Genre: Romance
Relationship: Sirius/Hermione
Music: Gimme More – Britney Spears
Rating: M
Warning(s): Sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Summary: He found her most attractive when she had that gleam in her eye. Mischief galore. [Sirius/Hermione - OneShot

Her Inner Marauder

by: atruwriter

1/1

There she was again, teasing him with those narrowed eyes and the quirk of her lips. She was thinking, planning, plotting. And whether it would turn out good or bad was something he couldn't be sure over. She liked the tease, sometimes to the point where he was left on edge with no last push. It was maddening and yet… he loved her all the more for it. She kept his attention, made him work for her. He loved the chase, but not as much as the catch. They'd started this game years ago, after he'd returned from the veil with no explanation and she was left with so many questions she couldn't stay away. He had no answers, but she still wanted them. It turned into a quest for her. Doing all she could to get some kind of information out of him. And admittedly, at her insistence, he did remember some things. Never anything good, however. And so she'd soothe away the fears and the darkness that plagued him. A kiss here, a stroke of his hair there, and he was putty in her hands.

Did others know? Without a doubt. He wasn't the most secretive person when it came to her. He was possessive and prone to moments of jealousy. Another bloke looked her way, he staked his claim, eyes staring into the chap as if inviting him to try. Most knew there was no point. Hermione Granger was Sirius Black's and that was a well known fact by now. Did they come right out and say it? No. Was there a wedding planned or children on the way? Not that he knew of. But was she his? Definitely. Was he hers? Every day, afternoon, and night. Happily.

She kept him on his toes, making him earn her. Some nights were spent in bed simply tracing her from toe to hair, memorizing her every curve and angle. Nothing more than touching, nothing more than a kiss here and a lick there. But he was always repaid when morning came, waking to the warmth of her mouth around him and her fingers digging into his thighs or stroking his hip bones. Her quest for answers was long forgotten, now instead she played a new game. She teased and taunted him until he was left breathless and wanting, and then she gave in. When he was at his last straw and couldn't beg any longer. It made it all the more incredible and worth it. It's probably one of the reasons he stuck around so long. Long enough to get to know her, to learn to love her.

And he did love her. Her books, her knowledge, her frizzy thick hair. He loved her bossy tone and her pert nose, her hand on her hip when she was making a point and her lifted brow when she didn't approve of something. He loved the way she felt in his arms each morning and how he knew he'd be returning to a home that they shared together. Three years ago he'd been a lone bachelor with far too much darkness in his past to truly enjoy the future. His best mates were all gone, his only family consisted of a boy just as jaded as him, and the war he'd been living to fight in had passed him by. But she'd given him new hope; her and her gleaming eyes.

She sat at the end of their bed, red satin sheets pooled around her knees. She stared at him the way she always did when she was readying herself for something he knew would leave him wanting and desperate and more in love with her than the second before; a feat all in itself. She slowly crawled up the bed on her hands and knees, her hips swaying side to side, body moving like an agile jungle cat. Her green satin nightie was loose around her, scooping low to show off the valley of her tempting breasts. He licked his lips, watching as she slowly made her way up through the part of his legs, hands landing on either side of his hips.

Had anyone really expected them to get together? Never. It was laughable three years ago. And yet, now, it was so right. Hermione Granger and Sirius Black, two very opposite people, completely and entirely in love with each other and unafraid to let the world see. Which had gotten them into a bit of trouble here or there. Apparently it was against the law to ravage each other in broad daylight, even if they were in a dark alley. It was the noises she made that gave them away. They echoed out into the street and alerted the Aurors walking Diagon to their presence. They got off with a warning, five different times, before they were told if they didn't stop they'd be magically banned from Diagon. Hermione took them seriously, where Sirius simply tried to learn stronger silencing charms.

Molly scolded Hermione over her choice in man, saying he was a philanderer and not the right person to settle down with. Still, the ever brilliant and stubborn young witch refused to let him go. She didn't shout words of undying love, instead stating, "I know about his past, Mrs. Weasley. And I understand your concern. But it's my business and I don't plan on ending things with Sirius. I hope you'll understand." Calm, rational, and completely angering the Weasley matron even more. She was a rival of their coupling from the beginning, but when a year passed and there was no sign of them breaking up or of him straying, she started to loosen up. After two years, when she could clearly see his adoration for her, she softened quite a bit. And by the third year, she was hinting at marriage and grandbabies.

