"I'm so sorry, love," he whispered, slipping his hand around her ear to cradle the base of her skull. Her eyes fluttered open, staring at him blearily – he swallowed thickly and lowered his head even closer, his free hand cupping her cheek. "Forgive me," he breathed across her lips, before gently lowering his own lips fully onto hers.

Her mouth wasn't stiff with resistance as he expected. It wasn't fully pliant with surrender, either. After a few seconds of initiating this kiss with Hermione, Sirius was astonished to find this sleepy girl was kissing him back.

"Kitten," he gasped, breathlessly pulling back just enough to rest his forehead on hers. Her eyes were open wider now, still red and blurry with exhaustion, breathing heavier than she had been a minute ago. His eyes roamed her face, from her eyes, which stared back at him in surprise, her lashes, her crinkled forehead, her blushing cheeks, and penultimately, to her lips.

He glanced back at her eyes, no longer confused but narrowed with determination, before settling his gaze on her lips.

Hermione surprised him, then, when she grabbed his collar and pulled him down. The force with which she kissed him astounded him, as she was in the midst of fighting off a sleeping drought, but he couldn't think about it too deeply. He was entirely taken up into her mouth's ministrations against his own.

He met her every move, taking her bottom lip between his own as she focused on his top lip. As her tongue brushed against his lip, the rest of his body was arrested by a soft electric current, spurring him to return the favor; so he did.

His chest zinged with triumph when he pulled a moan from her, and he pushed forward, gripping the curls at the base of her skull, and pulled gently, eliciting another mewling noise from her which she punctuated by nipping softly at his lip in her mouth.

Her hand had, at some point, snaked itself around his neck, pulling him closer. She softly scratched at his scalp and his silky black hair wrapped easily around her fingers.

Reluctantly, Sirius pulled back once more brushing hair out of Hermione's face, tracing her features and praying to any concerned gods that his hunch had worked.

Hermione's hand, the one holding him, released its grip and fell heavily between their bodies as her head lolled to the side against his chest.

"Fuck, Kitten," he exhaled, gathering her up in his arms again, and repositioning himself against the desk leg. He ducked his head to where he was cradling her, finally sleeping soundly. He dropped a chaste kiss to her head, sloppily landing it on her ear instead, and dropped all his weight against the desk behind him.

If the kiss hadn't worked, he fretted, they'd be miles behind where they started. He'd have to warm her up to him again, like he did when she and Harry joined the force. Only last time, he recalled, she didn't hate him. They had a clear slate.

So he situated himself against the desk one more time, leaning his head back, eyes closed, cradling the sleeping young woman in his arms.

That was how Luna and Harry found them, twenty minutes later. Harry was horrified by the sight, but upon seeing his face, Sirius reassured his godson that the witch was only sleeping.

Luna cringed, kneeling beside Sirius, and gently brushing Hermione's face.

"If she's asleep, it's too late," the blonde muttered, looking up at Sirius with remorse in her large blue eyes. He shook his head, shifting slightly.

"What's too late? What's happening," Harry asked, still situated by the door.

"Shut the door and come here," Sirius commanded him. Harry quickly complied, pulling the heavy door closed and sat heavily in Hermione's empty chair.

Quickly, Sirius caught the other man up from his encounter with Cormac and Luna's verification that the hypnotic spell had been properly planted. Luna was able to help him fill in the blanks, artfully avoiding any mention of Maid Latte.

"So she's not actually in danger, then," Harry asked, slouching in relief.

"No, not really," Sirius huffed. Harry looked on sympathetically, wondering how to best approach his godfather's fears without seeming insensitive.

"Well," he started, "it's not like you've never won her over, before?"

Sirius closed his eyes and leaned back again with a humorless laugh.

"Yeah. At least."

"What can I do," Luna asked softly from her spot next to Sirius.

"Check for the trigger again. I - I did something I'm hoping may have altered the spell. I, uh, I just need to know if it did anything helpful."

Luna nodded, positioning herself to look at Hermione's face directly.

"Legilimens," she whispered.

