Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Stay	By : jay.angelin Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 11720 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the Harry Potter Series and creative rights to characters belong to their original creator JK Rowling.

Chapter List
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6:00 AM August 31st, 1996
Blood rushed in Hermione’s ears. The only sound she heard was her increased pulse roaring as the rest of the room fell in silence around her. She looked to Harry’s angry face and his mouth forming words that did not reach her. Her eyes slid to Ron. His ears were cherry red and his arms crossed angrily. Molly’s arms, however, were waving around madly and looked as if she were yelling at Professor Dumbledore. The entire room was in an uproar over the news that Kingsley had just shared. The news that would be front-page come tomorrow morning.
Hermione felt nothing.
No. That’s not quite right either.
Hermione felt numb.
Her eyes drifted to Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive, who set calmly amongst the chaos. She knew he reached the same conclusion she had. She was the brightest witch of her age or so they said. He wouldn’t even look in her direction.
That made her angry. Which was better than numb.
The pulse in her ears slowly died as the roar of the room became louder. There was yelling as everyone fought to be heard over the others.
The man she thought that could be a voice of reason and know a way out of the current situation was offering no advice and watched intently at his steepled fingers over his half-moon glasses.
Hermione scowled at him and then her eyebrows knitted together. She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.
This is it. I’m an adult. This is what it feels like. Her thoughts resigned her to her fate. No adults to save me. No magical way out. Must face the music.
Her eyes opened and they met grey.
She wasn’t shocked that he was watching her. He must have come to the same conclusion. He was the eye of the storm. The calm center to the chaos. Hermione counted as they stared at each other.
One.
Two.
She blinked.
Three.
Should I look away?
Four.
She took a deep breath for determination.
Five.
Sirius Black made a sharp movement with his head towards the exit of the drawing-room.
Six.
She nodded in consent.
Seven.
She finally looked away and rose from her seat and headed to the door. She wasn’t sure if she should be surprised or not that the only person that noticed her exit was Remus as they all yelled over each other. A silent conversation passed between the Animagus and werewolf with facial expressions alone. Hermione had no idea what passed between them, but she disappeared through the threshold as Remus simply nodded to Sirius.
She waited in the entryway patiently. How did this happen? She chided herself with a snort. Voldemort. Obviously.
She felt a heavy cloth on her shoulders and the hands as the slowly turned her. She looked up into the hauntingly beautiful grey eyes of Sirius.
She gave him a wan smile and he returned it with a halfhearted one, “Care to talk outside?” A roar could still be heard from the kitchen.
She nodded not trusting her voice. She finished adjusting the robes he draped over her shoulders thankful for his thoughtful gesture.
He opened the door for her and followed her out.
They walked a while in silence. He seemed content in the silence as she warred with what words to say. Do they discuss it from the beginning, or should she just assume he came to the same conclusion she had?
He must have. He’s here. She nodded to herself resolutely. She now knew he was waiting for her to speak first. It was still early morning and they were eerily alone walking the rows of London houses. The sky just showing hints of the morning sun.
He’s here, she reminded herself. She spotted a bench under a streetlight post. She quickly determined that was not a good idea and kept walking. Sitting would mean they would have to look at each other.
Her resolution finally formed into words, “I won’t ask it of you.”
He suddenly stopped walking and she turned to look at him as she came to an abrupt halt.
“You don’t even have to ask,” he said taking hold of her hand gripping it in a firm reassurance.
This is surreal, she thought as her eyes traced his face. These were the first words they spoke to each other after Kingsley explained how Umbridge and Thicknesse snuck in a horrendous law under the Order’s noses. It just passed last night and Kingsley immediately called an emergency meeting pulling everyone brusquely from their slumber. Hermione felt disconnected even from her own body as she weighed his words.
She glanced down at their joined hands. She gripped his much larger hand back and pressed her eyes shut. Was this it? she asked herself.
