FIC: The Moments in Between (Hermione/Sirius)
Title: The Moments in Between
Author/Artist: ally_147
Prompt: Prompt 12 - A kiss in the rain. by sirmioneforever
Pairing(s): Hermione/Sirius
Word Count/Art Medium: 2367 words
Rating: PG-13/T
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Sirius is alive! I’m using one of my favourite, if overused tropes for this pairing; that Hermione became an Unspeakable and found a way to remove him, and others from the Veil. You’ll have to excuse the lack of description as to how Hermione removes him from the Veil; the technical parts aren’t my bag, baby. Thank you to KH for betaing for me again!
Summary: “You, my dear, are far too tightly wound.”
March 7, 2004
7pm
“Did you fall asleep at your desk again, love?”
Hermione slowly opened her eyes at the familiar endearment and let out a decidedly undignified groan. She peeled her cheek away from where it was stuck against the parchment-covered desk in front of her and glanced over at the tall, aristocratic man watching her from the doorway with a raised brow and a wry smirk on his lips.
Sirius Black was a sight Hermione and her friends had been sure they would never see again. After all, recalling a body from beyond the Veil was unheard of, and as far as she knew at the time, a completely unentertained concept. Upon finishing Hogwarts and her subsequent acceptance as an apprentice Unspeakable, the notion hadn’t passed her mind, either; enough time had passed for all of them for Sirius to become a sadly missed, though fondly remembered memory, exonerated posthumously for the crimes he never committed and was wrongfully imprisoned for after the first war. However, a rotation in the Death Chamber brought him back to the forefront of her mind, and an intense study and translation of the ancient, archaic runes that surrounded the stone tablet at the base left her with the spark of an idea. A theory slowly built in her mind over the course of almost four years until she was trusted enough to take her theoretical knowledge and apply it practically.
Almost a month of preparation later, every soul that had ever fallen through the Veil had been pulled forth, out of what Sirius had later described as a blindingly white expanse of nothing. Hermione had passed out shortly after completing the reversion ritual, such was the physical, mental and magical drain on her body, and her memory of the event itself was fuzzy at best. The next thing she remembered after that was Harry sitting by her bed in St. Mungo’s, her hand held firmly in his as he waited for her to wake. He gave her a blinding smile, nodded once to her expectant, hopeful expression, and took her in his arms, murmuring his thanks over and over in her ear.
Even with his freedom in hand and a body that hadn’t aged at all during his confinement, Sirius spent much of his time upon his return as Padfoot. The baser mind of his inner dog released him from the new reality of which he had found himself in; a world that was terrifyingly both exactly the same and yet completely different; a world where his best friends and family were dead; a world that had moved on without him. He would often disappear for hours at a time as Padfoot, coming back to Grimmauld Place late at night, pouring himself glass after glass of Firewhisky until he passed out on one of the dusty, old leather sofas that adorned his childhood home. It had taken the combined efforts of herself, Harry and little Teddy Lupin to pull Sirius from his depression and curb his alcoholism - a slow process that took almost a year - and get him living again.
Now she could barely remember a time where his appropriately bark-like laugh wasn’t heard echoing in the halls, where their conversation wasn’t laced with innuendo and unspoken challenges, where he didn’t look at her with that appraising glint in his eye, like he wanted something more from her. She could barely remember a time where she didn’t love it, either, or where she wouldn’t welcome his advances entirely, or where she didn’t have the most naughty, delicious daydreams to the thought of his lips, his hands, his hips...
Tonight though, he held in his hands a gilt-edge teacup and saucer, and he was swishing the contents as he waited for her to speak. She looked over at the clock propped on the table which told her it had just gone seven in the evening.
“I guess I did,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. She stretched her arms high above her head and let out a yawn, tilting her neck from side to side and rolling her shoulders to work out the kinks. “Although, to be fair, I did fall asleep around four.”
He snorted and pushed away from the door to step further into the library, setting the teacup and its matching saucer down on her desk. He leaned back against it, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “There’s more to life than work, you know. You missed breakfast, lunch and dinner. Harry was most upset. Though I’ve yet to have dinner either, so perhaps I shouldn’t judge…”
“My dedication to my work is the reason you’re even here, you know,” she pointed out in her best prim and proper tone as she fussed with her paperwork to distract herself from his wonderful, woodsy scent and close proximity. “And there’s more to life than sitting about at home, doing nothing, living off your family money.”
“If I don’t, then who will?” he retorted. “Last Black, remember?”
She let out a moan that turned to a sigh when he positioned himself behind her and began to massage her shoulders, his long fingers working her tight muscles into submission with expert precision. “It must be so difficult being you.”
