Back for Good

“Hermione... touch me.”

Hermione, usually quick on the uptake, took a few minutes to absorb what Sirius was saying to her. He wants me to touch him. Like that. He wants us to… what?

Hermione tried not to lean into the hand gently caressing her neck, but the feeling was so soothing, and she felt relaxed sitting so close to him. Her lips parted, and her head tilted back slightly, pressing into his touch and baring her neck. She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, but she wanted something and knew it was his to give to her.

Sirius could see his words affect her, could feel her pulse speed up and her breath come a little faster. He took advantage of her parted lips and pressed his against hers. She gasped softly, but did not pull away, and Sirius pressed his advantage.

He moved his lips slightly against hers, softly, searchingly. Her lips were like silk against his, and her breath was so warm and sweet. He touched the tip of his tongue to her bottom lip, sweeping across its plumpness. He wanted nothing more than to thrust his tongue into her mouth and fuck her with it in an obscene pantomime of what he really wanted to do to her, but with strength seldom previously exercised, he restrained himself.

Hermione moaned as his lips became more persistent against hers, and she parted her lips fully to permit entrance. He took it immediately, and the hot satin of his tongue was stroking hers lovingly. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she luxuriated in its thickness. His own hands had moved over her shoulders and to her waist, where he was pulling her tightly against him.

Sirius broke the kiss first, maintaining his self-control against all odds, and looked into her eyes. They were half-lidded with desire, the normal whiskey colour darkening to a deep chocolate, and Sirius drew in a sharp breath at the need he saw there.

“Hermione… are you okay with this?” He felt more protective of her than he usually did of his conquests, and wanted to make sure she didn’t feel forced into this.

“I don’t really know. I feel okay with it, until I stop to think. It’s just happened so fast, too fast,” she breathed. Hermione pulled away, and started to get up, but Sirius held her fast. She relaxed into his embrace, feeling embarrassed but also scared of what was happening to them. She knew Sirius was the type to resent when his life became beyond his control, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty that she’d taken away his choice. But his kisses had felt so good, so real—like he wanted it to happen. If only she could turn her brain off.

“I know. But we’re in this together, right?” Hermione nodded. She wanted to know more about how the connection affected him, so she asked the first thing that came to mind.

“How badly do you need me?” No sooner had she spoken then her face blushed furiously, and it covered even her neck and chest. Sirius only grinned knowingly and lightly bussed her lips.

“You have no idea… or maybe you do,” he said silkily, lightly kissing a pattern on her neck and shoulder.

“I do... but I meant to ask: how strong is the urge for connection, for you?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “It feels okay while I’m asleep, but as soon as I wake up, I need to touch you, to make sure you’re there. I can last a few hours during the day, but I start to feel ill about half an hour before you come home for lunch or after work. I don’t think I could stand being away from you all day. Then when we touch, I feel like everything is going to be okay, like I’m complete for the first time. Everything falls into place. But the need is for more than just physical touch. I want you to want to touch me as well, and I want you… in an intimate way.”

Hermione was thoughtful through his description. It was nearly exactly the same way she felt. The bond between them wanted her to touch him, but not just platonically; it seemed to beg for a sexual connection, and was becoming increasingly difficult to stave off.

“So, are we just supposed to have sex all the time, for the rest of our lives? That just doesn’t make any sense!” Hermione’s frustration was revealing itself enough that her words hardly embarrassed her. She looked pleadingly at Sirius, as though he would have all the answers, when he was even more in the dark than she was.

He only shook his head. “A fate worse than death, to be sure,” he began ironically, “But let’s not lose our heads. There must be an explanation. No spells are created without documentation, not even Dark spells like this. We’ll just have to… research.” The last word was stated with distinct disdain, and Hermione smiled at his grimace. But the only book that might have answers was the one in which she found the spell, and for some reason she didn’t want to tell Sirius about it, even though, technically, it was his book. She wasn’t sure if he’d be angry or disappointed in her, but she also felt like the book was her secret to keep.

