Chapter 14 – North and South

It was only the second time he'd ever been in a taxi. The first had been the day before, on their way to their truncated wedding night.

Now, Sirius Black held his wife's hand in the back of a large, black London cab as he and Hermione were whisked away from Grimmauld Place in the grey morning light.

They'd decided to take the Muggle train north to Scotland, then the roundabout Scottish Rail connection from Edinburgh to Fort Augustus, before heading further west either by car or on foot.

"And for an absolute emergency, we have these," said Sirius, opening his rucksack to reveal two ancient-looking wands to Hermione.

"What are those?"

"Pieces of wood that no one was using."

"Sirius."

He smirked. "The willow was Alphard's. The oak was Mad-Eye's. We shouldn't use either, of course, unless absolutely necessary, but if Umbridge has put tracers on our wands, then these can act as a bit of a fail-safe."

"Where did you get them?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I've had Alphard's for donkey's years," he replied, closing up his pack again, "and Arthur had Mad-Eye's tucked away some place safe. I think he was keeping it more out of sentiment than anything else. Still, I doubt if Moody would be displeased if his wand took out another Death Eater or two, even after he was gone."

Within minutes, they had arrived at King's Cross, the red-and-tan bricks of St Pancras' Station next door dominating the skyline.

As they exited the cab, Hermione shot a glance at the dozens of people milling about them. "Do you think they're tracking us?"

Swinging his rucksack onto his back, Sirius gave her a small shrug. "Perhaps."

"I should have picked a different station," she muttered as she adjusted the strap on the new extendable bag Tonks had lent her. Her eyes moved about the station's atrium, taking in the crush around them. "It was mad to come here. Platform 9 is just over there."

"But we're getting on a Muggle train, yes?" said Sirius, standing close at her side and looking up at the announcement board.

"This is where the trains to Scotland leave from."

"Then we're in the right place. Come on," he said, gesturing with his chin, "let's go. The sooner we're on board, the sooner we're away from here."

But the barrier hadn't opened yet. Everyone for the train to Edinburgh was having to wait, an increasing crowd of restless people moving all around them.

Sirius' eyes sharpened.

"Do you see something?" she asked, noting his sudden tension.

"Not exactly. Just a feeling."

"Your feelings are usually fairly accurate."

"I'm an old dog — and it's one of my best tricks."

Huffing a laugh, Hermione began to scan the throng while trying to look completely innocuous.

Sirius leaned in close. "If you see anything, tell me. We'll disapparate straight away."

"We can't from here! The Muggles!"

A haunted shadow crossed his face. "They can go hang if it keeps you safe. Let the DMLE worry about that. If we have to, you grab me, and we're gone."

"We can't," she stressed.

"We'll see."

Minutes passed, the time counting down to when they could pass through the turnstile and disappear up the Muggle platform.

Suddenly, Hermione's fingers wrapped tightly around Sirius' forearm as he stood by her. "Sirius. Is that—?"

Scanning the faces in the hall, he followed her line of sight and then stiffened. "Carrow," he whispered. "Fuck. How did they—? Never mind." He assessed their current position in the crowd, and then nodded toward several familiar brick columns. "Listen to me. No, don't look over there again! Just look at me." Silver-grey eyes filled her vision. "That's it," he said softly. "Now, turn around and slowly walk over to Platform 9 ."

"But—!"

"Just do it!" he hissed, leaning close. "We get through our barrier, and we can disapparate from there."

"To where?"

"No idea," admitted Sirius. "Where's the cottage?"

"The Highlands," she said hurriedly as they began to move, his hands on her hips to keep her close. "Near Skye."

"That's not exactly near Hogsmeade," he muttered.

"We can't go to Hogsmeade!" protested Hermione. "Arthur said—"

"I know what he said! Oh, sodding hells!" he snapped as he looked back over his shoulder. "They've seen us."

"They? It's not just Carrow?"

