Chapter 16 – Round One

"There," said a wind-blown Hermione, pushing the door closed with a substantial effort.

"All finished?" asked Sirius. "I could have helped, you know."

"I wanted to do it," she answered, putting Alphard's wand down on a side-table. "You can cast it next time."

"Next time?"

"The spell only lasts for three days. Anyway, the wards are up and we're now unplottable. Not that anyone in their right mind would be out hunting us in this storm, but if they are, they're not going to find anything."

As soon as Hermione had insisted on setting up invisibility wards as she'd done when she and Harry had been hunting Horcruxes, she'd been out the door before Sirius could stop her.

"How big a perimeter did you give us?" he asked.

"Down to the road and most of the bluff," she answered. "Why?"

"You're good at this," he said.

She ducked her head, and an awkward silence grew between them.

"I should go change."

"You do that, love. I'll stay here."

Dinner earlier had been wine, a summer salad, and cheese that Sirius had put together with what they'd gotten from the village shop before Hermione had headed out to hide their location. He thought she might have been more impressed with his culinary prowess, but apart from a single smile and a soft 'thank you,' she hadn't gone on much about the meal.

Then again, with the wind howling away all round the cottage, he couldn't really blame her for being distracted. There was something about the storm that seemed downright unholy.

Once she was upstairs, he began to light candles. It felt slightly odd to be lighting so many at midsummer, he mused, but with the power still off and likely to remain so, they needed some light. Soon the kitchen-table and nearby sitting room were bathed in soft yellows and golds.

Sirius smiled to himself at how right the closeness of the cottage suddenly felt. He was never one for tight, confined spaces, but this place… there was something about it. It intrigued him.

Hermione intrigued him.

She… No. Stop it.

Needing to distract himself, he set up the backgammon board instead.

When she appeared downstairs again, Sirius noticed she'd changed into those tight black leggings that she tended to favour these days, and a low-cut t-shirt. She looked delicious.

Holding out a hand, he revealed the backgammon board on the table with a flourish. The bottle of red wine and glasses from dinner stood nearby.

She beamed at him, and something went 'ping' inside his chest.

"Ready?"

"Of course," she muttered, taking a seat.

Sirius poured them each a fresh glass of wine before standing behind his chair and gripping the back of the seat with both hands. "Well then. Black or white?"

Hermione's earlier smile turned devilish. "Black. It's always been my favourite."

A muscle twitched in his cheek. "Has it now?"

"Can't you tell?"

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Are we still talking about the counters?"

"You tell me," she said with a small grin. "Or is that your question for if you win?"

"Absolutely not," answered Sirius, primly. He sat down. "Although, don't prepare any yourself. I doubt you get a chance to ask."

Her jaw hardened. "You think that, do you?"

Sirius' voice dropped low. "Oh, yes. Roll to start?"

As he'd expected, it was not an easy game. Despite the years since he had last played, his competitive streak immediately came to the fore, but Hermione wasn't about to give him any quarter. He kept two men far back in case she made a mistake he could pounce on, but she outfoxed him time and again, and then it was a flat-out race to see who could clear their house first.

In the end, Sirius only won by sheer luck: three sets of double sixes in a row.

"That's not fair!" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms as he moved his last four counters out.

With an easy grin, he mused, "All's fair in love and war?"

"That's a tired cliché."

"Aw, is that a pout?" When he moved a hand across the table to touch her jutting bottom lip, she tried to bite him. "Ah-ah-ah!" chided Sirius. "Don't be a sore loser."

"I take it the game has put you in a better mood?" she scowled.

"Winning has."

Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Right. Ask your question."

"No, I don't think I will. Not yet."

"What's that?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he cleared the last pieces off the board and reset them. "Let's see if you can even up the score first."

When Hermione continued to glare at him across the table, it took all his strength not to crow with glee. He'd forgotten how delightful it was to win a round of anything against a beautiful woman.

"All questions have to be asked by midnight," insisted Hermione.

"Says who?"

"I do."

"No."

"Sirius!"

"We never agreed to that rule," he pointed out. "We can do that going forward, if you like, but the question from this win is mine to ask whenever I want. And I don't want to. Not yet."

"Before we leave here for good?" pressed Hermione.

"What, for London?"

"At the latest."

Sirius paused, then nodded. "Fine. Before we leave. Or any time up until then. I'll let you know when I'm using it."

"But all other questions from now on must be asked before midnight on the same day. Yes?"

"Agreed. Rematch?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed dramatically. "Absolutely."

"Ha!" snorted Sirius. "So keen to lose again, then, are you?"

"Set them up, Lord Black," came her low, threatening whisper.

Heady tension spiralled up between them, heightening every look and gesture across the game board.

A sudden crack of wicked thunder broke their concentration. Hermione quickly looked out towards the garden. "That sounded close."

Sirius didn't look up while deliberating his next move. "The power's already off. What else could happen?"

"The windows could shatter and we get drenched?"

"Not keen on getting wet?"

