Protector

‘Really?’

Er…no. Too eager. If she wanted that, she’d have taken Ron up on his offer.

Still, he couldn’t very well let a statement like that slide by without some sort of retort. He settled for a lazy smirk that he knew from experience would come off as suggestive – or was hoping it would at any rate. After all, it had been a while, and Hermione Granger wasn’t exactly in the same class of women that he’d chatted up in his younger years; she was above them.

Only a brief moment of silence passed before Sirius’s curiosity began to get the better of him. Clearly Hermione’s comment had been made in jest, but perhaps if he got her talking about it…Well, it couldn’t hurt to feel out the situation a little, now could it?

“Do you mind me asking why?” he asked, keeping his tone light and conversational rather than prodding. Hermione’s brow wrinkled and he realized that the silence between them must have stretched longer than he originally believed. That *would* explain why she’d resumed her pacing. “What I mean is, you can’t have had a lack of opportunities. And, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you’ve never stricken me as the kind of girl who clings to old-fashioned values such as saving yourself for marriage. So…why?”

Momentarily flustered by Sirius’s question, Hermione simply shrugged. “My opportunities weren’t as numerous as you seem to think they were. I was concentrating on my studies…and the war against Voldemort, of course. It didn’t leave a lot of time for socializing, at least not as far as I was concerned.”

She walked over to sit down on the couch again, her expression glum and quickly on its way to being self-pitying. She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. She wished Sirius would let the subject drop. Certainly there was something else they could talk about other than the fact that most, if not all, of the boys at her school hadn’t fancied her because she cared more about books than spending hours in front of a mirror to make herself ‘presentable’.

At the same tishe she knew he was only trying to keep her mind off of her friends and surrogate family, and the danger they had put themselves in because of her. Gods. Of all the remaining Death Eaters to escape and then evade recapture, it had to be the Lestranges and Macnair. It couldn’t be Crabbe or Goyle’s fathers, as she was sure they were just as daft and incompetent as their sons. No. It had to be the loons; who despite the fact that they had passed the brink of insanity, were still quite adept magically speaking.

She hoped Harry and Ron were alright.

“Hermione?” Sirius asked, tentatively reaching out and gently touching her arm.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about Harry and Ron. It doesn’t seem like it should be taking this long. I hope they’re not hurt,” she said.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Sirius assured her. “Harry is one of the most gifted wizards I’ve ever met. Let’s not forget that he did kill Voldemort after all. And Ron…well, he’s a bit foolhardy, isn’t he? But Molly is protective of her cubs. She won’t let anything happen to him.”

“I suppose you’re right. I just don’t like this; being stuck here and not knowing. It’s killing me.”

“I know,” Sirius empathized. “I feel the exact same way.”

Hermione vacantly nodded a couple of times, her mind having already moved onto something else entirely; something she needed to know, even if she didn’t want to.

“Did you mean what you said before?” she asked, purposefully not looking at him out of fear that she’d lose her nerve.

Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow and Hermione winced. He was going to make her say it. Bastard. She’d embarrass herself even further than she had already. Or she could chicken out. Yes. Chickening out definitely seemed like the more reasonable option. After all, she was probably only fixated on how he’d answer it because she was sleep deprived. No reason to continue on with a futile topic. None at all.

“Hermione?”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m tired. Just ignore me.”

“Yes,” Sirius said after a beat.

“Right. Perhaps I should try going to bed again.”

“No,” Sirius corrected. “Not yes to ignoring you. Yes to whether I meant what I said or not.” He stopped and frowned. It had been quite a while since he’d stumbled over his words like that and he was sure it wasn’t painting a very positive image of him in Hermione’s mind. Time to do some clean-up then. “But I wouldn’t expect you to agree to such a thing. I’m sure you’re waiting for someone you love and I understand that.” He paused again and grimaced as a thought struck him. “Er…you were talking about…my offer…right?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” Sirius said with a slight nod to confirm that he’d heard her. Unfortunately, his body didn’t seem content to leave the conversation there and he started fidgeting.

Great Merlin! What was he doing? Suggesting that they sleep together to lessen her anger over not being part of the fight going on outside those walls; to ease her worry for her friends… He should kick himself for even entertaining the thought. She was one of his godson’s best friends for God’s sake. She was brilliant and beautiful and deserved to be treated as such instead of being leered over by a wizard who was twice her age.

