Suggested listening: Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks ft. Don Henley

The bathwater was quickly becoming tepid. She should have cast a warming charm, or have at least turned the hot water knob. As it was, she did neither and simply sat there staring at the ends of her hair as they floated over the surface of the water. She was vaguely aware of Crookshanks pawing at the door, a simple alohomora would have solved that problem. But that required effort and effort was something she found herself in short supply of.

Days like this had become infrequent and she had allowed herself to become used to the feeling of normalcy. Then it hit her, even before she managed to crawl out of her bed, that sinking feeling latched onto her like tether hooks and pulled her further and further down until she found it difficult to breathe. The fact that she'd made it into the bath at all had been a miracle, the trouble now was convincing herself to get out again.

An old familiar thought came to her, the one that told her it would be so easy to just let her body slide back against the porcelain until the water covered her face. It would burn her lungs, she thought, the feeling of the water pouring in. But how was that different than smoking a number of cigarettes she did?

Hermione let out a strangled cry, the muscles in her throat straining beneath the sound. It hurt, her voice still weak from the grip Dolohov had had on her. No, she told herself fiercely as she scrubbed her face with her hands, she wasn't going to allow herself to think like that. She had not fought so hard only to drown herself in a bathtub. There was a small, spiteful part of her mind that seemed to take joy in telling her that dying in a bathtub wasn't romantic in the slightest, never mind original.

"Fuck," she muttered as she lunged forward and ripped out the plug. The water swirled down the drain, the sound of it echoing in the small, enclosed room. There went the temptation, at least for the moment, but that thought was neither comforting nor sobering.

By the time she'd pulled herself out of the empty tub and wrapped a robe around her, she'd talked herself out of going. She'd send an owl to Harry and close off her Floo. It would lead to him, and most likely Sirius and Ron, banging down her front door. But, somehow, that sounded better than the alternative of showing up at the Burrow where she knew the cacophony of sounds would drive her further over the edge she'd woken up teetering on. They were just going to have to deal with it, she decided. Besides, her bruising had yet to fully heal and dittany could only do so much.

Opening the door, Crookshanks immediately wound himself around her ankles as she made her way into the sitting room. Hermione did precisely as she'd decided she would: she wrote to Harry and closed her Floo. Part of her wondered if she should make a wager as to how long it would take before someone was knocking at her door, but she decided against it. Instead, she switched on the kettle and went back into the bedroom to change into some warm pajamas. Tea and sleep, she told herself, that was what she needed and she didn't care that it was a lie.

There had been no banging on her door, no blasting the thing off its hinges, and everything had been blessedly quiet. She'd been asleep when the dip in the mattress beside her woke her. Even in that state between sleep and consciousness, she knew the body beside her certain wasn't Crookshanks, especially since her familiar was still curled up on the pillow beside her head. That was when she caught the scent of smoke and leather and she let her body roll back until it was pressed against him.

"Molly sent over a rather large plate of food," Sirius said, his voice soft as his arm wrapped around her middle and pulled her to his chest. "It's on the counter with a stasis charm whenever you want it."

Hermione kept her eyes closed as she let herself melt back into him, her fingers lacing with his as they laid there. There was no pressure, she realized, no pressure to eat and move about like someone normal and for that she was profoundly grateful. "I'll have some in a while," she said after a moment. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

Sirius pressed his face into her clean curls and she could feel his lips press against her scalp. "I've been taking care of things that I've put off for too long," he explained. "I suppose I had to grow up sometime."

"I don't think you'll ever grow up. Not completely. Besides, I wouldn't want you to."

She felt him laugh, the soft rumbling in his chest reverberating through her. "What do you want me to do then, kitten?"

Hermione turned in his grasp and pressed her face against the crook of his neck. She couldn't help but breathe him in, letting him fill her lungs in a way that didn't burn; if anything it just went straight to her head. Her lips brushed against his warm skin and she felt him tense briefly before his hand smoothed down her waist to settle on the curve of her hip. "Stay in bed with me. Hold me and let's forget the world," she replied.