Usually, he was faster with his own double-entendres, but this one hit Sirius sideways. Suddenly, all he saw in his mind was Hermione naked before him, her wetness glistening at the juncture of her thighs. Immediately, his cock began to stir, and he made a dumb move on the board, opening up two of his men to her attack.

Hermione gave him a second look before rolling her dice.

Coughing to cover his mistake and his arousal, Sirius shifted in his seat and then poured himself another glass of wine.

A large one.

Half an hour later, the storm had turned into something truly tumultuous. But Sirius had won again, so the wind and rain could go hang for all he cared.

He watched as Hermione fumed across the table, glaring at her straggling black counters still scattered across the board.

"Best three-out-of-five?" he suggested, unable to hide the glee in his voice.

"You're impossible," she seethed.

By the time they finally pushed away from the board nearly an hour later, Hermione had won only a single question from Sirius, while he had two more to ask of her, not including his first win.

"Right, Kitten, lay it on me," he drawled as he slouched back in his chair.

Taking her time, Hermione drifted over to a couch closer to the garden windows, which were simply teeming with rain.

Hermione took a sip of wine, her tongue flicking out to catch the single bead of red liquid that clung to her bottom lip. Heat tugged low down in Sirius' stomach as he watched her. Merlin. She had no idea, did she, just what she could do to him? Without even trying?

"Did you…" she began, before faltering. "In the cave… did you… want that to happen?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation on his part.

Hermione waited and then looked at him, clearly expecting more.

Sirius raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

It was a battle of wills between them: another kind of game. Finally, Hermione blinked first. "Don't I get more than that?"

"No," he smirked. "My turn, I take it?"

Outrage flashed across her eyes and practically crackled through her curly hair.

"Next time," said Sirius, his smirk becoming a full-out wicked grin, "don't ask a 'yes' or 'no' question. Waste of a win, that."

"You're dreadful." There was flint in her eyes.

"I never said otherwise."

"I suppose not."

"Lesson learned?"

"Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms again.

Merlin, but he did enjoy it when Hermione got all swotty and bothered like that; partly because of how gorgeous she looked when she was fierce about something, but also because she had unthinkingly pushed her breasts up and led him straight into temptation.

Gods, he wanted to taste her there, to pull her top down and free her breasts, taking one in his mouth, feeling her nipple harden against his tongue, and then nibble and lick and—

Careful, mate, Sirius reminded himself. Breathe. Play, but don't pounce. She just wants to learn about men… she doesn't want you forever, she just wants a bit of—

"And that's my lesson for tonight?" she whispered, cutting off his thoughts.

"No," said Sirius, swallowing thickly. "It's not."

"Well, then?"

Something different teased Hermione's mouth. Sirius couldn't quite place it, but it drew him in — a silky, feminine awareness that suddenly seemed to settle all over her body. He watched, entranced, as Hermione's eyes dropped down to the low-cut of her top and the extra fullness of her breasts caused by her current position, and then flicked back up to him. He could see the moment that it happened — the rush of sexual power that filled her gaze. Her lips parted slightly, and Sirius knew he couldn't have looked away for all the gold in Gringotts.

That competitive edge that had pulsed between them for the past hour shifted into a different gear, and they both knew it. It was still a game, but now…

"Sirius? I'm waiting."

Fucking hell.

"This morning… in the cave… if I'd let you… what were going to do to me?"

Hermione's mouth fell open further, but only for a moment. Ducking her head, she admitted softly, "I—I wanted to touch you."

When she then paused, Sirius leaned closer. "Go on."

His words seemed to give her power. Confidence. Their eyes met. "I wanted to see you… when you were hard for me."

Just look at me right now! he shouted silently.

"I was already, love. Believe me."

"Yes, but I didn't see it," she countered. "I want to know what it's like when you want me. When a wizard wants me," she corrected quickly. "Sorry," she muttered. Looking away, she said, "It's just that it's all so new. To want to touch someone else. Someone that I want, too. Who's made me feel so…" Her eyes flew back to him. "That was my first, you know."

"Your first…?"

"Climax. With someone else."

He couldn't help but grin. "It's different when you're not doing it yourself, isn't it?"

"Tremendously," she agreed.

For a moment, all Sirius could see was the vision of Hermione touching herself in front of him, spreading her lower lips apart so he could see just how wet he'd made her, wanting him to fuck her, needing him to take her so hard she'd—

Hecate's teeth, man! Stop!

Slamming his eyes shut, he tried to listen as she continued.

"And, afterwards, it just made me want."

"Want what?" he asked tightly, his eyes still closed.

"I wanted… I wanted to take you in my hands. My mouth."

His eyes slammed open, his gaze immediately on her lips.

"I wanted to lean in and feel you against my face," she said. "My cheek. My lips. I wanted to smell your skin… that line of hair on your stomach… the rest of you." Her cheeks colouring at her own words, Hermione's eyes drifted down to the wine glass still in her hands. "I wanted to make you feel as good as you made me."

"It doesn't need to be a trade-off, pet."

