Disclaimer: All canon characters, places, plots and situations from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this.

Warnings: Rated M for language, violence and scenes of a sexual nature in later chapters.

A/N: This is a pretty Hermione and Sirius centered chapter. Enjoy, action is on it's way ;)

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WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:

Please note this chapter includes scenes of a sexual nature, and suggestive language.

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Chapter Nineteen: Passion doesn't pull punches

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"Ugh, these warming charms are doing nothing for me," Hermione whispered to Mari.

"Tell me about it, I'm freezing my tits off," came the miserable response. Beside her, Severus choked as a sip of tea went down the wrong way. Mari patted him soothingly on the back, smiling prettily when he removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. Hermione was sure she heard a small group of women nearby sigh.

The kitchen at Grimmauld was packed with Order Members. Their latest meeting had just ended, and as usual, nobody was allowed to leave on Molly Weasley's watch, not without at least a cup of tea!

"I'll just nip out and get my jumper. Be back soon, and Mari don't eat all the marshmallow twists."

With a snarky – well Hermione supposed it was a smile of sorts – Severus leaned over and took four marshmallow twists from the table. Hermione scowled at him, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue as she left.

After a while of looking in all the usual places, she still hadn't found the blasted jumper. Determined to find her favourite jumper, her search led her to the tiny bathroom just off the library and there it was, on a hook beside the door. The bathroom was a tip. "And with guests here too," she tutted to herself. She looked around to see if anyone was approaching, and at the all-clear, took a deep breath and began moving her hands.

Towels straightened rearranging themselves into neatly folded piles. Bits and pieces of makeup and body products floated into the cabinet, which gently swung open and closed. With another wave of her hand, a fresh roll of loo paper slipped into the holder. She nodded, feeling rather smug at the progress she'd made with her wandless magic.

"You're so bloody sexy when you do that." Sirius' voice was heavy with a kind of admiration.

"What, when I change the loo roll?" she joked, turning to face him, and shivered at the depth of desire she saw in his slate grey eyes. Before she knew what was happening, he'd pushed her into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He back her up against the edge of the counter, his intentions clearly written on his face. "Sirius no, we're supposed to be at the meeting, there are heaps of people in the house, guests–"

"That's their problem." He already had his large hands on her waist, and he dipped his head to attack her neck with his lips. She moaned, then squeaked when he lifted her effortlessly, depositing her on the bathroom counter. "You've been taunting me all day in this bloody skirt," he said, making her gasp and clutch his arms when he pushed his body against her to prove just how much.

"There's not time," she half-objected, melting under his lips.

"There is," he said, and dropped to his knees. She looked down at him.

"Um. What are you doing?" He grinned, cheeky and full of naughty promises as his fingers crawled up her thighs.

"Surprising you." Before she had a chance to register what he'd said, his fingers slipped under her skirt and hooked into her knickers, drawing them down and he crumpled them in his fist, bringing the fabric up to his face and inhaling.

She blushed, horribly embarrassed. "You smell so fucking good," he growled, and stuffed the balled up lingerie in his pocket.

"Ooh be careful, those are my nice–" His hands slid up underneath her blouse, forcefully pushing her bra up to fondle and massage her breasts, thumbs ghosting her nipples, teasing them taut. Between her legs, he was holding her legs wide apart by virtue of his broad shoulders, and she felt terribly exposed and completely wanton. The first puff of his hot breath there at the aching center between her thighs made her quiver.

Hermione had never enjoyed this particular sex act. After years of unenjoyable encounters, where she'd been too self-conscious and her partners not really into it, memories of disappointed faces as though there was something wrong with her… but then his tongue lapped, long and lazy and surely against her and she squealed at the sensation, falling back against the mirror. In a matter of minutes he was doing things down there with his mouth that Hermione hadn't even known were possible. There was no glimmer of the uncertainty she'd experienced before, and she was surprised at how much it excited her. He buried his face into her, his nose nudging her clit and his stubble scraping here and there against the sensitive insides of her thighs, somewhere between pain and pleasure.

"Hermione? Where are you?" Mari's voice was small and tinny, somewhere nearby, and barely pierced the haze that Hermione was in.

She was panting and terrified that they would be caught. Had he even locked the door – oh that's nggh. "You taste incredible." He pushed two fingers into her while he sucked on her clit and Hermione's mind went even more fuzzy. The bathroom echoed with the sound of his ministrations and her muffled gasps as she scrabbled against the counter, his hand on her left hip the only thing holding her in place. The sight of his dark head between her legs, and gods, he was looking up at her with those lustful eyes as though he actually enjoyed what he was doing. The truth of that unlocked something inside of her, letting the last vestiges of her apprehension disintegrate.

