Authors Note: A smutlet (or PWP, if you will) to cheer up my very dear friend and co-author angelically-devilish on this rather chilly Tuesday afternoon. Enjoy!

Pastel Pink Toenails

Sirius loved it when she painted her nails. Especially her toenails, with her tongue poked out in concentration and her body bent over double, her focus on those tiny delectable digits and the slow careful enamel brushstrokes.

He couldn't help but watch her, the summer sun setting in the small, high window of Grimmauld Place's kitchen window, her thin summer shirt bunching at her tiny waist. Her curls had been piled haphazardly on her head using her wand to anchor the unruly mess. He licked his lips when she blew an errant strand from her vision.

Hermione remained completely oblivious to her housemate's attentions continued to apply the pastel pink colour, more focused on getting it on her toes and trying to ignore the oppressive sticky heat that had all of London in its grip. She heard Sirius shift in the seat across from her, the Evening Prophet rustling quietly as he moved.

So it wasn't just the heat she was trying to ignore, she admitted that much to herself. Sirius Black, very much alive and very much revelling in that fact, had taken to walking around shirtless as the temperature in the ancient house soared. Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from looking up at him now, feeling her own body heat rise at the thought of all that tattooed flesh.

He turned another page and her body betrayed her mind as she found herself glancing up. She couldn't help but lick her lips as her throat went dry, the sight of the older wizard causing her brain to go blank and she completely forgot why they were sitting in the kitchen and just what she had been doing before that moment.

Sirius watched with amusement as the flush that had been contained to her slightly exposed chest rose up her neck and found her cheeks. He watched her eyes skim his chest, just as they had done so many times over the past week and it was suddenly confirmed in his mind that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Hermione recovered slightly when she saw him smirk, and in her haste she moved the nailbrush jerkily back to the open bottle. She watched mortified as her wrist made contact with the bottle, sending pale pink nail polish soaring across the kitchen table.

"Shit," she hissed, pulling the wand from her hair, the heavy curls falling down her back in sticky waves.

His chuckles echoed off the walls as she cast cleaning spells, her already wet nails forgotten as she tried to save the table.

"Maybe you should pay more attention to what you are doing instead of perving on me," he laughed.

Her mortification doubled as she slowly turned to look at him.

"Maybe you should wear a shirt or something," she countered.

"Now where's the fun in that? I never knew the great Hermione Granger could blush before this week," he replied smugly, his eyes twinkling as they raked over her body, taking in her denim shorts and that damned thin top.

Hermione opened her to mouth to reply but was stopped when he stood up, his long body lithe as he stalked toward her.

"Now, as amusing as it is to watch you paint those toes, I can think of much better things to do on a hot summers night."

She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his eyes, "Like what?"

"You know what," he countered, his voice taking on an edge as he drew closer to her, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair, "Besides, everybody already thinks we're shagging like bunnies. They even conspired to leave us alone tonight, so we wouldn't want to disappoint them now, would we?"

Come to think of it, Hermione had found it odd that everyone else who lived at Grimmauld Place had suddenly found reasons to be out of the house. She wondered how she hadn't noticed before now, but it was possibly because she had been more focused on the toned, tattooed chest in front of her.

"What makes you think I want to sleep with you?" Hermione asked, finding her voice and her courage.

He smirked, both hands spearing into her hair, bringing his face closer into hers, "Because, you want me."

She had only a second to register this arrogant proclamation before his lips crashed into hers, his tongue surging between her lips and robbing her of her last coherent thought. A moan escaped her as she gripped onto his belt to stop from melting into the floor. She was in sensory overload as he snogged her senseless.

He moved her against the kitchen table, his hands moving to her waist so her could lift her easily onto it. Her shirt was tugged over her head and her wand rolled to the floor with a clatter as his fingers found her bare breasts.

"Now, if I'd known you weren't wearing any knickers earlier…" he moaned, his head dipping to take one pert nipple between his lips.

She threw her head back, her body arching into him as her legs twined around his waist. Hermione let herself go, her mind free as her body took over, absorbing every touch and feel.

Later, she wouldn't be able to recall just how they managed to get their clothes off, all she would remember was that first touch of bare skin on bare skin, the slide of smooth flesh against slightly hairy and the discovery that his tattoos covered a lot more than just his chest.

He recaptured her soft lips, feeling the tingles race down his spine when she moaned and clutched him to her. His fingers gripped her hips, opening her wide to him as he surged into her with urgency. He'd been going out of his mind for weeks wondering just what it would feel like to nestle deep inside her and now the reality far surpassed any fantasy.

He thrust deep and hard, drawing out the strokes with maddening control. Her nails racked down his forearms as she gripped his wrists, her inner walls clutching him much as the rest of her body.

The urgency took over after several minutes of slow, deep thrusts and he began to build his pace, feeling the change in her body and catching the slight hitches in her breath as he hit that spot deep within her. Angling up, he earned another moan.

Hermione saw stars at he found a pleasure spot she hadn't been aware existed. Sirius's thrusts began to lose rhythm but he never missed after that, seeming to find his pleasure in hers. Finally, when he built them up to a blinding pace she began to feel that swelling bubble deep within her, signalling her approaching orgasm.

He felt it too, the subtle clutching of her inner walls and her increasingly vocal approval. He aimed higher and harder, his fingers moving to her breasts as he hunched over her working toward his own release.

"Oh god yes, Sirius!" she cried out, her nails drawing blood as he body arched and froze. The sensations washed over her in wave after wave of pleasure.

Sirius watched the witch beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut as she undulated against him and he felt his own body tighten in response. He moaned as he spent himself in her body, collapsing on top of her breathless.

She was the first to recover, her nails retracting to stroke the hair from his forehead, her expression of utter bliss.

"You were right, you know," she said, her voice a little hoarse.

"About what?" he asked, pulling back enough to examine her flushed face.

"I did want you," she replied, kissing him again.

"Well, that much was obvious to everybody but you," he whispered, pulling back to kiss her nose affectionately.

"I know that now. But do you want to know what else I want?" she asked, grinning.

"What?"

"A nice cold bath."

Chuckling, he picked up the witch with the messy half painted toes and carried her to the bathroom himself.

Thanks for reading!