Before either Harry or Sirius could say anything, Luna extricated herself from her friend's mind and looked at Sirius in shock. He was looking down, avoiding her gaze, when she spoke.

"What did you do," she asked. There was no trace of disgust or accusation in her voice, like he anticipated, so he peeked at her through his hair.

"What? Why? Did it work?"

Luna's face wore a look of pure wonder. "Sirius, the trigger is completely dissolved. How did you do it?"

"It's gone," he asked, perking up.

"Not a trace of it is left, Sirius. How did you do it," she repeated, more forcefully than the last time.

"I," he hesitated. "You didn't see? In her head, you didn't see it?" Luna shook her head. "That means she won't remember it," he muttered, not sure if he felt relieved or immensely disappointed.

"Remember what," Harry piped up, not fond of feeling out of the loop, which happened a lot concerning his best friend and godfather lately.

Running a hand down his face, Sirius explained the basics of the trigger seeds he'd recalled learning about several years ago. In the end, all he really needed to do was exacerbate any possible feelings of affection, as the intended negative emotion is what the trigger initially attached itself to.

"And so how do you exacerbate the positive emotion," Harry asked, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

Sirius looked down again at the sleeping woman in his arms.

"I've got to get her home and in her proper bed," Sirius muttered, carefully balancing her as he stood. Luna remained on her knees, glancing back at Harry who was eyeing his godfather with a hard stare.

"I see," Harry said, then smirked. "You better pray she really did forget or you won't need a hypnotist to help her hate you." Luna tried not to giggle.

"I'm leaving," Sirius called out, turning on the spot to apparate. He did not need either of them to see the alien redness in his face.

When his feet hit the ground in Hermione's flat, he carried the woman straight into her bedroom, depositing her in bed. He took care to remove her shoes and her red auror robe, since he knew she was wearing muggle clothes underneath.

Once he had her tucked into bed, Sirius crouched, morphing into Padfoot, and jumped up on the mattress where he curled up at the foot of her bed. It didn't take long before he, too, succumbed to the exhaustion of the last day.

Sirius was startled awake by a loud gasp.

"I'm late," he heard a feminine voice cry out, as he felt someone unceremoniously begin to kick covers into his face. "Shit," he heard her exclaim. Opening his eyes, he saw Hermione hopping around on one foot, pulling on a canvas sneaker and searching through her closet for a plain t-shirt.

"I don't care if you're a dog right now, Sirius Black, you keep your eyes closed!" The command brooked no argument, so Padfoot shut his eyes, pulling a paw over his face for good measure. "Good boy," she grumbled. "You can open your eyes now."

But Hermione was no longer in the room. He rolled over and let out a long suffering groan, eliciting a cackle from the witch in the next room. Padfoot's ears twitched at the sound as the dog excited rolled back on to his stomach, eager to go see the cackling witch.

"Come on, Padfoot," she called, and he sprung from the bed and charged into the living room where she was drinking a glass of water. "It's safe. I don't hate you," she said, poorly masking a large grin behind her glass. The dog quickly morphed back into a man who had a matching grin on his own face.

"I do, however, happen to feel an incredibly heavy sense of annoyance emanating in your general direction, but no hatred."

"Nothing new, then," he asked, hands in his back pocket. Her lips twitched.

"Nothing new," she confirmed. She turned, heading back to her kitchen and called over her shoulder. "So how'd you do it?"

Her words hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. For a second, he couldn't breathe, let alone answer. He had to bite back a wail of frustration, thinking his kiss had meant little enough to her that she couldn't remember it.

She'd never remember it, while it would undoubtedly be added to the list of 'Hermione things to keep me up at night.' It would be slotted right in front of her perfect cuddling abilities and directly behind her musical laugh.

Composing himself, he joined her in the kitchen, hopping up to sit on her linoleum countertop.

"I'm just that good," he smarmed, making her roll her eyes.

"Of course you are," she replied. Suddenly her smile dropped.

"What are we going to do about McLaggen," she asked, resting her hip along the counter, less than a foot away from Sirius. "It's not just me, now. He attacked Ron, too."

