And finally the next chapter. Of course I've made the plot as complicated as I possibly can regarding Hermione's conscience. Please, tell me how upset this makes you...
Love, Kia
Chapter 17
Hermione travels by muggle British Rail and the journey takes forever. Occasionally she cringes when she thinks about how she'll tell Sirius that everything he knows about her is a lie, but it's far from the bottomless hole of precariousness she felt the previous day.
I'll just tell him. At once. After I've told him that I'll stay indefinitely if he wants me to.
She tries to remember what Godric's Hollow looks like, and how it might look tonight, on a warm summer's evening instead of an ice-cold winter's night. She remembers the location of the church, and the Potter House on the other side of the main street. Sirius has said that his cottage is on the same side as the church, just next to the graveyard. She can't remember a house there, from when she was there with Harry, but they weren't exactly house hunting on that dreadful night. But she finds it strange that she has no recollection whatsoever about a small cottage just next to the graveyard. The moments on the graveyard were the only few in peace during her and Harry's visit to the village.
In London she stops longer than necessary at the Leaky Cauldron for a bowl of soup while she fights the butterflies inside her to keep down. Nervousness and anticipation make the butterflies perform a violent war dance. She decides to take a stroll in Diagon Alley to calm down. She even considers ordering something with alcohol in it, but changes her mind in favour of some shopping therapy.
She sees some familiar faces in Diagon Alley, mostly among the shopkeepers, but here and there someone's facial features make Hermione guess their last name. She visits Madame Malkin's and buys some summer clothes. Lily's outgrown school uniforms are by far Hermione's least worn clothes, apart from the ball dress. She's performed so many cleaning spells on her meagre wardrobe of jeans, hoodies and t-shirts from her year on the run with Harry and Ron; she fears the thin fabric will fall apart.
She changes to a white blouse, a knee-length denim skirt, a tan, suede jacket and a pair of white ballerina shoes. With several other new outfits in her magically extended handbag, she sets off back towards the Leaky Cauldron and the Apparition Point. Something makes her stop at Twilfitt and Tatting's window. It's a really upmarket clothes shop and Hermione has never been inside. The window display of fine clothes reminds her of something.
Sirius. Christmas 1995. Not in the rags of his Azkaban prison clothes, nor in those winter wear from the Christmas he spent in the cave. This must be where he buys, or will buy his clothes. Perfectly cut, exclusive materials.
Tentatively she opens the door and is immediately greeted by a shop assistant.
"Can I help you, Miss?"
"Oh. I'm just looking."
She can see that this is not good enough for the shop assistant. In this shop you apparently buy, not just look.
"For something for my boyfriend."
The butterflies inside her make triple somersaults when she defines Sirius as her boyfriend, but the shop assistant seems pleased and lets her browse.
If I'd walked in here in my tattered jeans and with that pink hoodie, he would have thrown me out.
It's an unfamiliar experience to browse a really nice shop in new, pretty clothes. It reminds her of when her mother took her to Harvey Nichols to cheer her up the summer after…
Damn butterflies. I doubt that assistant will let me stay if it I throw up on the floor.
She's never bought clothes for anyone before. She always got books or broom equipment for Harry and Ron. And even though there are many soft pullovers and fine cut shirts, she can't see herself buying anything like that for Sirius. It's too grown up, buying clothes for one another. She decides to leave, but when she passes the counter something catches her eye.
Silk. Ties, cravats, scarves, handkerchiefs. Plain and patterned. Patterns of clouds, brooms, cats, Ancient runes, and there…! A dark grey piece of silk with a pattern of small, black paws. Her head spins.
"Not really stealing, love," Remus voice echoes from her memory when he caught her with the piece of silk she once took from Grimmauld Place.
"I'd like this one, please. With the paw-pattern."
"Certainly, Miss. The best quality. Will last longer than anything in cotton."
Yes, I know.
The shop assistant puts the scarf in a fancy gift-bag for her and she pays 2 Galleons and 6 Sickles the price tag says. It's more than she just paid for her skirt, but this is not about the money. It's about following in her own footsteps from an earlier time.
I wonder if will be just as easy with the other things I need to do. Am destined to do. For Lily. For Harry. That whatever I have to do will just suddenly be right before me.