"Don't they always hunt in packs?" he retorted. "That Goyle fool is with him, and… damn it. That's McNair over by that kiosk."

"Sirius!"

His eyes narrowed.

"I know. Move!"

Determinedly, they wove their way through the Edinburgh crowd until they found themselves in front of a familiar bricked-over entrance leading to their part of the station.

"Look relaxed," said Sirius as he put an arm around her.

"You first!" she fumed, trying not to move her lips.

Hermione felt something long and hard slide into her palm. Her mouth fell open as her fingers instinctively wrapped around the wand of the late Mad-Eye Moody.

When she glanced at Sirius, she saw the end of Alphard's wand disappearing up his sleeve.

"How did you—?"

"Be ready," he whispered. "Look as if you can't wait to head off into the Scottish wilderness with only me to warm you at night."

Torn between shouting loudly and stamping on his foot, Hermione settled for a pointed glare. "What?!"

"Brits never look at a couple who're about to snog. It's not in our DNA. No one'll see a thing." Staring down into her eyes, Sirius gave her a tight smirk. "Trust me."

Holding her tightly to him, he leaned one shoulder firmly against the barrier to Platform 9 as his hand drifted down to cup her rear. His mouth drifted so close to hers, teasing her, everything about his stance making it clear he was about to claim her… very publicly. Hermione knew they must look positively indecent.

But Sirius was right — she could hear people making sudden, embarrassed noises on seeing them and then pointedly moving away. The grip he had on her bum tightened as the bricks dissolved around them.

The moment they were through, Sirius' mouth moved past her lips to whisper in her ear: "Run!"

"Where?"

"The pillars. Now!"

Hermione had never been to Platform 9 when it wasn't in use for the Hogwarts Express. The familiar setting was unnervingly foreign. The platform — usually crowded with wizarding families and children racing about in school robes — was eerily silent. Only drops of condensation from the ceiling made any sound, falling wetly to the ground. And where the red engine of the Hogwarts Express should be, gleaming in the autumn light, was a shockingly dull, empty void. The open bay jarred with Hermione's vision, even as she rationalised that, of course, the train wouldn't stand for months on end in its quay at King's Cross.

Running by the empty space, she heard a distinct woosh as the barrier opened behind them for someone else. Then Hermione was running faster, speeding up. Someone yelled. "After them!"

"Protego!" she shouted before turning to throw a hex over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Goyle, McNair, and Carrow all barrelling towards them.

Sirius was blocking everything he could; the few spells that did get past him hit the pillars beyond or soared over their heads.

But even as they zig-zagged through the tall columns along the empty platform, Hermione could see the end of the pavement looming ahead of them. Every step brought them closer to the edge of… nothing.

Whipping her head around, Hermione pointed Moody's wand behind her. "Incarcera!"

Thick ropes shot out, wrapping themselves around Goyle so tightly that he fell to the ground with a satisfying thud.

A few paces later, Carrow was taken out with a thunderous crash, a victim of a silent Petrificus Totalus spell from Sirius.

That just left McNair… but he was gaining on them.

"Sirius!" cried Hermione, reaching out with one hand as the edge of the platform rushed towards them.

Then Sirius was next to her, his hand stretching out for hers. Just as they hurtled over the edge of the pavement, their fingers twined together.

There was a sharp crack — a brilliant, spinning whiteness that she could see even through her tightly-closed eyes — as the roar of apparition filled her ears…

… and then such pain. Such horrible, monstrous pain.

"HERMIONE!"

It was raining.

She could feel the drops hitting her face — not heavy, but more like mist.

Mist was good.

Mist meant they could hide.

Despite the waves of nausea roiling through her, Hermione's mind was still scrambling to get away from McNair. His fingers had been just inches away from grabbing her arm …

Large hands gripped her shoulders before passing down along her arms and across her ribs, probing her body.

"Come on, 'Mione. Open your eyes. Come on, now. Open!"

She groaned.

Then, when the hands moved further south onto her jeans, she seized, the nausea overpowering her.