"I'm going to have a word with Robards on Monday morning. It's too late to catch him for any bureaucracy now." She nodded, fidgeting with the hair laying over her shoulder.

Sirius fixed his eyes on her fingers, which were still wrapped in the curly locks at her shoulder, trying not to think of a couple hours ago when his own fingers were buried in those tresses, her mouth pressed blissfully against his.

Her voice shook him out of his daze. "Thank you, Sirius," she all but whispered. "For fixing it."

"Hermione," he purred, kicking her hip gently. "I didn't know you were so worried about it," he teased. She fought back a smile of her own.

"It's a lot easier to work together when we're getting along, don't you think?" He nodded, not feeling the need to add any words of his own.

When she left for the Café, Sirius was surprised to find himself alone in her flat. He sat on her sofa, for the second time in 24 hours, admiring his ability to pick out furniture.

He glanced around the apartment, taking in the thrifted decor, old wooden shelves and paintings of different birds and creatures. Her carpet was brown, and was mostly covered by a large cream rug which helped the sofa not stick out like a sore thumb.

There were books lining every surface; photos were positioned over the tops of book rows instead of the shelves and tables themselves. He laughed at this quirk, finding it endearing when saw a framed photo of her and the Potters at her school graduation leaning precariously between two books of uneven height.

He sighed, in both relief and frustration, feeling overwhelming gratefulness that the whole ordeal had passed, that he'd managed to dissolve the trigger to keep their relationship as what he'd worked so hard to build up in the last few months. However, he was just as overwhelmed with regret over the kiss.

No, he thought. Not regret; never regret. He was forlorn, even bitter, that she didn't remember it. That she couldn't or wouldn't ever recall that she had been just as willing and eager a participant as he had been. That she had pulled him in after his initially chaste kiss.

He'd thought for a second, there on the floor of their shared office, that maybe she felt for him just an inkling of what he felt for her. He'd thought that if she remembered, that when she woke up they'd be able to keep moving forward from the kiss - not pretending that it hadn't happened.

However, just as he was making up his mind to go home and drown out his sorrows in his old fashion, Luna's voice dawned on him again.

"It's completely dissolved," She'd said, like she couldn't believe it. "Not a trace left."

If a seed had been there, a simple exacerbation should have broken the trigger. Fractured it at the least. There's no way it would have completely dissolved. Unless…

Sirius threw his head back with glee, barking out an unmistakable laugh of victory.

She didn't have a seed of affection hidden somewhere in the depths of her mind. She must have had a whole potted, soiled, and watered little Sprout.

"She likes me," he said to himself in complete awe.

"Shouldn't you be home sleeping," asked Luna airily when Hermione came out of her dressing cubicle, tying the straps of her apron around her waist. Hermione smiled brightly.

"Shouldn't you be at home resting tonight, too," she retorted. Luna glanced up at her friend and giggled, taking note of the smile on the brunette's face.

"I slept most of the day away in your old bed at the Potter's," Luna confessed.

Hermione's face fell, momentarily, wondering if she even knew where Luna lived. Shaking her head, she chose to file that away for another time.

"So," Luna began carefully, trying not to look her friend square in the eye. "Any idea how Sirius dissolved the trigger?"

"Sirius dissolved the trigger," she asked, shock slowly creeping into her voice. "I thought maybe he just, I don't know, deactivated it." Luna's eyes were only slightly wider than her signature gaze as she shook her head.

"He completely dissolved it, Hermione. There wasn't a trace of it left when I looked."

She had a vague memory of what may have happened. In fact, she'd spent much of her short-lived time awake trying to decide if her memories were memories and not just dreams. Because there was no way Sirius had kissed her. There was no way she had grabbed the man by the lapels and devoured his lips.

If it had really happened, then Hermione thought she may never live down the irony of having a spell broken by a kiss. It was far too fairy-tale for her life.

On the bright side, it was just a kiss. Not true love's kiss. She was only barely coming to terms with her possible feelings for him. She fancied him, as juvenile as it sounded. She looked forward to his hugs. His stupid arms always seemed to make everything better.

His laughter made her smile, even if she pretended it annoyed her most of the time. His stare, which she always felt on her like a warm breeze brushing her skin, always made her melt in ways she would have scorned only two months previously.

