Title: London in Black

Author: Caitlinlaurie

Rating: M, for Language and Smut

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Hermione/Sirius

Summary: Fights can be such wonderful things. Sirius helps Hermione discover the joys of makeup sex, BMWs, and London at night.

Warnings/Notes: Okay, I'll admit that this is little more than a smut-shot. Oh well, it has been haunting me ever since I saw Henry Cavill in the Dunhill Black commercial. To see the commercial/trailer, check my profile. BTW, Henry Cavill is my Sirius, so I tend to see him in all my stories anyway, but that commercial was just too perfect.

Disclaimer: All characters and their canon histories are the property of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: This is smut and public exhibitionism, so turn away if you are easily offended! Also, this is canon through DH, but is EWE.

***

"Sirius, slow down!"

"Slow down? Slow down?" Sirius repeated while shouting, mashing the gas to the floor and down-shifting with a forceful yank. His anger was radiating in the small space of the BMW, trapping her and swirling around her. "How dare you? Don't bloody well talk to me like that! I am not one of your little boys to order and boss around. That might fly with Harry and Ron, but not with me, sweetheart."

Tears filled Hermione's eyes as she turned her head away to look blindly out the window. The sight of London lit up at night, hours after a storm, did little to comfort her. When had it all gone wrong? What had started out as one of the best nights of her life had quickly turned to disaster. Distantly, Hermione knew in the back of her mind that it was too good to be true. When Sirius had asked her to accompany him to dinner in London, she had accepted without thinking it through. He had that effect on her. And it had all gone so perfectly in the beginning too.

Their conversation was never dull, and they quickly got into a discussion of Transfiguration methods, moving on to films they enjoyed (Sirius loved French Noir and Hermione preferred older ones), even going so far as to debate the merits of the Who versus the Rolling Stones. Hermione had been delighted to discover how much Sirius enjoyed Muggle culture and how fluently he could talk about it. He wasn't the least bit insulting or patronizing like many Purebloods she knew. It made conversing all the easier and she found herself quickly falling for the Sirius Black charm. Their food had been exquisite (Coq au vin for her and Mousse de Saumon for him), and the French restaurant they were dining in was nice and intimate. It had all seemed so wonderful until…

"Is this about Parvati Patil?" Hermione suddenly asked, realizing that was when his mood had deteriorated so rapidly. It had occurred the moment after Parvati had seen her and came over to their table to say hello.

Sirius clenched his jaw, determined not to let her know how much her callous words had hurt him. Who did she think she was that she could hurt his feelings so easily? He was Sirius Fucking Black, and he did not let little girls barely from the schoolroom tramp all over his heart. Snorting at the very thought, he bit out, "'Course it's not about your little friend. Maybe I just felt like leaving. That place was stifling."

Hermione lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Really," she drawled. "That's why you tossed two hundred pounds on the table, giving the server what has to be the best tip of his life considering the bill couldn't have been more than eighty quid."

Yanking on the knot of his tie with one hand, Sirius growled, "I'll tip whatever the bloody hell I want to tip."

"Don't swear at me," Hermione snapped. "I have done nothing to deserve it."

"Nothing?!" Sirius queried in outrage, slamming on the breaks of the car and stopping them right in the middle of Westminster Bridge with the Houses of Parliament ahead of them and the London Eye sitting right behind them. Hermione looked around nervously, but the traffic was rather light as it was so late at night and no cars seemed bothered by them stopping in the far lane.

Opening the door, Sirius climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him as he took huge, gulping breaths of air. He couldn't do this. He thought he could, but he simply couldn't. He couldn't be this vulnerable. Every time he looked at her he wanted nothing more than to pull her to his body and bury his face in her hair. He wanted her wrapped around him, and he knew, that if that were to happen, he would end up begging her to never let him go. But to be in that position, to be that exposed to her…the thought chilled him to the core. Everyone he had ever cared about, save Harry, was dead. If he let her get that close, what was to stop her from one day leaving him too?

"Sirius?" Hermione asked questioningly. He turned to see that she had left the car as well, coming around to the front of the car where he stood without him even knowing it. Her eyes were big and confused, accusing him of causing her pain without reason. Guilt filled him, but he couldn't comfort her. No, he had to know.