"I can do that."

It was so easy to lay there next to him, his heartbeat keeping a steady rhythm in her ear as his thumb rubbed idle circles over her hip. She wasn't sure if she slept, there was a part of her that was afraid to even let herself drop off just in case this turned out to be a dream. It was possible that she may have dozed, however. Maybe.

At some point, he'd kicked off his shoes and Hermione stretched herself out, her bare toes resting against the tops of his sock covered feet. She imagined that he was smiling but she didn't tilt her head back to look up at him, instead she found herself content to let him pull her closer. There was a part of her that wanted to pull off the clothes that covered them, separating them from skin on skin contact. It was what she needed, but it was something that she dared not ask for.

His hand began to smooth over her hip, the heat of his palm seeping through the material of her leggings. Slowly, his hand began to move higher. It slipped beneath the hem of her shirt and up over her bare skin. His callouses lightly scratched at her, but she didn't care. Truth be told, she could barely think as the heat of him seemed to cut right through her. Her breath hitched as she tried to imprint the feeling in her memory. She was still awake, wasn't she? Gods, she hoped so.

Hermione tilted her head back then and her gaze met his; she was very much awake. His eyes were dark, even in the dim light of the room, and the intensity of them was almost startling. There was a part of her that was sure that she should look away, press her face back against his chest and feign sleep. But she couldn't and began to realize that she didn't want to.

"Why haven't you kissed me?" she found herself asking, her mouth leading the charge while her brain struggled to catch up. "Since that day on the beach."

Sirius was quiet, his brow furrowed as he stared down at her. She could feel each one of his fingers as they pressed into her. There was something about the gesture, the way he silently pulled her closer, that made her swallow thickly. For a moment she wondered if he was struggling not to let her go and it occurred to her then that perhaps he needed to hold on to her as much as she needed to hold on to him.

"I don't have a good answer. It's inexcusable, really. I should have been kissing you every moment I could since that day, but I've failed spectacularly at that. Can you forgive me, kitten?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Slowly, she nodded. "I've forgiven you for a lot of things, Sirius Black, and I can forgive you for that."

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a smile and his hand moved higher up, resting between her shoulder blades. "That's good because I intend on making up for my error right this second."

The cafe was small, quaint, and quiet, but even its charm couldn't distract her from thinking that the look on Harry's face was nothing short of skeptical. Truthfully, she couldn't blame him. How many times had she told him that she was fine, and how many of those times had she been lying through her teeth? Even she didn't want to answer that question.

But she carried on, squeezing the lemon wedge over her tea before setting it aside. If there was one thing she was good at, and she was good at a great many things, it was going through the motions. She could stir her tea and nibble on biscuits with the best of them, and she did it well.

In a sense she was fine. Perfectly fine. She'd slept through the night without a single nightmare and had woken up to Sirius Black curled around her, his head resting on her chest as he held her close. Was waking up like that a cure all for her problems? Certainly not, but it was a good fucking start.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?" she finally asked out of exasperation, her spoon clanking against the saucer as she let it drop from her fingers.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "Like what?"

Hermione's jaw clenched as she glared at him. He was being deliberately obstinate. She hated when he was deliberately obstinate. "Like I'm going to fall apart at any moment," she hissed in reply. It wasn't prudent to raise one's voice in the middle of a cafe, she reminded herself. "I can assure you that is not the case."

Pulling off his glasses, he scrubbed at his face. She hated being angry, especially at him of all people. She hated that some days it didn't take much at all to send her over the edge. Those days were few and far between, but still enough to exasperate her.