At the Apparition point behind the Leaky Cauldron she collects her things, closes her eyes and focuses on her memory of the church in Godric's Hollow.
It's nothing like she remembers. The sun is setting, the blackbirds are singing, the lawns are green and the flowerbeds outside the houses are full of peonies, roses, hollyhocks and larkspur. Squinting in the setting sunlight she looks around her, and can immediately make out the Potter House as she's never seen it before, a large two-storey house, and, across the main street, the epitome of an English cottage, which must be Sirius's. It's a single-storey house in yellow limestone, with three windows facing the street. The entrance door must be at the back. The garden is lush, bordering on overgrown. The hollyhocks grow taller than the roof. A whiff of smoke comes from the chimney.
Maybe she should knock on the door to James's mothers house, pay her respects and introduce herself, since she has been invited to stay there, but she doesn't want to. She wants to see Sirius. Now. She pulls out the classy gift-bag from Twilfitt and Tatting's from her handbag where everything else she's brought is, and walks briskly past the church.
"Hello there. Trouble finding us?"
Remus leans over the fence around the Potter House and smiles. She is a bit irritated, remembering his harsh words in the letter he sent her. She is just about to find her ways to Sirius and tell him exactly what Remus demands of her. She's not up for another lecture about what Remus thinks she must do.
"No, not at all. How are you all? James? His mum? Do you think I can come around a little later? I want to…"
She gestures vaguely behind her and Remus chuckles.
"I know someone else who wants that too. May, James's mum, has a room prepared for you, but she'll be totally sympathetic if you don't… Well, use it."
Hermione blushes and tries to laugh it off.
"Oh. Well, see you later, then."
She turns to leave.
"Hermione," Remus says in a mush sharper voice.
Sighing she faces him again.
"Yes, Remus?"
"Will you...?"
"Tell him? Yes. Now, as soon as I see him, if you'll just stop talking and lecturing me and telling me what to do," she snaps before she can stop herself.
"Hermione, I'm sorry. I realise I'm pressuring you. I just… care. About both of you. Please, don't be angry with me. And go ahead, run inside, he's been brooding and waiting all day. We almost haven't seen him. We'll see you later."
He goes inside the Potter House, leaving Hermione and her butterflies to themselves.
Sirius
Sirius sees her talking to Remus through the kitchen window.
Finally! I would have been mad and grey-haired if I had to wait another hour.
He watches Remus go inside and Hermione turn to face his cottage. She has pretty, nice clothes he has never seen before. He is about to run out in the garden, when he catches her expression. She looks nervous, no, she looks terrified. In a heartbeat Sirius is ice-cold with fear.
She's changed her mind. She doesn't want to see me, to be with me. I can't take that. I have to…
He stays frozen to the kitchen counter, watching from his cottage, waiting for her to knock on the door and rip his heart out. The cottage is tidier than ever before. Lily said something about minimalistic, which means absolutely nothing to Sirius. He has just cleared out all the junk his uncle collected, and put the things he wants to keep in shelves, cupboards and boxes. May Potter has taught him cleaning spells he never knew existed, and then he's used them obsessively on every surface and piece of furniture in the cottage. Lily was over yesterday, asked for candelabra, and when he understood she meant candleholders, he dug out several heavy ones in silver with handles for loads of candles.
"Nice, Sirius," Lily had said and given him a bag of candles. "Put them up and light them tomorrow night. Don't ask, just do it."
Now Sirius throws a Minor Incendio with a flick of his wand. The shadowy cottage is decidedly cosier in an instant.
His acute hearing picks up her steps outside the door. She stands still for a few seconds before she knocks.
"Come in," he croaks in a voice he hardly recognises as his own. The door swings open and she stands on his threshold.
"Hello. I'm sorry I'm late." She looks around the cottage and Sirius is suddenly afraid it will seem too rustic or out-of-date. "It's absolutely lovely." She turns to him with that beautiful smile he's been trying to conjure up in his mind for the last week. Tentatively, she takes a few steps in, while he stands frozen to the kitchen counter across the room. She toes off her shoes.
"I've got you something."
She holds out a small gift bag, and at last his muscles obey his brain and he can move. She is even more beautiful than he remembered, up close. She has a light tan, and she hasn't lost any weight. With fumbling fingers he opens the bag and pulls out a silk scarf.