"What are we to you, Hermione? 'Cause I sure as hell don't know." He sighed, running his fingers through his ebony locks roughly. "You are so hot and cold with me that I can barely keep up. Some days you want me, other times you push me away. Is this all a bloody game to you? If so, tell me now. I am much too bloody old to play with you, sweetheart."

Hermione's heart stuttered and stopped. "Me? You think I am the one playing here?"

Frustrated, he sighed. "Well, I sure as hell am not. I asked you to dinner, didn't I? I have been following you around like some pathetic puppy for the last three months, eager for anything you could give, haven't I? I waited very patiently for you to end your relationship with Ron. I know that I am not playing, sweetheart. Why are you?"

"Oh, Sirius," she whispered, moving closer to him. Her fingers naturally moved to clasp his lapel. Sirius tried to move away, but she would not let him escape from her grasp. She needed him, here like this. There could be no more misunderstandings between them; no more failed communications. Nothing else mattered but making sure that he knew that too. She lifted her dark brown eyes to his shuttered grey ones and said his name. "Sirius, look at me. Please." When he complied, she cupped his face and said, "You are not the only one who is uncertain. Ever since you came back from the Veil, you have had me in a constant state of confusion. I never thought I could so…viscerally feel for someone, but nothing I knew before seems to matter with how I feel for you. You break all the rules. I am not playing games here, either. But I am not a mind reader either, love. Why are you mad at me? We were having a wonderful dinner and then—"

"Then you introduced me to that school chum of yours as Harry's fucking godfather," Sirius said quietly. "His godfather, Hermione."

"Well, you are," she replied in confusion.

Sirius stepped away, walking over to his side of the car as he raked a hand through his hair again. He then turned to look out over the Thames. His postured was hunched, and he turned around and braced himself on the roof of the car. It was as if he had already accepted a defeat that had yet to come. "Do you think I don't know that?" Sirius said. Hermione strained to hear him, walking over to the bonnet and resting her hands as well. He continued, "Don't you know the problems I have had with my conscience over this? Contrary to popular opinion, I do have one, love. It has been eating me up inside."

"Why?" Hermione asked, perplexed frustration filling her voice.

"Because you are so young," Sirius said. "I am not completely devoid of sense. I know I probably should have waited until you were in your mid-twenties at least, but I couldn't bear the thought of you settling for some unworthy wizard in the meantime."

"Is that what this is about?" Hermione asked, completely shocked.

Sirius nodded his head.

"How bloody ridiculous," Hermione proclaimed, causing Sirius to look up at her quickly. "Do you think I care one jot for the age difference between us? Sirius, I am twenty-two and you are thirty-six—you not having aged one bit while you were gone—and that is a completely negligible difference in the Wizarding World."

"You say that now—"

"Hush," she said, wishing she was close to him so that she could rest one finger against his lips. "Let me finish. From the time I was a little girl, I have never fit in with the children my own age. I was reading Dickens at seven and Dostoevsky by nine. I preferred following the stock market to playing on the playground. I used to pretend that my dolls were my students and I was teaching them trigonometry and advanced physics. The point, Sirius, is that I long ago outgrew my peers and gave up the notion that age has anything to do with relationships." Her eyes sought his again, relaxing at the perceptible relief in his gaze. "I want to be with you Sirius. I don't know how to be anymore clear."

"Really?" he asked, revealing that under the uber-confident man was a youth, also afraid of rejection.

"Really," she said with a smile. "Oh, and Parvati? The one from the restaurant?"

"Yeah?"

"I introduced you as Harry's godfather because I didn't want to say your name. She is the biggest gossip in the world, and I knew that if I told her your name—that I was on a date with the Sirius Black—then tomorrow it would be all over the Daily Prophet."

Sirius chuckled ruefully. "So basically, I acted like a complete prat for no reason whatsoever."

Tapping the side of her nose gently, she replied, "Right in one."

They both laughed, and the angry tension that had been with them from the restaurant suddenly evaporated. What remained was much more unclear. True, there was the companionship and the camaraderie, but there was something layered beneath that. To Sirius, it was a million words yet to be said and a million desires yet to be acted. To Hermione, it was intimacy desperate to be built upon. But as for how it manifested in both of them…it was desire, plain and simple.