“I mean yes,” Hermione finally rushed out nervously. “I think you’re right. It will help distract me from thinking about what’s going on. At least you know what you’re doing, unlike the very few other offers I’ve gotten. And I’m protected, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

Gaping in shock with one’s mouth open was rarely an attractive quality; nor was stammering incoherently, but the latter was the lesser of the two evils at the moment and Sirius was quick to close his mouth and swallow in preparation to speak, even if he did end up stumbling over his words. He wasn’t about to lose the chance he never really thought he’d actually have by gawking at her like a slack-jawed idiot.

Surprisingly, the one word he said came out crisp and clear, even if it wasn’t what he planned on saying. “Protected?”

“Well, from pregnancy, but it doesn’t help if you have any diseases or anything…” Hermione trailed off and made a face, observing him carefully for any signs of a reaction to what she was about to ask. “You don’t, do you?”

Sirius’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out. He settled for a shake of his head in the negative and then cleared his throat. “Why are you taking an anti-pregnancy potion if you’re not…with anyone.”

“I’m not. I’m on the pill.”

“The pill,” Sirius repeated, the words not seeming to register with him.

She’d forgotten that Sirius hadn’t spent as much time in the muggle world as Remus had, but Hermione shrugged as if the explanation she could give him was the most boring tale in the world, hoping that he’d let it go without requiring her to tell it. Unfortunately, the look on Sirius’s face told her otherwise, so she took a breath and started to speak.

“Last summer my parents took me back to school shopping in Diagon Alley. I told them they didn’t need to come – because of everything that was happening at the time – but my Great Aunt Ingrid recently passed and left them a substantial amount of money; and since it was my seventh year, they intended to splurge a little and didn’t feel comfortable with me carrying that many galleons around with me on my own. Something about making myself a target if I did that.”

Hermione took another breath and shook her head lightly. “Anyway, Mum caught Draco Malfoy glaring at me, mistook loathing for lust, and insisted I go to the doctor when we got home to be put on muggle birth control.” She stopped rambling and frowned. “I’m not entirely sure why I went along with it. I suppose it was just more practical to agree than to start an argument right before I’d be leaving for school.”

She blinked a couple of times as she seemed to snap out of the anxiety-induced stream of thoughts and blushed terribly when she realized that she’d once again given Sirius far too much needless information. She was mildly startled as she felt him start to play with her hair, loosely wrapping some untamed curls around his fingers before leaning toward her.

“I sincerely doubt your mother misinterpreted Malfoy’s look,” he half-whispered.

Hermione let out a derisive snort. “Oh, yes. I’m sure he was harboring a secret crush on me,” she said with joking sarcasm. She was about to continue, about to ask why he’d even made the comment, when Sirius closed the space between their faces and testingly brushing his lips against hers.

The hand he had in her hair gripped tighter, pulling her body closer to him as his mouth pressed harder and with more insistence and purpose. His lips parted to deepen the kiss and Hermione was suddenly lost in a mix of sensations brought on by their warm, wet tongues sliding against each other while the wiry black hair of his goatee tickled and pleasantly scratched at the skin around her mouth.

Oh…now that was wonderful…

She hardly remembered lifting her hands to rest on his chest and shoulders, to creep into his unruly black hair and pull him impossibly closer to her, but the memory of his fingers slinking over her body and tenderly cupping her breast would be forever engrained in her mind. She gasped and moaned into his mouth and he pulled away to look at her.

She knew what he was trying to convey of course. Even if all of his vocabulary seemed to have temporarily left him, he wanted to give her one last chance to back out of their ill-detailed agreement before he couldn’t stop himself anymore. His pupils had broadened into dark pools of desire and Hermione knew, instinctually if not from experience, that it was already too late.

She kissed him again and if he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Fevered kissing and a frenzied clamoring of their hands over each other’s bodies brought Sirius to the point where he was aching with need. He laid her back on the couch, supporting his weight on one arm while he finished untucking her already disheveled blouse with the other.

He buried his face against her neck, lavishing attention from his lips, tongue, and teeth on the soft skin; relishing the surprised half-moans of pleasure that released from Hermione’s throat. His erection pressed needily through their layers of clothing and though it took a great deal of effort on Hermione’s part – and courage since she was starting to feel slightly self-conscious - she nudged his head with hers and dragged his face back so their lips met once again.

“Do you think we can make it past the portrait without waking her up?”

Oh.

Her first time.

Of course she wouldn’t want to lose her virginity on a sofa where her friends could easily return from battle to walk in on them. What had he been thinking? Er…soft, most decidedly willing female underneath him…the short answer was that part of his lower anatomy had been doing the thinking for him. But Hermione expected him to know what he was doing and therefore make it as comfortable for her as possible; she’d inferred as much.