"Doesn't it?"

"Gods, no!" barked Sirius, his current arousal adding to his shock. "Where did you ever get that kind of an id—" He stopped himself, the disdain pouring through him. "That fuckwit Weasley, wasn't it? Gods!"

"Not really," hedged Hermione. "We never went that far. I just… couldn't. Not with him. But things were implied."

"He's a cunt."

"Sirius!"

"Sorry! Sorry," he said, lifting one hand. "I take that back."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"That wasn't right at all," he said, his voice dropping low, "because I have a deep and abiding love for the cunt. Most amazing thing on the planet."

"Siri-us!"

"Let me amend my earlier statement. Ron Weasley is, at best, a dribbling arsehole. Doubly so if he ever said or did anything that made you feel pressured. Merlin's balls! If that boy were here now—"

"But he's not," said Hermione, standing at last. "He's not and I am. Full and final answer to your question: if you had let me, I wanted to pleasure you. I've never done it before, but I want to do it for you."

"Did you really?"

"Of course! You've already been so patient in holding back."

Sirius snorted. "Patient?! Love, do you realise that a week ago, I hadn't ever even kissed you? We've tried to make up for that since, but you have to admit, we've yet to have a single, proper time together without something buggering things up: Molly, Umbridge, me…."

"But tonight," she pressed. "Tonight, we can try?"

"So long as the bloody roof doesn't blow off."

"You'll let me finish you?" she pressed.

Sirius inhaled sharply. He hadn't quite expected her to say that. There'd been a general idea, perhaps, of how things might proceed once they got upstairs, but he hadn't anticipated the way Hermione's face would light up at the thought of all her focus being on him.

Circe, those looks of hers were so addictive. His cock stiffened further.

Keep it just physical, he reminded himself. Keep it fun. Simple. Instructive. It's not about you, it's about giving her whatever she wants. Whatever she says she needs…

Though, said another part of his brain, if he finally did get a chance to come because Hermione was dead keen on getting him off after all these mad weeks and months of craving her, then so be it. He wasn't going to run from what he knew would happen if she touched him. He'd allow himself that.

But only that.

Only how to give and receive pleasure — and absolutely nothing about why it felt so right between them.

He could do that. He knew he could.

And if she changed her mind about any of it, then he could control his libido long enough to smile and then go have a wank in the shower when opportunity arose. Merlin knew, it wouldn't be the first time.

But he hoped for something else.

Circe forgive him, he did.

"Well, then," he said, clearing his throat. "It's good for us to have a goal." Standing, he held out a hand.

"What, now?" Hermione blinked and set her glass down. "But, you still have one more question to ask me."

He smiled knowingly. "I still have until midnight."

Before she could say anything else, Sirius moved, putting two candles on the wooden stairs leading to the bedroom up above before returning to the sitting area and blowing out the rest.

Hermione still hadn't moved, but he'd felt her eyes on him the entire time.

"Come on, Kitten," he said, holding out his hand again. "Let's go upstairs."

Each of them held a candle as he led her up to their bedroom, moving slowly so as not to have either flame go out. Hermione waited in the doorway as Sirius placed the flickering lights on either side of the bed and then came back to her.

Her stomach was a tight ball of nerves. Not from trepidation, she was certain… but rather some acute blend of anticipation, and desire, and, frankly, the sheer uncertainty of what came next.

And he still hadn't kissed her yet.

She'd realised, a few moments earlier, that Sirius hadn't kissed her at all since they'd watched the sunset from the mouth of his cave. When he'd stroked between her legs in the dark, they hadn't pressed their lips together — he'd been behind her, so that would have been rather tricky. He'd brushed his mouth across her shoulders and along the shockingly sensitive curve of her neck…

But not a real kiss.

Since their first secret tryst on the terrace at Grimmauld Place, it seemed as if Hermione and Sirius hadn't been able to not kiss each other, given half a chance. Unless they were arguing or being secretive, which had also happened with unfortunate regularity.

And now?

Whatever the reason, she missed kissing him.

But there was one sure-fire way to fix that.

Before she could reach for him, however, Sirius stepped back and stripped off his shirt over his head. The sheer amount of tattooed skin on his torso never failed to fascinate her. As he dropped the material to the floor, Hermione came to him, her eyes drawn to his ink but also, more importantly, to the long, thin cut from Umbridge's knife. It stretched clear across from the far edge of one pectoral muscle to the other.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, lightly tracing the wound with two fingers.

"Not really. Not compared to a splinch."

"We're talking about you, not me," she chided softly.

"It burned just after, but now it's fine." Sirius passed a hand quickly over the cut, grasping at her fingers. "There are other parts of me, I guarantee, that are more fun to explore."

Amused, she began to trace over some of her favourites of his tattoos. When her fingers drifted over one just near his right nipple, he drew in a sharp breath. The sudden sound filled the tiny, whitewashed bedroom.

"Do men like being touched?" she asked, her voice barely above a whispered breath. "Just here?"