Turning her head to the side, she retched. She could feel dirt and small stones against her cheek as she heaved—

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" cried the voice. "I'm so sorry! Shit!"

The hands returned, holding her hair away from her face as she gagged.

When she rolled onto her back, finished for now, the hands touched her more gently, but still palped along her body, searching for where she was hurt.

"'Mione," said the low voice.

She loved that voice.

Grimacing, she tried to open her eyes. They fluttered open and closed so quickly, she couldn't see a thing.

"Wait," said the voice. "Let me get you inside." The hands that had been assessing her moved beneath her back and knees, and then she was in his arms, her head pressed against his chest.

The intoxicating scent of Sirius engulfed her.

As he moved her inside — inside where? she thought — Hermione fancied she could feel his heart beating against her cheek. It was very fast.

Carefully, he lay her down, the surface hard beneath her aching body.

"Give me a second," muttered Sirius. "Just let me…"

She could hear him moving about in the dark, then a low curse as he knocked something over. A few moments later, a match flared and then the wick of a candle caught fire. It didn't give them much light, but now Hermione could at least make out his face hovering nearby.

"Where does it hurt?"

His voice sounded rougher now — worried. There was no need for that, she thought to herself, but when she tried to move towards him to reassure him that she was fine, the white-hot pain seared down her side once more.

"Hermione, talk to me. Where does it hurt?"

"My—my leg," she ground out, her teeth clenched together against the pain.

Then his fingers were at the snaps of her Muggle jeans, unbuttoning them and then lowering the zipper. She whimpered when he pulled the material down her legs. Sirius froze as soon as her thighs were bare.

"Fucking hell."

"Wha—what is it?"

"Merlin. Love, don't move."

"Why—?"

"I splinched you!" he said sharply.

"Really?"

She heard him swallow loudly, shadows playing all over his face in the candlelight.

When he didn't answer her, she asked, "How bad?" He still didn't answer her. "Sirius?"

"It's—it's not terrible. Could be much worse. Wait, don't!"

Hermione's hand had moved down below her waist. A sickening lurch ripped through her stomach when she realised that a part of her thigh muscle roughly the size of a golf ball simply wasn't there anymore. Blinking quickly, she looked away. Her entire leg was sticky with blood.

"Where's the—hellfire!"

She blinked for a very different reason when Sirius started to pull his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" she asked faintly.

Sirius' face was grim. "I don't have any bandages to hand. Here," he said, putting her hands on where he'd pressed his shirt against her bleeding thigh. "Hold this tight against it. Press hard."

Hissing as she did so, she then said, "I think there are some in my bag."

"Do you have any dittany?"

Hermione nodded quickly. "Same place," she said, tugging at the strap cutting diagonally across her body.

Gingerly, Sirius lifted the bag over her head. He rummaged through it, cursing briefly when his grasping hand blindly knocked over stacks of things she'd stored inside. She knew the moment he'd found the bottle of dittany, because all the lines of his body suddenly changed.

"You'll be fine," he said softly, shaking many drops of the clear liquid over her wounded leg. "But, it'll smart like hell for a day or two."

Already, Hermione could feel the effects of the dittany washing over her, the salve chasing away the pain of her torn leg muscles before it began to knit the flesh back together.

Within a few hours, it would be as if the splinch had never happened.

Setting down the bottle, Sirius ran a hand over his face. "I'm so sorry, kitten. I couldn't think of a place to go, and I just grabbed you, and then… fuck." He sighed and looked away briefly.

"Sirius."

"It won't happen again."

"Sirius."

"It won't."

She knew instinctively from his tone that he was chiding himself, not her.

"How did they—?"

Sirius exhaled again, the air sharply leaving his nostrils. "I don't know. They must have been watching the trains."

"You couldn't have known."

"I should have done. Why did I think we had to leave from London? We could've driven further north of the city and boarded a train from there. Stupid of me. Just… stupid."