He wasn't horrified by the idea. Had it been twenty years ago, he would've laughed richly at the idea. But neither he nor Hermione were running to the altar or planning on having any rug-rats anytime soon. They enjoyed each other too much, were selfish with their time to consider having children. Maybe some day, when her career wasn't so important and he could fathom the idea of not having every moment with her just to himself. He figured it would be a lot longer than Molly wanted, but he wasn't interested in satisfying her grandmotherly instincts.

They weren't a purely physical couple as Ron thought the two of them were, often citing his annoyance over their constant petting of each other. It had started out that way, but things progressed to the point where one day her flat was sold and she was living with him. He wasn't sure what changed, it went unsaid really. They simply woke up one day and he said, "Might as well just move your things in." And she did. That day. Her flat was sold a week later and they hadn't looked back.

Declarations of love came later. Surprisingly, it was him who said it first.

Hermione was making dinner. He'd just returned home from an impromptu Quiddtich game with Harry and the Weasley boys. She must've gotten off work early, because she usually wasn't in for another hour. She was working at the stove studiously, making his favorite meal. The table was set, some Muggle music was playing in the back ground, and she was humming off key to it as she stirred pots and tossed a salad. Unlike Molly, she preferred to make most meals by hand rather than using magic. She felt it made food taste more real when her hard work was put into it.

He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her for awhile. She wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips as she tasted something. "More salt," he heard her mutter. He smiled to himself. She was playing Suzie Homemaker and it suited her just fine. She wasn't anything Suzie-like at night, in their bed, but the way she looked now stirred something in his chest. He'd never much imagined a future beyond that of physically connecting with women. He wasn't like James or Remus, he didn't spend much time thinking about unwavering and unconditional love or belonging. But he'd found that with Hermione even when he hadn't been looking.

She knew his past and what his thoughts were on marriage and the forever-kind-of-love. It was for guys like James and girls like Lily. Not him. He was the guy that fulfilled girls fantasies for one night only. The kind of guy who was charming and dangerous and devilishly handsome. The guy stories were told about, between women over their most orgasmic experience. But he wasn't the type to settle down, have a hoard of kids, and become the next Molly and Arthur Weasley. Not him. Not ever.

But watching her sway her curvy hips and mumble unintelligible lyrics in between talking to herself about what supper needed, he let himself imagine for a moment what it might just be like; to be that guy with this girl. And it wasn't nearly as suffocating or terrifying as he'd thought it'd be. He already came home to her every day, shagged her on every surface of the house and outside of it, went to sleep beside her, woke up beside her, showered, dressed, ate with her. He napped beside her, head in her lap, as she read her books. Was her official date to every Ministry thrown gala concerning her and the rest of the trio's heroism in the war. Walked hand in hand down Diagon Alley when she needed potions ingredients, clothing, groceries, whatever. They were a couple. He'd never really been a couple, but he found he actually liked it.

Maybe he wasn't meant for forever or marriage or kids. Or maybe he just hadn't been meant for it with anybody else. Maybe, like James, he had to find his Lily. Hermione was brilliant, beautiful, talented (in and out of the bed), and she always left him interested in more. She wasn't the bore most might expect. She was interesting and she loved challenges as much as he. There was a connection there bred over the time spent together and even the time spent away from each other. She was never far from his thoughts and they weren't always R rated either. He loved the scent of her hair (bananas, oddly enough), he loved the feel of her skin (so soft), he loved how she felt in his arms (just perfect), and he loved… well, her.

His eyes widened in shock and his body jolted up on the doorjamb, mouth ajar.

"Sirius?" her voice called to him. She turned around, smiling lightly. "I wasn't expecting you for awhile yet." She wiped her hands on a rag and walked toward him slowly.

He suddenly felt like he should run away. From her, his feelings, and what they all meant. But he didn't. He stayed glued to the same spot, simply watching her approach. She lifted up on tip toes and kisses him lightly. "You win the game?"

"Of course," he replied, his voice rather low.

She rolled her eyes. "I see that ego of yours is never far behind."

He smirked. "Where would I be without it?"

She snorted, turning to walk back to the table. "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll finish up dinner?" she suggested, glancing over her shoulder. "I found that ratty shirt of yours that you love so much. And no, I didn't throw it out."

"Again," he muttered, frowning. She'd tried to throw it away when she thought it was a dirty, holey rag, and he'd dug it out and hid it away. Apparently not that well.

