Title: Caught
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s): Sirius/Hermione
Rating: R
Length/Word Count: One-shot, 3,266 words
Summary: Late one night, Hermione finds out that strange noises in Grimmauld Place are not always what they seem.
Authors notes: AU in that Sirius is alive. Special thanks to quite_grey for all of her help in looking this over, but any mistakes that remain are all mine. Comments and Concrit are welcome! Written for a_belladonna as a part of wizard_love 2008.
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.

Originally posted here.


Caught

A faint moan escaped through the crack beneath the door and Hermione froze in the hallway. It was close to two in the morning; Hermione had been up late studying for her NEWTs as usual, and she’d just come from the bathroom after brushing her teeth. Before she could wonder about the sound coming from Sirius’ bedroom, she heard it again, then a harsh grunt, a heavy breath and the sound of sheets rustling over a bed.

Hermione worried her lip. It sounded like Sirius was having an awful nightmare.

She crept closer to the door though her first instinct was to find Harry; he was much closer to Sirius, had a lot of experience with nightmares over the years and was the natural choice to go to for help. But he’d moved out to attend the Academy for Aurors a week before, and only Hermione and Sirius lived at Grimmauld Place now.

Hermione took a step back. It really wasn’t her place to interfere—but then another weak cry pierced the air and Hermione flew to the door again. She couldn’t just leave him to suffer, could she?

She grabbed the doorknob and turned, slowly opening the door so as to not startle him.

Her breath hitched. Sirius was naked, thrashing on top of the bed, his eyes clenched shut, his head thrown back against the pillows. But he wasn’t having a nightmare; Hermione had never been so wrong in her entire life.

Every instinct told Hermione to flee. To back out of the room and shut the door as quietly as she could, then dash to her bedroom and pretend that none of this had happened, that this was all some fever dream brought on by studying lust potions for her exams.

But she couldn’t move.

Sirius’ toes curled around the bunched up blankets at the foot of the bed. His legs were spread in an open vee, his pale skin covered with wiry black hair, thinning just below his bent knees. His thighs clenched and Hermione swallowed back a gulp. She would not look up any further. She would back out of the room. She would softly close the door. She would pretend-

A loud moan snapped her gaze to his lips. His mouth fell open; harsh panting filled the room, growing irregular as the seconds ticked on. His tongue darted out for a brief moment, just a flash of pink over his lips, and Hermione’s mouth went dry.

She looked down, but down was worse. Down was a smoothed-muscled chest dotted with two pink-brown nipples, pebbled into two taut nubs, straining up as if begging to be sucked. Down was a narrow waist, a tight stomach that fluttered with each sharp intake of breath, a trail of dark hair partially hidden by a clenched forearm and a bent wrist moving up and down, up and down, faster and faster.

Hermione willed herself to look away, but her big, powerful brain that was ruled by logic and sensibility could not get her eyes to see reason.

Her gaze followed the curved line of his fingers. The head of his cock poked through the tight ring of his fist and Hermione stifled a gasp, clenching the front of her nightgown at her stomach. His shaft was thick and long, blushing pink and growing darker toward the crown, swollen and slick in his hand. He twisted his wrist with every stroke, and with every stroke she told herself to leave; his hips jerked with every thrust and with every thrust her desire pushed away her guilt.

His body tensed. Anticipation licked at Hermione’s legs; her thighs quivered in sympathetic time with his; heat spread across her chest as a tremble went through his and then great gobs of white spurted across his stomach; he called out a name.

“Hermione-”

Hermione’s jaw dropped—she was halfway through the open door before she could think about closing her mouth, fear coursing through her veins. She’d been caught, and not caught doing something silly like sneaking down for a midnight snack or accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom while he was getting ready for a shower (he’d only had his shirt off that time, and it had been his fault for not locking the door). No, she’d been caught gaping at him, spying on him like some sort of a pervert. God knew what Sirius thought of her now. She would have to move out, first thing in the morning—no, that night, as soon as she could get her things packed. Surely Ron would let her bunk over the shop with him and George, even if they’d just had a huge row and broken off their relationship two weeks before. Worst came to worst, she could always go crawling back to her parents.