"You would be the last person that I would expect to fall apart," he said finally, his green eyes squinting at her before he slid his glasses back into place. "After everything we've been through you've always been the one that's held it together. That's the thing though, Mione, you don't have to hold it together. You have people who will hold you while you let yourself fall apart."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she made herself look away from him as she brushed away the wayward few that had rolled down her cheeks, her hands moving to adjust the thick knit scarf around her neck. Stubborn pride prevented her from admitting that he was right. Maybe she did just need to go off on her own to scream, cry, and punch inanimate objects. But then there was that part of her, the dominant part, that insisted that she'd be just fine without engaging in such childish behavior.

"Sirius stayed with me last night," she said, changing the subject completely. That new bit of information would be enough to distract him for a while.

Harry choked on his tea and hastily wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "Oh?' he asked, his voice an octave higher as he tried to sound nonchalant. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes.

"Yes. He brought over the food that Molly had packed for me and then he stayed the night." She poked at the remnants of her lemon with a fork.

"How..how did he get in? You had your Floo shut off."

Turning her head, she gave him a flat look. "Honestly, Harry, you are a wizard," she said with a sigh. "My wards are set to recognize only a select few, including you and Sirius, and a simple alohamora works wonders with Muggle locks."

He looked somewhat mollified as he picked up a biscuit and popped it in his mouth. "He did tell me to just go home with Gin, that he'd see to you. I didn't expect a sleepover, at least not quite this soon."

Now it was Hermione's turn to look surprised and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Recovering herself, she pulled her face into a more neutral expression, though there was nothing she could do about the flush in her cheeks. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"What is it that you always say? Don't be so obtuse?" Harry asked with a smirk fixed on his face. "I'm not blind. Figuratively blind. I can see the way you two look at each other, the way you're always so close to one another. Gin and George even have a betting pool going."

Groaning, Hermione let her head fall in her hands. What was it with the Weasley children and gambling, she wondered. Her head shot back up then. "Do you have a bet on us?"

His smirk spread into a grin, wide and toothy. "I expect I'll be collecting some galleons quite soon."

"Fucking hell. Why am I even surprised?" she asked, her arms falling to her sides in exasperation. She fixed him with a hard stare before a wry smile spread across her face. "It was perfectly innocent, I'll have you know. Just a good snog and lots of cuddles. No hanky panky."

"Damn it, Mione!" Harry whined. "Now I'm going to be down five galleons!"

She threw her lemon wedge at him.

Her office was stifling. Tugging at the scarf around her neck, Hermione couldn't help but wish that there was a window she could open. Cooling charms only accomplished so much and, as much as she would have liked to discard the new accessory she'd been sporting, she simply did not have it in her to keep up a glamor charm. So she willingly suffered as she carefully filed her old cases away to make room for the new ones. There was a system buried there somewhere beneath her towers of papers. She just didn't see the point in explaining it to anyone; they'd never be able to keep it straight if she did.

Truth be told, she wasn't even supposed to be there. Once word reached Kingsley about her little jaunt to Azkaban he extended her vacation by a few days. Of course, she'd objected, but somehow having the Minister of Magic stare down at you as though you were a petulant child was enough to make you shut up. So, she kept her grumbling to a minimum and made herself content with muttering under her breath. But just because she wasn't allowed to come in and work didn't mean she couldn't gather up a few things to bring home with her. That's what she told herself as she shrunk a stack of files and tucked them carefully away in her purse.

"Highlighting and copying is therapeutic," she whispered to herself as she tucked a curl back behind her ear. It was true enough, and she had always enjoyed the monotony of it- even as a child. She was sure that said something about her, but she chose not to dwell on it.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Harry's voice from her doorway caught her by surprise and her head shot up. He didn't seem shocked in the slightest to see her sitting there looking as though she had her hand caught in the proverbial biscuit tin. If anything, the head of the Auror Department looked amused.

Hermione let out a delicate sniff as her fingertips lightly drummed against a stack of paper. "Neither are you. Your shift is over," she countered. As evasions went, it was a poor attempt.

He let out a snort and leaned back against the door frame. "Well spotted. Now, go home and finish out your vacation."