There was no way he kissed her and completely obliterated a strong and deeply embedded hypnotic trigger. Magic didn't work like that.

That Sirius is in love with you, Harry had told her weeks ago. But he couldn't be.

She looked at Luna, who was still watching her curiously. "He kissed me." Luna's lips curled into a satisfied smirk so slowly Hermione thought she might go mad.

Choosing to discuss the matter later, the girls joined their other maids on the floor.

It was a regular night, the London rush having tamed over the last couple of weeks. Hermione's idiots, sans McLaggen, sat in their corner enjoying the pastry special of the night. Luna's party of little princesses sat front and center having their weekly Friday night tea party while their parents roamed the boardwalk and gambled.

When Hermione turned toward Sirius's table, she stopped short. She was faced with a young couple, about her age, sharing a pot of coffee and a Banana split whole staring longingly at each other's mouths.

The sight made her cringe at how camp the whole scenario was, but the sight caught her off guard more so because she had expected to see Sirius. She glanced around the pink room and saw no trace of the man.

She took the couple's order and trailed back toward the kitchen as detached as she could possibly muster. Sirius wasn't in there, either.

Her mood slowly deflated throughout her shift when after every passing hour she failed to see Sirius walk through the front door. Luna's constant pitiable glances made her feel even worse. Soon, the floor was devoid of customers and Hermione was left to help Rose clean up and close.

"Boyfriend didn't make it in today," Rose supplied casually. Hermione ignored her. "Trouble in paradise?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Rose. I've told you all he's my partner at my day job."

Rose huffed out a disbelieving chuckle. "Have you told him that," she muttered. Hermione's cheeks began to warm up.

"What do you want, Rose," she snapped. The woman only chuckled darkly.

"My, Miss Mia has claws. Worried about something?"

"You can close up on your own, if you'd rather," Hermione ground out, testily.

"I'm just concerned, Mia. I'd hate to hear he's found another costume cafe and another witch to watch," she sang with glee, sweeping up the kitchen. Hermione stopped cold.

Another witch to watch. Did Rose know? Had they all not been subtle around the muggles? Hermione stood still, watching the maid as she dumped the contents of her dustpan into the garbage can.

She caught Hermione's stare and rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, I meant bitch, Hermione."

Annoyed, Hermione put her broom back in the closet and began untying her apron.

"I'll see you on Monday, Rose. I'm leaving," she said as she stalked out.

The air in the alleyway was cool, making Hermione curse at herself for having been so wrapped up in butterflies that she forgot a jacket altogether. Her mood was further fouled thinking about Rose, the only girl at work she couldn't stand.

It never made any sense to Hermione how women could be so catty, or why they would feel the need to be so awful to one another. It was even worse that women like her actually had the uncanny ability to pick up on what another woman was feeling and just nip at it until it all felt worse.

She recalled how her mother used to complain about some of the hygienists she hired, that just thrived off of making other women feel insecure. She used to complain about how they'd come after the sweet receptionist, a sweet and pretty young girl that may have been a little more heavy set than the others, but still had massive charm about her. Her mum had said the girl quit after three months, more devastated and forlorn than she'd ever seen her.

Hermione assumed Rose was trying to accomplish a similar goal, and while it frustrated her, she didn't have time or the energy to have to deal with it. What had really not settled right with her, however, was the woman's choice of words.

Just as she was about to turn the corner out of the alleyway, she heard the rumble of a motorcycle quickly approaching. She glanced behind her and saw, sure as day, a familiar black bike quickly approaching.

When the vehicle caught up to her, she tried to hold back a blush; Sirius had kicked down the stand and removed his helmet, shaking out his silky black locks. Then he opened his eyes and shot her the dumbest of grins Hermione had ever seen.

At least, that was what she told herself to cover up the fact that her breath had hitched and she'd nearly dropped her bag at the sight of him. It was such a stupid look, she told herself, to drown out the part of her that shouted how handsome the man before her was.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a miniaturized helmet, the same candy apple red one he'd offered her before. He didn't say a word, just held it out on the palm of his hand and raised an eyebrow.

