman without your influence, Sirius. And she is a woman.
Sirius stared at his wand.
Blackthorns are for warriors, James said, maybe knowing what Sirius' mind was trying to reach. Are you not going to fight for a life yet, Sirius?
"And whose life it'll be Prongs? My own?" Sirius sighed. "A man like me isn't good for Hermione."
I agree, Sirius heard Remus say. It stung, but Sirius was trapped, after all, Remus was only sending his own thoughts back at him. You aren't. You could be, though, if you want.
"Want what, exactly?" he mumbled dejectedly.
What was left to want? What did normal people want? The Muggles in pubs wanted to pay their loans, or they wanted to visit Portugal, to buy a new home, get a raise, have more sex… But did he really know what they actually wanted?
There was nothing to want.
Except now you want Hermione, James reminded him.
Sirius sighed again. He really needed firewhiskey to have this conversation.
And it's not that surprising really, Remus added. I think you guys could be something.
Yeah, she doesn't take any of your shit. Never mind the fact that you fancy her, mate, James was saying. A lot.
Sirius sighed. Maybe they were right.
You said you wanted to take back control, Remus added. Just start already.
Hello Again!
As always, many thanks to Kreeblim Sabs for alpha-reading this story! While we are at it, she is an amazing writer and you all should check her stories out!
Reviews, as you know, are the best of treats!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone!
Love,
Synoir