"Hermione?" Mari's voice was closer.

With a rapid flick of his tongue across her, she was coming apart, clenching around his fingers and muffling her cries with the back of her hand. She was completely out of control with the reaction of her body and was sure she would have slid right off the counter if he hadn't been holding her up. "Oh god," she gasped. "Oh god oh god."

When she opened her eyes, he was smiling smugly, as if to say 'Yes, that would be me'. He pulled out his wand and cast cleansing charms over both of them while she sagged against the mirror bonelessly. "Believe me now?" he asked, helping her onto her feet, but she was too thrown to respond. He pecked her on the cheek, rearranged himself carefully, dusted down her skirt and turned and walked out as though nothing had happened. When she followed him out, dazed, legs weak as a kitten, Mari was standing there, her eyes wide and mouth open in delighted scandal at the sight of them.

Hermione's entire face was on fire, but Sirius smirked like a cat that caught the canary, and walked off down the hallways, an arrogant swagger in his step.

Mari turned to her. "Did you two just do what I think you two just did? You did, didn't you? Scratch that, you look like you've been pulled through a hedge backwards." The blonde laughed and Hermione self-consciously patted down her hair and straightened her skirt. He had walked off with her knickers, the smug bastard.

"He does have a way about him, doesn't he?" Mari said, looking in the direction Sirius had gone.

"He does", sighed Hermione, and then the two of them shared a look, breaking into giggles.

"Where's your jumper?"

"You know, I don't think I need it after all."

When they slipped back into the kitchen, his eyes met hers across the room and he touched his hand to his pocket with a secret smile.

"Your birthday's coming up," Hermione said, touching a spoon against her lips. Sirius was cooking oats for breakfast since she'd somehow managed to burn the toast again, and there was no bread left. He grunted in response.

"You don't want to celebrate? What did you do for your last birthday? she asked.

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "You know, I don't actually remember. Merlin that's not good."

"Do you want a party? Maybe a small dinner like we had for Harry's birthday?"

"Honey, what I really want is to just quietly turn a year older," he laughed.

She frowned. "What, no celebration to mark the day? Sirius you missed so many birthdays, you should be able to celebrate now."

He turned to her, thoughtful. He could see that she was concerned for him. "Ok, how about this. Why don't we go away for a weekend. Just the two of us? We can say we've both got travel for work."

"Won't that look a bit fishy?"

"I'm not sure if I care right now," he said, a little exasperated though well aware that it was a mutual decision they had made to keep their relationship strictly within their tight circle of friends. The bubble was nice. The bubble was safe. The bubble might be getting claustrophobic. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with Hermione; it sometimes frightened him just how content he had become, spending most of his time awake and asleep with her at his side.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, and he smiled at the way her eyes sparkled at the excitement of actually going away together, to a place where they wouldn't worry about being seen or recognised.

He filled up their bowls with oats. "My family had a holiday villa in Oia. Don't think they sold it. The weather would be nice this time of year, not too may tourists either. We could take a portkey, I'm sure Harry could pull some strings. What?"

Her jaw had dropped. "Oia? Santorini? You have a house in Greece?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Er, yeah, I guess that is it." He poured milk into their bowls, added honey for himself and nuts for her.

"Ok," she said, beaming, her smile making him smile too. It was even a little exciting the more he thought about it.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Sirius Black, I will let you take me to your house on a Greek Island. It's a terrible inconvenience, but it is your birthday wish."

He snorted and looped his arms around her waist as she looped her around his neck. "And just how much can I 'inconvenience' you on this trip?" He massaged her lower back with his thumbs.

Whatever this phase of their relationship was, he was giddy with it. As the trust had built between them, they had reached a place where they were unable to keep their hands off one another when they could be alone.

"I'll spoil you any way you want," she said, biting her lower lip. Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Really now? Anything I want?"

Good old Harry came through, managing to organise them a portkey that would take them to just outside Oia. They would have to ride down to the coast from there. Hermione was grateful for the anonymity and secrecy of her work then, since her co-workers asked no questions. Mari, she told of course.

Five days before Sirius' birthday they arrived via portkey on a winding dirt road high up overlooking Oia and the Greek sea. It was a sunny day, much warmer than London but not blistering. They caught a ride down the mountain, a shaky trip down a bumpy dirty road. Hermione grabbed at his arm every time the small car threatened to tip over, and they couldn't stop laughing.