Hermione turned, walking around the front of the car. Her fingers trailed along the cold, slippery black metal as her eyes held his gaze. The hem of her black dress, the one she had bought especially for this date, trailed along the wet pavement as she moved closed. There was urgency in his gaze as she watched him, as if the separation their fight had forced upon them was unbearable. Sirius met her quickly, stopping her in front of him. With no words, he pulled her confidently into his arms. Their bodies aligned easily, as if they had been doing this for years instead of seconds. His head curved to the side and he closed his eyes, inhaling the light fragrance that was so deeply Hermione. She smelled of roses, tea, musk, and patchouli oil.

It was intoxicating.

His fingers burrowed into her hair, disregarding the topknot that she had so laboriously worked on all afternoon. She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, tilting her head so that their mouths might meet. For one long moment, they were suspended in silence, lips close together, but not touching. Neither moved, as if they were afraid that, when their lips met, they would break into thousands of little pieces.

But inaction was not in Sirius Black's nature, so he closed the distance between them. His lips were slightly moist, gently teasing her own. To Hermione's mind, it felt as though she was rubbing her mouth against the smoothest silk. It was tentative. Instead of the hot passion she had expected, she received tender devotion instead. Repeatedly, he kissed and nibbled at her mouth, sipping her lips over and over again. He made no move to deepen the kiss, but instead increased her frustration and desire until they were pooling and building, one on top of the other. Then, just when she was certain she could take no more, it shifted.

Suddenly, the kiss became hot and demanding. Her face was held tightly in his hands as his mouth commanded her. She didn't even feel herself walking, but in no time she was pressed against the car, the cool steel sending goose bumps across her exposed flesh. His tongue trailed along the seam of her mouth, seeking entrance which she happily granted him. Hermione now understood why this man had once been the most sought after lover in the Wizarding World. The raw effect he had on her body from mere kissing was enough to make her do anything. Her nipples contracted, aroused by the simple touch of his lips. She knew that the Imperious Curse was much like this. He robbed her of all thoughts and ideas, leaving a trembling, needy person in her place, with no thought but to increase the contact.

Shuddering, she placed her hands on his chest, sliding them upwards under his lapel. When she reached his shoulders, Hermione pulled him forward so that he was bracing all his weight on her and the car. She remembered rolling her eyes when she had seen the slick BMW parked in front of Grimmauld Place. What did a man, who was so devoted to his motorbike, need with a sports car? But now, as it met her back, she couldn't help but be grateful that he had been so impetuous.

Sirius's fingers rose to the strap of her black dress. With wanton need, he eased it from her shoulder, pulling it down to her arm. His lips then replaced where the dress had been. Gently, he suckled along her collarbone, forcing her to throw her head back as his magical fingers aroused her body, finding erogenous zones that she hadn't been aware of.

"Oh, love," he groaned against her skin. "I have wanted this for so long. You have no idea."

"Then take me," she whimpered back. "I'm yours."

His head shot up at that as some sanity returned to him. "We're on Westminster Bridge."

"I know," she murmured, admiring the perfect planes of his face in the artificial lamplight. "I cast a Notice Me Not charm." Her fingers trailed along the smooth columns of his neck as he gulped furiously, trying to restrain his building desire. Hermione recognized this and said, "Don't fight it. Just enjoy."

She then yanked his head back to hers.

Their lips once again met in a greedy assault. Their tongues slid against each other, questing for dominance and trying to soothe the fierce need that was driving them both.

"I don't think I can be gentle," Sirius managed to gasp out.

Hermione lifted one leg, wrapping it around his waist and pulling his body close to hers. Her eyes were dark pools of desire as she moaned the words, "Then don't be!"

With quick movements and little finesse, Sirius lifted Hermione onto the bonnet of the car, caring little for the fact that it was brand new and extremely expensive. His searching fingers slid up her thighs, parting them so that he might settle against her. As he slid up her silky skin to cup her bottom, he raised one eyebrow. "No knickers?"

Hermione smiled wickedly at him. "The cut of the dress wouldn't allow for it."