This is it, she thought to herself, biting her lip. Are you ready for this, Hermione. She looked up at his face once more. He was wiggling his eyebrows at her now, but she could see a hint of reservation on his face despite the confident facade. This is it, she thought again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and held her hand out, making sure to avoid his gaze. When she felt the cold metal object touch her hand, it was no longer small enough to fit in her palm, but large enough that she had to grasp the edge to keep it from falling. She looked back at Sirius as she absently clasped the helmet under her chin; he was pulling something else out of his pocket.

In his hand now, he held a miniature version of his leather jacket, which he was quickly resizing back to normal. Meeting her questioning gaze, he shrugged.

"I grabbed it off the chair in your kitchen. Can't let you ride without protection, Kitten," and he threw the jacket her way and waited for her to zip it on.

The black jacket didn't fit her well at all. It was large, sleeves hanging well past her fingertips and its elastic waistband falling well past her rear. The lapels and collar swallowed her chest and neck, giving her the appearance of a scared turtle, head half hidden in a large leather shell. He smirked.

No, the jacket didn't fit her, but it suited her better than anything he'd ever seen her in. Including the maid outfit. He coughed to hide his chuckle, knowing she'd act indignant and decide not to ride with him if she felt in any way patronized. And Sirius was still much too shocked that she'd given in. He was on cloud nine and he didn't want to spoil the moment.

So he scooted just a touch forward on the motorcycle's seat, kicked the stand back up and indicated for her to climb on behind him with a brief jerk of his head, his own helmet sliding back into place.

She awkwardly grabbed his shoulders to help herself onto the seat, but she didn't know exactly how close she should be sitting. She didn't need to wonder for long. Within seconds, she felt Sirius' warm hands reach back and hook around both her knees, dragging her forward until she was flush against his back. He ran his hands down her calves then, and Hermione bit her tongue with surprise before she felt him push her shins upward until her foot caught against a foot rest on each side.

Satisfied with the position of her feet, he grabbed each of her hands - which she now realized were still gripping his shoulders, and brought them down to wrap around his torso. He leaned back, just imperceptibly, and instructed her to hold onto him tightly. Immediately, Hermione tightened her arms around him and dug her fingers into the soft corduroy of his jacket.

Sirius leaned forward, pulling her even closer against him, and revved the engine, lifting his legs and pulling forward. Hermione closed her eyes and held her breath as the wind started whipping at her face with their increasing speed.

"Kitten," she heard, Sirius's loud voice echoing all around her head. Her eyes sprang open in surprise, and subconsciously squeezed his middle. His chuckle reverberated inside her helmet now, too.

"How," she began, but Sirius kept talking.

"I told you I charmed the helmets, didn't I?" She only nodded, knowing he could feel her head against his back. His deep chuckle floated in her ears again, sending a shiver down her entire being, one she hoped he couldn't feel, with her pressed up against his back as she was. "Look up, Kitten, you don't want to miss this."

She didn't move her head. She kept it ducked, with her eyes closed, fearing the movement of the bike would only serve to make her sick. This time she felt the rumble of Sirius's deep chuckle just as much as she heard it through her helmet. Then his hand was over hers, hot, and twining his fingers with hers. He brought her hand up, which was impressive considering how tightly she'd been holding him around the middle, and placed a kiss to her open palm before returning the hand to its spot on the crumpled material of his jacket. He kept his hand over hers.

"I've got you, Kitten. You'll be alright," he said softly. "Just do yourself a favor and look up."

Against her better judgment, Hermione looked up. In the time it had taken him to convince her, they had begun speeding down the coastal highway in Blackpool. To her right, Hermione's attention was caught by the stark bright neon lights of the flashy casino signs as she raced by them. The entire city was illuminated, and absolutely breathtaking.

To her left, the city lights were rhythmically distorted as they reflected against the constant ripples of the vast and dark waters of the Irish Sea.

"Wow," she gasped, hardly realizing any sound had escaped her lips at all.

"Beautiful isn't it," Sirius asked, giving her hand a quick squeeze before returning his own to the handlebars.