Hermione could scarcely believe her eyes when they arrived at the Black Villa. It was beautiful, perched almost right on the edge of the sparkling blue ocean, with a private beach. The colours of the houses on the hill were stunning, the whites standing out against the dark rock of the mountain.

The Villa was enormous. Between the cobbled-stone walls facing the sea and the lime-washed stone of the main building, Hermione had the impression of being in a cool, earthy home that was part of the mountain itself. The rooms were large, tiled and decorated sparingly and tastefully. There were tow outside areas for lounging, both shaded by swathes of fabric above.

"Pick a room for us," Sirius said, pointing down a hallway while he offloaded some of the groceries they had brought with them into the large marbled kitchen.

Hermione felt a little bit like she was dreaming. Every room was beautiful, but in the end she chose one that was large and tiled with a massive king-sized four-poster bed with drapes. There was a balcony that faced out to sea, with a tidy wrought iron table and chairs for al fresca dining, and a staircase carved out of the rock giving access down to the private beach. The ensuite was something out of a fantasy; it literally had been carved out of the mountain itself. A large recessed tub was in the middle of the bathroom, carved directly into the stone floor. There was a simply enormous shower head above it, and two basins, porcelain, at one end of the room. Here and there were scattered pristine white rocks and pebbles, and a few candles. There was an assortment of bath products in glass bottles beside the tub.

"This one then?" he said behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle. "Yes", she breathed.

The next four days were filled with sunshine, icy cocktails, books, beach and sex. One afternoon they took a walking tour of the beautiful churches in the area. Another evening they made their way down a winding flight of narrow stairs that never seemed to end, to reach a restaurant greatly recommended by the locals. It was on the edge of the beach and the food was rustic but plentiful and delicious. Hermione enjoyed the best seafood she'd ever eaten in her life, and Sirius was a little too partial to the wine and Ouzo and they'd had to catch a cab back up to the villa.

It was easy to forget their troubles, the ones in London as well as the troubles of their own minds. Locals treated them like any couple on holiday; one little Greek man in a café where they bought ice cream handed over Hermione's chocolate chip gelato to Sirius, "Here sir, for your wife". She'd looked at him, expecting him to correct the man or at the very least look uncomfortable, but he'd just smiled and handed her the cone.

On that evening they watched the sunset from the balcony of their villa, and when, later, they came together in bed, he looked down at her arm and asked her to show him. Nervous, she'd removed the glamour, revealing the visible scar his cousin had engraved into her flesh. He'd kissed every inch of her scar, bringing tears to her eyes, and attended to her with such passion she could barely breathe.

On the morning of Sirius' birthday, they were lying lazily in bed. It was so quiet there, the sound of water lapping against the shore outside. For some reason Sirius' was suddenly aware of his age and past and felt insecure.

"I'm thirty-nine years old," he said.

"I know," said Hermione, playing with a lock of his hair.

"I was in prison for twelve years."

"Not guilty."

"I'm damaged."

"Aren't we all?"

"You're so young", he breathed, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"I like that you're a man." She stroked his arms. "I like that you have a man's chest, and a man's arms. I like that when I kiss your neck you smell like a man. I like you just the way you are." She lightly scratched her nails on his chest and he made a sound rather like a purr, his chest rumbling with contentment beneath her touch.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be with someone your own age?"

"Babe. No."

"Don't you want to get married? Have children?"

"Is that a proposal?" she joked.

He laughed nervously. "No, it's a question."

She rested her chin on his chest, looking up into his eyes. "Sirius I want this. I want what we have and wherever it takes us, and if that involves a ring and babies and a mortgage in Surrey, then it'll be. If it doesn't, I'll still be happy."

"You're happy?" he asked softly.

She looked down, playing with the hair on his chest. "Yes. I am."

"Why do I feel like that comes with a caveat?"

She sighed. "I… I find it difficult to just be happy without worrying that it'll all fall apart."

"I'm not going anywhere sweetheart."

She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist, her breasts bathed in the sunlight coming in through the window. He had convinced her of the benefits of naked sunbathing the day before. "That's not a promise anyone can make", she said, picking at the fabric in her lap.

"Then I don't want to go anywhere. Better?" He ran a finger down her bare spine.

A small smile played on her lips. "A little."

"Do you think we've moved too fast, love?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Her eyebrows were furrowed.