"I have no idea why you'd want to keep it, but I washed it. It's on the dresser," she told him simply before turning back to the stove to finish up.

He grinned. At least she respected him enough not to throw away something he cherished, even if it was barely wearable.He decided he'd wear it to dinner, in fact. Her expression would be amusing, to say the least.

"Oh," she said, turning back to him. "Forgot to tell you. My boss said I can't skip out on my three week vacation any more and that it's mandatory. So, if you're interested, I was thinking of taking a trip to Paris." She shrugged, "Ginny wants me to take a week out for her and the girls to go on some sort of apparition trip. But we'll have two weeks."

"Sounds good," he said, nodding. Two weeks in the most romantic place on earth with just her? Yeah, he could definitely do that.

She smiled before turning back to her cooking and he knew he was dismissed to take his shower, but his feet brought him to her. His arms wrapped around her waist and his chin fell to sit on her shoulder. She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes softening.

She felt good pressed up against his chest and he briefly wondered what his life would be like had she not become a more important part of it. He didn't like the lonely visions that ambushed his mind. He much preferred the life he had with her. Could happily enjoy it with her for years to come.

The words were out before he really thought about the repercussions. While his feelings were clear to him, hers weren't. "I love you."

Her expression became blank and she stared at him with wide eyes. He suddenly feared he'd made a huge mistake. What if she preferred the string lacking relationship they'd had going. Even if it appeared to be getting far more serious than either had expected. Even if she seemed to fit into the role of his other half as if she knew she was made for it.

"Oh," she said, rather softly.

He felt like slapping himself. "You… You don't have to say it back." He wanted her to though. Hadn't realized how much he really need her to love him back, to want the same things he did. "Well, I smell rank, I'm going to go shower," he said, pulling back from her and turning to leave the kitchen.

He was halfway across the floor before she called out, "Sirius."

He came to a halt, despite his inner voice telling him to run or apparate away. He turned back, feeling ridiculous. "Mione, it's not important, I—"

"It's very important," she countered, her arms crossing over her chest and her mouth setting in a line. She walked forward, but stopped when he took a step away from her. He'd never known how much rejection hurt. She sighed, looking apologetic. "I never really thought you'd feel that way."

He cringed. Lovely.

She shook her head, wincing. "No, Sirius. I meant, I never thought you'd feel that way about… about me."

He looked confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I'd rather not list the ways," she muttered, shaking her head. "Honestly, I thought… I thought this was just a way for you to escape and I… I was more than content to be that escape for you. Things, they… They became a lot more… complicated than I expected." She shook her head, lifting a hand to push the thick curls away. "I never expected for us to move in together or for me to spend all my mornings waking up with you. I…"

Did she feel trapped then? Stuck with him out of some sad sense of pity? He felt his stomach twist tightly and worried he might actually throw up. How could their feelings be so completely different? His eyes stung and he blinked quickly to rid them of their weakness.

"I never imagined it would feel so…" She looked up at him, eyes soft. "Good. Right. Perfect." She shrugged, biting her lip. "Honestly, I was waiting for the day you'd suddenly realize you wanted someone else."

His heart skipped a beat. Did that mean that she…? "I don't want anybody else."

Her eyes fell, nose wrinkling, and then a tear fell down her cheek.

He walked closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight against his chest. "I love you, Mione. Even if it's unexpected and not planned or even what I thought I'd have for my life."

"You deserve to be loved, Sirius," she murmured against his chest.

He didn't want to ask and yet he did. "Am I?" he asked, voice quiet but hopeful.

She lifted her head, shimmering eyes staring into his. "Very much."

He kissed her, deep and thorough, and he'd never felt more right in his life. An eternity kissing her wouldn't be bad at all. In fact, it could be quite incredible.

She broke away from his mouth, brows furrowing. "Do you smell that?" He was still a little dazed and had no answer for her, simply licking his lips.

Black smoke billowed up and she suddenly shrieked. "Oh no! Dinner!"

He laughed, which earned him a glare, but it was worth it. He felt better than he had in decades.

And now here they were. Her knelt between his legs, that familiar gleam in her eyes and her hands placed on either side of him. She licked her lips, eyes running from his down to his boxer clad body. She reached a hand out, forefinger tracing from his neck to his navel, deliriously slow. He felt his abdomen clench and his insides shudder. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his stomach, lips parting to suckle at him lightly, teeth nipping. She was going to take it slow, keep him begging for more. She loved doing that. It paid off in the end. Leaving them so deliciously exhausted that breathing felt like it took too much.