"Stop, please!" she said earnestly. "We made it this far. We're here… wherever here is," she added, rising up slightly on her elbows to look around the shadows. The movement jostled her leg and she hissed.

"You need to sleep."

"What?"

Pulling two large blankets out of his rucksack, Sirius covered her lower body with one, then adjusted the second under her head. "Let the dittany do its work. Sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," she said.

He gave her a twisted smile. "The best thing you can do right now is let your body heal. I'll take care of everything else. Please."

"We're really safe here?"

"We are."

Given the stresses of the past few days, Hermione knew she didn't have the strength to argue any other course of action. "There's a sleeping draught in the bag, too," she said.

"Thought of everything, didn't you?"

"I didn't remember blankets," she pointed out.

Sirius groped his way through her belongings again, his arm nearly disappearing up to his shoulder as he reached deeper inside. "The flask?"

"Yes."

"I'd've used the same."

"I know."

They smiled at each other for a brief second.

Helping her to sit up, he held the small metal flask to her lips and made her take two large swallows. His arm stayed around her as she resumed lying down. The soporific effects of the potion begin to work immediately.

"How's the dittany taking?"

She carefully clenched her upper leg muscles on the one side and then drew a sharp breath. "It's starting to work."

"It'll take a while yet. Sleep. I'll be around, but I won't be far. I promise."

"But, Sirius — where are we?"

"Rest," he hushed, tucking a curl back behind her ear.

"But—"

"Don't worry, kitten. You'll recognise this place soon enough."

When she came to, it was nearly dark.

Rising up on one elbow, she felt pine needles beneath her fingers as she tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes. And below her fingers… rock?

Where am I? thought Hermione, her brain beginning to whirl. What am I doing in a… in a cave?

"Sirius?" she called out, sitting fully upright.

"I'm here."

He was back at her side in three long strides. Taking her outstretched hand, he sat down beside her on the pine boughs he'd put beneath her as she slept.

"You're safe," he breathed.

Hermione didn't know what to say. Words seemed trapped in her chest. A wave of needing to touch him — to make sure he was real — crashed over her. When she began to trace the side of his face, he kissed the knuckles of the hand he was still holding. His lips lingered over her skin.

"You're safe," he whispered again.

Drinking in the sight of him, Hermione felt herself relax as his familiar notes of sandalwood, bergamot, and leather mixed with the sharp sweetness of the pine needles below them.

All she wanted to do was kiss him. It was as if, somewhere, deep down, she knew the touch of his mouth against hers would solve everything.

She exhaled deeply, letting her eyes briefly focus on where their hands were joined, and then bent her head.

Safe.

It was only when she opened her eyes again that she realised his chest was bare, his tattoos on full display.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, Sirius gave a small shrug. "I had to wash the blood from our clothes. They're almost dry." He gestured with his head towards the mouth of the cave; most of their clothing was spread on the dry ground, soaking up the last rays of the sun.

For the first time, Hermione took in the tightly wrapped strip of cloth he'd bound around her upper thigh where she'd been splinched. There was an ache there — a constant, dull throbbing that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

But that was beside the point.

She'd been sleeping in her knickers and a t-shirt, and she was only just noticing now.

"Was I out all day?"

"Mmm-hmm," said Sirius, squeezing her hand. "That sleeping draught you concocted is quite potent. You didn't move a jot when I bandaged your leg."

"Are we—" She looked around where they sat, and then out at the red-and-orange sunset. "Sirius… is this your cave?"

He snorted. "It's hardly mine. I did say you'd recognise the place, though."

"Why here?"

"I learned a while back that it helps to have a few bolt-holes in place when needed. I only thought of this one mid-apparition, though, which," he added, twisting his mouth, "probably explains how you got splinched. I'm so sorry about that, love."

"I'm okay," Hermione assured him. "No one knows about it?"

"No one," he said. "I was up here a few times last summer and squirreled away a few supplies. Just in case."