“I’ll keep looking, of course. And maybe I should get Professor Snape to help me again.” Sirius sneered at the name, and looked as though he questioned her sanity. “Well, he was the one who helped me complete the spell in the first place,” she said defensively. “Without him, you’d still be floating around in oblivion!” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend her former Professor so vehemently, but she’d always hated the pointless animosity between the two, even knowing the reason behind it.

Sirius only snorted derisively, his expression telling her exactly what he thought of her idea.

“Well,” Hermione felt her anger grow, and wanted to lash out unthinkingly. “If you think it’s a bad idea, it must be the right thing to do!” Hermione leapt off the couch and announced her intended location into the Floo. Sirius followed her to the hearth, but she was gone before she could hear his scream of frustration and the sound of a vase being shattered into a million shards.

Hermione tumbled ungracefully out of the fireplace in Snape’s office at Hogwarts. Snape was sitting at his desk, facing a young Hufflepuff girl, presumably pointing out errors on her essay when Hermione made her grand entrance.

He stopped midsentence, and set his sights on her. “Miss Granger, another unannounced visit. How nice.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at his droll tone and saw the Hufflepuff’s eyes widen with terror at this action. The young girl looked at her Professor in fear, but relaxed slightly when she saw nothing like rage on his face.

“I need your help again, Professor. It couldn’t wait.”

Snape nodded. “Miss Devereaux, please see yourself out. You have until tomorrow to revise this essay to a state of coherence. Second chances are seldom granted, so make good use of it.”

Miss Devereaux nodded quickly, and Hermione couldn’t resist calling out “Good luck!” to the girl before she fairly ran down the hall away from the dungeons to safety.

“And to what—”

“—do you owe the pleasure?” Hermione finished, and grinned inwardly when Snape narrowed his eyes. So predictable.

“It’s about the bond, about the spell I cast to get Sirius back. It’s… very strong, and I’m worried about the implications.”

“You mean to say you shudder at the thought of being inextricably attached to Black for all your days? I can hardly contain my surprise.” Hermione stifled a laugh at his wry commentary, and nodded.

“Something like that. But mostly I need to know why it is happening. It isn’t as bad as it could be, obviously. But we need to know how long it will last and what will happen if the bond’s needs aren’t met.”

Snape gestured to the seat Miss Devereaux had vacated, and Hermione gratefully took it. She regretted running out on Sirius like that, but his attitude had become stifling. She respected Snape and did not like to hear him denigrated. Her temper seemed to get the best of her more often, these days.

“Miss Granger, I believe I told you at the beginning of all this that the potion you consumed would have far-reaching results. You, in all your Gryffindor bravery—” this word he spat like a curse instead of a compliment, “—decided you need not heed my warnings. And now you are asking for help again. Why would I believe you are willing to listen this time?”

Hermione knew she was skating on thin ice. She spoke carefully. “Professor Snape, you’re correct, of course. I should have listened, and if it were not for the life of my best friend’s godfather in the balance, I would have. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I still do. I was grateful for your help before and always will be. Now, though, I need your help again, and this time I swear it will not fall on deaf ears. Just tell me what I’ve gotten us into.”

Snape looked somewhat placated by her comments. He leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers together over his stomach. He looked pensive for a moment, and began to speak.

“Essence of pure azure is a highly volatile substance. When combined with certain other elements, it becomes unstable and dangerous. When combined with more than one said element, it can be downright disastrous. There were at least three such items on the list I took from you the last time you were here, and I know that was not the complete list. Who can know how many unstable elements you combined in your potion?

“However, based on my limited knowledge of the spell you performed, the state we found you in at the Veil, and the symptoms you are experiencing now, I believe I can give you an educated guess as to what is happening to you and Black.

“First though, are you a virgin?”

His question hit her off guard and she sputtered. He rolled his eyes at her indignant reaction.

“You know that virgin blood as also referred to as Soul Blood, do you not?”

Hermione recovered, and shook her head. She’d never heard that terminology. She told him in a tone braver than she actually felt that she was, indeed, a virgin. He nodded meditatively.

“Soul Blood is used as a binding ingredient. It is an anchor for the potion, and is used to create an interactive base for the all other elements. When used with the essence of pure azure, it is used to foster a trade. A part of the person who consumes the potion becomes attached, or bonded, to a part of the person for whom it is meant. In your case, yourself and Black.