Every of-age muggleborn woman, not man, mind you, was required to marry a pureblood (defined as 5 generations of proven magical ancestry) or be forced to submit to the trace. While everyone argued and fought over Voldemort’s intentions, how to stop it, and how to help those affected, she came to her own conclusions. True she was only about to start her sixth year; she would be of legal age in 20 days. The news of the law would come out in the Daily Prophet while everyone was on the train to Hogwarts. In 20 days, she’d be 17. In 20 days, she would start the countdown to having her magic stripped or finding a husband. She didn’t need 20 days to run down a list of available prospects and cross-reference it with people she trusted with her life.
An ache started in her chest and she took a deep breath to steady herself.
Apparently, Sirius Black didn’t need 20 days either to understand that she was the only Order member effected and to know that he happened to be her only viable option.
He squeezed her hand and her eyes came back to meet his.
She cleared her throat, “I – I think… I’m not sure what to do,” She gave him a helpless look, “I’m not used to t- that.”
He looked sad as he raised his other hand slowly to her cheek and wiped away a stray tear that she hadn’t even been aware of until that moment. It surprised her. Her uncertainty and vulnerability frightened her.
“Do you trust me?” he asked. His voice was cautious. Hesitant. She could see the flicker of fear of what her answer might be.
She nodded but then added in a steady voice, “Completely.”
He grinned. Not the grin he gives when Remus tells a joke or when he shares a funny marauder memory. It also wasn’t the grin he has when he sees Harry after being away. She knows those grins. They go all the way to his eyes and the joy is palpable.
The current grin however she has rarely seen. It’s not as familiar to her but she knows what it means. It was devious. It was a grin he had after he had a dazzling idea or a plan.
Hermione could see the moment that the sadness started to tinge his smile. His plan wasn’t going to be easy. It might be a good one. Brilliant even. But the necessity for a plan in the first place was a horrible reminder. It dampened any confidence he had. He could execute the logistical parts of the plan with precision but there were things beyond his control. Stubborn determination was his strength. But it was also the thing that could make everything go terribly wrong.
“Hermione, I-,” his voice was rough with emotion, “I can’t promise you’ll like this, or you’ll be completely happy, or even comfortable,” he took both her hands in his, “but I can promise you that you can count on me no matter what. I won’t let anyone else hurt you, and I-“ he hesitated as he chose his words carefully. Not something he was known for. “I’ll try not to hurt you myself.”
Hermione noted his choice of the word ‘try.’ Not a decisive “I won’t.” There was no resolute promise to never fail her. In a single instance, she appreciated his insistence that he wouldn’t purposefully hurt her. She respected his honesty. It was refreshing that he understood he might hurt her anyway despite any good intentions. She accepted the fact that it was impossible for them to not hurt each other regardless of any promises they might make to not do so.
“Thank you,” she said in a small voice.
“You don’t have to thank-,”
Her hand rested on lips halting his words.
“Yes, I do,” she insisted removing her hand and moving it back into his. Her eyes fell to her hands being held in his. They stood in the middle of a sidewalk facing each other. How odd they must look in their robes in muggle London.
“This isn’t some casual-,” she fought back tears, “Thank you isn’t even enough. That law doesn’t have to affect your life. Within less than an hour you’ve decided to sacrifice what little freedom and happiness you have for me. You’ve barely had your name cleared. I’ve never been an easy person to deal with and yet you’re here stepping up to something and you don’t have to.”
Sirius opened his mouth to interrupt her, “You’re not-
“No,” she laughed, a tear betrayed her as it slipped down her cheek, “I know what I am.” Then she corrected, “I know who I am.” She watched his brow worry over her words. His grey eyes compassionate. “It’s why I’ve never made friends easily. The ones I have, well, they can’t get rid of me if they tried.” She grinned.