If she hadn't known better, she might have thought that his voice sounded almost strangled. "Doesn't everyone?"

Hermione shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

When he spoke, Sirius' voice was a low vibrato that made her skin feel all tight and hot. "Did you like it when I kissed you there at the hotel?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Well, then."

The request was unspoken, but she heard it just the same. Her eyes dancing, Hermione bit at her lip even more than usual, crushing one side of the pink flesh sharply with her incisors as she came closer to her husband.

First, she leaned in, smelling his bare skin. That scent of pine trees was there, again — how, she couldn't imagine, since they were far away from the cave now and the make-shift bed he had pulled together for them when she had been wounded and knocked out. Even more powerful, however, was something all Sirius' own: some blend of spice and sweat and sweetness and maleness that Hermione found completely intoxicating.

Before she could stop herself, she had pushed her nose fully against him, filling her senses with the essence of Sirius. He made a sound above her. Normally, he didn't seem that much taller than she was, but she was aware of the difference now. She felt him take another deep breath, his ribs rising against her nostrils, muscles pulling as he tried his best to resist and relax at the same time.

Then her lips were pressing against his skin, feeling the texture of him; the hot, dryness of his torso peppered with goose bumps as both she and the night air had their way with him.

Hermione never knew how long it took her to reach the treasure trail of silky hair leading away from Sirius' stomach and down into the jeans that were as black as his name. All she knew was that she had suddenly slipped down onto her knees in front of him.

"Fucking hell."

Her fingers rose up to trace the rigid length in front of her face, and his hips canted forward. But before her hands could rise higher to free him from the confines of his jeans, he grabbed at her.

"'Mione. Wait."

Looking up at Sirius' face from this angle was an entirely new thing. "I need to practice, don't I?" she asked. "Isn't that what this is about? Me learning how to do this properly?"

He winced, but then gingerly nodded.

"Don't you want me to—?"

"Yes… No… Yes," he growled at last. "Fucking furies, of course I do! But—"

Hermione decided to just ignore him. His body clearly knew what it wanted. She undid the clasp above his zipper, the thick button hitting the pink of her thumbnail.

"Gently," he gasped. "I don't want to frighten you."

"Frighten me?" She leaned back slightly and gave him a rather bemused look. "How could you frighten me if I've been wanting this for hours? Days? Weeks?"

"Have you?"

"Mmm-hmm." It was no lie, and they both knew it.

"Just, forgive me if I'm a bit awkward at first?" she asked softly.

"Bleeding Circe."

Refocusing on the denim in front of her face, she slowly peeled down the zipper, conscious of not wanting to rush and catch him unawares. "Do you, ah, want to step out of these, or would you rather keep them on?"

Backing away, Sirius proceeded to divest himself of his jeans in the most Muggle way imaginable: hopping on one foot at a time. As she watched him, Hermione couldn't help the laugh that burbled out of her.

"Think I look funny, do you?" he huffed.

She tried to stifle her giggles and happily failed. "Yes."

Pulling his last foot free of the pant leg, Sirius snorted at himself and half-turned away as he dropped the jeans to the floor. "A footnote to any future lessons, love: notwithstanding tidal waves of passion, getting naked in front of someone else is almost always rather ridiculous. But," he said, turning fully back to her, "one hopes that's only for a moment."

Now that the jeans were gone, Sirius' boxers did absolutely nothing to hide his desire for her. They proclaimed it. Loudly.

Hermione gulped. She couldn't help it. Tilting her head slightly to one side, she took in the way the material tented in front of her eyes, how the fabric strained to contain him. He'd been hard with her in the room before — in his bedroom, at The Ritz, and on that long ago winter morning in the kitchen — but now she knew there'd be no interruptions.

This was going to happen.

Then his hands were on her upper arms, guiding her back onto her feet. "Let's make this more comfortable for both of us," he said.

"Not like this?" she asked, honestly curious.

"Not this time."

He guided them onto the bed, which looked quite a bit smaller than the king-size she was used to at Grimmauld Place. This was… simple. Close. Intimate.

A mirror stood to one side of the room. Once Hermione was sitting on the mattress, the sheets pulled down, Sirius moved to reposition the mirror so they could see their reflections from the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as he quietly lifted her arms and took off her t-shirt.

"Making you feel good."

"But I told you, you already did that for me."

"And I told you," he countered, "that sex is not about keeping score and tracking whose turn it is next. It's about losing yourself in the moment… the touch… the response."

As he spoke, Sirius rested his hands on her bared shoulders before running his fingers down the sides of her bra.

Now it was Hermione's turn to draw a sharp breath and shut her eyes.

"No, love. Look at me," he insisted. "Look at us both."

Spellbound, she watched their reflections in the tinted glass of the old standing mirror. Sirius made short work of her bra, and then brought his hands round to tease the peaks of her nipples while she stared at them. She couldn't look away for anything. Combined with the candlelight, everything around them seemed golden — a shimmering space that belied the cruel rain punishing the room's small windows.

"What do you see?" he asked.

