Moonlight

3. Fireside


The elder wizard, Dumbledore, had arrived at sunset. He had explained to her that it would be best if she wasn’t seen. Sirius would keep her presence secret and he, Dumbledore, would bring dinner to her room. She didn’t seem to have much say in the matter and had agreed.

From her room on the second floor, she could hear people arriving. Talking and laughing, they ate their way through dinner. After dinner, the voices she heard grew somber and furtive. The quiet meeting lasted past midnight. Then, slowly, the voices dwindled; their owners leaving the gloomy house behind.

Milia waited for Sirius to reappear. Time stretched out, engulfing her. She dozed, listening to the old house settle. The grandfather clock in the drawing room chimed two. Milia opened her eyes. Am I alone again? She rose from the bed and crossed to her door. Opening it just a crack, she listened.

Sounds came from the ground floor; soft sounds and a muffled voice. Milia slid down the hall to the top of the stairs. If a visitor had remained, she would be violating the elder wizard’s trust by being seen. She felt for the moon. Her beast moved within her. She scented the air. Mingling scents rode upon it. She stepped down a few stairs. The voice came again; a single voice that spoke and sobbed. There was no reply. She sniffed the air again. All the scents but one drifted on the air, diffusing. Old scents. All but one.

Milia edged down the stairs, pausing once as one creaked beneath her. No one came running. There was a crash, followed by the tinkle of breaking glass. Milia hurried silently down to the ground floor. The air held quiet sobbing. It came from the front room. She edged up to the doorway.

A fire burned in the fireplace, driving back the winter chill. Sirius stood swaying, silhouetted before it. The sobs wracked his gaunt frame. A pile of broken glass glinted at his booted feet. “Sirius?” she crept towards him. He turned to face her.

“Oh, I thought you’d have gone to sleep.” He turned away from her, running a surreptitious hand across his face. His words carried the scent of alcohol to her.

“You’ve been drinking again.”

“Pfft, just a bit.” Sirius swayed as he indicated the broken glass at his feet.

“Sit down, please.” She took hold of his upper arm. He jerked away from her.

“I don’t need your help!”

“So you say. Come, sit by me.” She closed the distance. Her beast stirred, responding to the warmth before her. She felt his heart beating in the short distance between their chests. His scent rode the air; an icy cleanness, marred by the poison within him. His emotions wove a tapestry of scents around that iciness. The sour tang of fear, a sweet thick sadness coating him and somewhere, beneath it all, the spicy burn of desire, cinnamon tickling her nose.

She couldn’t force him to sit down before he fell. But there was something she could use. Milia smiled up into his bleary, grey eyes. She took his hand. So soft. Her heart skipped a beat, speeding up. She pulled his hand towards her mouth, breathing across his hand, tickling the hairs on the back of it. Mouth slightly open, she placed a small wet kiss upon it. His lips parted, a soft breath escaping him.

Desire flowed from him, scenting the air with cinnamon. His heartbeat quickened. Milia felt her beast flexing within her. This is promising, it whispered. She lowered his hand and took it firmly in her own. She started him back towards a sofa in the corner. He went with her willingly, this time. A dark smile crept over his features. He made it to the sofa and collapsed on it, lounging backwards, graceful despite the alcohol. His grey eyes glinted he fhe firelight. Take him, her beast whispered.

No, Milia answered as she knelt beside him on the hardwood. He reached out for her hair, playing with a strand that had come loose from her clip. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his hand. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. She felt him close in on her. Milia opened her eyes.

He leaned forward, his shirt flaring open at his neck. Milia’s eyes traveled down to his thin, pale chest. She looked back up as he closed the distance. He hesitated; his lips hovering over hers. Grey eyes staring down into her. She licked her lips and didn’t stop him. She’d started it, after all. His eyes slid closed and his lips touched hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Her own eyes slid closed as the scent of cinnamon flared around her, drowning her.

That desperate strength that had been in his hand now pressed at her mouth, driving her teeth into her lips. She parted her lips, yielding to his pressure. The tip of her tongue darted out to taste his mouth; an invitation. His own lips parted. The warmth of his mouth spilled into her. And with it, the sour taste of alcohol.

Milia pulled away, her beast howling in her mind. “What?” Sirius asked, almost falling forward off the sofa.

“You taste of poison,” she wrinkled up her nose. He sighed and laid back. She watched him, waiting.

“So that’s it?” anger lashed from him, stinging her. She looked away towards the fire.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she whispered.

“Get out,” he said. She looked back at him. “Get out!” he screamed. She jumped as the anger washed over her again. Take him, her beast pleaded, pulling her stomach tight, her own need flaring. Her heart sped up. She shook her head. No, she told her beast. Sirius’ eyes grew hard and cold, taking her head shake to be meant for him.

He rose up again, his feet hitting the hardwood before Milia could react. His hands closed on her arms, lifting her to her feet. He threw her away from him. Milia stumbled backwards, arms pin-wheeling to maintain her balance. He closed the distance; “Go!” he shouted, pointing at the doorway.

She backed away from him. Not until she was out of the room did she turn and run. Milia bounded up the stairs and sprinted for her room. She slammed the door and locked it. Leaning against the door, sliding to the cold floor, she waited for her heart to slow.

Her beast at last slept. She closed her eyes. She could still feel the soft warmth of his kiss, the strength of his hands on her skin.


***

Milia had changed back into her baggy, blue t-shirt before going to bed. Her dreams had been of Ss. s. His soft, white skin, his unyielding strength, the heat of his anger, and the burning desire that rode the air. She awoke remembering dream-hands on her thighs, dream-lips at her breast.