"Right," he said, disbelieving. Laughing, she slid the knot of his tie free, leaving the silk fabric loose on each side of his chest. Sirius opened his mouth to comment, but any thoughts he had on the subject though were quickly lost as Hermione began to kiss just under his ear, sucking and nibbling along his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her agile fingers quickly worked on the buttons, slipping them through the holes until she could pull the whole thing open, exposing the defined planes of his chest. Hermione's face was filled with admiration as she took in the sight of this perfectly proportioned male. His skin was dotted with chest hair, and his nipples were erect from the cold. She trembled at the sight of him. How was it possible that this man had spent years in the worst Wizarding prison, and yet still managed to look like this? Placing her hands flat against his chest, she dragged her fingers downward, causing him to shudder with desire and squeeze his eyes shut tightly.

"You are perfect," she whispered.

Sirius opened his eyes and looked down at the witch he had pinned to the bonnet of his car. She thought he was perfect? He wished that, for just one moment, she could see herself through his eyes. Her hair was fanned out in riotous display, and her lips were plump with passion. Eyes darkened, causing her to look nearly drugged with desire. Her chest was heaving from their actions, making his body tighten and sing. Her curves were so perfectly encased in the black sheath she wore that he didn't know how he had made it through dinner without touching her, without claiming her. And her tanned legs, which wrapped so easily around his waist, were parted gently in wanton abandonment. She was temptation personified.

He could wait no longer. With quick hands, he yanked down the front of her dress, exposing her full breasts and pink nipples to the cold night air. His pupils dilated when he saw her flesh uncovered before him. He wanted nothing more than to suckle and caress them. So he did. His head lowered and he pulled her right nipple into his mouth, sucking on the turgid peak as he gently massaged her other breast. Sirius could feel the cool air's effects on her skin, so he sought to warm her with his own body. When he had warmed her chest and skin, he gently tugged on her legs as he pulled her to the edge of the car. Her dress was pooled above her thighs and he smiled at the wetness when he lowered his fingers to her mound.

Smiling naughtily, he claimed her mouth as he gently stroked her folds. The moisture that had built from his previous ministrations was flooding his hand now as he fondled her and rubbed her little bundle of nerves. He seemed to know just were to touch and stroke to bring her to maximum pleasure, but still denying that ultimate release. Hermione was breathing heavily against his mouth, trying to meet his tongue, while thrusting eagerly against his fingers.

"Enough," Sirius suddenly said, ripping his mouth from hers. His fingers left her, and she moaned in protest, causing him to grin. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not going anywhere." He quickly unzipped his trousers and pulled out his aroused cock that was glistening on the tip. Pushing her thighs apart even further, Sirius aligned his penis to her slick opening, rubbing gently against her.

Hermione's head was forced back against the car as her hips undulated with need. Why was he stopping? What was he waiting for? She simply could not endure being apart from him any longer. With muscles she didn't know she had, she wrapped her thighs tight around his waist, her spike heels clicking together, and pulled him forward, causing him to sink deeply into her.

"Yes," she hissed out, tossing her head.

A heady groan was pulled from Sirius's throat as he thrust all the way forward. His torso curved downward until he was practically lying on top of Hermione. Their lips met hungrily as he lifted and adjusted her hips. Then he began to thrust. This new angle quickly had her all but sobbing into his mouth. Every thrust, every push of flesh against flesh hit her clitoris perfectly. That alone would have been enough to make him the best lover she ever had, but he didn't stop there. His mouth and hands were not idle. His tongue and lips passionately mimicked his hips and thrusts, assaulting her senses and surrendering her totally to his spell. His hands too, cupped and massaged her flesh, trialing from her breasts to her silk-clad hips, before moving around to her back and pulling and rubbing her against him.

The sibilant rasp of her dress against his woolen trousers was all but unnoticeable to the two lovers. So too was the distant sound of a ship's horn as it made its way along the Thames. The cars that passed them on the bridge, their occupants so oblivious to that which they could not see, had become nothing more than background noise to their need. Sirius had never been one for exhibitionism, and neither had Hermione (her most daring sexual exploit with Ron was being on top for a change), but he would have done this every night on Westminster Bridge in order to replicate what he was feeling just then.

The silky wet tightness that was embracing him, the heat of her mouth and skin, and the intensity of his emotions were all combining to make this the most incredible sex of his life. He thrust into her over and over, bracing his hands against the hood of the car, wishing he could prolong the feeling of her clasping him forever. Soon though, he felt his knees tighten, and that tingle begin at the base of his spine. His balls pulled up close to his body, and he knew he was about to come. Sirius pinched one of Hermione's nipples, while rubbing quickly that bundle of nerves between her nether lips. The effect was instantaneous. She nearly screamed as she came hard and fast, her muscles clamping down on him in such a way that he could do no more that spurt inside her, shuddering again and again, before collapsing atop her, pinning her to the bonnet of the car.

