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Hermione had been walking into the kitchen at the Burrow when it happened.
One minute she was on her way to refill her wine glass, and the next she turned around at the sound of Ginny’s voice calling her name.
“Get me another glass too while you’re in there, ‘Mione?” The redhead asked from where she sat curled into Harry’s side on the sofa next to the Christmas tree.
George sat opposite them beside a very pregnant Angelina.
Ron was playing a rather intense looking game of wizard chess with Bill while a serene looking Lavendar stood beside him, running her fingers through the short strands of hair at the base of his neck.
Molly was rocking a gurgling six month old Albus Severus in her arms. Arthur was snoring lightly in an armchair, a drooling two-year-old Victoire sound asleep in his lap.
Fleur had stepped out to feed a cranky three month old Juliette and Percy had left early with his wife Audrey, who was currently pregnant with twins and too tired to stay until midnight to celebrate the New Year.
“Sure,” Hermione called back and had just turned around, prepared to head back towards the kitchen, when a rambunctious four-year-old James darted past her, followed by a shouting seven-year-old Teddy, nearly knocking her into a wall.
“James!” Harry shouted at the same time Remus sharply scolded,
“Teddy, no running indoors!” From where he stood with a drink in his hand next to Tonks.
“Manners, Teddy!” Tonks called after their son.
Hermione reckoned she would have hit the wall rather hard had it not been for the warm fingers that seemed to appear out of nowhere, gripping her elbow and righting her.
“Steady there, love,” came Sirius’s voice in her ear.
Hermione already felt warm from her two glasses of wine, but hearing the rumble of his voice, feeling the heat of his chest where it brushed her back, was almost too much for her to stand.
Sirius Black was an attractive wizard.
A very attractive wizard.
Something he seemed to be very aware of.
She’d lost count of the times he’d been photographed in the Daily Prophet with different witches on his arm over the years.
Hermione also seemed to have the unfortunate luck of walking in at the exact moment whenever Harry and Ron discussed the subject.
Ron had a sort of awestruck admiration for Sirius’s womanizing antics while Harry seemed to just be glad his godfather was alive and well and managed to overlook his philandering tendencies.
Ever since he’d been brought back from the Veil after the war ended nearly eight years ago, Sirius had been incredibly blunt about his intention to live his life to the fullest.
Whether that meant purchasing a Quidditch team as he had done five years ago, appointing Hermione to take over his family seat in the Wizengamot as he had done three years ago or shagging every single witch in wizarding Britain as he did on a weekly basis, he was not going to stifle himself.
Shagging every single witch except for her that is.
Not that Hermione wanted him too.
Of course not.
He was Harry’s godfather.
And he was her…friend. Of sorts.
It was only natural that she could be his friend and also appreciate his good looks.
At least that’s what she told herself.
That it was normal to spend a rather obscene amount of time stealing glances at him whenever they were in the same vicinity.
That having him star in her occasional fantasy when she slipped her hand into her knickers was nothing abnormal.
She was a young, single, intelligent witch in the prime of her life.
Daydreaming about an older, ridiculously handsome, charming wizard was perfectly all right.
Healthy even.
Hermione’s skin tingled where he still touched her and she moved to put distance between them.
“Thank you, I’m—what the hell?” Her voice rose an octave when she realized she couldn’t move, that her feet were stuck to the floor.
She pulled and twisted, but try as she might, she could not lift her foot to take even a single step.
“Hang on,” Sirius muttered as he gripped her forearms and attempted to help.
It was useless and only served for her to lose her balance and fall into him
He held her steady and she caught a whiff of his cologne. Something woodsy with hints of tobacco.
A shudder went through her.
Merlin.
She dropped her hands where they’d been gripping his shoulders.
“Oi,” Sirius called. “A little help here.”
He drew the attention of Remus and Tonks.
Remus frowned as he handed his firewhiskey to his wife and made his way over to them.
“Pads?”
“We’re stuck,” Sirius said, gesturing between them. It was then that Hermione realized he could not move either.
Remus drew his wand and muttered a few spells. One caused a soft yellow light to glow above their heads and they all looked up.
There, dangling in the doorway above their heads was a sprig of green leaves tied with a silver ribbon, red berries nestled in their folds.
It seemed to hit them all at once.
“George!” All three of them exclaimed.
Several heads swiveled in their direction, including George’s who had looked up at his name.
His eyes darted from Hermione to Sirius and then up to the mistletoe before they lit up with mirth, a broad smirk spreading over his face.