Hermione blushed. "You."

"And what else?"

"That my hair looks full of static," she sighed.

"Stop it."

"Well, it's true."

"Be that as it may. Do you know what I see?"

"No," she breathed.

His gaze in the mirror gobbled her up as he kept touching her, teasing and caressing her breasts and then running a hand down her forearm. Everywhere his fingers passed felt on fire.

He whispered in her ear. "I see the most amazing, intriguing witch I think I've ever known. One who drives me completely mad — mad for your gorgeous body…" Bending closer, he began to kiss the side of her neck; she arched forward without even realising what she was doing, her breasts filling his palms.

"Mad for your brilliant, wicked mind…"

She could feel the bare heat of him just scant inches behind her.

"Mad for your ingenious, diabolical plan…"

Hermione quirked. "Diabolical?"

"Oh, yes," he growled. "Asking me to corrupt you and teach you and torment you… all without ever going too far? That's absolutely fiendish, love — for both of us."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"No, you're not," he smirked. "You very well might be before the end of this, but right now, you're just curious, aren't you? Wondering what it's like to drive me wild? Because you do, woman. Merlin help me, but you do."

Suddenly, the witch in the mirror looked strong and emboldened. Hermione liked looking like that. There was no point in questioning why the thought of learning Sirius' body was the thing to make her so triumphant — for right now, she just accepted that it did.

Holding his gaze in the mirror, she crept one hand behind her, moving up his leg to where his erection blatantly pressed against the thin material covering his crotch.

"Fuck, witch," he sighed, closing his eyes as her fingers began to trace ever so lightly along his cock. "You're going to be the death of me."

He was stirring for her; she could feel it. Literally feel Sirius Black's cock lengthening and getting even harder in her hand. For her. Hermione thought she had never felt anything so erotic before in her life.

Turning away from the mirror, she rounded on him, pressing Sirius back so that he lay almost flat on the mattress. She straddled him, and the light hair sprinkling his upper thighs tickled the soft skin of her inner legs. Hesitantly, she let herself rock just a bit on top of him. Hermione wasn't sure what Sirius made of it, but the movement felt wonderful for her. Shifting slightly, she sighed when one of his thighs came up more firmly between hers and pressed.

When their eyes met, a wave of hot sparks sizzled through her entire body. If she paused too long to marvel at what was happening, Hermione knew she'd get lost in the emotions roaring inside her, champing to be set free. They were here; they were alone; they wanted each other… and, somehow, it still wasn't enough. She wanted more from him.

Flattening her lips into a thin line, she almost groaned at the bitter awareness that, however much he might want her body and appreciate her mind, Sirius hadn't said anything specifically beyond that. He was being seductive, not romantic. This wasn't that. It was… she didn't even know how to categorise it.

Trying desperately to switch her mind off before she started analysing things when she should just be feeling, Hermione stifled away any more thoughts of romance. That wasn't what this was about. Certainly, if Sirius wasn't about to say anything more about this thing between them, then neither would she. That was what felt truly terrifying, not having his nearly-naked body prone beneath hers. If she let herself dwell on how she felt for too long, then she'd have to admit that she had—

Then he took one of her hands and brought it to his mouth, first pressing his lips against the back of it and then her palm. It still wasn't a proper kiss, but she felt one of her larger worries melt away at the touch of his lips on some part of her body.

That could be enough. For now.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Is that your second question?" she replied.

He gave her a canny look, and then shook his head. "No, and neither is this: do you want to know what I look like? You'd said you did, before." He nodded down towards his groin.

Hermione immediately snapped back into the here and now, rather than her unwieldy thoughts. And, despite the fact that she was currently rocking her hips subtly on top of him, pressing her hot core against him over and over again, she still blushed at his suggestion.

"Yes, please," she whispered, clamping her lips together to prevent her from saying anything else that would give her real feelings away.

"Well, then. Have at me."

Lifting his hips, Sirius invited her to finish stripping him, his lips curving into a scoundrel's smile as he winked at her.

She tried not to look until she had divested him completely and thrown the boxers to the floor. But, after that, she simply stared at him, her eyes widening.

Sirius' cock was long and thick, rising proudly out of a nest of dark curls between his slightly spread legs. She could see his testicles underneath, where the skin was darker. She was instantly and wondrously enchanted. To be honest, she'd never thought that a man's private parts could be beautiful, but now, she knew she stood corrected.

"What are you thinking?" he asked again. "And that is my second question."

She had set the rules; she had promised him honesty, and so she spoke without filtering a thing. "That I don't know how that could ever fit inside me. I'm not— and you're so—" She swallowed and licked her lips. "I mean, I know it does, but—"

"But it won't, love," he said gently. "Remember?"

"Oh!" Now, Hermione truly blushed. Suddenly, she didn't know where to look. "I'm so sorry, I—that was stupid of me."

"Why?"

"I knew that," she muttered, crossing her arms tightly. "I mean, I know that. That that can't happen. I just… forgot for a moment. After all, he's, ah… rather distracting." She tried to smile but still felt overwhelmed.