Hermione couldn’t face the hurt that was sure to be in Sirius’ eyes, but she found herself inexplicably pausing at the door. Maybe it was because she thought she deserved it or because she was some sort of masochist or maybe she was just plain mental, but for whatever reason she turned around.

Sirius’ eyes were closed; the corners of his lips were turned up in quiet content and he let out a sigh.

He hadn’t seen Hermione at all.

***

Hermione avoided Sirius at first. It wasn’t hard to do; Grimmauld Place was huge and they’d never had any standard meal times, no spoken agreement that tea was served at four, dinner at six-thirty. She worked at the Wizarding Library of London part-time during the day, and Sirius loathed libraries as much as Ron and Harry, so she was confident she wouldn’t run into him there. She began to study at the library, too, scheduling her tutoring sessions with Professor McGonagall to take place there rather than at Grimmauld Place, stopping for a quick meal on her way home so she could head straight for her room when she returned each night.

It was a sensible arrangement; a library was a much more appropriate place for studying than her bedroom or the kitchen at Grimmauld Place with all its distractions and Sirius bringing her tea, nagging at her to eat. She didn’t need tea to study; she needed quiet and focus, so really, changing her habits had very little to do with Sirius. It was a happy side-effect; that was all.

Whenever they did happen to run into each other (Sirius never had a standard schedule, much to Hermione’s annoyance) Sirius would tease her that she was working too hard and try to drag her to the kitchen for some tea or a biscuit or two. She brushed him off easily at first, but with every offer and every rejection, Sirius’ grey eyes clouded with disappointment, and it became harder and harder to say no.

She tried to ignore it. It wasn’t fair for him to make her feel guilty; she hadn’t done anything wrong.

And every night it was becoming more difficult to fall asleep. She tossed and turned, the sound of sheets rustling against her legs reminding her of Sirius, the way he’d writhed against the bed, the arch of his in-step against crumpled blankets. Her face grew hot and she buried her head in her pillows, but the images didn’t stop; they never stopped coming until Sirius did, and she would finally fall into a fitful sleep with the memory of his voice calling her name.

It had to stop.

***

Hermione rushed into Grimmauld Place, fighting to close the front door against a powerful gust of wind when a hand appeared above hers and suddenly the door slammed shut.

“It’s windy today,” a voice rasped from behind. A puff of warm air blew across her cheek, but when she turned, Sirius had already backed up a few steps, a safe distance away.

“Yes, rather cold even for February.” Hermione unwound the wool scarf from her neck and shrugged off her cloak, hanging them both on the coat rack next to the door.

“You’re home early,” Sirius said, a trace of curiosity in his voice. “Did you have plans tonight?”

“Plans?”

“Yeah, it’s Valentines Day. Are you and Ron-”

“Ron and I? No—Ron and I, well, we haven’t been Ron and I for quite some time.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Sirius said.

“It’s fine. I have more time to concentrate on studying.”

“Studying.” There was a barked edge to Sirius’ tone. “If you ask me, you could do with a bit less of that.”

A small frown marred Hermione’s lips, but Sirius’ words weren’t anything she hadn’t heard before; just most of the others had given up on ‘getting her to relax’ by now.

“What about you?” Hermione’s stomach fluttered. “Did you have special plans for V—tonight?”

“Oh yes,” Sirius said. His grey eyes glittered and Hermione’s stomach dropped. “I’m meeting Harry—I plan on getting him ragingly pissed tonight. He could use with a bit more fun right now.”

“How romantic.” Hermione rolled her eyes but she couldn’t ignore the relief flooding her chest. Relief for Harry, of course. He could use some company on Valentines Day now that he was single again as well.

“You could join us,” Sirius said, a gleam of hope in his eyes.

Hermione cracked a smile. “And ruin boys night out?”

“Boys night out is always better with the company of the fairer sex.”

