Chapter 15: Time in the Kitchen
Hermione had
never considered her life to be normal. Once that letter sealed with the
Hogwarts crest had announced that she was a witch, things had definitely become
far more adventurous than the plain old muggle life she had been expecting.
Strange twists and unusual occurrences were par for the course when one was a
witch. Being an auror she had begun to expect the unexpected. But never before
in her life had she ever been more surprised than she was at that very moment as
Sirius Black kissed her.
It was strange to be aware of so
many things at once and yet be so solely focused on him. His left hand still
held her arm gently, his fingers curled around her elbow. His right hand had
come up to trace her jaw. His eyes were closed. His lips were soft. Hermione
didn't return his kiss, but she didn't push him away either.
His left hand loosened his grip
and for a moment Hermione thought that he would pull away but instead his hand
slid up her arm, caressed the skin of her neck before coming up to cup her
cheek. His thumb softly rubbing a concentric circle there while his fingertips
rested in the hollow below her ear. Hermione gasped as he squeezed his fingers
gently there and an almost electric pulse shot all the way to the tips of her
toes.
Her suddenly open lips seemed to
give him a second's pause before he took full advantage of it. His tongue was
frighteningly possessive as it claimed her mouth. His hands tightened and
Hermione knew that she had to stop this. Her own hands found their way to his
wrists and she truly had intended to pull them away from her, to break this
embrace, and talk some sense into Sirius. He couldn't possibly mean what he was
saying or doing. She really had meant to pull away from him but as soon as her
hands had clasped around his wrists his lips left hers. Never once had Hermione
returned his kiss but now a part of her wished that she had. A part of her
wished that she had let herself taste him instead of trying to ignore the feel
of him.
Hermione had very little time to
ponder the strange twinge of regret for Sirius was far from done. His mouth was
at the corner of her lips, then on her chin, then lightly trailing along her
jaw, his lips pausing at her ear to nibble the lobe gently before slipping down
her neck. Hermione melted.
Her stiff body went limp and
passive in his arms her hands no longer tight on his wrists but loose. Hermione
felt her last shred on sanity and common sense falter in the wave of passion
that she felt and she whimpered. Sirius stopped abruptly, his lips pulling back
from her leaving the flushed skin exposed to the cold air. He pulled his head
back far enough to look into her eyes. His eyes were black and glittering but
worried.
"Hermione?"
Hermione found his intense gaze
to be too over-powering and she squeezed her eyes shut. His hands left her face
and entwined around her upper arms again.
"Hermione?" He
repeated more urgently. When she refused to respond he pulled her closer to him,
his hands tight but gentle. "Hermione, look at me." There was
desperation in his voice.
When she still didn't answer his hands slid away from her. He stepped backwards
and Hermione was cold without the warmth of his body against her. She opened her
eyes to watch him retreat to the other side of the kitchen where he leaned
against the opposing counter, his eyes studying the ground.
"I...I shouldn't have done that. It was a mistake." But his voice was
uncertain, as if given the choice to do it over again he would have gladly made
the same mistake a thousand times over.
She swallowed, her throat dry, a taste of something unfamiliar but enticing in
her mouth. "I don't understand." She whispered.
Sirius chuckled ruefully, "that would make two of us then."
This wasn't the type of answer that Hermione wanted. Not when her heart was
still beating so fast that she thought it might break. It wasn't the type of
answer that she needed as it became harder for her to breath. Was he playing
with her? It certainly wasn't something that she ever would have thought him
capable of. Hermione felt an indignant flush rise up on her already pink cheeks.
"If you just did that because you felt like...like playing with me
then..." Hermione started angrily but stopped as Sirius grabbed her arm.
"That's not it, Hermione, you ought to know me better than that." He
growled his eyes flashing between emotions, unsure as to whether be angry or
anxious.
"But that's just it, Sirius," Hermione's voice was small under his
dark gaze, "I don't know you at all really."
The kitchen was suddenly flooded with light and Hermione jerked back from Sirius
in surprise.
"You'll never get to sleep if you start drinking coffee at 2am,
Hermione." Draco said mildly as he leaned against the arch of the kitchen
wall.
His arms crossed loosely across his bare chest, his light hair falling every
which way in an attractively tousled sort of way. Hermione didn't doubt for one
moment that he hadn't noticed the tension between her and Sirius, not to mention
the fact that her own hair looked like it had been pawed through.