Sirius chuckled. "Well saved, Kitten. Have you ever seen a naked man before?"

"Not one this close," she admitted. "Not one I get to touch."

"You're not touching me yet. Do you want to?"

"Can I?" she asked, wanting to be sure.

Sirius laughed again. "Do what you want. Look. Touch. Feel. I'm yours."

Immediately, her thoughts began to whirl again. What had he just said? But then, just as quickly, another voice rang out loudly in her mind. He didn't mean it like that, you silly girl! Stop being a twit!

Blinking slowly, she refocused her attention on the sizeable cock straining towards her. Curious, she reached out, grazing one finger along the underside of his shaft. Sirius hissed loudly.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked quickly.

"Just the opposite, love." Breathing out softly, he gave her a tight grin. "Do it again."

So, she did.

The skin there was so soft. So hot. Hermione bent closer, fascinated with how blue his veins looked against the snow-white skin of his pelvis. She wasn't sure if all men were like this, but the shape of him, everywhere… it was so alluring. When she traced the rise and fall of his hip bones, his penis flexed, as if it was jealous for her complete attention.

She bent even closer, her intention clear.

"Love, are you sure? I mean it, you don't have t—"

"I want to," said Hermione, locking eyes with her husband. If she had to say again that it was for practice in order to convince him, so be it, because right at this moment, all she wanted to do in the world was taste him.

Swallowing loudly, Sirius relented.

"What do you like?" she asked.

He coughed, clearly startled by her question. "Um, I'm not sure…"

"Not sure of what?"

"Not sure that I should factor too much into this."

Hermione's shoulders rose up towards her ears. "Whyever not?"

"These lessons… they're for the future, correct?"

Yes, they are, she reminded herself. He thinks they are, and so they are. End of.

"In which case," continued Sirius, not waiting for her answer, "we don't know who you might be with in the future. I, ah… I wouldn't want to colour things…"

"What's that?" she asked slowly.

"Merlin," sighed Sirius loudly. "It's just that, when it comes to specific preferences, we might not want to presume that what I like is…"

"Legal?" suggested Hermione.

Giving her an imperious glare, he growled, "Wretch. I was going to say 'universal'."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Before he could say another word, Hermione reached forward, letting her fingers drift over his hardness again. A bead of clear liquid rose up from the head of his cock. Fascinated, she reached out and took it on her finger.

"Ahhhh." Sirius' head dropped back into the pillow.

"Tell me," she whispered, rubbing the same finger softly against his tip.

"That's for… lubrication," he said tightly. "For moving inside you… or for you to touch more of me. And, I suppose, your—your mouth should be involved at some point."

"Yes," she agreed quickly, "I can see that, but what else? What do I actually do?"

Sirius seemed caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief as her fingers circled the head of his shaft again. "Suffering Circe, how on earth do I answer that? Be honest, love: didn't you ever read up on anything about this? Something in one of those raunchy bonking books you're always reading?"

Hermione looked up sharply. "You knew? Despite the—"

Laughing broadly, Sirius' eyes shone. "Oh, yes," he said. "Despite the fake covers you magicked on them. And I highly approve of your reading habits. Witches should take control of their own fantasies, whenever they fancy." As he spoke, one of his hands joined hers, moving them together up and down his hard length. She was torn between seeing in the mirth in his eyes after such a mad day, and just staring at how he handled his own cock. Such firm strokes.

Well, of course they would be, she thought: he's been touching his own parts for decades. I've had less than five minutes!

"So, what did the women do in your dirty books when presented with a situation like this?"

Her mouth quirked as their hands kept moving. "They didn't say much, you know. Just a lot of euphemisms."

"Such as?"

"Well ah...um… 'Laving his manroot with her little pink tongue'?"

There was a second's pause, and then they were both giggling.

"Good Gods! Are you serious?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded. "Just ridiculous."

"And you read those things? In front of us all?"

Hermione kept nodding. "Dozens of them."

"Crafty minx," he said lowly.

"With, as you say, slightly different covers than the originals, of course. Are you shocked?"

"No." Not looking away from her, he added a small twist to his wrist when he reached the end of an upstroke that she found utterly fascinating. The red head of his erection kept appearing and disappearing in his fist, while her fingers strayed lightly over his moving hand. The more she stared at it — at him — the more she grew aware of an answering ache between her own legs.

Hermione hadn't realised before how much of a turn on someone else's arousal could be.

Merlin, how was Sirius doing this to her? Having a chat about her smutty reading habits while the pair of them stroked his cock, and yet he somehow managed to make it all seem so normal?

"No," continued Sirius, oblivious of her inner thoughts, "I'm not shocked by your sinful, singular reading habits. Never shocked. On the contrary. When we get home, you'll have to read some of them to me."

"You'd like that?" she grinned.

"Don't be daft. You reading me racy books while sitting naked on top of me? Of course, I'd love it."