He wasn't allowed to touch her, not until she let him. Any movements on his part would only make her draw it out longer, he knew. Sometimes, he couldn't take it though, and he grabbed her hair or he kissed her, or he clutched her body to his. She enjoyed this, but still pulled back and left him wanting. Not unless she was at the point where she was ready to give in, to let him have her, fully.

She explored his body like it was a new canvas for her every time. Mouth touching every inch of him, fingers kneading and feeling every angle. She ran her hands through his hair, nails scraping down his neck as she kissed his jaw. She always avoided his mouth though; so close but not close enough. His hands strained against the sheets, fingers splaying out needily. He wanted to touch her, feel her, have her. But it was her game, her way, and he loved it. Loved that gleam that was always there as she caught his gaze.

This was her mischievous side. Straight laced, rule abiding Hermione Granger could read all the books she wanted, cite every law made and have an answer to every question. She could come off stuffy or boorish, but nobody knew her quite like he did. They didn't know the inner siren that came out when they were in the secluded space of their house. She was devilish and manipulated situations to her liking. She was confident and knowledgeable in all things love making. She gave as good as she got and then some.

Her hips cradled his, lower halves gyrating against each other and tearing moans and groans from each of them. She took her top off slowly, batting his hands away as they lifted to feel her. She tossed it to the side and hovered temptingly above him, smirking as his gaze washed over him. She knew him too well. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaned forward, her breasts pressing into him enticingly. "Mione," he moaned.

She rubbed her dampness down against him. "Tell me what you want."

"You," he breathed, hands shaking and hips begging to lift and press against her.

"Tell me more," she whispered.

"Your lips, your body, you, tight all around me," he spoke harshly, eyes filling with a fire.

She nipped his chin, tongue laving at it. Her hair brushed over his chest, soft and ticklish. "What do I want?" she asked, eyes sparking.

He smirked. " Me. Inside you. Now." He took charge, flipping her over and covering her body with his. He pressed down hard between her legs and her eyes fluttered, mouth falling open and a strangled moan escaping her. He kissed her neck, mouth attacking her sweet, soft, skin. She was warm and writhing and ready for him. He could feel her heat seeping through his boxers. He bit down on her shoulder, fingers finding hers, entwining.

"Sirius," she whimpered, her cheek dragging across his hair as her body lifted to press against him.

He trailed lower on her body, mouth attaching to her breast and suckling it, humming happily as she squealed with delight and arched into him. One of her hands broke away from his, wrapping in his hair and tugging it.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him against her tightly. His hands trailed down her sides, slipping between her thighs and finding her wet slit. She cried out as he stroked her slowly; thumb finding the bundle of nerves that left her jerking.

He lifted his head, moving to kiss her mouth, finally. Their lips met in a furious, possessive kiss; teeth gnashing, lips bruising, tongues tangling. He kept her gaze through it, watching them glaze and darken. She flipped them over suddenly, face hovering above his, body arched up everywhere but at her hips. "Mm, you're getting ahead of yourself," she told him, waving her finger at him. "We have something scheduled, Siri."

He lifted a brow. Scheduled? While he couldn't remember much before her on the bed, he was pretty sure their night was completely free.

She licked her lips. "We forgot dessert," she said innocently.

Sod dessert! He wanted his fill of her.

She kissed his lips chastely before crawling off of him, leaving him desperate and painfully hard. She reached down toward the floor for a moment before coming up with a red velvet bag and dropping it on the bed beside him. She winked at him and his confused expression before scooping out a bottle of chocolate syrup, whip cream, and a jar of maraschino cherries. "Sundae sound good?" she asked, that marauderish gleam looking perfect and playful in her dark brown eyes.

He smirked, picking up the whip cream. "Perfect."

She drizzled some of the chocolate onto her finger and licked it off slowly before running her tongue over her lips temptingly. He had reason to believe it was going to be the best dessert he'd ever had in his life. Given it was made of the most incredible woman he'd ever known in his life, it bode well for the future.

As long as that gleam was always in her eye, he knew the outcome. Mischief galore. Her inner marauder was just waiting to be explored and he loved the benefits that came along with being her teacher.

End

A/N Really hope you enjoyed this. I'm working on some other one shots to pass the time, until my computer is fixed! Sorry about that. Let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading! Please review, it's very appreciated!
Much Love,
-Amanda