Connection

"Fine!"

The door slammed and all she could do was look at it from the bed through her watery eyes. She shook out her thick hair over her face as if trying to put a curtain over the world. Usually she was the one to walk out in a fight, leaving him to stare stupidly after her. But today, he'd turned the tables. And now in her mind she kept seeing that last flash of orange hair as it turned out of the room.

Then she'd heard the door slam...

She finally decided to let the tears flow freely. She let go of the lump in her throat and coughed out sob after sob as she kept reliving the fight in her mind. And his ginger hair and red and gold stripped scarf bouncing after him as he marched out of the room. And the door he slammed so violently. She started sobbing harder. He had no idea how many times she cried over him.

Out of the blue came a knock on the door. She couldn't let him see her like this. She sniffled. "Who is id?" she whimpered in nasal tones, an edge of defensiveness in her throaty voice. The voice that replied came as softly as the knock had.

"It's, um, not him." The voice was rich, deep and very masculine. She knew it instantly.

"Oh, come in." She quickly grabbed the quilt behind her and wiped her face off. When she moved the blanket she saw him closing the door with decided gentleness. His handsome, clever face framed by dark, shining hair turned to her. He smiled kindly and sat beside her on the bed.

"He's kicking himself downstairs, you know. Molly's kicking him, too."

"Well if he'd started kicking himself before he started the argument then maybe I wouldn't be crying."

Sirius laughed quietly at that. "What was the argument about anyway?"

"Oh, I don't even remember what started it, but it doesn't matter. It was something stupid about me writing an essay for him. Why can't he do his own fucking-oh, I'm sorry-"

"Hermione, I'm the last person you should apologize to for swearing."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "I just don't see why he doesn't do his own work."

"Because he knows you're smarter. And he knows he's well, not stupid, but-"

"No, he's stupid." She rolled her eyes at the thought of him. He chuckled. She blushed at her own bluntness. Sirius went on, trying to calm her.

"You are brilliant, and he's jealous."

"Or maybe he just takes advantage of me." She looked into her confidante's eyes and just let him drink in the sorrow in her own brown ones. For a moment, some sort of connection was established.

"You know he does have feelings for you, right?"

"He has a funny way of showing it."

"Yes, but," he took her hand firmly, "I promise you he does." She looked down at her small, soft, pinkish hand in his large, pale one. She could feel the warmth and sincerity in his blood, and without thinking, she reached for his other hand. She wanted wanting...

First he looked at her quizzically, then playfully. She could see the caged puppy smiling through his eyes.

She did not know what prompted her behavior. All she knew was that her mouth has parted slightly, and her lips tingled as she leaned in to her companion.

Suddenly, his hand left his lap, leaving her hand alone, and he took hold of her chin, looking into her eyes. The puppy look vanished, a serious look having replaced it.

"Please, don't. I know you're upset, but this is not the way to handle it." His voice was tired and slightly disappointed. But she wasn't upset about Ron for the moment. Strangely, a new desire had taken hold of her.

"I don't care about that," she exhaled dismissively.

Then, she leaned in and fervently kissed him. At first, he resisted, but gradually he began to accept her caresses. Her hair smelled like lavender and violets, her skin was softer than the cashmere cardigan that was draped so loosely on her shoulders. It had been years since he'd had any kind of sexual contact. Within minutes, he had lost himself and began to kiss her with all the passion he had for years kept locked away.

She loved the rough edge to his romancing. She lay obediently when he pushed her onto her back. His lips traced her neck and he moved his mouth down her torso. He lingered on her breasts. Her fingers worked under his hair and down to his neck, massaging it. He moved down to her hips and pulled off her skirt with one quick motion. Her smooth legs and her innocent looking white undergarments made him ravenous for a moment. She arched her back in longing.

Both of them were mad with hunger and could not bear it any longer-

"DINNER!"

"Fuck!" he growled.

"Not yet," she grumbled, trying to maintain a sense of humor.

"Fucking Molly and her blasted schedules-"

"Actually, I think it was Ginny calling."

"Oh whatever." He glanced sorrowfully at her. She looked so small as she pulled her schoolgirl skirt back up over her knees. "Maybe it's better we didn't." She was only fifteen...it wouldn't have been right, would it?

Why was he looking at her like that? "We can try again later," she offered.

He didn't answer. He just waited till she was dressed again and walked over to the door.

"Wait," she said. She hopped over to him and pressed her mouth against his. Even in his conflicted state, he received the kiss hungrily.

"Fuck the pot roast," he muttered, looking into her eyes, "You're delicious enough."

"Later," she whispered.

He opened the door and they walked out and waltzed downstairs as if nothing had ever happened.

The only ones who talked during dinner seemed to be Mrs. Weasley, Remus Lupin, Fred, and George. Harry had yet to arrive at Grimmauld place. Mrs. Weasley fussed over him even as he wasn't there. "Poor thing, he'll probably be half starved by the time he comes. Hard to believe you're going to be fifth years! And Fred and George seventh years! Oh!"

"Mum, don't start crying, please," Fred requested.

"Yeah. We still act like we're second years, so there's no need to get sentimental," George reassured her. She darted a look at them and turned back to Remus to discuss precautions for the Diagon Alley trip.

Ron stared a hole into his dinner, making Ginny very uncomfortable in her seat beside him. Hermione pushed her peas around her plate with her fork and bit her lower lip nervously. Sirius seemed to eat without tasting what he was chewing. Everyone automatically attributed all of the awkwardness to Ron and Hermione's fight.

Hermione and Sirius's eyes met only once during supper. For that moment, they were the only two people in the room.

Ginny was the first to rise from the table. Gradually Fred and George followed her and there began a great calamity in the kitchen that Mrs. Weasley felt the need to mediate. Lupin thanked the rather preoccupied Mrs. Weasley for supper and went on his way to run an errand for Dumbledore. He bade farewell to everyone and left.

Ron went up to his room smugly and silently, leaving Sirius and Hermione alone in the dining room.

Sirius looked around for something that needed to get done, a butter knife that had been forgotten, or a spot on the tablecloth that needed cleaning, but everything was taken care of. He faked a yawn and turned to his companion.

"I'm going to bed," he announced, clearly trying to be conversational. She nodded at him slowly.

With a pang in his stomach, he knew that the gesture meant it was not over.

The door creaked. His eyes flew wide open. He sat up instinctually, braced for attack-

But he was not braced for what he saw.

"Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. "I thought you were- well, I'm not sure." His throat was thick with sleep.

"I can't leave it unfinished," she muttered desperately.

"Well I can't fuck a fifteen year old girl," he snapped silently.

"I'm not a virgin, you know," she said in a level voice.

"What?" He was confused now. "Is the door shut?"

"And locked," she reassured him. "I said I'm not a virgin. You needn't feel guilty. I know what I'm doing."

"Somehow I doubt that. What do you mean you're not a virgin? You're bloody fifteen."

"Viktor Krum, last year. Please, I know what I'm doing. I need this. And you want it." He didn't know how to respond to that. He did want it.

All his reluctance suddenly melting away, he pulled back the bed sheets and invited the temptress inside.

They were damned, he knew it.

But they were beyond caring, and passion for the moment was all that mattered.