"I'm not naked," she pointed out. "Technically. But you are." When she smiled at him, her hair fell slightly in front of her face.

"Well, then, Kitten," he said, letting go of his erection to push the unruly curls back behind her ear, "think of one of those scenes in your books. Do what you like. Play with me. Feel me. Use that — what was it? — that 'little pink tongue' of yours." Then he added as an after-thought, "Just go lightly with the teeth. In fact, best no teeth at all."

"Hmmm?"

Biting his bottom lip, Sirius looked almost bashful. "Well, we're in the middle of nowhere, and I really don't fancy fooling around with any more dittany… and certainly not down there."

"Men don't enjoy teeth?" she asked, lowering her face closer to his jutting erection.

"No. I doubt it… I mean, maybe some do… Perhaps… I don't, at any rate."

"But, Sirius, if this is a lesson for, you know… for after we've separated… for when I'm with another man… then shouldn't I try—"

The hand that had been adjusting her hair now held her jaw, raising her head so that she couldn't look away from him. His gaze seared into her like a silver flame.

"Hermione Granger-Black. I never, ever want to hear you even think about another man when my cock is that close to your mouth."

"Duly noted," she whispered, a slow, soft smile colouring her features.

If that was how Sirius felt, right this second, then that was how she would think about this. It wasn't practice… it wasn't a 'lesson'. It was… something else.

Just for now, she thought silently. Just for me.

A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the bedroom and an answering clap of thunder shook the walls, the wild storm settling right over the tiny cottage.

But neither of them noticed.

When she had first seen Naked Sirius in his bedroom mirror at Grimmauld Place, Hermione's mouth had gone dry. She might have even squeaked, in fact. And that was only the view from behind.

Now, she was seeing everything, that same beautiful, naked body at her mercy as she straddled him. Silky tendrils of desire wound their way through her stomach. She wanted to know. To learn what would make him fly apart. To know what would push him straight over the edge, just as he'd done to her.

One hand smoothed up over his stomach, clear to his ribs, and then slowly down again, feeling the different planes and edges of his torso. She ran it down the muscles of his stomach — further.

Sirius took a shuddering breath.

He was now enormous in Hermione's hand.

When her thumb brushed against his tip, Sirius inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Smirking, Hermione did it again. Then she leaned down and put her mouth on him.

"Circe suffering fuck."

She didn't look up, but Hermione assumed his harsh prayer meant she was on the right track.

In the end, he hadn't really told her what to do before she started, so she listened carefully to any further sounds he made. When she began to suck on just the broad head of his cock, Sirius began a soft litany of curses, each one urging her on.

Suddenly, Hermione had the clearest memory of mouthing the end of a Honeydukes' sugar quill earlier that spring in the library at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had been reading in his customary wing-back chair near the fire while she had various papers spread before her on the room's wide wooden table. She'd always sucked on the sweet end of the quills, craving a sugar fix whenever she was deeply lost in her own thoughts. But that day, when she'd looked up at him, the quill still pulling against her lips, Sirius had seemed unnaturally tense. If it had been anyone else, Hermione might even have used the word 'flustered'. He'd been muttering under his breath and pointedly looking at anywhere but her.

Had it been because of —

She didn't even need to finish the thought. Of course, it had been. She'd been there, sucking on her quill like it was a miniature cock without even realising it, and she'd driven Sirius mad in the process.

The thought flooded her with heat. Goddess, she'd been wanting to do this for so long. For him. To him.

And now she was.

Sirius' hands fisted the sheets near her head as she loved him with her mouth and hands and a power older than Eve's. She lost herself in his salty, musky taste and the heady knowledge that he was sighing and groaning like that because he wanted this… because he needed her, right now, at this moment… and maybe, perhaps, for even longer than that…

Everyone once in a while, Hermione answered one of his moans with her own, while the candlelight flickered in the dark room.

Countless minutes later, Sirius' hands suddenly reached for her. She was already coasting on a high all her own, the pulse between her legs matching the shallow thrusting of his hips as he slipped in and out from between her lips.

"'Mione, I'm going to come. You'd better—"

"No," she breathed over him, before returning to what she'd been doing, ignoring his tugging at her shoulders.

"Holy fuck," he cried harshly as he gave in, the words filling the room, twisting her own pleasure even higher. "God…God… GODS!"

Hermione thought she'd never heard Sirius' voice sound quite like that before, so wild and lost and free. She liked it. She loved it, in fact. If it was even a glimmer of what he had given to her in the cave, when his fingers had moved in and out of her, well, then…

His cock twitched against her tongue, and she braced herself for something volcanic, only to be pleasantly surprised by the tangy, salty essence that filled her mouth as Sirius seized once, twice, and then a third time, gasping louder with each stiffening clench.

Feeling the power of his climax, she nearly came herself. Hermione half-wondered if Sirius knew that, but then assumed he must be too far gone to notice. From the sounds above her, she might have already half-killed him. She swallowed down his spend before even thinking of doing anything else. When she heard his praise for her, over and over again, her eyes flashed in victory.