Heaving a sigh, she stood and slipped her coat around her shoulders. "When did you get so bossy?" she asked as she pulled her hair free from the collar. Clutching her purse in her hand, she moved around her desk and came to a stop in front of him. For a moment she tried to remember just when it was that he'd become so tall. Somehow registering his height in comparison to hers hadn't even crossed her mind at Hogwarts. They always seemed too busy for such trivial things.

"I'm fairly certain it was after I saved you from a troll in the girl's loo," Harry replied, his face thoughtful as he nodded. She just rolled her eyes and punched his arm for good measure.

Hermione let out a hum as she regarded him, her head cocked to the side as she gave a flick of her wand. The lights in her office went out and she shooed her best friend out of the door before shutting and locking it behind her. It would have been incredibly easy to point out that he and Ron were the reason that she'd been in the loo in the first place, but she didn't. "What are your plans tonight?" she asked, steering the conversation away from trolls in the bathroom.

"Well," he began as he slung a lazy arm around her shoulder. "Sirius has been clearing up the attic. He's been muttering about fixing the ceiling. I didn't even know there was a problem with it. So, I'm going to see Ginny."

She let out a snicker as she shoved her hands in the pocket of her coat. "Oh, I'm sure Cardiff is lovely this time of the year. Nice and chilly," she pointed out.

A grin spread across his face as he looked down at her and wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm counting on it. Maybe a fire, a rug, and a bottle of firewhisky. Handcuffs."

"I really don't need the details of your sex life, Harry. Thank you."

Nestled beneath the gabled roof, the attic of Grimmauld Place stretched the full width and length of the house. It was understandably impressive and she considered it to be absolutely wonderful- especially now that Buckbeak's nest had been cleared out and the floors scrubbed. This was the kind of attic she'd always dreamed of as a little girl, a kind of place where she could hide away with her books for hours on end and no one would bother her. She envied Sirius for this, and the fabled Black family library, and part of her just wanted to go ahead and ask permission to move in. But that, she decided, would be rather rude.

The record player she'd had repaired for Sirius was carefully placed on a table beneath the eaves, the needle having long fallen off of the still rotating vinyl. For a moment she just stared at him as he stood in the middle of the room, wand moving in intricate patterns as he silently worked to charm the ceiling. He was recreating the Great Hall, though on a much smaller scale, and she couldn't help but smile. Hogwarts had been his home, just as much as it had been hers, and it somehow made sense for him to bring it here, to lift the darkness that had hung over the London mansion.

What amused her the most was the half smoked cigarette that hung from his lips. Shrugging off her jacket, Hermione slipped off her shoes and padded quietly across the room and plucked the fag from him before it had the chance to hit the floor. He glanced down at her briefly, a crooked smile on his face, before turning his attention back to his work. She simply gave his hipbone a passing squeeze as she made her way over to the record player, smoke billowing from her nose as she took a long drag from his cigarette.

The floor boards were smooth beneath her bare feet and she gave her toes a cursory wiggle to work out the stiffness of being confined in her sensible, but slightly pinching flats. There was something about standing there, smoking his cigarette while she thumbed through his records, that seemed almost domestic. Hermione paused, her hand still poised over a well-worn copy of Black Sabbath's Masters of Reality, and tried to soak it all in. The fact of the matter was that she could get used to feeling like this with him and it scared her. It scared her that she wanted it so very much and she couldn't help but be afraid that it was all in her imagination.

Letting out a breath, she clutched the cigarette between two fingers and continued to browse before finally settling and swapping out the record in the player for something new. The needle clicked into place and a soft hum of white noise filled the attic before being swallowed by the music itself. She found herself sagging then, her shoulders dropping as she let the music flow through her. This, she decided, was up there with highlighting and copying as far as relaxing went.

She felt him behind her before he touched her, his fingers deftly plucking his cigarette back from her fingers. Even over the music, she could hear the paper burning as he inhaled, his breath ruffling her hair as he let the air back out again. The cigarette was stubbed out a second later, the butt joining the myriad of others that lay discarded in one of his mother's china bowls. His hands were on her then, smoothing over her hips before they gently spun her about.