Hermione shifted her weight. “It sounds nice, but I really should-”

“Study,” Sirius finished for her. He gave her a pained smile. “One of these days I’ll manage to get you away from those books for a night.”

“Give Harry my love?”

Sirius nodded and grabbed his scarf from the peg next to hers, then bundled it around his neck. Hermione edged over toward the staircase and was about to bid Sirius a good night when suddenly he swooped down and kissed her cheek.

“Don’t study too hard,” he whispered, his breath hot on her ear. Sirius was at the door before she could react, and with a gust of wind sealing the imprint of his lips to her cheek, he was gone.

***

In 1820, Cecila Warbles created the Luxuriatentia potion based on the ingredients and brewing method of the Amortentia potion. State the differences in each, and how each change plays a role in creating the different effect of the Luxuriatentia potion.

Hermione tapped her quill against the desk as she read over the beginning of her answer.

Viper eggs are used in place of Ashwinder eggs to create a spike of lust that will fade between twenty-four to forty-eight hours depending on the number of eggs used, as opposed to Ashwinder eggs which create the all-consuming, obsessive love indicative of the Amortentia potion.

Hermione leaned back in her chair with a sigh. She’d been stuck on this question for the last hour, even though she’d able to recite the answer in her sleep for months. Of course tonight of all nights she had to be working on her practise exam for potions and of course there was a question all about the details of a lust potion and it was all Sirius’ fault that she couldn’t breeze through her answer and move on.

Her thoughts betrayed her: Sirius kissing her cheek before he’d left for his night out with Harry; Sirius inviting her out on Valentine’s Day, even if it was just to join him and Harry at some seedy pub; Sirius just being Sirius with his gleaming eyes and mischievous smile, promising one day to distract her from her studies; Sirius, naked on his bed, shuddering and calling out her name-

Hermione balled up her practise exam and threw it across the room. It didn’t matter that it was nearly a month ago, that she’d avoided him as much as she could afterward, that she didn’t dare leave her room to brush her teeth at night or go near his bedroom at all, even during daylight hours; the memory wouldn’t fade. And it affected everything—she never would have thought twice about a kiss on the cheek from him before, or an invitation for a drink or offering to make her a cup of tea.

It was torture; Sirius was torturing her and it wasn’t fair and Hermione was tired of it.

Reckless adrenaline thrummed through Hermione. She pushed back from the desk and went to her bedroom door, opening it just enough that it didn’t look deliberate, but wide enough that anyone who happened to be passing by could see her bed if they stopped to look. She stripped to her knickers and then with a secret smile, slipped out of those as well, leaving the whole lot in the middle of her bedroom floor.

Hermione walked to a full-length mirror in the corner, pushing away the nervous twinge of her stomach that begged her to close her door. She wasn’t bad-looking naked; she still had a bit of baby-fat around her middle and her breasts weren’t as big as she would have liked if she ever gave any attention to those sorts of things. But Sirius obviously thought she was desirable, though he hadn’t seen her naked.

She glanced at her clock. It was a few minutes past midnight, and she wondered if Sirius would be coming home soon, though realistically she knew he probably would be out for hours. But still she wondered what it would be like if he came home early, if he walked past her bedroom, and glanced through the open door to find her standing in front of her mirror without a stitch of clothing on. A familiar tingle shot down between her thighs, and this time she didn’t push it away, didn’t ignore it.

Her nipples grew to hard peaks with the cool air of the house and she brushed her hand over her breast, circling her thumb around the nub. If Sirius could see her now, would it be torture for him? Would he think about it for weeks and weeks on end? Would the image of her naked and touching herself keep him up at night, haunting him no matter how hard he tried not to think on it?

Hermione lay down on her bed and pushed the covers down to the edge with her feet just as she imagined Sirius had done on that night. Her stomach flipped, but she forced a deep breath and closed her eyes, welcoming all the thoughts she’d tried so hard to stuff away for the last month. She skated her hand down over her breast again, and her mind carried her back in time, back to opening the door to Sirius’ bedroom. She saw him there, naked on his bed, his hips rising off the mattress, his head thrown back against the pillows. But this time she wouldn’t just stare.