Rarely had Hermione Granger ever felt so powerful as she did now, on her knees with Sirius Black naked and panting before her.

"Lord, woman," he gasped up at the ceiling. "What have you done to me?"

"Something good, I hope?"

"Fucking hell. I don't— I can't— I don't think anyone has ever—"

"Sirius?" she said quickly, cutting him off. "I hope you don't mind, but I never ever want to hear you talk about another woman when I can still feel your cock in my mouth. Is that all right?"

His eyes lit up as he looked down the length of his body to where she lay, her chin resting on his thigh. "Yes, ma'am."

"Be honest. How did I do?"

"Fuck me, 'Mione," he scoffed. "You need to ask? Did you not just hear me? You're bloody amazing."

"It is rather fun, isn't it?" she grinned, moving up to lay her head on the pillow next to him.

"What, you removing my spinal column so effectively? I'm glad you think so, too."

"I like playing with you," she confessed, one lone finger tracing a tattoo just below his clavicle.

"I can tell."

For a long time, they simply gazed at one another. But, even with the euphoria of having pleased him soaring through her, Hermione knew she had to protect herself, or her pretence that this was only 'practice' might wear too thin.

If Sirius knew what she really thought, how she really felt, he might think her plan had all been contrived to trap him, from the very beginning. He would never forgive her for that, and she knew she couldn't bear it if he did.

Burying her true feelings deep down, she asked, "Lesson finished?"

"Hardly," he grinned.

"I thought you'd want to sleep!" she said, thoroughly surprised. Ginny and Tonks had always complained about how quickly Harry or Remus would drift off after coming, especially at night.

"Only a brief nap 'til I get my strength back, love. You might have destroyed me for the time-being, but I promise you, I'll rally soon. Can't you guess what I'm going to do to you next?" he pressed. "No?"

"No," she admitted, despite the images that suddenly danced through her mind.

"Well, then. It'll be a nice surprise for you when it happens."

When his eyes raked over her again, she could barely breathe.

"What about the storm?" asked Hermione.

"What storm?" asked Sirius, his eyes hot on hers. "That storm? Outside? Let it rage." His fingers gently touched below her chin. "You're in bed. With me. Nothing else matters. Not for the next few hours, at any rate. Sleep for a bit, and then we can get started on round two."

Her eyes widened. "Round two? Of my lessons or our game?"

His answering smile was pure wickedness. "Surely both can be on offer once we're up and about? Or do you concede already that I am the backgammon master in this relationship?"

"Certainly not! But—"

"Then no more questions for tonight, love," he said, barely stifling a yawn. "I'm about to be a dreadful male and nod off after having been satisfied by a beautiful young woman. See what you've done to me? But never fear, I'll get my revenge. And I'll win all the questions tomorrow."

"How can y—"

But before she could get further than that, Sirius had pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, and then curled behind her, raising the blankets with one hand to tuck them in together.

"Nox," he whispered. The candles went out.

Even after Sirius' breathing had evened out and deepened, Hermione still tried to stay awake a bit longer in the velvety darkness. She tried to quiet her mind and only listen to the wild wind and rain all around them. It was, however, a losing battle.

She was so lost. She couldn't deny it any longer.

Her girlish crush on Sirius had changed. She was in serious danger of ruining everything. There were only two rules she'd decided she had to follow in this marriage: they could not have intercourse, and she could not fall in love with him.

No matter what they did together over the coming days, or however long they had to hide away; no matter how he made her body soar and her mind fly apart; no matter how much she enjoyed talking to him, or arguing with him, or playing with him, or being in his bed.

No matter how much she didn't want it to be pretend anymore.

Only that wouldn't work. Not at all. Because, Hermione finally admitted to herself, she was in love with him. She was in love with Sirius Black. After everything that had happened between them for all these weeks, how could she not be?

Lying there next to him in the dark, she knew she couldn't deny her feelings to herself any longer.

But… that didn't mean she had to indulge them. She could still control the situation if she was careful, and he'd never have to know.

She could do this.

She could.

She would.

Unless…

Her eyes opened wider as the thought came to her. Unless she could somehow make Sirius fall in love with her, too.

Could she?

After all, she'd never have a chance like this again, when they'd be so close together for so long. But how to do it? She'd have to think on it, very carefully.

With exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her after such a long day, she knew she couldn't think it all through right then. But she'd come up with something. She was Hermione Granger, after all. Hermione Granger Black, to be precise.

Tomorrow, she'd start on a new plan, one all her own. She was good at solving things — Harry'd always said so. She just had to be brave enough to risk it. To wish hard enough for it, like that line in Peter Pan.

Hadn't Sirius mentioned her version of the quote was a bit off? Anything is possible if you only wish hard enough.

With a tiny but firm nod of her chin, she closed her eyes, knowing things would sort themselves out more easily in the morning.

The storm battered the walls of the cottage, howling just outside the door, but after only a few moments, she fell deeply asleep, the warm weight of Sirius' arm wrapped around her.