springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2008-03-08 18:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | art, fic, het, sirius/hermione |
Happy Springsmut, darsynia!
Author/Artist: nixitall
Recipient: darsynia
Title: The Born Again Virgin
Rating: NC-17 (Art is G)
Pairing(s): Sirius/Hermione
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Hermione has been suffering through a dry spell. A long dry spell.
Warnings: wall!sex, pining, masturbation
Media: pencil
Word Count: ~5,200
Author/Artist's Notes: This was written for Darsynia, using her 'some sort of discovery' prompt. I hope you enjoy it; I had a fun time writing it. I finished it ahead of schedule so I decided to add a drawing. I hope it works, too. :D Thank you, thank you, thank you to my beta, who I can’t name, but you know who you are!
Two years. More precisely, it was two years, seven months and thirteen days. Not that she admitted to keeping track. The old parchment covered in tick marks on her dresser offered no explanation to the casual observer. Not that said casual observers ever found their way into her bedroom, and therein lay the problem.
She did not know the official length of abstinence to be declared a 'born again virgin', only that the marker had past. That fiery rush of sensation at being so intimately filled by a man lay long forgotten no matter how hard she strained her memories for it. The knowledge that people often went without sex for long periods of time did nothing to placate her. For Hermione Granger, this was becoming a medical emergency.
Hermione lay in her bed, fully awake with eyes shut while thinking about her predicament. She had never had trouble in the past. She had stepped out a bit after breaking up with Ron. None of it came to anything, so she decided to take a little hiatus. Then the hiatus turned into a way of life. She knew she was too fixated on it. Too obsessed. She had eyed the checkout boy at the grocery yesterday, such was her desperation. The truth was she was not bent on having sex with just anyone. There was a man haunting her dreams of late. One she had never imagined she would see again, let alone fancy. The magical world once again astounded her.
Unconsciously, her fingers brushed against the edge of her knickers as she thought about him. It had all started one year ago today. Ginny was going stir-crazy from being pregnant and had dragged her to a pub so she could eat greasy fish and chips and watch other people, namely Hermione, get drunk. Hermione had not intended to get drunk; it was Ginny's insistence that she have a few drinks that did her in. Two days prior Ginny had unleashed the mother of all Bat Bogey hexes on Percy for 'coughing too loudly' so it was best to just do as one was told around her. Well, a few drinks turned into a lot of drinks, and lowered inhibitions turned into mad snogging with the equally sloshed Justin Finch-Fletchley.
All in all, things were looking well for Hermione. Then Harry burst into the pub, shouting a wild tale about some man appearing out of thin air in the middle of a shopping center in Mexico City who claimed to be Sirius Black.
Ginny did the only sensible thing a woman can do in just such a situation: She went into labor. Harry promptly fainted, Justin puked on Hermione's shoes, and all manner of chaos ensued. So with Harry and the entire Weasley family incapacitated, Hermione ended up at the Ministry's Portkey office trying to talk the after hours employee into granting her a Portkey without the usual twenty-four hour paperwork wait. She was Hermione Granger after all. When that name didn't work, she was forced to drop Harry's. Even then, she still had to resort to flat-out bribery. She never found out if Justin even recognized it was her he had been snogging.
She arrived at the English Consulate in Mexico City several Galleons lighter, hair frayed in every direction, and in desperate need of a fresh pair of shoes. Frank Croaker, an Unspeakable, met with her and led her to a private room.
Her heart had leapt in her chest when she saw him.
She had expected it to be a mistake, or a hoax, but it was no such thing. He looked as he had the last time she had seen him, at Grimmauld Place so many years ago. He struck her as more handsome than ever, though undoubtedly he looked the same, and she was more of an age to appreciate it. Bellatrix's curse had left a tear across the chest of his otherwise smart attire, allowing a peek at freshly healed skin. Harry had told her one dark, desperate night on their interminable camping trip how Sirius had fallen into the veil.
Orange light from the smoggy sunset cast a surreal glow in the room. For a long moment, the two stared at each other as if unsure whether the other was real or a mirage. Until Hermione burst into tears and threw her arms around him. He was real. He squeezed her so tight it hurt. She didn't know how long they were like that; only that Croaker had left the room at some point. Sirius and Hermione were never particularly close before, but in that moment, they became the best of friends.
Into the night they talked. Hermione had long since shaken her drunken haze and sleep deprivation. It fell on her to relay the news of Voldemort's defeat and the Order's tragic losses. It was a rough time for both. The news of Remus and Tonks was devastating to him, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Croaker had managed to procure a return Portkey, and he brought a message from home. At 11:58 GMT, James Sirius Potter had been born.
Hermione sighed and stretched. Only a year ago… Harry had been irate that the Ministry had lied to him about the veil. It was no portal of death, but rather, one of time and space. Those who traveled through it were transported to a random time and place, most of which were never heard from again. Sirius could have ended up a thousand years in the future, or in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, or both.
She did not know when she had started to fancy him so much. They were quite close after their night in Mexico, and they shared the bond of being outside of the Weasley family which was growing more massive all the time. Perhaps it was the way he devoted his life to being a father figure for Teddy or that he had made peace with his past. Either way, Sirius chose to keep his family and friends close, and despite bouts of the sullens, he was a warm and caring man. Hermione's mind turned fuzzy again. A man she wanted to have care about her. This time, her fingers slid under the waistband of her knickers, only to find them already damp. She couldn't help it. She was infatuated.
He had moved in with Andromeda to be closer to Teddy; plus, the company was good for both of them. Hermione speculated about a tryst between the two. Neither was known to date other people, and they were Blacks after all—being cousins never seemed to interfere with that type of relationship.
Clearing her mind of Andromeda, she thought about the way the muscles in his back moved, for in her shyness, she often watched him when his back was turned. She imagined what it would be like to slide her hand in the back pocket of his jeans and give that amazing arse of his a squeeze. Would he like it if she did that? Would he smile, causing those little lines at the corners of his eyes to appear? Would he touch her the way she was touching herself now? She could probably come in an instant if it was his strong fingers sliding into her. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out as she rubbed harder. The wave of pressure built inside her; she clenched her thighs together over her hand as it crested and broke, leaving her gasping and shaking.
Hermione buried her face in the sheets until she recovered. Only thoughts of Sirius could bring her to such an intense orgasm. It always made her cheeks flush when she had to face him, knowing what she did while she thought of him. She would see him later today, a thought that both elated and embarrassed her.
A sudden weight on the bed signified Crookshanks' arrival. She opened one eye to see his squashed face hovering over hers. Her morning activities had delayed his breakfast. Reality was back in the form of a hungry cat.