“It works then?” He asked eagerly, standing and making his way over to them alongside Harry and Ginny.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, brows knitting together in concern.
Hermione ignored him, crossing her arms across her chest as she glared at George.
“I thought Molly forbid you from testing any more products on us!”
“Actually, she forbid me from testing anything that had the possibility of harming anyone,” George countered. “This is just a bit of enchanted mistletoe, it only traps a pair until they snog and then it releases them. Perfectly harmless.”
Hermione’s eyes bulged as Sirius let out a snort from beside her.
She’d almost forgotten he was there.
Almost.
Ginny smacked her brother’s arm, but even she looked amused.
Even Harry seemed to have relaxed once it was confirmed no one was in mortal danger.
Hermione looked desperately to Remus.
“Remus, can’t you do anything?” She begged.
In reply, he cast several more spells, all of which did nothing to free them.
“Sorry Hermione,” he said, giving her an apologetic look before pocketing his wand and stepping back.
She felt her hope plummet.
“I’ll pretend your reluctance isn’t wounding my pride,” Sirius drawled. “It’s only a kiss, love.”
Hermione turned her attention back to George, refusing to look at the wizard beside her.
“When does it wear off?” She demanded.
George shrugged.
“No idea,” he said, at last looking somewhat sheepish. “It’s still in its testing phase. The charm is supposed to end at midnight but I didn’t factor in a scenario that two people would be caught and unwilling to see it through. Not sure if that will end it sooner or later.”
“Maybe you should have,” she snapped. “All you’ve done is set up a scenario that coerces people to cross physical boundaries.”
Awkward silence fell.
She felt more than saw the uneasy glances her friends exchanged.
Harry spoke first.
“‘Mione, it’s just a k—”
“We’ll wait it out,” she said firmly.
“But midnight’s not for three more h—” Ginny began.
“If she wants to wait, we’ll wait,” Sirius said, for the first time sounding completely serious.
She stole a glance up at him from beneath her lashes.
Gone was the amusement. Gone was the teasing.
Instead, his lips were pressed together in a thin line, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he and Remus had a silent conversation.
After a long moment, Remus gently cleared his throat.
“Let’s leave them be, everyone,” he said calmly. “I’ll get you two some chairs.”
Reluctantly, Harry allowed Ginny to pull him away.
“I really am sorry Hermione,” George said, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, his eyes downcast. “I thought it would be a bit of fun is all.”
She felt bad for the way she had snapped at him, but was still entirely too flustered to absolve him of his guilt. She settled for nodding curtly.
George seemed to realize that’s all he would be getting from her and slowly slunk away looking properly chagrined.
Remus returned then with two chairs from the kitchen.
“Let me know if either of you need anything else,” he said quietly before leaving them in favor of going back to Tonks’s side.
Sirius gestured for her to sit and she did so stiffly, her arms crossed over her chest, her spine rigid.
The first hour passed in painfully uncomfortable silence.
At least for Hermione.
As minute after minute passed, she realized she may have quite possibly…overreacted.
What George had done was reckless and ridiculous but she knew him well enough to know that his intent truly hadn’t been to upset anyone.
He enjoyed making people laugh, even more so since losing Fred.
And Gods, couldn’t she at least give him that instead of a lecture?
George didn’t know she fancied the one wizard that happened to be there when James knocked into her.
It was hardly his fault Sirius got under her skin like no one else.
But she had yelled at him as though it was and now she was entirely confident that everyone in the room thought she was being rather childish.
It rankled at her.
Hermione had been accused of being a prude nearly her entire life.
Because she preferred her studies over gossiping about boys when she was at Hogwarts, Pavarti and Lavendar had called her a shrew.
Because she went to work the day after ending her engagement with Ron five years ago, Rita Skeeter had written that she was heartless.
But despite how much she wanted to, Hermione could never be the sort of witch that admitted she did in fact, want all the sorts of things everyone else did.
She was a private person, not a nun.
She wanted to be in love like Harry and Ginny.
She wanted to be caught shagging her partner because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other like George and Angelina.
She wanted to have the unwavering support of a person who would be there for her through everything like Remus and Tonks.
Merlin, she wanted all of it.
But instead, without meaning to, she had announced to every single person she cared about that she was a wet blanket incapable of having a meaningless snog just because the wizard in question was someone she’d had a crush on for the better part of a decade.