Sirius doubted he could speak if not to groan, so he gave her a quick nod and began to rise from the couch, offering his hand to help her. Their shoes and boots had already been removed as they lay together on the couch, so the only sounds that were made as they crossed the floor to the stairs were their intentionally soft footsteps and the light suctioning noise Sirius’s lips made as he slowed their progress to kiss and nibble at her neck.

However, even with careful effort, the stairs creaked beneath them as they began their ascent and thct tct that they’d pause every few steps to impatiently remove each other’s clothing didn’t help matters. Soon after they reached the first platform, Hermione had been reduced to her undergarments and apprehensively slid her hands around her back to unhook her bra. A heated look with Sirius gave her the extra boost of confidence she needed and she slid the straps off her arms, letting the lacy fabric fall to the floor in front of her rather than tossing it aside.

She found her back slammed against the wall almost immediately afterward. The impact shook the wall and the portrait of Mrs. Black stirred, waking abruptly and not being at all happy about it. A slew of profanities sprang from her mouth, causing Hermione to cringe and worriedly look in the billowing black curtain’s direction.

“Sirius…”

“Ignore her,” he ordered hastily. “It’s just a portrait.” His fingers danced over Hermione’s nipples, drawing a surprised gasp from her throat and an involuntary arch of her back; as well as some obnoxious bigoted shrieking frhe phe portrait. “Ignore her,” he said again.

Sirius’s lips were on hers only for a moment before he kissed his way down her neck and collarbone to her bare breasts, stopping briefly to admire them before he latched his mouth onto one and began kneading the other with his hand. His tongue teased her nipple to the point where it was painfully erect and then he dragged his lips across to the other to pay it equal attention.

Hermione was whimpering. The warmth Sirius created in her belly was almost too much to bear and the insistent tingle of arousal that swept through her body and settled between her legs was begging to be taken care of. At the same time, having filthy names screamed at her by the portrait of a dead woman was more than a little daunting.

“Ignore me?! IGNORE ME?!” the portrait of Mrs. Black bellowed. “Shame of my flesh! Depraved vermin! Out of my house this instant! OUT!”

Hermione worriedly gnawed on her lower lip. Yes, it was just a portrait and it couldn’t do anything, but it was certainly distracting – and not in a good way like Sirius’s ministrations were.

Sensing that Hermione’s attention was drifting away from him, and being far too arrogant and stubborn to allow that to happen, Sirius kneeled in front of her. Hermione’s eyes widened and she sincerely hoped she was misreading the situation. As it turned out, she was.

He shoved her hips hard against the wall; earning an ‘oomph’ sound as the breath was knocked out of her lungs in surprise. His long but sturdy fingers made quick work of peeling her lacy panties down her legs and unthinkingly threw them down the stairs. He gripped her legs and forced them further apart, creating enough room for Sirius to lean in and nip the sensitive skin of her upper thighs and make Hermione’s knees threaten to buckle at the same time.

“Sirius…I’m not sure…oh God…”

Her head fell back against the wall with a thump. Sirius had nuzzled his face against her nest of curls and whatever apprehension she may have felt vanished when his nose hit her clit.

“Unh…” spilled incoherently from her lips. If the inadvertent bump of his nose had taken away her hesitation, it was his tongue running tight, quick circles around the bundle of nerves and then licking at her in a prodding fashion was her undoing.

Then she felt…oh God, was that his finger? Her hips bucked as he slid one long, roughly padded finger into her and she could practically sense him smirking with satisfaction below her. Not that she was in any state to comment on it. She felt the finger pump in and out of her, making her wetter than she ever thought possible and bringing her closer to climax since Sirius had resumed teasing her clit with his tongue and teeth, and she let out a loud, gasping moan.

He added a second finger to stretch her and anything Hermione had been thinking was rapidly taken over by the sensation of almost coming. Her hips thrust frantically back onto his hand, up and down, up and down, matching his rhythm without missing a beat and forcing his incredibly talented fingers deeper and deeper inside of her with every push.

“Sirius!…mmm…oh…oh…I’m going to…”

White and gold sparks danced in her vision and her legs suddenly most of the ability they had to keep her upright. Well, she couldn’t have that, now could she? Hermione was nothing if not used to being in control and even if her climax had been amazing, she wasn’t about to be completely overrun by passion.

