I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you to Glorioux – my good friend, amazing author and brilliant beta. Thank you

Older Men Do it Better Series – Sirius

Fate is a Naughty Witch, Part Two

"Let me help you with this, witch."

Sirius felt how Hermione's little hand trembled slightly under his palm. Together, with his hand over hers, they continued to apply the salve over his chest. With their dual efforts, the itching and burning had finally abated, giving way to other urgent yearnings and desires. For the whole time it took to fully spread the salve, Sirius' eyes didn't leave Hermione's even for a moment. The wizard was quickly becoming addicted to the warm, velvety depth of her doe gaze. Its deepness was intoxicating. Those chocolate eyes, so enticingly adorned with curly eyelashes, just begged to be kissed.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Sirius pressed the witch's little palm even tighter to his chest to still their movements, circled his other hand around Hermione's waist firmly and leaned towards her fluttering eyelashes with a clear intent to kiss them. The wizard's eager lips twitched slightly in anticipation, and Hermione's eyes widened in realization of what was about to happen. The young witch drew a shuddered breath, parting her plump, rosy lips just enough for the pearls of her glistening teeth to be exposed. The sight of this new and even more tempting target forced Sirius to change his direction at the last moment, and a second later, with a low, husky groan, his skilful lips covered Hermione's, with his dexterous tongue immediately darting to explore the smoothness of those pearls.

The kiss was long, intense and breathtaking. At some point, with satisfaction, Sirius noticed that the witch's fingers had found their way into his long locks, and her pliant, delicious curves were pressed flush against him. Needing a breath, the wizard moved to Hermione's top lip, tracing its chiselled contour with light, wet touches of his tongue. The next stop was Hermione's small, freckled nose. Then, with deft precision, he pressed light kisses to the delicate eyelids. The fluttering of her eyelashes was tickling Sirius lips, making him smile.

As reality slowly began to dawn back for the young witch in his arms, Sirius felt how she first stiffened in his embrace, and then after a moment, hurriedly removed her hand from his hair, and stepped back from him. In her rush to put as much distance between them as possible, Hermione forgot that her right hand was still covered with Sirius' and tightly pressed to his still, rather bare chest. The young witch tugged, but the wizard didn't let go. Their eyes met again, just as before the kiss – Hermione's wide opened and cautious, Sirius' dark and intense.

Our young lioness bit her slightly swollen lower lip and breathed out softly as bright pink blush once again crept over her cheeks, "I take it you feel better now. It worked then. Good. I am sorry, Sirius, for all this mess. I bet you are in a hurry. It is Friday night, after all, and you most definitely have plans. Thank Merlin, we were able to fix this..." at that, the girl stammered a little, "this problem. I would hate to think that I ruined your Friday night." A small, wistful smile appeared on the witch's face. All the while she was talking; she stubbornly tried to free her hand from under Sirius' unwavering palm.

"Hermione," murmured the wizard huskily, taking the witch's little hand in both of his and keeping it there like a tiny bird cocooned between his hot palms. Carefully, with his gaze firmly locked on the witch, he brought her hand to his lips and said, his words vibrating over her heated skin. "I am not in a hurry, princess. And I do not have any plans. May I take you somewhere, Hermione? Dinner, perhaps?" At this, his lips finally touched her hand. He wasn't even kissing it. He was just slowly smoothing his lips over the skin of her wrist, knuckles, delicate fingers, palm, opening his mouth slightly and burning her skin with his hot breath.

The weak tremor of the girl's fingers and a hitch in Hermione's breathe indicated the exact reaction for which the wizard was decidedly aiming. Encouraged by her responsiveness, Sirius continued caressing her arm with his mouth, slowly venturing higher and higher, reaching for the witch's elbow and luring her closer to him again.

Blinded by his early success, and already imagining the wonderful continuation of this evening in the witch's bedroom, Sirius didn't notice the change in Hermione's breathing and demeanour. Thus, it was a complete surprise for him, when Hermione, in one determined tug, finally freed her hand from its prison, simultaneously completely destroying the sensual and magical atmosphere between them. "Hermione," groaned Sirius, his hands already feeling bereft without her little palm between them.

Alas, the little witch didn't listen to him again. Frantically looking around the room for Sirius' shirt, and rather furiously blushing, Hermione whispered, "It's all right, Sirius, really. You don't have to worry about me; I am fine, truly. There is no need for pity here. Honestly, you know me, a book, a cup of tea, and I am all-good again." By the end of this phrase, the witch already found Sirius' shirt and was insistently placing it into his hands.

The wizard growled, displeased that the witch, with her customary tendency to over think and overanalyze, had ruined his carefully created scheme of seduction. Damn, everything was going so well, swore Sirius in his mind. He knew, of course, that it would not be easy to tame the young lioness. Heck, he didn't want it to be easy, he was grateful enough for this to happen at all. Hermione Granger's heart was a fine prize, and he was more than willing to walk an extra mile for it.