"So, you came back did you?" Draco asked Sirius casually, his eyes
making a circuit up and down Sirius.
"I would think that would be apparent." Sirius said lowly after a
pause.
Draco murmured noncommittally. He turned his eyes back to Hermione and smiled
slightly. It was a look that Hermione was certain he had used many times before
but she had never once seen from him.
"Are you coming back to bed? It gets lonely without you there." He
said smoothly, the seductive smile whispering of a good time.
Sirius didn't say a word to her as he turned abruptly and left the kitchen.
Hermione scowled at Draco as she followed after him. He went to Harry's room. He
hadn't been in it since before the funeral. But that didn't seem to deter as he
closed the door in her face.
Hermione stood studying the dark wood of the door. Her hand curled into a small
fist and she gently rapped her knuckles against it. "Sirius?" She
asked quietly into it. "Sirius, please open the door. Draco was only being
Draco. He does that to Harry and Ron all the time, or at least, he use to."
There was no answer.
Draco was looking in the cabinets when she returned to the kitchen.
"I don't suppose you have any powdered creamer? I loathe the stuff but your
milk has turned." He turned to look at her.
Hermione slapped him.
"Oww," He yelped stepping backwards his hand going to his cheek,
"what was that for?"
"You..." Hermione fumed as she stalked past him, forcing him away from
the cupboard as she reached for a box behind the flour. "You are such a
brat, Malfoy."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Is that all?" Hermione's voice rose dangerously as she smacked the
box of dried milk on the counter.
Draco held up his hands in front of him apologetically. "Look, I thought I
would just help you get out of what looked to be a rather tense altercation with
the resident murderer."
"He's not a murderer! And didn't it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't
want your help?" Hermione grabbed great fistfuls of her nightgown to keep
from throwing something.
Draco waited as she gained control of her temper before he spoke again. "So
you wanted to be part of that exchange?"
Hermione froze. She had wanted to be part of it hadn't she? Hermione had wanted
to finish that conversation with Sirius. It seemed suddenly as if they had been
having the same conversation all week. Longer than that perhaps, maybe it had
been hovering around them for years and she simply hadn't noticed it.
She ran a hand through her still damp curls. "Would you please just stop
making allusions to us sleeping together? We aren't and I certainly don't plan
on us doing so."
Draco gasped in mock pain and clutched a hand to his heart, "Granger no,
don't say that. What will I have to live for if I now know that I will never
have a chance to learn all the delicious curves of your body or the scent
of..."
"You're sleeping on the couch tonight too." Hermione cut him off
before he could get too explicit.
He sighed in defeat and slouched against the counter in an overt pout. He
stirred his coffee with one finger, unconcerned with the heat. "You know,
" he said after a moment, "you never cared when I said stuff like that
in front of Potter and Weasley."
Hermione began running water into her now empty mug, her back to him as she
spoke, "well it's different with Sirius."
"Why?"
"It's always been different with Sirius."
~*~*~*~
It was different with Sirius.
Hermione couldn't explain it, not even to herself. She lay on her bed staring up
at the ceiling. One arm crossed under her head. Her fingers of the other hand
traced her lips where his had been not so long ago. He had kissed her once
before. In anger or fear or desperation she had never known. But even though she
had been frightened of it and him she probably wouldn't have given it up. And
Hermione knew without a moment's hesitation that even though she didn't
understand what had happened in her kitchen only an hour ago, she wouldn't have
given it up either.
A small voice in her mind whispered that it would be nice to receive a kiss from
Sirius without feeling so beaten and unsure of it afterward. He called her
disgusting the first time after all. Not that that had stopped her from thinking
about that kiss from time to time. Never in her life had she been kissed like
that. Never had anyone kissed her like they needed her more than anything else.
She had known that he hadn't meant to kiss her in her seventh year. Hermione had
known that if he had been in a right state of mind he never would have made a
mistake like that. But still, over the years she had come to cherish that kiss,
she had imagined it to be the only one like it that she was ever meant to
receive.
That was before tonight. That was before Sirius had kissed her in much the same
way as he had in her seventh year. What did it mean? He was in a right state of
mind as far as she knew. He may just be suffering from spontaneous insanity, but
Hermione didn't think that likely.
"Maybe he kisses everyone like that." Hermione whispered aloud as her
fingers touched her lips again.
Not long after that Hermione drifted off into what could only be described as a
highly unsettled sleep.
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