Sirius had expected her to wobbly fall into his arms after her orgasm, thus allowing him to carry her up the rest of the stairs until they reached the first bedroom they came upon. He wasn’t prepared for what actually happened. He had already begun to rise to his feet when he felt himself shoved backward by Hermione’s hands on his shoulders.

Instead of feeling drained, Hermione felt invigorated and empowered. Breathing heavily, she took advantage of the fact that they were on a landing – small though it was – and leaned all her weight into her hands, pushing Sirius backward at a diagonal angle with her landing on top of him. The action caused a loud thump and creak of the stairs to echo off the walls and the portrait of Mrs. Black started to screech, demanding that they tell her what was goin, in, insulting and threatening them all the while; but this time Hermione was too caught up in a lust-filled haze to pay as much attention to her.

One instinctual movement had her sitting up on top of Sirius, straddling him so the apex of her thighs was brushing against his erection. She bent a little to help his legs into a less awkward position than the crunched half-beneath him way they were when he fell and then she looked at him.

Her juices were glistening off of his astonished expression and Hermione’s eyes flashed with lust. Sirius had always been a good-looking man, but the downfall was that he knew it. Arrogance, while it could be sexy in the right context, was not always an attractive quality. But the sight of him with the mark of what he’d just so unselfishly done…Gods.

She leaned down and kissed him, curiously darting her tongue out to taste herself on his lips and around his mouth. Sirius’s eyes, while first widening in nothing short of shock, felt remarkably heavy after just a few milliseconds and he allowed his eyelids to drift shut as he melted into the sensation that her soft lips and warm tongue were providing. He lifted his hands and they wove into her hair, taking over control of the kiss by angling her head slightly to the side for better positioning.

Hermione began to unconsciously rock against him, seeking the friction that was needed to help purge her body of the arousal that was once again coiling itself within her. She trailed wet kisses across his sticky face, lightly biting his jaw and treasuring the way he responded when she started to suck on his neck.

He gave. She got. She enjoyed immensely. It was time to reciprocate.

Her lips moved further down, leaving behind small dabs of moisture where she placed open-mouthed kisses, and causing Sirius to shiver in pleasure as the cool air in the house wafted over the dampened skin. She reached his chest and grinned appreciatively at the taught muscle-tone that now lay beneath her lips. He would never be bulky, he wasn’t built like that; but it was more than obvious from her new vantage point that he hadn’t wasted any time in getting back into shape after being unjustly imprisoned for so long.

Her tongue poked out and began to run merciless circles around one flat male nipple and then the other, pinching the nubs with her teeth when he dug his hands into her hair and pressed against the back of her head to silently plead with her to stop teasing him. Sirius sucked in a startled gasp and released it in a moan, bucking his hips up against her when he didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

It had been so long; he doubted his…staying power…was anywhere near the level it ought to be.

“Merlin!” he choked out as he felt her body shift and her warm mouth start to move lower.

Misinterpreting his tone, Hermione stopped abruptly and raised her chocolate-colored eyes to look at him. “Am I doing something wrong?” she asked worriedly. “Because if I am, you just have to say so and…I’ve read lots of books, but I have no practical experience, so really I won’t be offended if…”

In a maneuver far more graceful than it had a right to be given their location and positioning, Sirius rolled her beneath him, settled himself between her thighs, and pushed her legs up so they were as far bent at the knees as they could be. His hands pinned her arms down uncomfortably against the wooden floor of the landing and Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. Shock and fear were the emotions she was feeling and both were a far cry from the lust-driven power she’d felt just moments before.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Sirius took the opportunity before she made a sound and slammed his lips down against hers. Though passionate, the kiss was demanding and brutal; nothing like the other kisses they had already shared together. His tongue pumped rhythmically in and out of her mouth, caressing her own but with quick, needy strokes that made her head start to spin and her eyes loll back in their sockets.

However, the moment was broken when Mrs. Black’s portrait started wailing at full volume. Sirius removed his mouth from Hermione’s and lifted his head to turn in the portrait’s direction. And while his attention was diverted, it wasn’t enough for him to release Hermione from the trapped position she was in underneath him.

“Shut it you infernal woman! Can’t you hear that we’re trying to copulate?! How are we supposed to conceive the next generation of Blacks for the family tree with you yelling at us in the background?!”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, but Sirius kept her from saying anything by releasing one of her arms and pressing a solitary finger against her lips; silently shooting her a look that asked her to play along.

