Rebirth

Chapter 3: Temptation

By the time Ron arrived home, Sirius was fast asleep on the sofa in the sitting room. He had helped himself to a small measure of the Firewhisky that Tonks had given him earlier, and although he was usually quite a hardened drinker, he was still weak from his two-year exile and the small amount of alcohol coupled with his increasing fatigue had finished him off about half an hour before.

He woke up in a daze to the sound of Hermione and Ron clattering about in the kitchen below. From the sound of it, they were putting away the shopping that Ron had brought home. He started to go downstairs but hesitated when he heard Hermione speak.

"Where did this Firewhisky come from?" she asked Ron accusingly. Sirius groaned, realising he was likely to cause an argument when Hermione realised he'd been drinking. He was slightly annoyed at the thought that someone young enough to be his daughter would most likely chastise him like a child.

"Search me," Ron said defensively.

"Surely to goodness he's not started drinking already," Hermione said. Sirius could hear the annoyance in her voice. She really did sound like Molly Weasley.

"Hermione, lighten up a little," said Ron, a bite of irritation in his voice. "He's got enough on his plate without you going off at him about this. He's entitled to have a drink if he likes."

Their voices dropped to a whisper that Sirius couldn't hear, so he sat back down on the sofa and waited for a little while before he went downstairs.

When he eventually arrived in the kitchen, to his relief Hermione made no mention of the alcohol.

She heated a large pot of stew with a tap of her wand and the three filled their bowls and sat around the large table.

"Did you manage to get your work done today?" asked Sirius, trying to make conversation.

"Most of it. Not that there was much to do. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself when we finally round up those missing Death Eaters. There's precious little for me to do as it is now the war's over," she grumbled.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," smiled Sirius. "I imagine something'll come up sooner or later. I doubt the wizarding world is going to stay well behaved for long."

"I suppose," she replied, circling her spoon around her dish absent-mindedly. "I've been trying to persuade Ron to let me do some work in his department to try and get something done about this house elf situation, but he keeps telling me to stick to my own job and stop trying to do his. You know what he's like," she smiled at Sirius.

"Are you still on about house elves?" asked Sirius, incredulously.

"Mmm," Hermione nodded, swallowing a spoonful of stew. "And I've done quite a bit already. House elves now have a legal right to leave their employers if they want to, and they can also legally refuse to work without pay. So far, only about three of them have actually done anything about it, but it's a start," she said, glumly. "I'm trying to pass a law that says their employers have to pay them a minimum wage, whether they like it or not, but the house elf representative keeps voting against it. I've got a few supporters, but a lot of the older families in the Ministry don't want to have to start paying, so they won't vote either."

Sirius laughed. "When do you find time to do all this?" he asked her.

"I do it in my spare time, which I have too much of at the moment," she flushed.

"How is it going with the fugitives?" Sirius asked, eager for any information he could get that would lead him to Remus.

"Not well," she replied. "We managed to catch one of them by tracing his wand when he did some magic, but so far, the others haven't used any. We had a sighting of Peter a week or so ago, but nothing's come of it yet." Sirius prickled at the mention of Peter's name.

"A sighting? Where?" He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, hoping the others wouldn't notice his fervour.

"Just outside of London. The aurors think he might have got wind that you had been revived, even though we've tried to keep it fairly quiet. They seem to think he'll come after you, but I don't think it's likely, and Dumbledore agrees. He's too much of a coward," Hermione replied.

"I wish he would," Sirius said, bitterness creeping into his voice. "I'd certainly like to see him. I agree though, he won't. He's got no reason to risk his neck just to see me."

"Sirius, you won't go doing anything silly will you?" Hermione said, anxiously. "He's still considered to be very dangerous." Sirius glared at her.

"Hermione, I'm not a child. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, and I'm not scared of him either. I never have been before and I'm certainly not going to keep hiding myself away now that I'm finally free. You saw him at the Shrieking Shack the night he got away. He's nothing but a snivelling little child. He's no threat."