“It is ghastly business, I assure you,” he told her with a wink. “Now, what exactly is it that is so catastrophically important that you would be sitting here all night instead of going out and having fun as a beautiful young lady such as yourself should?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Sirius,” she informed him mildly, tilting her neck to give him better access. “It’s called ‘Unspeakable’ for a reason.”
“And if your work was truly so bloody unspeakable, then you wouldn’t be bringing it home and working on it in a library where just about anyone can and will look over your shoulder to see exactly what you’re doing.” He tsk’d in admonishment, lightly flicking her earlobe. “Merlin, love. I thought you were smart.”
“My, my, Sirius.” Hermione clucked her tongue and shook her head, easing quite happily into their usual flirtatious banter. “How little you must think of me. Do you truly believe I would leave my work out in the open like that?”
He leaned down over her shoulder to look over her parchment. His hot breath ghosted over her exposed neck, sending a shudder down her spine. He let out a short chuckle at what he found; that her work had been heavily charmed to appear to those who didn’t work within the Department of Mysteries as a series of random doodles instead.
“Very clever,” he conceded lowly, his lips moving against her ear.
“It was my idea,” she said in a breathy whisper as he moved his lips lower to brush the side of her neck, never landing the kiss they were promising.
“Of course it was, love.” There was a loud crack of thunder then, followed by the patter of rain on the roof. He cleared his throat suddenly and straightened up, leaving Hermione cold and oddly disappointed. “Can I interest you in something to eat?”
Hermione glanced down at her scrolls and cringed. For all her work earlier in the day, she had barely made a dent in her report. “Maybe something later?” She took her quill and wand in hand, and scooted her seat closer to her desk. “I’m still not done.”
“Need I remind you that you haven’t eaten all day?”
“I’m not done yet, Sirius!” she snapped. “I’ll get something later.”
“You say that, but it doesn’t fill me with confidence.” He extended a hand for her. “Come on, love. I’ll take you somewhere.”
“Later,” she repeated, scribbling away furiously at her report. She paused for a moment to cast an incantation. Satisfied with the result, she scribbled some more.
He bent to her ear. “What if I kissed you?” he whispered, his voice low and silky, the temptation of sin laced between the words of such a simple sentence. “Would you come with me then?”
Hermione swallowed, feeling a rush of heat shoot through her. For all the games they played, Sirius was rarely so blatant. She suppressed another shudder and focused on her work. “No thank you, Sirius.”
“You, my dear, are far too tightly wound,” he announced loudly after nearly a minute of watching her write. “Really, you won’t even take a break to eat? Or snog?”
He shook his head, his glossy black hair falling into his eyes as he did so, and plucked her wand and quill from her hand, tossing them to the other side of the room.
“Sirius!”
“What?” he asked, the picture of innocence.
“What do you mean, what? You threw my wand away, you great prat!”
“It will still be here when we get back,” he reasoned.
“Not the bloody point and you know it! Give it back!”
“Not yet. Let me take you to dinner, Hermione.”
She paused at how earnest he looked, and at the familiar, ever determined glint in his eye. There was something else there, too, a hint of vulnerability rarely seen from the Marauder.
“I’ll - I have to get changed,” she stuttered.
He let out a breath and smiled at her. “I’ll wait.”
Hermione quickly stood, almost running from the room. She could feel the warm, heavy weight of Sirius’ gaze following her as she made a quick detour to collect her wand before heading up the stairs.
She hastily removed her modest floral nightgown and performed a series of cleansing charms on herself, enough to ensure that sitting to eat in her presence wouldn’t offend anyone, and changed into her most sophisticated little black dress. She paired it with her favourite black pumps and bag, and quickly swiped on a coat of lipstick before throwing her hair up in a messy bun.
“Ravishing,” he complimented with a grin as she descended the staircase.
“Thank you,” she accepted with a smile. She took in the sight of him in a casual Muggle suit, his top three buttons undone, his tie missing. “You look quite dashing yourself.”
“I try,” he replied with a wink, taking her hand in his to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?”
“Yes, I suppose we shall.” She wrapped her hand around his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her through the front door. She barely remembered that it had been raining.
“Sirius!” she yelled over the downfall. “It’s raining! How are we going to get to the Apparition point? We’re going to get soaked!”
Sirius rolled his eyes and took her hand, leading her carefully down the slippery steps to the faded yellow glow of the sparsely lit street. “That’s sort of the whole point, love. You need to loosen up, relax.”
“And I’ll achieve that in the rain?”
“You never know.”
“At least let me cast an Impervius.” She moved to take her wand from her bag, but his hand over hers stopped her.