"I mean its only four months since we got together."

"Huh," she said, and then, "I noticed you so much earlier than that, I guess I feel like we're been together longer."

"Oh you noticed me did you?" he teased her. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure I don't need to stroke your ego, lest your head explodes."

He laughed. "I noticed you earlier too, you know."

"Rubbish!" she laughed. "You flirt with everyone. You even flirt with Charlie!"

He shrugged. "It makes him smile. I'm a generous man." She smacked his arm playfully.

He swallowed hard against the self-consciousness that threatened to still his tongue. "Really though, Hermione. You were brilliant and smart and gorgeous and totally unaware of it. I remember watching you one weekend we were all at the Burrow. You were sitting under that tree by the lake. We were all swimming but you had your nose stuck in that book, and you were so focused you didn't even notice the leaves falling into your hair. You looked up at me and smiled, looking like some sort of wood nymph, bare feet, flimsy sun-dress and bits of tree in your hair.

But that wasn't all of it. When we got to talking later, I realised that I was attracted to you, and you'd been turning me on with your mind for some time. It just took me some time to register it."

He played with the tendrils of her hair hanging down her back. "Do I sound ridiculous?"

She shook her head slowly, a saucy smile on her face even though her eyes shimmered. "You sound like a man who's ready to be spoilt on his birthday. So what exactly did you have in mind?"

His eyes widened, and he leaned forward, whispering in her ear, then leaned back again, his eyes trained on her for her response.

"Well," she said, after a few beats. Her cheeks were pink. '"I can't say I've ever done that before, but yes." He grinned a very boyish grin at her, pulling her down beneath the sheets with him, making her squeal.

"Happy birthday darling."

"Mhmm, certainly is."

A day later their holiday away from the world had come to an end. In order to avoid suspicious, the plan was for Hermione to portkey home first, with Sirius returning two days later. "What are you going to do for two days?" she asked him, her suitcase packed beside her.

"I think I'll go to Italy. There are some family assets there that I'd like to look into."

So she returned home by herself, hoping the mild tan she had wasn't too obvious.

Mid November came with change once more. The trees shed their sunset shaded leaves, turning the ground everywhere to mulch with the rains. The Prophet ran daily updates on the capture and arrest of war fugitives. The Order meetings had become tense, the Aurors were capturing a steady stream of fugitives but there were still too many at large, with strange deaths making the Muggle news each week.

"They're not even murdering to save their own arses", said Ginny. "They're murdering for the fun of it." An afternoon at the Burrow had turned into an impromptu Order meeting while the children were playing and napping.

"They know we're watching, they're sending us a message. The War isn't over for them, for any of that anti-Muggle crowd." Harry's mouth was set grimly.

"They're weak", said Sirius. "They're getting desperate, it feels like they're trying too hard."

"We can't just let Muggles die", said Hermione. "What are the Aurors doing about it?"

Tonks spoke up. "We've got a plan, we're going to smoke the rodents out of their hidey holes. We're setting it up."

"Good god", said Ginny, exasperated. She was over term by a week already, feeling fat and tired and emotional. "We can't just sit back! What if it was one of ours? What if it was Hermione? Was that dagger not enough?" Harry tried to shush her, but it was too late. Sirius and Harry exchanged a look.

"What dagger?" asked Hermione quietly and Harry winced.

"Nothing you have to worry about, love" he said to Hermione, but it was the worst thing he could have said.

She looked at him, incredulous, then turned to Harry. "Harry Potter you tell me right now or I swear by Merlin's socks I will make you sorry." Harry believed her; her wandless magic was far too scary to ignore.

So he told her; he told her about the dagger, he told her everything. By the end she was trembling. "You kept this from me? You had no right Harry!"

"Hermione it was pointless you worrying, you were safe and we were on the job," reasoned Harry, but Sirius knew they had made a terrible, terrible mistake by treating Hermione like a fragile decoration, something to be broken. She turned on him.

"And you" she spat, the betrayal and anger in her eyes so intense he almost couldn't look at her. Looking at an angry Hermione when you'd really fucked up was like looking into the sun. Shaking, she walked straight to the floo and threw a pinch of floo powder in. Before anyone could stop her, she said in a strong voice, "Grimmauld Place" and then she was gone.

Sneak Peek Chapter Twenty.

She pushed by him to leave the room, and he reached out, grabbing her upper arm, forcing her back to him. She yelped. His fingers were tight around her arm and he was being rough. "Let me go! And don't fucking call me a little girl!"