Hermione opened her eyes. Above them the night sky twinkled, the stars and planets moved, swirling in an imitation of their real counterparts. But it was his eyes that held her attention, the grey irises seeming somehow darker as he stared down at her. That same crooked smile curled over his lips and she felt her stomach do a somersault. Did he know that when he looked at her like that it made her weak in the knees? He probably did it on purpose- that wouldn't have surprised her in the least.

"Dance with me," he said, and she couldn't quite decide if it was a question or a statement. Either way, it didn't matter. She just nodded and let herself be pulled along after him.

"You'd better not step on my toes," she cautioned with a smile as he pressed his hand against the small of her back and drew her close.

Sirius let out a laugh and kissed her forehead. "I won't, kitten. I'm not that bad a dancer."

Sirius Black had lied. Well, she thought, that was unfair. It was more a case of him underselling himself. He wasn't a bad dancer. If anything he was great and when she'd called him on it he only shrugged and muttered something about Pureblood society before spinning her around. Still, Hermione decided that this was a talent she was going to exploit- and often.

Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, she settled herself down on the rug beneath one of the attic windows and uttered a quick cushioning charm before laying back. She turned on her side, her eyes watching him as he changed the record and shuffled around the room. At some point, he'd lost his shoes as well and she found herself fascinated by his feet. There was something about the way they looked peeking out from beneath the worn hems of his jeans that was oddly sexy. It was a new thought and she found that she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it.

He turned to face her then, his eyes still dark and mercurial as he stared down at her. She couldn't quite read his expression and it concerned her. Brows knit together, she regarded him as she bit at the skin around her thumb. How had they gotten here, she wondered, how had he managed to entwine himself so completely with her without her even realizing it? Did he think about kissing her as often as she thought about kissing him? Did he wonder what it would feel like to have her skin pressed against his? Her ingrained curiosity wanted desperate to be satiated, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to make herself ask. Not yet.

"I can hear your brain working from here, kitten," he said as he lowered himself to the floor and laid down beside her. His finger began to trace a line along her jaw and she couldn't help but wonder if he could feel her heartbeat thrumming beneath her skin.

Hermione swallowed thickly. "It never stops," she said, her voice soft as she found herself leaning into his touch. "Sometimes I wish it would. Some things I just don't want to think about."

Sirius nodded as his hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing idly over her bottom lip. "I know," he whispered. And that was the gods' honest truth. He did know; he was haunted the same way she was and yet he was willing to hold her as she tried to pull herself out of it. In that moment Hermione swore to herself that she would do the same for him. "We can make new things to think about. We can make it so that the new things outnumber the old and drown out the bad."

"I'd like that," she replied. Gaze locked with his, she took the pad of his thumb between her teeth and nibbled it lightly.

It was fascinating to watch him, his eyes darkening further as he stared down at her lips wrapped around the tip of his finger. She smiled then as she released her hold on him, her head falling back as she moved to lay flat against the floor. He let out a groan, the sound soft and rumbling in the back of his throat, as he moved to lean over her.

Her tongue darted out over her suddenly dry lips as he stared down at her. It struck her then just how overwhelming it was to lay there beneath him, his gaze intense as he stared down at her. Hermione let out a shuddering breath and tried to ignore the erratic beating of her heart in her chest. Everything about him seemed to assault her then, the smell of him, the heat of his body, the ends of his black hair tickling her cheeks. She wanted to soak it in, let it consume her entirely, and that realization excited her despite herself.

His lips pursed as his hand tugged at the scarf the was still wound around her neck. Even as the material gently gave way, it bit at her still tender throat and she tried not to grimace. Cool air hit her newly exposed skin and she shivered.

"Oh little witch," he whispered as his fingertips lightly moved over the ugly green bruising. "I wanted to kill him, and I would have marched back into that fucking building to do it. But I couldn't...I couldn't be that man. I couldn't leave you alone. I won't leave you alone."