“Don’t,” he commanded gently. “This is the thing with you, Hermione; you can’t enjoy the moment for what it is. Why change it? Why distract yourself from it? You can just as easily cast a drying charm when we get there. For one minute, please, just… just forget everything, alright? Just enjoy the moment.”
Before she could muster another word, his warm lips were melded against hers, moving gently in slow, languorous strokes meant to encourage her participation. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as her hands crawled up to clutch at the lapels of his quickly soaking jacket.
Sirius’ tongue peeked out, catching stray drops of rain that were trickling between their joined lips. Hermione gasped at the sensation, and parted her lips beneath his, her eyes rolling back and moaning with approval as he plundered her mouth and nipped at her lips with an expertise born from age and experience, stealing her breath and robbing her of any coherent thought.
“What is this?” she whispered dazedly against his lips.
Sirius smiled against her and stopped, his breath matching hers in harsh, ragged pants. He pulled back by only an inch, pushing a strand of wet hair from her eyes. “This is me trying to distract you from your work long enough to take notice of what is right in front of you. But bloody hell, love, you could ignore a man to his grave.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again. She let out a happy sigh.
“Don’t be, love. You love your job; it’s nothing to be sorry for. Hell, we should all be so lucky.”
“Still, though,” she went on, trailing little kisses along his jaw - it was like she couldn’t get enough of him! - “It was rude of me.”
He stopped her journey to the divot between his collarbones by taking her face in his hands. His grey eyes were intense as he looked at her, and his long, black hair fell in wet strings around his face. “Hardly, love. If anything, you are far too good for me, and I’m far too old for you. Somehow, though, I’m not sure I give a shit anymore, and I always have been a selfish man. But I’m not sure how much clearer I can make my intentions towards you, Hermione. I want you, for as long as I could possibly have you.”
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the low, rumbling groan of her hungry stomach. She blushed, and he grinned in triumph.
“Of course,” he went on casually, “we’ll discuss the possibilities of this over dinner. Does that sound good to you, love?”
Hermione let out a laugh and reached a hand to twine her fingers with his. “It sounds wonderful, Sirius. And, just so you know, I’m much more amendable to these kinds of things after chocolate.”
He looked down at her in wonder, a grin on his face so wide it was crinkling the corners of his eyes as he dropped their held hands to his side and lead her slowly - there was no hurry, after all - through the rain to the Apparition point. “Duly noted, love.”
Author/Artist: ally_147
Prompt: Prompt 12 - A kiss in the rain. by sirmioneforever
Pairing(s): Hermione/Sirius
Word Count/Art Medium: 2367 words
Rating: PG-13/T
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Sirius is alive! I’m using one of my favourite, if overused tropes for this pairing; that Hermione became an Unspeakable and found a way to remove him, and others from the Veil. You’ll have to excuse the lack of description as to how Hermione removes him from the Veil; the technical parts aren’t my bag, baby. Thank you to KH for betaing for me again!
Summary: “You, my dear, are far too tightly wound.”
March 7, 2004
7pm
“Did you fall asleep at your desk again, love?”
Hermione slowly opened her eyes at the familiar endearment and let out a decidedly undignified groan. She peeled her cheek away from where it was stuck against the parchment-covered desk in front of her and glanced over at the tall, aristocratic man watching her from the doorway with a raised brow and a wry smirk on his lips.
Sirius Black was a sight Hermione and her friends had been sure they would never see again. After all, recalling a body from beyond the Veil was unheard of, and as far as she knew at the time, a completely unentertained concept. Upon finishing Hogwarts and her subsequent acceptance as an apprentice Unspeakable, the notion hadn’t passed her mind, either; enough time had passed for all of them for Sirius to become a sadly missed, though fondly remembered memory, exonerated posthumously for the crimes he never committed and was wrongfully imprisoned for after the first war. However, a rotation in the Death Chamber brought him back to the forefront of her mind, and an intense study and translation of the ancient, archaic runes that surrounded the stone tablet at the base left her with the spark of an idea. A theory slowly built in her mind over the course of almost four years until she was trusted enough to take her theoretical knowledge and apply it practically.
Almost a month of preparation later, every soul that had ever fallen through the Veil had been pulled forth, out of what Sirius had later described as a blindingly white expanse of nothing. Hermione had passed out shortly after completing the reversion ritual, such was the physical, mental and magical drain on her body, and her memory of the event itself was fuzzy at best. The next thing she remembered after that was Harry sitting by her bed in St. Mungo’s, her hand held firmly in his as he waited for her to wake. He gave her a blinding smile, nodded once to her expectant, hopeful expression, and took her in his arms, murmuring his thanks over and over in her ear.