"When you went those times to the Three Broomsticks without us?"

Sirius gave her a tight smile, his eyes suddenly shuttered.

After a lengthy pause, he answered, "That's right. There's a bit of food… some water…non-magical essentials. Not exactly the delights from the Hogwarts kitchen you three brought me back in the day, but still—"

Her mouth opened to ask another question, but he cut her off. "How's your leg? Does it hurt?"

Flexing the muscles in her thigh to be sure, she then winced. "Yes. It does. Sorry."

"Don't be. Dittany takes time. But we can't be horsing about with it until it's ready."

Hermione grinned, despite the pain. "You sound like Madame Pomfrey."

He reached across her to feel the bandage for himself. Hermione hissed, in part from the light pressure of his fingers on the wound, but also because he'd brought himself that much closer to her by leaning over her body.

The sheer maleness of him was overwhelming.

"It'll be dark soon," he said, unaware of her inner torment. His warm hands softly rubbed the bare skin of her good leg as he sat back down beside her. "We can stay here tonight, then press on further west first thing tomorrow."

Hermione grimaced. "I'm not sure I can walk yet."

"That's all right," he responded. "I'll use Alphard's wand. We'll be there in a trice."

"Sirius…"

But when he looked at her, she completely forgot what she had been about to say.

"You should drink something," he said softly. "You need it."

Looking around, Hermione found the large water flask he'd put by her side as she slept. She took a deep swig, then spluttered slightly as the water she had been expecting turned out to be firewhisky. It was only a brief cough, but enough for a few droplets of the amber liquid to bead along her bottom lip when she pulled the flask away.

Sirius watched her, his eyes completely focused on her mouth. When he looked at her like that, she couldn't help wetting her lips with her tongue any more than she could stop breathing.

Sirius took a sharp breath, his pupils darkening. Then he was leaning in, his mouth seeking hers, his lips kissing the whisky away.

Hermione kissed him back, her fingers threading through his hair. In fact, all she wanted to do for the rest of the night was to keep kissing him, dittany be damned.

Tenderly, his tongue touched hers, and she drew a shuddering breath. One of his hands stroked her shoulder, asking permission for… something. He kissed her lips twice more, and then looked deeply into her eyes.

Sighing, Hermione leaned in even closer, the weight of the world suddenly pressing in on her from all sides. "Hold me," she whispered. "Hold me."

Sirius' arms came around and pulled her tight against him.

Moving slowly so as not to hurt her leg, he then rocked her gently back and forth, her head tucked against his throat.

Holding each other, they silently watched the sun set in the hills beyond the cave.

She must have been having a nightmare.

Hermione could feel the oily whisps of fear sinking back down as she swam towards wakefulness, but they still left their trace all over her.

She began to shake.

A moment later, however, warmth came over her like a large blanket. In fact, it was a large blanket – the one she and Sirius had been sharing since they had gone to sleep that night on top of the pine boughs. She must have kicked it off during her nightmare.

"Love? You all right?"

With a hitching breath, she answered, "I'm—I'm cold."

Hot hands rubbed her shoulders. "Merlin, you're freezing. Do you think it's shock?"

"Af—after so long? I d—doubt it."

But her teeth were almost chattering now, the terrible darkness of the bad dream still somehow trapped within her.

"Right," he said. "C'm'ere."

Hermione half-looked back over her shoulder. "What?"

"Come. Here." Sirius opened his arms.

"Oh," she said. "Thank you." Once he had pulled her to him, she lost herself in the scent of the crushed pine needles beneath them and some spice that was just so… so Sirius.

Just before she let sleep reclaim her, she shifted her hips back a bit more, so that their bodies could touch in one long, unbroken line.

Sirius made a sound she didn't quite recognise, but she was too tired now to question it.

Hermione fell deeply asleep, with Sirius spooned around her in the dark.

He'd been tortured before in his life.

He'd lived through the most soul-crushing pain and torment.

This was different.