Speaking of…she realized then, with prickling embarrassment, that Sirius hadn’t said a word since Remus left them alone.
In fact, the longer he stayed quiet, the more Hermione became convinced she truly had offended him with her vehemence to not have his lips go anywhere near hers.
Gods.
If only he knew all the places she wanted his lips.
Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose before shifting slightly in her seat to look at him.
The wizard in question to an untrained eye, seemed relaxed enough where he sat looking fondly at little James who was playing with a pygmy puff at his parents’ feet.
But Hermione was, as embarrassing as it was to admit, incredibly attuned to him and so she noticed the tightness around his eyes that said he was uncomfortable.
“Sirius,” she said quietly.
Gray eyes cut to hers.
He waited.
Hermione sighed.
“I may have overreacted.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
She flushed.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
The corners of his mouth curved up into a smirk.
“Apology accepted, love.”
Hermione spluttered.
“I didn’t apologize!”
Sirius’s smirk grew wider. He waved a hand dismissively.
“Sure you did,” he said calmly. “In your own Hermione Granger sort of way.”
Hermione didn’t know what to say to that.
A few minutes of slightly more companionable silence passed.
“They do look like they’re having fun, don’t they?” She commented wistfully as she watched their loved ones talking and laughing.
She glanced at the clock.
Still ninety minutes left until midnight.
Ninety minutes for something they didn't even definitively know would work.
Don’t be a coward, she told herself.
She stood abruptly, suddenly decided.
“Stand up Sirius.”
He hesitated for a beat, eyeing her warily before he obliged.
Hermione faltered for only a moment.
“Stay still would you?”
He looked at her quizzically, but before he could say anything, Hermione stepped closer.
Then she pressed up onto her tip toe and pressed her lips to his.
The moment their lips met, it felt as though they’d been sucked into a vacuum.
Sound faded before disappearing altogether.
He tasted like firewhiskey and cloves.
A heat radiated from him, drawing her in closer.
She wanted more.
Needed more.
She wanted to run her hands across his shoulders and twine them around his neck.
She wanted to dip her tongue into his mouth.
She wanted to feel the length of his body pressed against hers.
She wanted...Merlin—she wanted everything.
When she felt fingertips brush along her jaw, Hermione suddenly became all too aware of where they were, of why this was even happening in the first place and she forced herself to break away, rocking back on her heels, her cheeks burning hot.
When she finally plucked up the courage to raise her eyes to his face, what she found nearly undid her.
Sirius was looking at her as though he’d never seen her before, his eyes half hooded as though they had been closed while she kissed him and only now had fluttered back open.
There was something inscrutable in the way that he looked at her and Hermione couldn't stand it.
Why was he looking at her like that?
“Say something, would you?” She blurted finally when she couldn't take it anymore.
Her voice seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he'd been in.
Sirius coughed, clearing his throat.
“You call that a snog, love?”
“Excuse me?” She demanded. “Of course it was!”
He inclined his head between them.
“Then why are we still stuck?”
Hermione faltered, her gaze dropping to their feet. She made a Herculean effort to lift hers from the ground.
They didn't move.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “George said we just had to kiss and it—"
“No,” Sirius cut in. “He said we had to snog. There’s a difference.”
Humiliation churned in her stomach.
Brilliant.
She couldn't even snog properly.
“Do you have any useful suggestions or are you just going to stand there and tease me?”
He frowned.
“I'm not teasing you, Hermione. I just think...” Sirius ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “We might have better luck if we do it my way.”
“Your way,” she repeated flatly.
He averted his eyes and...was that a blush on his cheeks?
Surely not.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
Sirius nodded once.
“Good,” he said, more to himself than to her. Suddenly his piercing grey eyes snapped back up to hers, burning intensely as he searched her face. “You know I respect you, right?”
Hermione faltered.
“Yes, but what—"
Whatever words she'd meant to say, promptly died in her throat when a strong arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and hauled her to him.
A hand fisted her curls at the base of her skull and then Sirius crashed his mouth to hers.
Her lips parted instinctively and his tongue took advantage of the opening, delving into her mouth.
Hermione was barely aware of her back hitting a wall, so consumed was she by the taste and feel of him.
Sirius’s tongue was…sinful. Licking across every crevice, stroking, tangling with hers until she could hardly breathe.
She gripped his shoulders, holding him tightly to her as she kissed him back.
Some part of her mind became vaguely aware when he wedged a knee between her thighs, belatedly realizing that was hardly necessary for their purposes.