Even with his freedom in hand and a body that hadn’t aged at all during his confinement, Sirius spent much of his time upon his return as Padfoot. The baser mind of his inner dog released him from the new reality of which he had found himself in; a world that was terrifyingly both exactly the same and yet completely different; a world where his best friends and family were dead; a world that had moved on without him. He would often disappear for hours at a time as Padfoot, coming back to Grimmauld Place late at night, pouring himself glass after glass of Firewhisky until he passed out on one of the dusty, old leather sofas that adorned his childhood home. It had taken the combined efforts of herself, Harry and little Teddy Lupin to pull Sirius from his depression and curb his alcoholism - a slow process that took almost a year - and get him living again.
Now she could barely remember a time where his appropriately bark-like laugh wasn’t heard echoing in the halls, where their conversation wasn’t laced with innuendo and unspoken challenges, where he didn’t look at her with that appraising glint in his eye, like he wanted something more from her. She could barely remember a time where she didn’t love it, either, or where she wouldn’t welcome his advances entirely, or where she didn’t have the most naughty, delicious daydreams to the thought of his lips, his hands, his hips...
Tonight though, he held in his hands a gilt-edge teacup and saucer, and he was swishing the contents as he waited for her to speak. She looked over at the clock propped on the table which told her it had just gone seven in the evening.
“I guess I did,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. She stretched her arms high above her head and let out a yawn, tilting her neck from side to side and rolling her shoulders to work out the kinks. “Although, to be fair, I did fall asleep around four.”
He snorted and pushed away from the door to step further into the library, setting the teacup and its matching saucer down on her desk. He leaned back against it, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “There’s more to life than work, you know. You missed breakfast, lunch and dinner. Harry was most upset. Though I’ve yet to have dinner either, so perhaps I shouldn’t judge…”
“My dedication to my work is the reason you’re even here, you know,” she pointed out in her best prim and proper tone as she fussed with her paperwork to distract herself from his wonderful, woodsy scent and close proximity. “And there’s more to life than sitting about at home, doing nothing, living off your family money.”
“If I don’t, then who will?” he retorted. “Last Black, remember?”
She let out a moan that turned to a sigh when he positioned himself behind her and began to massage her shoulders, his long fingers working her tight muscles into submission with expert precision. “It must be so difficult being you.”
“It is ghastly business, I assure you,” he told her with a wink. “Now, what exactly is it that is so catastrophically important that you would be sitting here all night instead of going out and having fun as a beautiful young lady such as yourself should?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Sirius,” she informed him mildly, tilting her neck to give him better access. “It’s called ‘Unspeakable’ for a reason.”
“And if your work was truly so bloody unspeakable, then you wouldn’t be bringing it home and working on it in a library where just about anyone can and will look over your shoulder to see exactly what you’re doing.” He tsk’d in admonishment, lightly flicking her earlobe. “Merlin, love. I thought you were smart.”
“My, my, Sirius.” Hermione clucked her tongue and shook her head, easing quite happily into their usual flirtatious banter. “How little you must think of me. Do you truly believe I would leave my work out in the open like that?”
He leaned down over her shoulder to look over her parchment. His hot breath ghosted over her exposed neck, sending a shudder down her spine. He let out a short chuckle at what he found; that her work had been heavily charmed to appear to those who didn’t work within the Department of Mysteries as a series of random doodles instead.
“Very clever,” he conceded lowly, his lips moving against her ear.
“It was my idea,” she said in a breathy whisper as he moved his lips lower to brush the side of her neck, never landing the kiss they were promising.
“Of course it was, love.” There was a loud crack of thunder then, followed by the patter of rain on the roof. He cleared his throat suddenly and straightened up, leaving Hermione cold and oddly disappointed. “Can I interest you in something to eat?”
Hermione glanced down at her scrolls and cringed. For all her work earlier in the day, she had barely made a dent in her report. “Maybe something later?” She took her quill and wand in hand, and scooted her seat closer to her desk. “I’m still not done.”
“Need I remind you that you haven’t eaten all day?”
“I’m not done yet, Sirius!” she snapped. “I’ll get something later.”
“You say that, but it doesn’t fill me with confidence.” He extended a hand for her. “Come on, love. I’ll take you somewhere.”
“Later,” she repeated, scribbling away furiously at her report. She paused for a moment to cast an incantation. Satisfied with the result, she scribbled some more.
He bent to her ear. “What if I kissed you?” he whispered, his voice low and silky, the temptation of sin laced between the words of such a simple sentence. “Would you come with me then?”
Hermione swallowed, feeling a rush of heat shoot through her. For all the games they played, Sirius was rarely so blatant. She suppressed another shudder and focused on her work. “No thank you, Sirius.”