This was the most blissful, glorious agony.

This was—Merlin's pants, but that witch had to stop moving her hips!

Sirius shut his eyes even more tightly, simultaneously cursing and praising the woman who was now his wife. How could she be so completely asleep and yet also so damn seductive?

They had fallen asleep on the bed of pine branches he'd thrown haphazardly together while she had recovered from her splinching. Her nightmare had woken them briefly around midnight, and then she'd shifted her hips back against his crotch, and he'd gone straight to hell.

Had she known she'd pressed her ass against his erection like that?

Had she realised what she'd done?

He doubted it.

Sirius doubted many things about this witch who so fascinated him.

Now, in the early hours before dawn, he was awake again. She had awakened him.

They had slept spooned together happily enough after her nightmare, but now he could feel her moving against him in the dark. Somehow, his thigh had become nestled between her legs. Sirius wasn't sure when that had happened. He also didn't remember when his hand had cupped the heavy fullness of one breast, but he was holding it now — and it felt amazing. Not to mention how hot her pussy felt against his leg, even through his trousers.

It was taking every drop of his restraint not to rut against her. It was all the more difficult, given Hermione kept shifting on him, rubbing herself against his thigh over and over, even though she was still asleep. Every time she brushed up against him beneath their shared blanket was exquisite torture.

Such wicked innocence.

She was still asleep, yes? Sirius peered through the shadows, desperate to see some sign that she knew what she was doing; that this was all a deliberate dance, enticing him on purpose.

But, her eyes remained distinctly shut.

Biting the inside of his lips to stop himself from making any sounds that might wake her, he bent his head towards Hermione's shoulder.

Suddenly, she shifted just enough that his cock pushed directly along the cleft of her arse, and he couldn't help the low groan that escaped him.

Merlin, but he wanted her.

So much.

He wasn't even aware that he had begun to kiss her shoulders and the side of her neck until she arched and stretched against him.

"Sirius?"

His stomach dropped, even while desire coursed through his veins.

Gods.

"Sirius?"

"I'm here," he whispered against her skin, repeating what he'd said to her hours earlier.

This time, however, his meaning was entirely different. Now he was here, with her, aching for her… and his fingers were slowly drifting down from her breast to her stomach, scant inches away from paradise.

Something was curling within her, all twisty and hot. She liked it. She didn't want it to stop.

Sensing that it wasn't yet fully morning, Hermione gave a small stretch.

Something hard pushed against her bum.

A man's voice sounded behind her, husky and half-strangled. "Circe."

Heat flamed through her as she realised where she was, and with whom.

"Sirius?" she called out softly. "Sirius?"

"I'm here."

She felt all taut and loose at the same time. His fingers were spread over her torso, making idle patterns on her bare skin.

"Kitten? Are you waking up?"

"No," she purred. "I'm still dreaming."

His voice dropped even lower. "Do you want me to stop?"

Closing her eyes again, she shook her head.

"'Mione?"

"No," she whispered. "Don't. Please."

His body tensed behind her, his fingers freezing in place.

No! Couldn't he tell what she meant? Wasn't she being obvious enough?

Hermione was about to speak up when she heard him take a deep breath behind her, and then felt his hand slide down to her navel. She sighed happily.

"Just a taste, kitten," breathed Sirius. "Just to take the edge off."

Had he said something? She wasn't sure, because her entire being was focused on the hand now moving beneath her shirt.

Anticipation prickled across her skin.

Sirius' long fingers briefly danced along her ribs and whirled around her stomach before slowly slipping to the elastic of her plain, white knickers.

Hermione bowed into the touch, silently begging for more. When she pushed back against him, grinding against his hardness, he gave a soft, wicked hiss. "Stop that. You're distracting me."

A smile played on her lips. "Really?"

"Let me touch you. Just—let me."

His fingers slid along the band of her knickers again.

And again.

And again.

"Please," she shuddered, needing more, but feeling afraid to ask.