"We're on the ground?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Hermione, you're absolutely terrified right now. I'm not going to make it worse by dragging you into the air before you're ready."

She hummed in gratitude as she continued to take in the sights around her. Yes, her parents used to bring her to this city for a quick day trip, but she'd never seen Blackpool like this. The Grangers' old Station Wagon had nothing on this. In her awe, she gave no notice when she fell farther forward, coming flush with Sirius's back to rest her chin on his shoulder and feel the salty air on her face.

Sirius pulled off the main highway and turned down a darker, less populated road, leaving the hypnotizing sea behind.

"You got anywhere to be tomorrow," Sirius's question came through her helmet.

"Nope. Day off."

"Good. I think we can take the ground-bound way home tonight. It's only three hours," he joked. She couldn't help but join in his teasing.

"What's three hours?"

"Besides," he said, kicking the bike into a lower gear, "You can see the stars just fine from down here, too."

At this, Hermione tilted her head back to gaze up at the constellations she had worked so hard to learn during school for her Astronomy class. One particular star caught her eye, as it's twinkle outshone every other star in the sky – Sirius. How ironic.

As she took in all of her surroundings, easing into a sort of comfort on the back of this motorcycle, Hermione heard the strum of an electric guitar come through her helmet, in what muggles would call "surround sound," and smirked.

"He's always had such a passionate love of music - sometimes I wondered if maybe that's how he really communicated."

She recognized the song as one her father would play in the car when they'd picked her up from King's Cross Station. It was fairly new at the time, but apparently he and her mother had learned the words quickly and, as a result, so had Hermione. She never really cared about the words of a song as much as she had the music, though. Tonight, though, she listened.

And as she listened, nose buried in Sirius's shoulder, eyes closed against the wind, comprehension dawned on her.

That Sirius is in love with you.

It had to have been a joke, she thought at the time. After the last few weeks, though, Hermione was no longer sure.

You want commitment, Jon Bon Jovi's voice rang out.

Take a look into these eyes; they burn with fire, until the end of time.
And I would give anything,

Visions flashed by her from her seat on the motorcycle, as though they were the neon-lit signs from the city floating behind them in the distance – memories. His apartment, their picture on the mantle.

I'd beg, I'd steal, I'd die, to have you in these arms tonight.

His face as he told her they would not be going to Romania. His constant glances during the week she refused to speak to him.

Baby I want you, like the roses want the rain
You know I need you, like a poet needs the pain

His obvious anxiety over her bout of hypnosis. His anger, hidden behind a calm demeanor. A mask he used to keep her own anxiety at bay. His visible exhaustion during the all-nighter with Luna. His kiss. Waking up with Padfoot at her feet.

And I would give anything, my blood, my love, my life

To have you in these arms tonight.

She suddenly felt an uneasiness in her stomach that had nothing to do with the bike, the speed, or the racing landscape. Her stomach-fish was flopping again, jumping so high it was pushing against her chest, blocking her airway and gasping through her own throat. In an attempt to breathe, she turned her head and rested her cheek against his shoulder instead, looking out to her right into the velvet of dark hugging countryside.

There were flowers she could barely see in the moonlight as they zipped by, stone walls and small bridges over irrigation canals. They flew past farms and wildlife, and the music kept singing, kept reaching through her helmet into her chest and squeezing.

And these were our words, our words were our songs
Our songs were our prayers, these prayers keep me strong

And I still believe if you were in these arms

She closed her eyes. He'd charmed a radio for Lily. He'd charmed a helmet for her. And she'd be damned if she didn't listen as hard as she could.

I'd hold you. I'd need you,

I'd get down on my knees for you

And make everything alright

I'd love you, I'd please you
I'd tell you I'd never leave you
And love you 'til the end of time, if you were in these arms tonight.

The smile that graced her face came naturally. She understood what he was saying. It was bold, but she understood. Nothing needed to happen immediately, she decided, adjusting her hold on the man in front of her. She couldn't deny she was getting there, too. She'd known it for a while. But for now, she'd close her eyes, listen to his music, and enjoy the ride.