He started again, "Hermione, you are not listening to me. Look at me, princess. It is not about pity. How on earth you came up with this idea? I admire you. You know that, right? I've been waiting four years to finally have a chance to worship you, princess. Please, Hermione, look at me."

Unfortunately for our sweet talking lover boy, Hermione was determined not to look at him, perhaps knowing, that once he caught her in his enthralling, grey gaze, she would be done for. Therefore, the young witch, fastidiously avoiding his eyes and furiously biting her lips, opened the flat's door and quietly uttered, "Sirius, please, do not make it even harder for me than it already is. All right. Since you insist, we will have lunch together next week. Thank you for everything."

With a heavy sigh of utter defeat, Sirius put on his shirt, and not bothering to even buttoning it, walked out of Hermione's apartment, giving her a quick peck on a cheek on his way out. He had barely managed to exclaim, "I'll owl you," before the door was slammed shut right behind him. Sirius took a deep, long breath and leaned on that blasted door, which had just blocked all his marvellous plans.

His heart was beating wildly. Aroused, disappointed, unsatisfied, he was not ready to give up just yet. He could feel, see and smell the witch's desire for him. Sirius was convinced that Hermione was leaning against the door at this moment. He could hear her laborious breathing behind it. If only I could make it back to her flat, thought the wizard. I would not let her overanalyze. I will coax her with my passion and desire, and everything would be fabulous.

Engrossed entirely in these thoughts, Sirius unconsciously put his hands in his pockets. To his amazement, his fingers found something soft and silky to the touch in there. He carefully took it from the pocket, looked at it, and suddenly laughed aloud. In his hand was the red lacy bra that had been the reason he had come to Hermione's flat in the first place. Oh, yes, the wicked witch Fate was still on his side.

Aye, ma'am, grinned Sirius. His toothy, smug smile made a miraculous comeback, and his face was once again irresistible. Armed with the red bra and a renewed hope, Sirius knocked on the door. It opened almost instantly, but not fully, making only a narrow crevice. The wizard could hear a heavy sigh and Hermione's voice, "Sirius, please." Not wasting even a minute, Sirius silently snaked his arm with the silky garment dangling on it through the opening. There was an 'oh', a peculiar huff, and then the door opened fully.

"Where did you find it, Sirius?" Hermione looked thoroughly confused. Using the witch's momentary confusion to his advantage, Sirius quickly stepped inside the flat, closed the door, and with light, bouncy, predatory steps advanced towards the witch, forcing her to walk backwards.

"This little treasure flew from you window right into my arms by itself, Hermione. You let it roam free during your skirmish with Ron, and I was going to return it to you. I would say it was a destiny, don't you think, princess?" Already with her back pressed to the wall, Hermione attempted to snatch her bra from Sirius' hands. The wizard, however, refused to let her have it, saying in his husky, seductive baritone, "Oh, no, princess, I suffered for this little, naughty thing quite greatly. I think you owe me a kiss for that. Come on, just a little, tiny kiss, princess." With that, he covered the last foot between them and pressed into her – his legs between her thighs, his hands all over her and his lips on hers.

This time there was no escape for Hermione. Sirius didn't give her any opportunity to think, to analyze, or to breathe for this matter. The red lacy red bra was forgotten carelessly on the floor, as well as the itching and Ron Weasley. It was decided, by fate and the wizard – that this night was the night for Hermione Granger to find out firsthand exactly how truthful were rumours about Sirius Black – the lover.

His lips and his hands were working in unison, caressing, learning, giving and taking. By the time the lovers left the warm spot by the wall, Sirius didn't leave a stitch of clothing on his witch and every inch of her body was thoroughly kissed, licked and fondled by him.

Oh, how joyful he felt. She was his. The witch he wanted was in his arms, his for the taking. He sensuously explored all of her – her luscious curls, thin ankles, pert, heart shaped bottom, peach coloured skin and especially those magnificent, perfect breasts with their dusty rose peaks. Every fibre of his being was aroused to the highest level, along with every organ. Oh, how many times he made her moan his name during this night, first, by using his fingers, then, by using his tongue, and only then by his – famous, glorious – self. Sirius Black used every ounce of his knowledge and experience to insure that after that night, his witch, his little lioness, his Hermione will never look elsewhere for love. Nope, she was his and his alone. And if he would need to read a few hundred books to keep her interested, then he would do just that.

When, a long while later, he held the sleeping curly-haired witch in his arms, Sirius once again gave a salute to a naughty, wicked witch named Fate for liking him. Woof.

And this concludes the first story from the "Older Men" series. I have ideas for Lucius, Remus, Severus and Xeno Lovegood. It is your call, my darlings. Who do you want to see featured next?