Her hand crept down further, over her stomach, down between the vee of her thighs. She threaded her fingers through her damp curls, and suddenly she was in the bed with Sirius, and his hand was between her legs, seeking out the tight knot of her clit. She remembered the feel of his lips on her cheek, but she imagined them on her neck, her jaw, her mouth, her throat, the rough stubble of his chin scraping against her inner thigh. She heard him whimper her name, and he would tell her he wanted her, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her clit, slipping his fingers inside-

“Sirius-” Hermione moaned, a shiver running through her. Her eyes fell open; she turned her cheek toward the pillow and through the fog of her fantasy, she recognised a shadow in her doorway.

Hermione inhaled sharply. A pair of grey eyes met hers through the darkness but a moment later, they were gone.

“Wait-” Hermione called out, but she heard footsteps move further down the hall, and she jumped out of her bed after them. She caught sight of Sirius’ back as he was about to turn the corner. “Stop—Sirius, please-”

He turned around and his gaze met hers for a split-second before he looked toward the ceiling.

Hermione huffed. “What? You won’t even look at me?”

“You’re a bit starkers at the moment.” There was a trace of amusement in Sirius’ voice, and Hermione’s cheeks flamed. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“Oh.” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you can…you can stop.”

“Really,” Sirius said. His lips quirked.

“This is not funny.” Hermione refused to be embarrassed and she forced her hands to her hips and stalked down the hallway toward him. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“What I want?” Sirius glanced at her briefly, his tongue wetting his lips before he looked back at the ceiling.

“Don’t try to deny it.” Hermione’s stomach jumped, but that reckless feeling overtook her again, blocking out all reason and logic and any sense that her brain possessed, and she rose to her tip toes, lifted her face towards Sirius and kissed him.

Sirius opened his mouth with the pressure of her lips, and Hermione felt a thrill a victory as she swept her tongue inside; Sirius tasted spicy and hot like firewhisky. She pressed closer, her nipples brushing against the fabric of his robes, but then Sirius grabbed her arms and gently but firmly pushed her away.

“Hermione—you don’t know-”

“No—I saw you, I heard you,” Hermione said, shaking out of his grasp. Her voice faltered, but she squeezed her hands into fists and forced the words out. “Last month, you were touching yourself.”

“Wanking, you mean.” He sounded amused again and Hermione wanted to slap him.

“The proper term is masturbating as you very well know, and that’s what you were doing. I heard you—you said my name.”

“I like wanking better.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Hermione fixed him with a pointed stare, and the glimmer faded from Sirius’ eyes.

“Hermione, it was…” He opened his palms toward her and there was a sadness lining his face that Hermione hadn’t seen in a long while. “It was an old man’s fantasy.”

“You are not an old man.”

“I’ve got twenty years on you.”

“Nineteen years and two months, actually,” Hermione said with a harrumph.

Sirius laughed and there was a faint sparkle in his eyes again. “Fine, fine, nineteen years and two months.”

“That’s nothing for witches and wizards,” Hermione said. She edged closer to him, hesitantly walking her fingers up his stomach, over his chest. He caught her hand at his sternum and squeezed her fingers.

“Are you sure?”

Hermione’s breath caught as she stared into his eyes; hope and a hint of disbelief reflected in the grey, and with that, any lingering doubts she may have had were gone. She lightly traced the stubble of his jaw, her fingertips passing just below his lips.

“Yes.”

Sirius wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Are you really sure?”

“Yes,” Hermione repeated without hesitation.

She rose again to her tip-toes, her lips brushing against his, and he kissed her back without any of the reservations from before. His tongue dove into her mouth; she was full of the taste of him, and when he finally pulled back, his eyes were dancing.

“I can’t believe all it took was a good wank to get you away from your books.”

Sirius grinned and before Hermione could give him a playful smack on the shoulder, he kissed her again.


-Fin-







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