Hermione blushed a deep red and stared down at her soup. Sirius instantly felt bad for snapping at her after she'd done so much to help him. He apologised hastily.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said nervously. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, Hermione. I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm just restless. I want to get out of here for a while and walk down the streets without hiding from dementors for once."

Hermione and Ron exchanged nervous glances across the table.

"Sirius, you only got out of hospital yesterday. You've been dead for two years," Hermione sighed. "Look, if you're OK tomorrow, you can go with Ron to Diagon Alley. He's got some things to pick up for me from the Apothecary."

"Oooh, goody. A shopping trip," Sirius said, irritably, catching Hermione and Ron's furtive looks at each other again.

They finished the rest of their food and Ron broke out the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky he had bought earlier. Sirius suspected he was trying to annoy Hermione, but he certainly wasn't going to argue. He clapped his hands together with glee.

"If there's one thing I need after being dead for two years, it's a good, old fashioned drinking binge," he smiled. Hermione tutted disapprovingly, facing Sirius with her hands on her hips.

"Sirius Black, you are the only person in the world, to the best of my knowledge, that has recovered from death. Do you really think it's wise to drink yourself into oblivion?"

Sirius grinned mischievously at her.

"Yep," he said. "What d'you reckon Ron?" he turned to Ron, silently imploring him to back him up. He obliged with a sly smile.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he grinned. Hermione huffed and went upstairs to the sitting room. Sirius turned to find Ron still grinning inanely at him.

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"Nothing. It's just good to have someone who knows how to have fun in the house again." He slapped Sirius heartily on the back as they followed Hermione upstairs.

~

A little while later, Sirius was well on his way to the promised oblivion. Ron, it seemed, had already reached it, and was passed out in the middle of the floor snoring loudly. Even Hermione had succumbed a little, and was looking decidedly tipsy. She was sprawled across the sofa, half leaning against Sirius, with her feet dangling over the arm. Sirius had easily drunk twice as much as the other two, and was starting to feel relaxed at long last.

"Lightweight," muttered Sirius, as Ron let out a particularly loud grunt.

"You shouldn't tease him," Hermione slurred. "He's very tired. He's hardly left your side since you stopped being dead, and he's been working all hours to try and find Remus." She giggled to herself. "It's a bit weird, isn't it? You're dead and I'm talking to you."

"You're drunk, Hermione," Sirius smiled.

"No I'm not!" she said, indignantly.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day." Sirius ignored her. "Little Hermione Granger, drunk. I'm going back to Azkaban for corrupting a minor."

"I am not a minor!" she snapped. "I'm eighteen. You all treat me like a baby, but I'm an adult, you know."

"I can see that," he said, eyeing her up and down, then immediately wished he hadn't. "I mean, you look like an adult - I mean..." he stammered.

"I know perfectly well what you meant, Sirius Black," she said sternly, but there was a sly smile on her face as she looked at him in a way that could only be described as seductive. "You're all the same. My mother warned me about men like you."

Is she flirting with me? He changed the subject quickly.

"I wish Remus was here," he said dejectedly. "He knows how to do a proper drinking binge. None of this passing out before we've even got started. He could drink me under the table, you know."

"I've been witness to some of Remus's drinking binges since you disappeared," said Hermione disapprovingly. "I wouldn't exactly say it's something to be proud of."

"Did Harry ever get drunk? Before... you know," he asked her, leaning over her to refill her goblet from the nearly empty bottle. He wasn't sure if it was because the alcohol had numbed his pain or if he was just too drunk to care if he cried in front of Hermione or not, but he felt ready to talk about Harry.

"More times than most people know about," she said, sombrely, her voice losing some of it's drunken slur. "Dumbledore caught him once, and he made Remus give him a talking to. He had it together most of the time, but it got a bit too much for him once or twice."

They sat in silence for a while before Sirius spoke.

"Well I'm glad. At least he got to do something fun before..." he trailed off, unable to say the words. Hermione didn't speak.

"Did he, I mean, was he..." Sirius started. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know, but for some reason he did. "Did he have a girlfriend or anything?" he said, finally.

"Not that he told me about, not since Cho anyway," Hermione replied. "There wasn't exactly time for that sort of thing."