But in the next strangled breath she managed to inhale into her lungs, she realized she didn't care.
It felt too good to tell him to stop.
Instinct took over.
Hermione ground against him, moaning into his mouth as the seam of his denims dragged against her clit.
Sirius swallowed the sound, his thumb stroking over her pulse point as he continued to devour her.
Gods, he felt—
A loud throat clearing broke through the fog that had settled over her brain.
They both looked up at the interruption.
A mortified looking Harry stood there, cheeks pink as he looked everywhere but at the two of them.
“George reckons you’ve broken the charm by now,” he mumbled.
Hermione looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of a smug looking George.
She looked away, blushing furiously.
All at once what she’d just done crashed over her and she pushed at Sirius's shoulders, forcing him to step back and release her.
She stood on shaky legs, bracing a hand to the wall to steady herself.
Sirius, for his part, looked entirely unbothered by the interruption.
Either he was a master at occlumency and was hiding his true feelings or he truly didn't care that his godson had just caught him snogging his best friend, a witch nearly twenty years his junior, within an inch of her life.
Sirius’s thumb swiped across his bottom lip and Hermione found herself momentarily distracted by the sight.
He looked...properly snogged.
Lips swollen, cheeks flushed.
It made her want to climb him like a bloody tree.
Merlin.
Hermione’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“Excuse me,” she murmured.
It wasn't until she had taken two whole steps towards the kitchen that she realized it had worked.
The charm had broken.
Sirius must have seen the way her shoulders stiffened for a moment before she forced herself to continue because she heard his amused chuckle behind her.
She ignored him and made her way through the kitchen to the short hallway that led to a small bathroom.
She locked the door behind her and braced her hands on either side of the sink.
When Hermione caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she cringed.
Her pupils were dilated, her hair was a mess and her nipples had pebbled noticeably beneath her shirt.
She splashed cool water on her face, willing herself to not freak out.
She'd kissed Sirius.
She...Merlin, she was so…so…she was completely and utterly fucked.
Three days later, Hermione sat hunched over her desk at the Ministry, her quill scribbling furiously over a sheet of parchment, when a knock came suddenly at her door.
“Come in,” she called distractedly without looking up.
She hardly paid attention to the sound of her door opening and clicking shut again a few moments later.
When she finished her report, she set down her quill and lifted her head to greet her visitor.
“Good after—What are you doing here?”
Sirius Black stood in front of her desk in dark expensive looking robes, smirking at her.
He looked entirely nonplussed by her rather rude greeting.
“I'm well, thank you,” he said dryly.
Hermione felt her cheeks heat and gripped the edge of her desk as she stood, willing herself to remain calm.
“What can I do for you, Sirius?” she asked quietly.
She hadn't seen the wizard since New Year's Eve a few days ago.
She'd begged off and left before midnight, unable to handle the weight of everyone's stares when she’d returned from the kitchen.
Clearly everyone had seen their kiss.
“Have dinner with me,” Sirius said, pulling her from her memories.
Hermione blinked, not understanding.
“Pardon?”
“Have dinner with me,” he said slowly. “Tonight, seven o’clock.”
“Dinner,” she repeated dumbly.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Sirius stepped forward, spreading his hands on top of her desk and leaning over until he was a hair’s breadth away from her.
His gaze dropped to her mouth so briefly she wondered if she'd imagined it.
“Yes.”
“Tonight.”
He smirked.
“That's right, love.”
“Seven o’clock.”
Merlin, was she incapable of stringing together any other words?
She sounded like a right idiot, even to her own ears.
Her internal flagellation stuttered to a stop when his nose brushed against hers ever so slightly.
Her breath hitched.
“I'll pick you up at your flat,” Sirius whispered, his breath fanning her face.
And then he was straightening up and stepping away from her, turning to the door.
Hermione’s brain finally began to function again now that he was not overwhelming her every sense.
“Wait!” She cried.
Sirius paused, his hand on the door handle.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder, brow arched, waiting.
“What are you doing? What is this Sirius?”
“This, is a date Hermione,” he winked at her.
And then he was gone.
Hermione’s legs turned to jelly as soon as he disappeared through her door and she collapsed back in her chair, breathless and unbelievably turned on.
What the hell just happened?
Later, Hermione anxiously paced her living room.
She glanced at the clock above her mantle.
6:59pm.
Her fireplace suddenly lit up green and then he was there, stepping into her living room as though he’d been there a thousand times before.