"For when you go biking, I thought," she mutters. "Like a bandana."
"It's beautiful, I love the print," he smiles. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
There is something restless about her. A nervousness he hasn't sensed before. He decides to throw caution to the wind and wraps her tightly in his arms.
"Thank you. I mean that, it's a sweet gift. Perfect." He kisses her softly. "But the best gift is you. Here, at last. I missed you." He hears the questioning intonation in his last statement.
"I missed you, too," she answers and meets his gaze with an expression that leaves no room for anything but the absolute truth in her words.
And even though Sirius has planned millions of things to say to her, and to offer her a meal May Potter has helped him to cook, and to give her a tour of the cottage and the garden, all that flies out of the window at the sensation of feeling whole and complete with her in his arms. Hungrily he captures her lips and hears himself groan when she kisses him back with as much desire he tries to pour into his kiss.
"I need to tell you something, Sirius," she pants.
"I need you. Is it that you've changed your mind and don't want to be with me?"
"No. No, of course not. I do. I do want to be with you. I've missed you so bad I haven't been able to sleep. You've been in my dreams and in my bed and waking up alone every day has been hell."
"I know. But you're here now. Here with me in… well, my home." He makes a gesture around the room, and she has another look around. When she meets his gaze again, she looks resolved. He doesn't dare ponder what her look might mean, but takes his chances and kisses her again. His head spins when she immediately presses herself against him, pushing him back against the back of the sofa in the middle of the room. She hasn't taken the initiative like this before, but he'd be a fool to complain. He kisses his way down her long neck and feels her fingers make quick work of his shirt buttons. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders and touches him. Suddenly he is madly jealous at any man she must have touched like this before. There is a certainty in her movements that paints all kinds of disturbing mental images inside him. He pushes her suede jacket off and it falls to the floor with a clatter of keys and coins.
"Nice jacket. I'll hang it up later," he mutters.
Apparently her white blouse has buttons down her back. Quickly he turns her around and kisses the spot where her neck meets her shoulder while his fingers struggle with her buttons. When the garment hangs loosely from her shoulders he palms her stomach and slowly lets his hands slide higher to reach her breast. She leans her head back against his shoulder and makes a purring sound, which drives Sirius precariously close to his losing all restraint of what he wants to do with her. He really wants to make love to her for longer than ten minutes, but her sounds of pleasure, her closed eyes and plump, open lips makes him doubt his stamina. Her touch alone, like now, when she presses her bottom against him, makes his field of sight shrink to only see her flushed face and her breasts in his hands. He needs her now. He doesn't care about other men she might have been with, she's with him now. She turns in his embrace and meets his gaze with dark eyes. Slowly he leans down and nibbles her lower lip and again she arches back. He licks a line down her neck, while he peels off her bra, amazed how much she trusts him when she leans back in his arms. When he closes his mouth around her nipple she hiccups in pleasure and shivers. He moves his lips to her other breast and relishes in her gasps. His right hand searches for whatever keeps her skirt up. Her hands fly down to undo a button at its side and the skirt falls to the floor. In the dim candle light he strokes her long legs, her hips, flat stomach, her breast, which he can't resist kissing again, and her square but thin shoulders. Apart from the vile scar on the inside of her arm she has a fair amount of other scars, and he kisses them all, not sure how she feels about them. She shivers, even though it's warm in the room.
"Please," she whispers.
"Please what?" he whispers back against her skin.
She pulls her knee up to his hip and he catches it automatically with his hand, holding her as close as he can.
"I want you. Now. Please."
He lifts her and her legs find their way around his waist as if they belonged there. Touching as much of her as he can reach he walks to his bedroom, ducking his head under the low door-frame. There are no candles in there, only the thin summer dusk gives the room a black and white glow. Before he lowers her to the repeatedly cleaned bed he asks her a half-hearted question.
"Are you sure?"
She doesn't answer but kisses him so hard he tastes a hint of blood. He lays her down and straightens up, holding up his forefinger.
"Just a second."
He returns with one of the candelabra. He wants to see her. He needs to see her expressions while he pleasures her. Quickly he drops his linen trousers and eases down to hover over her. She shivers again and he catches a glint of uncertainty in her face.