Finally, Sirius moved his hand further south. The first brush of his fingers against her made her moan.

He half-growled in her ear when he found the wetness waiting for him between her legs. He'd briefly touched her like this before at The Ritz, but now that felt so long ago, even though it had only been the other night. That had been almost too formal — the luxurious suite, the lush bedroom, the ritual of the wedding night.

This was different.

This was just… them.

Sirius' thumb nudged her tight bundle of nerves, sending out shocks of pure pleasure. Hermione's breath hitched. Then he began to circle her clit, and she bucked her hips, hissing as a raw, delicious carnality stole over her.

"Like that?" he breathed, the hint of a smile in his voice.

"Mmmm."

Hermione had never felt more aware of her body than she did in that moment. It wasn't like before when she'd been with boys, letting them kiss her only for her brain to start cataloguing every clumsy move and awkward pass.

Sirius was a man.

It made all the difference in the world.

Quickly, she began to lose all sense of the different parts of her body. Instead, they melded and blended, running together, making her just… feel.

Each pass of his fingers over her hot centre made her gasp. Each flick and caress made her need rise higher.

The world was spinning out from beneath her body — and it was wonderful.

One finger swirled around her entrance, teasing, brushing against it, while his thumb continued to rub and circle her clit. Her head came back fully against Sirius' shoulder as she bit her lip.

Slow and sinful, his fingers slid through her slick, finding new places that made her keen and cry out.

"Please," she begged, grinding against him again. She loved how firm and rigid he was against her bum. He felt so… large. So hard.

A small part of her was almost afraid of his erection, but something else inside her was dying to feel him… to see him… to taste him.

Then his hand shifted even lower, and Hermione's mind went blank.

Sirius swore as he slid a lone finger inside her. "Fucking hell, 'Mione."

Suddenly, her breasts were tightening, her stomach clenching, her body becoming a writhing, wanting, desired thing.

"Circe, you're so tight," he mumbled against her shoulder.

"Sirius!"

"Sssshhh." He nibbled at her neck. "Relax, love. I've got you."

"I— I—"

"Yes."

His thumb swirled round and round her clit. As the pressure there combined with his finger slowly moving in and out of her, she began to gasp for air.

Hermione didn't care. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She didn't care who he was or who she was or where they were. She just gave in to what she wanted most.

Him.

"Gods!" she cried breathily. Her body quickened, becoming all flow and desire as he continued to stroke her.

Sirius' finger softly dipped in and out of her body, slow and sure, his thumb moving in ever tighter circles. She hadn't thought he could have his finger in her pussy like that, not with her— surely it couldn't be that—

"Let go, love," he whispered. His lips gently touched her ear, and she thought it was the most perfect thing she'd ever felt, the whiskers of his beard teasing her above while below, his wicked fingers drove her even higher into the sun.

"Merlin, you have no idea how much I—" He cut himself off with a long groan, his hips moving sharply against her backside as they rocked together. "'Mione."

He filled up her senses, a spicy mystery she so wanted to take deep into herself until she was filled to the brim with him, filled entirely up with… with… S—

"GodsI'mcoming!"

"Yes. Just like that. Good girl," he growled.

Release exploded down her spine, pure liquid joy that made her shudder around him and clench tight.

The most delicious feeling of coming apart broke through her. All the while, Sirius' hand cupped her sex, holding it firmly through the pulses that seized and shook her body.

Sirius swore again, breathing hard, his fingers stroking through her pleasure until she was entirely spent.

When she could breathe again, Hermione lay still for a long minute, trying to catch her breath. Trying to fathom what had just happened. Trying to remember her own name.

She'd never come before in front of another person. She'd never—

Sirius kissed her temple, breaking off her train of thought. "Good Godric, you're amazing."

"Hardly," she blushed, suddenly feeling intensely shy.

Could she still blush after what he had just done to her? Merlin.

But when she rolled on her back to look up properly into his beautiful face, she felt him, long and hard against her hip.