Sirius’s eyes landed on her once and he dragged them over her from head to toe in a way that made her press her thighs together to quell the aching between her legs.
“Fuck, you look gorgeous, love,” he breathed.
Her mouth popped open and she was helpless to stop the shiver that went through her.
Hermione was speechless for what felt like the first time in her entire life.
Sirius, if he noticed, seemed to decide to ignore it and crossed the space between them in two strides.
“Ready?” he asked, offering her his elbow.
Hermione was helpless to do anything but stare.
“Why are you doing this?” She managed, voice barely above a whisper.
None of this made sense.
He had never, not once, ever shown any interest in her,
Not in that way.
Was he having a laugh?
Had she truly made that big a fool of herself the other night?
“Tell me I'm the only one who felt it.”
Her head snapped up at that, his voice pulling her from her overthinking.
Hermione looked at him in confusion.
Sirius was looking at her intensely.
“What—”
His hands coming up to cradle her face silenced her instantly.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she sucked in a breath between her teeth.
“Tell me I'm the only one that felt that when we kissed and I'll leave right now and we'll never speak of this again,” Sirius murmured, lips brushing hers in not quite kiss.
She realized she’d been holding her breath when her lungs began to burn.
“What did you feel?”
“Everything,” he breathed.
Hermione opened her eyes, staring into his and startling slightly when she saw nothing but sincerity.
“But you never said—”
“Neither did you, love,” he cut in.
She struggled to make sense of what he was saying.
“So, you want to, what—date me?”
Sirius chuckled.
“To start with, sure.”
Oh.
Oh.
Wetness pooled in her knickers, her cunt pulsing with need at his words.
But Hermione wouldn't be herself if she didn't have more questions.
“How—"
His lips stole hers in a bruising kiss before she could ask any of them.
It was easy to get lost in him.
So damn easy.
She lost all sense of time, all sense of logic.
When the backs of her knees hit the edge of her sofa, Hermione allowed him to lower her onto it.
Instead of joining her however, Sirius instead dropped to his knees in front of her.
“I won't make it through dinner without having a taste of you first, love,” he rasped, fingers rucking up the hem of her dress until it pooled around her waist. “So if you want this to stop, now's the time to say it because once I have you Hermione, I don't intend on letting you go.”
Her hand gripped the back of his neck
“Don't stop,” she murmured before pulling his mouth back to hers.
She felt more than saw him smirk against her as they kissed.
When he hooked his thumbs over the waistband of her knickers, Hermione bit down on his bottom lip.
“Fuck, do that again,” he groaned, pulling the lacy fabric down her legs, and tossing it somewhere she couldn’t see.
Hermione obeyed, biting down hard enough that she tasted blood.
She expected him to be angry with her, to pull back and tell her that he hadn't meant that hard.
Only, the pain seemed to spur him on and Sirius lunged forward, pressing her against the back of the couch.
She felt his hands ghost down her sides, over her thighs, kneading the flesh of her ass before dipping down between her legs right where she needed him most.
At the first brush of his fingers against her cunt, Hermione’s whole body jerked upwards, seeking more.
Sirius chuckled darkly as he dropped his lips to the column of her throat, grazing his teeth across the sensitive skin before sucking hard, tearing a desperate sounding moan from somewhere deep inside her.
“Needy,” he growled, sliding his index finger inside her to the first knuckle briefly before withdrawing and resuming his exploratory strokes through her folds.
Hermione whined.
“Don't tease me.”
She'd never felt anything like this before.
Not with anyone.
This…burning.
It was everything she'd ever dreamed of and more.
Overwhelming in the best possible iteration of the word.
Sirius drew back until his eyes met hers.
They were dark with arousal and she wondered if he was hard, if he was throbbing for her just as much as she was for him.
She shivered at the thought.
“Say my name when you come,” he commanded.
A prickling of indignation sparked through her at his arrogance. He was so sure of himself. So confident.
Little did he know, she rarely was able to come without the assistance of one of her muggle vibrators.
“If I do, I'll think about it,” she shot back.
His face lit up at her challenge and before she realized what was happening, strong hands grabbed her waist and dragged her until her hips sat on the edge of the couch.
And then he was sliding down her body, hooking each of her legs over his shoulders as he went.
She realized at once what he meant to do and had just opened her mouth to tell him he needn’t bother, that she had never been particularly responsive to that method, when she suddenly lost the ability to form coherent thoughts at all the moment his lips latched onto her clit.