"Are you sure?" he asks more seriously and she looks away. "Hermione, look at me. I'm sorry. I pushed you. I shouldn't…"
She silences him with his fingers against his lips and without thinking he sucks two of them into his mouth. She moans with obvious pleasure.
"It's just…" she whispers. "I've never… eh, done this before. I've never been with anyone before, like this."
The blush that colours her cheeks confirms her words. He lies down beside her.
"And you don't have to." He tries to keep his hands that crave her skin in check. It's difficult. She surprises him by sitting up and straddling him, making his good intentions even more hellish.
"But I want to," she asserts. His body reacts to hers and her movement forces Sirius think about the engine parts of his motorbike to slow down and fight his instincts. "I really, really do. With you. I just don't know how… to please you."
Slowly he sits up and cups her face.
"You have no idea how much your smile or touch alone pleases me, love. Let me please you."
Carefully he eases her down and resumes kissing her with the intention of pleasuring her slowly. Her response makes it impossible, and soon their kissing is as desperate and raw as when they were under Sirius's Invisibility Cloak and he'd just told her how utterly jealous he was. Her hands against his skin don't suggest she's never done this before, but touch spots Sirius never knew could be erogenous. He won't, he can't ask her again if she's sure this is what she wants because he's far beyond stopping exploring of her body.
Sirius feels as new to this love-making as Hermione says she is. With Roberta, and a few other girls he's just been having fun, seeking pleasure and smirking when he's pleasured his partner as well. The tug at his heart at every response or sigh Hermione makes is almost painful, he wishes he always felt as close to her as he does now. He buries his face in her hair and whispers how much he wants her. When he chooses a bolder vocabulary to tell her just exactly how much she turns him on she purrs.
He slides off her knickers and touches her softly, and her response in immediate.
I used to be good at this. Now I'm just a mess.
But her obvious pleasure tells Sirius he's not as uncertain as his nerves tell him. She cups his face and looks up at him. There is no hesitation in her expression and she nods to him to tell him she's ready.
"Not yet," he mutters and attacks her neck with his lips, tongue and teeth, before he teases her nipples again. Throughout he touches her, more boldly and deeply.
"But…?" she whispers before her words drown in a breathy moan and Sirius can sense how close she is. When she arches back against the bed and hides her face in the pillow he pushes himself into her. Takes her, fills her, owns her.
Love and bliss.
He never knew sex could be any more. Before it's been more like a… game. Just fun. This is something different altogether. It's the sudden realisation of how strong, yet fragile, love is, and how vulnerable love makes him. The riptide of pleasure is by far stronger than he's ever felt when angry and reacted without thinking. This is so far from either thinking or restraining he couldn't even have imagined it. The velvet darkness of utter completeness and raw vulnerability claims him and transforms him.
With shaking arms he pulls her body close to his, feeling her fast heartbeats in the palm of his hand over her breast. She lies absolutely still and he blows a stream of air at her flushed face. Slowly she opens her eyes.
"I didn't know," she whispers.
"Didn't know what, love?"
"What all the fuss was about." She giggles and hides her face against his chest.
He laughs with her and strokes her naked back. After a while he feels her fidgeting slightly.
"What is it? Please tell me."
"What about you? I didn't… do anything."
He chuckles and feels her relaxing.
"Well, thank small mercies for that. That would have ended things before they began."
"Really?"
"Didn't you hear me before? Your touch alone makes me see stars. Having you here, naked, in my bed is like being among the stars. Touching you and kissing you and tasting you," he makes good on his words with actions, "is everything I've thought about since the day I met you."
There are tears in her eyes and he convinces himself they are happy tears. He's far too relaxed and satisfied to ponder any other options.
"For as long as you are here, just here in this bed, everything is perfect. I think I'll keep you here all summer."
She giggles.
"Do you think I ought to go over to Mrs Potter for tonight?"
He pulls her flush against his body.
"Absolutely not."
"But what if she expects me to…"
"She doesn't. I hinted that you wouldn't. She is a wonderful old woman. She just told me to take good care of you. Have I?"
Hermione kisses his neck softly.
"You have. I have no complaints whatsoever."
The summer night never gets completely dark, and Sirius has no idea whether they sleep at all, or spend all hours talking and exploring each other's bodies. He hates the fact that the night is so short. The blackbirds tell them soon enough that the morning is close. With Hermione in his arms, he falls asleep.
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