“The Soul Blood in your potion removed part of your soul; of this I am almost certain. Dark Magic comes with a great cost, as you were told. But more than that, I believe that part of your soul was given to Sirius, and part of his soul given to you. For all intents and purposes, you are now the same being. That explains your need to be close to one another, and your feeling of completeness when the connection is honoured; your souls are most comfortable around their other portion.

“It may also explain the week-long delay after which you performed the spell and yet Sirius did not return. Soul Blood searches by intent, and would have to delve both into your deepest desires and into his in order for it to make the right connection, so as to not bring back the wrong person. The trading of souls also takes time, and Sirius could not be brought back without a whole soul; the Veil would not have let him pass. If you had died during that week, you would have been stranded in purgatory, and Sirius would have two souls fighting for supremacy within his body. You would have damned both yourself and Black for eternity.”

Hermione was nearly shaking by the time Snape’s melodious yet dreaded voice fell silent. How could she have been so foolish, so naïve? She had bound them to a lifetime of slavery to one another. She tried to mentally search herself to see if she could sense a piece of her soul missing. She couldn’t feel a vacancy, but that made sense: Sirius’ soul-portion would now be in that place.

“I… see. So… what do I do now?” Her words were calm but the underlying shakiness belied her controlled demeanour.

“Now, you go and tell Black, survive the fallout, and try to live without murdering one another. It will be impossible, I’m sure; I’ll check the Daily Prophet for your obituaries on a regular basis.”

Hermione was slowly shaking her head, as though she could banish all she had just learned, or better yet, banish that part of her that always had to have answers for everything. Would it be better to not know? she asked herself. Time will tell.

“Professor Snape, I understand the need for contact. It’s like our souls are trying to reconnect, correct?” He nodded in the affirmative. “Then why do we need more than just… a friendly sort of touch?”

Snape looked at her blankly. Hermione plunged on. “I mean we want to touch each other sexually, okay? There’s a very, very strong compulsion to… do it.” Hermione mentally slapped herself for being so childish, while she simultaneously internally giggled at her words.

Snape looked positively uncomfortable, but she was sure she saw mirth in his eyes at her own discomfort. Ah, Schadenfreude, she snarked to herself.

“Your souls want the deepest connection possible. More than a physical connection, they want a spiritual and mental one as well. The best way to become connected, though some may not agree these days, is to be sexually intimate. It is truly an act of becoming one. The release will bring relief that will last longer than the touches you’ve been giving one another. I can’t say how much longer, but I doubt Black will wait to find out once he learns this—like the mutt needed an excuse to bed you.” Snape looked thoroughly disgusted at the thought.

His eyes gentled, and he looked at her with something as akin to pity as Snape could manage without spontaneously combusting.

“Miss Granger, I’m sorry you had to sacrifice yourself like this. It must be disheartening to know that your first time will be forced instead of natural. I would not wish that on anyone.”

Hermione only nodded blindly, barely hearing his words. She would have to sleep with Sirius; that was the only way to get on with their lives. Maybe it would only need to be once a month or something. That way, they could go on with their lives, maybe even date other people. Get married. It wasn’t so bad, she told herself. Just a little caveat, nothing serious. She snorted at her mental pun.

She had to get back before she fell apart in Snape’s office.

She stood, a little unsteadily, and Snape came around the front of the desk to lend her an arm. She took it gratefully and put her weight on him.

“I meant what I said, Hermione. I am truly sorry that this is happening to you. I wish…” But he didn’t finish his sentence, and walked her to the Floo instead.

Hermione was in no state to notice his use of her given name, and just called out her destination in a dull voice. She thanked Snape, and he nodded.

Once she arrived at Grimmauld Place, she bypassed Sirius, stepping over a broken lamp without even noticing its presence, and went straight to her room. She heard Sirius calling her name, but she only shut her door, and went to lie on the bed. She felt so defeated. For once in her life, there was no way out, no way to fix what she had done.

And she didn’t know if she would fix it if she could.


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Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I know this story isn't very popular here on AFF, but I do hope people are at least enjoying it. Please review and let me know!

Thanks to kazfeist for her work on this chapter!