Hermione was vaguely away of the tears escaping from the corners of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. It seemed to take everything she had to speak. "I know," she whispered as he bent down to kiss away her tears. "I don't want to go anywhere. Not...not without you."

Sirius kissed her then, his body settling in between her legs. The weight of him on top of her was something that she hadn't realized she needed and she found herself pulling him closer still. He was the air that she needed to breathe in, taking in lungful after lungful. This was the man that kept her in place, that held her up when she couldn't do it herself. Thought after thought flooded her then as he pressed down against her and her fingers twisted in his dark hair as her mouth moving against his.

In a strange way, it felt as though she was falling, even as she lay pressed between him and the floor. The heat of his hands seeped through the material of her shirt as they moved over her body. Part of her wanted him to just rip the damn thing off of her, but he didn't. Instead, his movements were achingly slow as his fingers curled around the hem and pulled it upward.

He sat back on his heels, staring down at her as his chest heaved. Her skin was flushed, and she quickly moved to cover the long purple scar that marred her torso. The urge to hide flooded her and she turned her head away, her eyes screwing themselves shut as she tried to pretend that the scar wasn't there, that the man who'd tried to break her neck with his bare hands hadn't tried to cut her in half with the fire of his own making.

"Stop hiding," Sirius said, the low rumble of his voice washing over her as his hands curled around her wrists and pulled her arms away.

Somehow that simple sentence broke her all over again and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. His breath ghosted over her skin as he took the time to kiss along the entire line of her scar. Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth as she told herself to breathe. The few sexual encounters that she'd had had always been in the dark where no one could see her. Now she was laid bare, everything raw and open and at his mercy, and Sirius Black did nothing but kiss the parts that she hated the most.

"I'm sorry I'm so broken," she managed to whisper, her voice cracking as she pushed her curls back from her flushed face.

He just shook his head, his hair gliding over her stomach like silk. "You're not broken, Hermione," he said as he looked up at her again and her breath hitched under the intensity of his gaze. "All I see is gold in you. Those cracks and the damage that you fight to hide have been filled, and I swear they shine so brightly that they're blinding. I can't look away from you. I don't want to look away from you."

For a moment she was silent, her bottom lip trembling as she let everything he'd said sink in. She couldn't think, she couldn't process his words, and for the first time in her life, she found herself at a loss for what to do. "Come here, Sirius," she finally managed to whisper.

There was no hesitation from him and he crawled over her body, his mouth covering hers again. Her hands moved down his back, the need to feel his skin against hers quickly becoming prevalent in her mind. He seemed to sense the change in her, the desperation that seemed to mirror his own, and he pulled back just far enough to pull his shirt over his head. The heat radiating off of him made her let out a soft hiss and she pushed him back.

"I have to see you, too," she whispered. Her hands shook as they pressed against his chest, the black ink of his tattoos swirling over his skin. In that moment she wanted to trace them all, committing them all to memory so that she could draw each one in her sleep. They meant something, each one, and she wanted to know what they were, why he'd placed them in a specific spot. But she held back her questions, deciding that she had plenty of time for that later. Now it was just to two of them laying in the middle of a room and her need was steadily growing.

Hermione let him pull her up, her body already limp from his simple touches. His lips moved over her collarbone as she felt her bra fall away from her, the satin hanging on her shoulders. A moment later it was tossed away and his mouth moved further down and over the swell of her breast only to capture a hardened nipple between his teeth.

There was music still playing, she knew there was, but it all seemed to be static as he sucked at her sensitive skin. That familiar desperation swelled up inside of her again and she found herself tugging at the waistband of his jeans, her small fingers making quick work of the button and zipper. Breaking away from her, his jeans and boxers were tossed aside, her own trousers and knickers soon joining the pile of discards.