Milia sighed. I’ve treated him badly, she thought. I toyed with him, teased him. Oh Goddess, grant me strength and wisdom today, for I must make amends. She closed her eyes and retreated into meditation. She calmed her beast, banked the fires her dreams had awakened. When her control felt solid again, she rose and dressed.

She was down to her last clean outfit. She traded one baggy t-shirt for another, this one a crimson so deep it almost hurt to look at. She pulled on black, cut-off sweats. The shirt hung down longer than the shorts. She fixed her hair before leaving the safety of her room.

Milia tried the front room first, figuring that he wouldn’t have gotten very far. She was right. Only, he wasn’t passed out this morning. When she entered, he sat slumped down in an armchair. He glared at her, his eyes shining daggers framed by his shaggy hair. “Come to gloat, have you?” he hissed.

“No, Mr. Black, I did not,” she said. He’s going to be difficult.

“So, it’s ‘Mr. Black’ is it? Even after last night?” he choked on a bitter laugh. This isn’t going to get us anywhere. He’s still too angry.

“If you’re going to be cantankerous and rude, I will be eating breakfast alone,” she replied. Surprise flashed briefly through the anger. She turned to go.

“Wait, Milia,” he called. She stopped. Is he going to apoze? “Did I hurt you, last night?” his voice had lost its sting. Him hurt me? That was funny. How could a wasted wizard hope to hurt any werewolf while they were riding their beast? It was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was an opportunity. One I can’t afford to miss.

With a sigh, Milia turned back to face him. “No, Sirius, you didn’t hurt me.” She crossed slowly to him. His eyes watched her warily. He pulled himself up to a proper position as she knelt before him. She looked down at her hands in her lap. “But, I’m afraid I hurt you; without intending to. I would like to apologize.”

His silence ate at her. She chanced a glance up at him. He was staring at her, weighing her. She swallowed loudly and looked away again. A hint of cinnamon wafted towards her. “And what kind of apology did you have in mind?” he asked.

She breathed in the cinnamon need, closing her eyes. Her dream flashed through her head. Tangled sheets, skin on skin, moving in rhythm, his feathery lips at her throat, trailing lower, stopping at her breast. Her body remembered the dream; a tightening low in her body bringing a sigh to her lips. Milia opened her eyes and knew he knew. She felt her need echoing around them. She’d been quiet too long.

She tried twice to find her voice. He smiled slightly. “It depends on how well you clean up,” she whispered at last. He chuckled. Leaning in close to her, he breathed across her face. Milia braced for the poisonous miasma of drink. But there was none. His breath held only mint and sugar. It wasn’t the clean sweetness she longed for, but it was a step in the right direction. Sirius slid off the chair, kneeling before her.

He bumped one of his knees into the small space between her own. It was a polite inquiry, can I come in? She parted her knees for him, her own knee now sitting between his. He moved closer, dangerously close to rubbing up against her groin. Her breathing responded, a tingle starting in her thighs. She looked to see how close she was to touching him. Only a few inches. She chanced a small movement forward with her leg. He gasped, heat filling his eyes.

Fresh scents rode the air, need and fear and anger, mingling with the cold purity of him. There was no alcohol, anywhere. She looked up into his face. “You’re sober?” she asked.

He nodded, leaning into her, slowly seeking her lips. Unsure, still, of his welcome. He drove his knee forward, touching her lightly. Her sharp intake of breath brought his mouth down onto hers. She kissed him hard, driving his lips against his teeth. He had no choice but to part for her. She slid her tongue into him, tasting him. First the minty sugar, then the prick of snow, ice crystals melting on her tongue. His tongue thrust back against her, claiming her mouth. He is dominant, her beast rumbled, stirring again. Yes she answered. And the beast subsided, content in submission.

He broke the kiss and smiled down at her. “Apology accepted,” he whispered. Then he stood smoothly and stepped around her. Milia fell back into herself, swaying towards a remembered presence. He was walking away! His boots beat a steady cadence across the hardwood floor. “You left me in my need last night,” he called. “Now I’ll leave you in yours.” His anger washed over her, biting at her skin. Then he was gone.

Milia stood, her whole body shaki She She followed after him, scenting his own trailing need. She came upon him immediately. He was standing in the front hall, staring at the front door. “Sirius!” she called. He spun around and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Shh, you’ll wake up my mother,” he breathed. She pulled away from him.

“Your mother?” she whispered, looking around. He nodded tds tds the huge, covered portrait. “I don’t--”

“Do we have something further to discuss?” he whispered, leaning close.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Then let’s do it over breakfast. If anyone is a mood killer, it’s my mum. Makes me wonder how I was conceived.” He took her by the arm and led her roughly down the stone steps to the kitchen.

“Have a seat,” he instructed, his voice strong again. He pulled out his wand and started dishes, utensils and food flying around the room. Then he took the seat across the table from her. They stared at each other as the breakfast made itselfoon,oon, two plates landed on the table; each piled high with scrambled eggs and toast.

Sirius dug in, wolfing down the food. He watched her between bites. “Sirius,” she sighed when he had finished eating. “Let’s start again. I deserved that in there. You deserved it last night.”

He barked with laughter. “Are we even t Is Is that what you’re saying?”

She smiled, nodded. Sirius rose smoothly and crossed to her. She watched him warily. He bent and laid a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek. It thrilled through her, tingling all the way to her toes. “I cooked, you clean,” he whispered against her skin. With a throaty chuckle, he left.