Hermione's eyes widened and then darkened, too. "Oh! You're…"

He shook his head. "It's all right, love."

Ignoring him, she slid a hand up and down his bare chest, determined to even the score. But, before she could move an inch further towards his dark jeans, Sirius gripped her wrist gently, trapping her. When he saw her frown, he laughed under his breath.

"You're adorable when you look like that, you know."

Hermione frowned further. "But, you're—you—Sirius!"

"Don't worry about me," he said, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

"Can't I…?"

"Can't you what?"

"Help? You? I want to."

He shook his head again, still smiling. "There'll be time for that later. But not here."

Hermione felt immediately put out. "Why not?"

"In a cave?" he snorted. The disbelief on his face then shifted into the sexiest of smirks. "Sweet girl," he muttered, kissing her palm. "Don't you know? When you finally touch me, kitten, I'm going to lose my fucking mind. I want to be far, far away from anyone else—"

"But, we are!"

"—and in a bed where we'll have all day and all night to ourselves. To discover. To play. To learn." His eyes danced mischievously before he kissed away her pout, giving her just the barest taste of him. "And, even then," he rumbled against her ear, "we still won't have enough time for half the things I want to do to you."

Hermione moaned softly at the thought. "Tell me."

His grin deepened. "A thousand different things. You'll see. But none of them are possible now. Not here."

But, Hermione refused to give up. "Anything is possible if you only wish hard enough."

Arching an eyebrow, Sirius asked, "Did Dumbledore say that?"

She shook her head. "No," she admitted. "It was… it was Peter Pan."

"Ah." Sirius got a curious look on his face. "That's not what he said."

"Yes, it is," insisted Hermione.

"Not quite." He smiled at her confusion. "Lily gave me that book years ago. Said it was the closest thing she'd ever found to me in print. Used to make me read bits out loud to James and Remus in the common room."

"The boy who wouldn't grow up?"

"Rather." Seeing her trying not to smirk at Lily's joke, he sighed dramatically. "Yes, you two would've been peas in a pod. You're close, though, with what the story said. And I do like your version very much."

"But, what about—?" Smiling up at him, Hermione escaped his grip and slid her hand down his chest in one long, smooth line, heading straight for his crotch.

Sirius snatched up her hand again, tsking loudly. "I'll hold, love. Besides, we only have another hour or so before dawn. You need to sleep."

"I am so tired of you saying that!" she half-snapped.

"Be that as it may, I'm still right. Your leg will thank me in the morning."

After giving her a knowing glare, he shifted on his side, hiding his hardness from her. When she huffed, Sirius smirked and stretched an arm out for her to use again as a pillow. Then he began to stroke her back. But this touch was different from before – it wasn't intended to make her soar, but to bring her back to earth.

Once she was more amenable to his caresses, he gathered her even closer to him with his free hand. Hermione could feel the last bit of her fury at his stubbornness fall away.

Running a hand down her side, Sirius exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was deep and measured, but languorous, too. Clearly, Hermione wasn't the only one needing more sleep.

"We get safely away from all this, love, off on our own and then, trust me, I'll make you feel so amazing, you won't ever want to leave me."

His words hung there in the dark as he then settled behind her; a moment later, his breathing began to even out.

But Hermione couldn't move. Had he just said—? Surely he couldn't have meant that. Could he?

"Sirius?"

But he just sleepily kissed the back of her head, grunted, and then moved deeper beneath their shared blanket.

Thoroughly perplexed, Hermione slowly pillowed her head on the arm he'd extended out to her.

It couldn't be. She must have misheard him.

That had to be it.

"Rest now," he yawned. "Just… rest."

Hermione gave him one last look over her shoulder before closing her eyes. Their legs twined together beneath the blanket. "All right," she agreed quietly. "For now."

She was almost totally asleep when she heard Sirius whisper into the darkness, even more softly than she had done before.

"That's all we have."

"Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it." ~ J. M. Barrie