“I…you can’t…you wouldn’t,” Hermione heard the portrait say after a beat. The voice was weak and wavering and it hardly sounded like the same woman at all. She was certain that Mrs. Black wanted to add insults into the mix, but was probably just too stunned to do so.

“Would and am,” Sirius replied confidently.

To drive his point home (so to speak), he decided it was time. He released Hermione’s other arm and used the hand that had been on her mouth to take hold of his cock while the fingers of the other spread apart the slick entrance to her vagina. One hard thrust pushed him inside of her, breaking her maidenhead, and earning the startled scream of pleasure-laden pain from Hermione’s throat that he’d been seeking.

Then he stilled. Hot, wet silk squeezed him so tightly that he almost came on the spot and he barely rasped out an, “Oh, Gods – ‘Mione” before hearing a distinctive thud to indicate that his mother’s portrait had, be it out of shock or disgust, fainted.

“She passed out,” Hermione observed; her voice clinical, as if Sirius hadn’t just taken her virginity and was still inside her.

“Sounds like it,” Sirius agreed.

“Should I ask how you knew that would happen?”

“I didn’t. I was just hoping it would shock her enough to shut her up for a few minutes.”

“It worked.”

“Yes,” Sirius replied with a grin.

“Um…aren’t you supposed to move or something?” Hermione asked, raising her hips and then lowering them to cause some sort of friction to ease the ache of desire that had rapidly overcome the sharp but short pain of losing her virginity.

Sirius’s grin turned feral. “Lusty wench,” he growled, leaning down to kiss her again before starting to slowly pump in and out of her.

Hermione’s back arched and her hips rose to meet his every thrust, keening in moans and panted breaths of, “Oh yes…right there…” and practically inaudible murmurs of his name. Had he not felt himself break through her barrier, he would have sworn there was no way she could be a virgin before he took her because of how responsive she was being.

His balls tightened at the thought of no other man having experienced this naturally passionate creature beneath him. It was a possessive thought and nothing more than fleeting since he knew undoubtedly that this was a one-time occurrence, but he was determined to draw it out for as long as she’d let him.

“Unh…faster.”

Right. So much for that idea then.

He began pushing into her, harder and faster than he should have been since she was probably sore, but Merlin he needed release. Her inner walls twitched as they contracted, gripping him like a vice as she went over the edge. Gods. He’d had his share of lovers and one-night flings in his time, but he’d never been with a woman whose orgasm had been so strong that it milked his own climax out of him; ripping a prolonged series of grunts and moans from his throat as her crescendo literally forced him to stay buried deep inside of her until every last drop of semen had been pulled from his body.

He collapsed on top of her, sucking in fast, ragged breaths until his muscles felt strong enough to roll to her side and tug her against him so he was spooning her from behind.

“That was…”

“Amazing,” Hermione finished, her voice just as stunned and far-off as his had sounded.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she admitted in quiet astonishment. “Everything I’ve read and heard…don’t take this the wrong way, but I was expecting my first time to be a bit of a let down – regardless of who my partner was.”

Sirius grinned. “So, I’ve exceeded your expectations then,” he said with no small amount of male pride.

“My, yes,” Hermione answered without thinking.

“You know…” Sirius started after a moment, running his fingertips up and down over her arm. “I may have to keep you around now that I know how to get that bloody portrait to shut up.”

Hermione laughed. “Speaking of which, we should take the opportunity to slip past her now.”

Sirius’s deflating cock stiffened completely once again at the prospect of having sex with her again so soon, but Hermione was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice.

“Sirius?”

“Yes?” he replied, placing soft kisses along her neck and shoulder.

“Do you think less of me for this?” she asked.

Sirius blinked. What the hell kind of question was that?

“I mean, I think that’s one of the reasons I never had sex with any of the few boys who seemed interested. I didn’t want to lose any small amount of respect that I’d worked so hard to earn from them.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Sirius said with new understanding of what she was talking about. “But it’s good that you didn’t. You obviously don’t like to be holed away from the rest of the world, and that’s exactly what would have happened. Generally speaking, boys have far less control than men and I can almost guarantee that if any one of them had the same experience we just shared, then they would have desperately tried to keep you away from any possible competition for your affections.”

He didn’t say that he, a man who admittedly loved his freedom in the romantic arena, was struggling not to do that very thing himself.

Hermione laughed again. “You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

“It’s not flattery,” Sirius said, simple and honest, pulling her hips back hard against him so his erection pressed fully against her.

“Oh,” Hermione responded in surprise. “You’re ready again already?”

“I doubt I won’t be any time soon.”