"Who's Cho?" he asked, surprised that Hermione seemed to think he knew what she was talking about.

"Just someone he went out with in the fifth year," she said indifferently. "It didn't exactly work out."

"I always meant to have a talk with him about girls. There were a lot of things I meant to have a talk with him about." Silence again. Suddenly, Sirius didn't feel in the mood to be miserable tonight. He changed the subject again, determined to lighten the mood.

"So what about you? Was that a flicker of familiarity I saw between you and Ron earlier?" he asked, smiling teasingly at her.

"He wishes," she scoffed. "He asks me out on a daily basis. I amuse myself by trying to think of creative ways to turn him down. Last night I told him I had to spray my hair with Doxycide." Sirius laughed heartily.

"Did you ever think of just saying yes?" he asked.

"Nope," She replied. "It's not like he's in love with me or anything." Sirius detected a trace of sadness in her voice. "He just sees me as a possession. He's always been the same. He thinks it's his right to go out with me because we've known each other for so long. I think he's just too lazy to go and find someone else, to be honest. He's just too childish."

"Oh, I see." Sirius grinned wickedly at her. "I forgot; you're all grown up now."

She punched him playfully in the stomach, and he wrapped his arm around her neck in a gentle headlock.

"Let me go, or I'll hex you from here to kingdom come!" she squealed, pulling away from him.

Was he flirting with her now? He thought perhaps he was, and he was too drunk to care. He had never looked at her in that way before and maybe it was the Firewhisky, but he couldn't deny that she looked very pretty, and it had been so long... Why not? he thought. He needed something to distract him from the rampant thoughts in his mind, the relentless ache in his heart. He let her go but let his arm slip around her shoulders. She lay back against him appreciatively. He couldn't help it. He realised that he had already started a process that would snowball whether he liked it or not. And right at this moment in time, he did like it. It suddenly came so naturally to him. Some part of him told him it was an extremely bad idea, but his admittedly questionable morals were even further compromised by drink. He stared at her, his black eyes smouldering with sexuality.

"So who are you seeing then? A real man?" he asked her, his voice loaded with meaning. She reddened instantly, but held his gaze; he could see from her eyes that it took all her strength to do so. He brushed his hand gently across her forehead, as if moving an invisible strand of hair.

"No-one," she breathed. He had her. He knew it. Stop a little voice shouted in his head. She's drunk. She's a child. Shut up, he replied to it, and placed his hand behind her head, slowly lifting it towards his. He could feel her heart pounding against her chest, her short breaths on his face. He placed his lips on hers and kissed her softly. Oh, they were soft. He'd forgotten how soft a woman's lips could be. She reached her hand up and placed it behind his neck, tangling her fingers in his long dark hair. His free hand went onto autopilot, running through her hair, over her neck and down onto her shoulder. He knew exactly how to please a woman, where to touch her to make her his. He ran his fingers expertly down her back, making her shiver and melt. She kissed him deeply and longingly, pulling herself up on to his lap and pressing her body into his.

He took hold of her waist and lifted her slightly, turning her round so that she was sitting astride him. At that moment, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life. He continued his onslaught on her body as he kissed her lips and neck, his light touch caressing her shoulders, her back, her hips. She pulled away from his chest slightly, allowing his hand to come between them, and before he knew what he was doing, he was slowly moving towards her breast.

She pulled away from him with a gasp.

"Sirius, we shouldn't - " she started.

"Why not?" he asked gently, stroking her hair. He felt like a hawk and she was his prey. He was not about to give up this easily.

"You've been ill - "

"I'm fine." He pulled her hands up to his mouth and brushed them with his lips. She shuddered slightly.

"But Ron - "

"He's asleep." He pulled her hands around his neck and held them there, leaning forward to kiss her again. She responded for a moment, kissing him deeply, longingly.

"I can't..." she pulled away from him again with a trace fear in her eyes, and stood up. "I'm sorry, I just can't." She backed out of the door and ran upstairs.

Shit, he thought. Told you so, the voice said. He lay back on the sofa and passed out.