“You, my dear, are far too tightly wound,” he announced loudly after nearly a minute of watching her write. “Really, you won’t even take a break to eat? Or snog?”
He shook his head, his glossy black hair falling into his eyes as he did so, and plucked her wand and quill from her hand, tossing them to the other side of the room.
“Sirius!”
“What?” he asked, the picture of innocence.
“What do you mean, what? You threw my wand away, you great prat!”
“It will still be here when we get back,” he reasoned.
“Not the bloody point and you know it! Give it back!”
“Not yet. Let me take you to dinner, Hermione.”
She paused at how earnest he looked, and at the familiar, ever determined glint in his eye. There was something else there, too, a hint of vulnerability rarely seen from the Marauder.
“I’ll - I have to get changed,” she stuttered.
He let out a breath and smiled at her. “I’ll wait.”
Hermione quickly stood, almost running from the room. She could feel the warm, heavy weight of Sirius’ gaze following her as she made a quick detour to collect her wand before heading up the stairs.
She hastily removed her modest floral nightgown and performed a series of cleansing charms on herself, enough to ensure that sitting to eat in her presence wouldn’t offend anyone, and changed into her most sophisticated little black dress. She paired it with her favourite black pumps and bag, and quickly swiped on a coat of lipstick before throwing her hair up in a messy bun.
“Ravishing,” he complimented with a grin as she descended the staircase.
“Thank you,” she accepted with a smile. She took in the sight of him in a casual Muggle suit, his top three buttons undone, his tie missing. “You look quite dashing yourself.”
“I try,” he replied with a wink, taking her hand in his to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?”
“Yes, I suppose we shall.” She wrapped her hand around his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her through the front door. She barely remembered that it had been raining.
“Sirius!” she yelled over the downfall. “It’s raining! How are we going to get to the Apparition point? We’re going to get soaked!”
Sirius rolled his eyes and took her hand, leading her carefully down the slippery steps to the faded yellow glow of the sparsely lit street. “That’s sort of the whole point, love. You need to loosen up, relax.”
“And I’ll achieve that in the rain?”
“You never know.”
“At least let me cast an Impervius.” She moved to take her wand from her bag, but his hand over hers stopped her.
“Don’t,” he commanded gently. “This is the thing with you, Hermione; you can’t enjoy the moment for what it is. Why change it? Why distract yourself from it? You can just as easily cast a drying charm when we get there. For one minute, please, just… just forget everything, alright? Just enjoy the moment.”
Before she could muster another word, his warm lips were melded against hers, moving gently in slow, languorous strokes meant to encourage her participation. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as her hands crawled up to clutch at the lapels of his quickly soaking jacket.
Sirius’ tongue peeked out, catching stray drops of rain that were trickling between their joined lips. Hermione gasped at the sensation, and parted her lips beneath his, her eyes rolling back and moaning with approval as he plundered her mouth and nipped at her lips with an expertise born from age and experience, stealing her breath and robbing her of any coherent thought.
“What is this?” she whispered dazedly against his lips.
Sirius smiled against her and stopped, his breath matching hers in harsh, ragged pants. He pulled back by only an inch, pushing a strand of wet hair from her eyes. “This is me trying to distract you from your work long enough to take notice of what is right in front of you. But bloody hell, love, you could ignore a man to his grave.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again. She let out a happy sigh.
“Don’t be, love. You love your job; it’s nothing to be sorry for. Hell, we should all be so lucky.”
“Still, though,” she went on, trailing little kisses along his jaw - it was like she couldn’t get enough of him! - “It was rude of me.”
He stopped her journey to the divot between his collarbones by taking her face in his hands. His grey eyes were intense as he looked at her, and his long, black hair fell in wet strings around his face. “Hardly, love. If anything, you are far too good for me, and I’m far too old for you. Somehow, though, I’m not sure I give a shit anymore, and I always have been a selfish man. But I’m not sure how much clearer I can make my intentions towards you, Hermione. I want you, for as long as I could possibly have you.”
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the low, rumbling groan of her hungry stomach. She blushed, and he grinned in triumph.
“Of course,” he went on casually, “we’ll discuss the possibilities of this over dinner. Does that sound good to you, love?”
Hermione let out a laugh and reached a hand to twine her fingers with his. “It sounds wonderful, Sirius. And, just so you know, I’m much more amendable to these kinds of things after chocolate.”
He looked down at her in wonder, a grin on his face so wide it was crinkling the corners of his eyes as he dropped their held hands to his side and lead her slowly - there was no hurry, after all - through the rain to the Apparition point. “Duly noted, love.”