“Ah. Then do you mind if we move upstairs to one of the bedrooms? I’m going to have splinters in my back if we go another round right here.”

Oh, yes. He was definitely struggling against the impulse to lock her away where Ronald Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and any other boy couldn’t leer at her ever again.

But, if the amount of hours that had already passed were any indication, he still had time enough with her to try and work the urge out of his system. He smiled at the thought and rose to a standing position to offer her his hand to help her up.

“After you, my dear.”

~*~*~*~

Harry was tired, but relieved that the ordeal was finally over. He, Remus Lupin, Mr. Weasley, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the four out of the group of seven that had gone on the mission who hadn’t sustained any injuries. Ron, Mrs. Weasley, and Nymphadora Tonks were all being treated in St. Mungo’s.

That’s where he’d spent the last several hours since the actual confrontation with Macnair and the Lestranges had been over relatively fast after they’d caught up with them. Unfortunately, the remaining Death Eaters surprised them and got too many hexes in before they’d gotten them back.

In the end, no one died; a fact for which he was thankful. Remus and Shacklebolt took Macnair and the Lestranges straight to Azkaban Prison, where they were put under heavy guard by the Dementors that resided there.

He’d gone with Mr. Weasley to the hospital, where the older man was still keeping a vigilant watch over their loved ones, even though they were told that they’d be fully recovered within a couple of days.

But Harry couldn’t stay there. He’d seen too much suffering during the war and if he spent another minute in a place that was filled with it, he’d go crazy. But Mr. Weasley insisted on staying, and that left him alone to finally return to 12 Grimmauld Place to give Sirius and Hermione the news of what had happened.

He was worried. He’d tried to floo them more than once and no one was near the fireplace on any of the occasions. He hoped Sirius had been able to keep Hermione in the house and that neither of them had gotten hurt without his knowledge.

He checked the rooms on the ground floor and his concern increased when there was no sign of them. Still, he knew better than to simply call out their names after he got to the base of the stairs. Mrs. Black was being quiet and if at all possible, he wanted to keep it that way. He was exhausted and if he wanted any hope of getting to sleep, then he needed to keep the insane shrieking in the house to a minimum.

He winced as the old steps creaked under his feet and stilled as he prepared himself for the onslaught of Mrs. Black’s verbal abuse. It never came. Harry furrowed his brow and continued up the stairs until he reached the curtain draped over the portrait in question. There was still only silence.

Curiosity and dread overwhelming him, he peeled back the black fabric to see that although she was wide awake, her hands were slammed firmly over her ears as she glared angrily at him.

What the…?

“Harry!”

Harry looked up the stairwell and offered a relieved if not confused grin to his godfather. He was wearing pajama pants only and although his messy hair made it look like he had woken him up, he looked fully alert like he hadn’t had his sleep disturbed at all. “Sirius.”

“So? What happened?” Sirius asked excitedly, rushing down to greet him.

“It took a while to catch up with them; it seemed like we were two steps behind them most of the time; but we got them and they’re in Azkaban now.”

“That’s good news. You’ll have to tell Hermione when she wakes up.”

“Not so good,” Harry argued. “Ron, his mum, and Tonks all got hurt. They’ll be okay, but they have to stay in St. Mungo’s for a couple of days. I tried to floo to tell you, but neither of you was in the room.”

“Ah. Sorry about that. We were both getting…jittery…and had to resort to employing some…I believe Hermione called them stress-relieving techniques.”

“Whatever works. At least you were able to keep her here,” Harry said with a tired smile that didn’t last long. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” Sirius responded with a smirk that Harry didn’t catch. “Anytime. Really.”

Harry grinned again and nodded. “I need sleep. I’m going to get to bed.”

“Good idea. I think I’ll do the same,” Sirius said, the smirk still not having left his lips.

Harry climbed a couple steps past him and then stopped, turning back around with a quizzical expression. “Did you know that your mother’s portrait is covering her ears?”

A surprised yet very broad smile split Sirius’s face and he started laughing. “Some of the stress-relieving techniques we came up with were…loud. I’ll have to ask Hermione if she wouldn’t mind coming over and doing them with me more often just to keep the portrait quiet.”

Harry chuckled. He doubted that Hermione would want to spend any more time in Black Manor than she already had, but maybe he could guilt-trip her into it since some of them had been hurt and Sirius had kept her safe and all. With that thought in mind, he goo goodnight to his godfather and headed up the stairs to go to bed, blissfully unaware of what had transpired while he was gone.

The End