Her legs were locked around his hips as their chests heaved heavily together. Hermione swore that she thought her heart might beat out of its chest, so unused to this feeling was she. Never before had sex left her feeling so exhausted and alive, all at the same time. She had only ever had sex with one other man, but she had thought their passion to be fulfilling. She couldn't have been more wrong. Her orgasms before had been like gentle waves, nothing like this raw, clenching release that she had felt from the ends of her toes to the tips of her fingers. She wondered if this was the effect of good sex, or simply good sex with Sirius. Looking up at his beautiful face, his eyelashes resting gently on his cheekbones as he struggled to regain his breath, she quickly had her answer.

And she couldn't wait to do it again.

"Never let me go," he murmured into her hair, almost inaudibly. She wondered if she was meant to hear it, but it mattered little. She had to answer.

"Never," she whispered back.

A long moment passed between them where nothing was said and only the beat of their hearts could be heard.

Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other and Sirius helped her down off the car. Glancing quickly at the hood of the car, Sirius smiled at the fact that there was no dent or scratches on the bonnet. Merlin, he loved German engineering! Pureblood wizards might sneer at the thought of driving in cars or on motorbikes like Muggles, but he knew nothing could really compare to the thrilling feeling of control at having a V8-powered engine at your command.

Hermione smoothed her dress down her thighs and watched with unabashed curiosity as Sirius tucked himself away and zipped up his trousers. So she hadn't been imagining it then. He really was that endowed. Oh yes, she would enjoy every minute of this. With fast, yet deliberate, fingers, he slowly buttoned his shirt, but left the tails untucked. His tie remained loose, resting on both sides of his shirt. Good, she thought. She didn't fancy going to all the trouble of untying it again once they got back to Grimmauld Place. Sirius's eyes suddenly caught hers, and he wickedly grinned at her. He knew what direction her thoughts were taking her.

Catching her hips in his hands, he smoothed them up her torso, pulling up the top of her dress and re-securing the straps on her shoulders. His fingers hovered for a moment before he regretfully released her. "We better get back to Number Twelve," he said, his voice rough.

The sound of it sent thrills of desire down her spine. How was it possible that she was still trembling with desire? Not wanting to reveal his full effect on her, she forced a coherent response from her mouth. "All right. Let's go, then."

With a swing of her hips, Hermione moved around to her side of the car. After opening the door, she settled against the warm leather seats that happily embraced her as she sat. Sirius followed her lead, settling into the driver's seat without comment. His fingers turned the key in the ignition, causing the engine to roar to life. Quickly shifting into gear, the car sped off into the night as the tires easily found purchase on the slick road.

Hermione's thoughts ran rampant. How could they possibly go back from this? The simple answer was, they couldn't. True, he had expressed a desire for a relationship with her, but her insecurities kept her from trusting it. Looking out her window, Hermione smiled at the buildings lit along the Thames, and the sight of Big Ben rising before her. There was simply nothing for it. She had to go all in or chance missing out on what could be the best gamble of her life. Her heart might have been at stake, but looking over at the gorgeous face of the man who brought her more passion and pleasure than she could have dreamt of, she decided that he was worth the risk.

Little did she know that his mind was thinking along the same lines. Never before had he experienced someone like her. He had thought her his equal before, her clever mind forcing him to engage and match wits, but that was nothing to the way their bodies reacted to each other. In his younger years, he had gained enough experience to know good sex from bad and great sex from good. But what had just occurred, on top of his car in the middle of Westminster Bridge…it was beyond great. He had never thought sex could be that intense, and he would happily surrender all his freedom in order to feel it again and again. Whatever it took, no matter how long, he would win this woman until she had no thought of any man but him.

After all, this time Sirius Black was playing for keeps.

Fin.

* * *

AN: If you're interested Hermione's perfume is Viktor & Rolf's Flowerbomb (which was released in 2005, but in my head V&R is a Wizarding company too, and they got the scent earlier. And yes, it DOES smell that good). Also, this is set in 2001, so the Eye of London would be built by that time. And finally, the car is a black BMW E46 M3 Coupe.