He sucked her there with firm, steady motions.
She babbled nonsensical nothingness as she bucked against his face, her body begging for him not to stop.
Sirius held her firmly to him, swirling his tongue every so often before pushing it inside of her, his hands pulling her legs wider to give himself more room.
Her thighs trembled, the muscles tensing and shaking uncontrollably.
Heat licked across every synapse of her being.
It had never been like this before.
Nothing had ever felt like this before.
She yanked at his hair as she tried and failed to ground herself.
“Don't stop,” she gasped. “Sirius—please—fuck, don't stop.”
He chose that moment to drive two fingers into her, thrusting them in time with the steady undulations of her hips.
It was too much.
Too good.
She wasn't going to last much longer.
He curled his fingers just so, brushing against that spongy spot deep inside her and Hermione cried out, a gush of fluid spilling out of her as she hurdled rapidly towards her release.
She could feel herself dripping down his chin and she pressed herself up onto her elbows, an apology ready on her lips.
She'd never been this...messy before.
Something told her she should be mortified, but it was difficult to feel anything other than the exquisite pleasure he was pulling from her body.
When her eyes caught on the steady jerky motion of his left shoulder, she froze.
His hand was hidden below the line of the sofa and she realized he was touching himself.
He was jerking his cock in his hand.
Because of her.
This drew another moan from deep in her chest and gray eyes snapped to hers at the sound.
“Inside of me,” she gasped breathlessly. “Please—I need you inside of me.”
Hermione had never begged a man to fuck her before.
She'd never done anything like this before.
Let a wizard give her an orgasm before he'd even taken her to dinner?
Preposterous.
If someone had told her a week ago that this is what she would be doing on her Friday night with Sirius Black of all people, she would have laughed.
Never, in her wildest fantasies, had she ever dreamed of this.
Alright, perhaps in her wildest fantasies.
Sirius didn't wait for her to say it again.
Though she would have, if he'd asked her to.
Hermione was certain she would do anything he asked of her.
Instead, he pulled his mouth away from her, something that had her whimper in protest, only to grab her waist once more and haul her completely off the sofa and into his lap.
He shifted her body this way and that until she felt the leaking head of his cock notch against her entrance.
Only then did he pause, lifting his eyes to hers.
“You're sure, love?” He asked hoarsely.
Hermione barely managed to nod before surging forward to kiss him.
She felt his hands come up around her and grip the tops of her shoulders, pulling her down at the same time he thrust up, impaling her with his cock.
She came with a scream, unprepared for the unbelievable ecstasy that was being filled by Sirius fucking Black.
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her entire body convulsed.
Her orgasm stole her breath, stole her ability to do anything but feel.
And it felt fucking amazing.
“Fuck—so fucking gorgeous—fuck Hermione,” Sirius muttered, dropping kiss after kiss to her clavicle, to the tops of her breasts, as he fucked up into her over and over again, unrelenting as he chased his own pleasure.
Hermione did her best to participate, clinging to him as she bounced up and down in his lap, clenching her internal muscles each time his pelvis grazed her clit.
She whispered a vanishing charm when she became desperate to feel him and realized he was still completely dressed aside from his trousers being shoved down to mid-thigh.
When she came eye level with the bare skin of his chest that was covered almost completely in tattoos, she pressed her lips to them, kissing and licking each one in turn.
Sirius let out a hiss when she pulled one of his nipples between her teeth.
“So.”
Thrust.
“Fucking.”
Thrust.
“Good.”
He slid a hand between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit, all but demanding that she come again.
Hermione’s head fell back, her curls tumbling down her back as she rolled her hips over his, her second orgasm crashing over her, even more powerful than before.
“Sirius!”
His name was a sob.
A prayer.
But it was enough.
“Fuck!” Sirius roared, rutting into her once, twice, and then again before stilling, his entire body going rigid as his cock swelled inside of her before spurting rope after rope of hot seed against her cervix.
It felt never ending, how long he came inside of her.
Hermione was shaking violently by the time it ended, completely and deliciously spent.
They both fought to catch their breath, chests heaving.
They slid off of their knees and onto the carpet, Sirius rolling them both until she lay tucked into his side, one of her legs thrown over his.
“I take it back,” he panted into her curls.
She let out a startled laugh, shifting until her chin rested on his chest.
She peered down at him questioningly.
“What?”
He pressed a kiss to her temple.
“That was everything.”