The heat of her arousal trickled down the inside of her thigh and she shivered as one long, aristocratic finger wiped it up and slid inside of her. He sighed, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he slipped in another finger and began to thrust. Hermione clung to him, her toes curling into the floor as her hips rocked up against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing up against her clit as she ground herself against him.

"Please," she whimpered as she pressed her face against the top of his head. For the life of her, she didn't quite know what she was begging for. All she knew was that a heated coil was steadily tightening within her as his fingers curled up inside of her, pushing steadily against that one spot that she was never quite able to reach on her own. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the dam inside her broke and her walls clamped down around his fingers.

If it hadn't been for his arm wrapped around her waist she was sure that her body would have slumped down to the floor. Sweat covered her skin in a thin sheen, but that didn't seem to deter him from kissing her, his teeth biting at her collarbone before his tongue moved over it in a long stroke. She gripped onto his shoulders as he slowly withdrew his fingers, her hips following the movement as she let out a soft cry.

Watching him put those fingers in his mouth and suck them clean was something completely new to her and only served to make her soaking wet all over again. She put a hand out to stop him, to pull his fingers from his lips only to replace them with her own. The taste of her release was different, and she found that she liked it. Or maybe it was just the taste of him that made her moan.

"Fuck kitten," he whispered as he pulled his fingers from her mouth and kissed her. "I need you, love."

Hermione let him push her back down to the floor, her tongue sliding over his as he deepened the kiss and settled himself between her thighs. He was hard against her, and she couldn't help but moan as his cock slid back and forth over her soaking cunt. Nails raking lightly down his back, she bucked up against him. She couldn't seem to even form the words to tell him that she needed to feel him inside of her. But he seemed to sense it and he slowly entered, and her back arched up off of the floor as the width of him stretched her in the most delicious way.

For a moment he just lay there, unmoving as he panted against her skin. Then he began to move. At first, he tried to keep the pace slow, his strokes almost gentle as he moved, but it became quickly apparent that that didn't suit either one of them. His hand gripped her thigh, pressing it back as his hips snapped against her. The change in angle forced a strangled from her throat and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"Don't," Sirius said, his voice almost a growl as he continued to thrust, her leg now slung over his shoulder. "Don't silence yourself. I want to hear you, love. Please."

It was an easy order to follow and she let her hand fall away from her mouth, the cries and moans now tumbling from her lips in abandon. Her body began to writhe beneath him, her movements becoming quickly erratic as she came closer and closer to the edge. Chest arching up against him, she let herself fall. "Sirius," she managed to say, her voice ragged as her body shook with the strength of her release.

"Fuck, Hermione," was all he could seem to say as she fluttered around him, the order of the words never the same as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. A moment later he followed, his cock throbbing inside of her as her name became almost a prayer on his lips. Her leg fell gracelessly back down to the floor and it took what little strength she had left to let her arms curl around him, her fingers pulling lightly at the ends of his hair.

The record continued to play, she noticed as he rolled off of her and tucked her against his side. It didn't seem to matter that the room smelled of sex and that they were laying naked in the middle of his attic. He just held her close and carefully pushed her sweat-soaked curls back from her face before kissing her again.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered against her forehead, his words punctuated with kisses against her damp skin.

"Just tonight?"

Thanks again to my amazing beta, starrnobella, for helping me sort through the mess in my head and being so patient with all of my rewrites. You are wonderful and I love you.

I am so sorry for my unexpected absence. Life decided to kick me in the ass and, to add insult to injury, my muse decided to take an unapproved vacation. But, I hope that this chapter will make up for all of that and I hope to get myself back on a reasonable update schedule. Even still, thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Y'all don't know how much it means to me to see that so many people like my little story. It's truly mind blowing.

And, exciting news, 'Leather and Lace' has been nominated for Best Fan Fix in the Shrieking Shack Society's Mischief Managed Awards 2017. What even? I was, and am still, so dumbfounded by this. You guys are amazing. Here's the link to vote, just remove the parentheses, and please check out all of the other wonderful stories and authors that are nominated:

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Voting ends on April 30th.

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