“Well then,” Sirius laughed, “Then we are a right pair.” He pulled Hermione beside him in a friendly one-armed hug. He squeezed her shoulder tightly. “Everything in my entire life has always been a right mess.” He took a few steps guiding her with him, his arm still securely wrapped around her shoulders. She felt a deep rumble from his chest as he let out a throaty laugh, “It’s always been a toss of a coin on how everything in my life has gone.” He winked down at her, “So after all the bad luck in my life I can only hope there’s none left for it to bother us much. But be fair warned good luck or bad luck I’ve had a shit life and a bad attitude to go with it.”
Hermione grinned and let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She was well acquainted with his mood swings.
“I’m pretty sure I’m already well equipped to handle you. The only downside I see is that we will both be too stubborn to get along. I’m not any good at tempering myself let alone someone else. And the only person that has any success in bringing you out of your bad humor is Remus.”
“Hermione, I think it won’t really matter in the short term.” He dropped his arm and laced his fingers in with hers squeezing her gently, “We work together. Until the war is past and we are all safe. Nothing else is an option. We can fret about how our marriage will fare after we only have the boring years to look forward to, if at all.”
She nodded and looked over him carefully, “Sirius, I just want you to understand that I don’t want to make you miserable or to hate me. I don’t want your resentment when you realize what you’ve done.”
He stopped walking and he pulled her closer both her hands back in his. His face was earnest, “You didn’t have to ask. You don’t have to thank me, and you certainly don’t have to apologize,” he tucked her wild hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t even have it in me to walk away from you. I’m a lot of terrible things. But this? I’d never regret this or be angry towards you. This isn’t some rash choice I’m making. I can’t say with certainty how it’s all going to go. Hindsight is a bitch, yeah, but right here, right now, we are saving you from a fate worse than death. And that isn’t even a choice, Hermione.”
Tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t used to relying on other people. She wasn’t good at receiving help. The idea of not being self-sufficient was dismaying. It made her a failure.
Somehow, she couldn’t catch her breath. She kept sucking in air, but it seemed like it wasn’t working properly.
She can handle some failures. Failure doesn’t signal the end. It’s a starting point for success. It was horrifying to have to be so absolutely reliant on the goodwill of someone to succeed. She didn’t share responsibilities or burdens very well. She didn’t know how to work with others cohesively. It was easier to trust herself to do everything right then to rely on someone else. But not in this. Everything working out didn’t just rest on her own shoulders but was a weight that needed to be equally yoked. It was horrifying.
She wasn’t one to cry loudly or sob. Sirius pulled her into a tight embrace.
Then finally, she cried into his shoulder. The gut-wrenching sound was worse each time she tried to get more air.
The sound she startled her. Terrified her. Embarrassed her.
Suddenly her lungs were filled with air she needed, and a few more sobs escaped her before she bit down her lip to stop them. His hands moved up and down her back trying to reassure her.
He’s here, she reminded herself.
She relaxed into his arms and silently just cried. They wouldn’t hurt her because this man cared enough about her. Other muggleborns would be hurt. But not her. Each thought brought on more waves of tears. She stomped down her feelings. She tried to block them out. To distance herself from the aching pain in her chest. Her emotions were running unchecked and they needed to be reined in. She could cry later. Not now. She concentrated on his arms. His chest under her cheek. He was warm and solid. His heartbeat was steady and she let the sound and feel carry her into calmness.
When the tears finally subsided she pulled back and dried her face. She looked up determinedly, “What’s your plan?”
“First?” Sirius asked as he ran his hand through his hair, “We go to your parents.”
Hermione looked confused.
“You’re 16, while an age of consent, it’s not legal to marry-”
“But I’ll be 17 in-”
“I know, but you’re not getting on that train tomorrow an unmarried woman.”
“But we need days to-”
“Hermione?” He interrupted impatiently, “I thought you said you trusted me?” His eyebrows both rose and she blushed embarrassed by her inquisitive nature. “I have a plan. Would you like to hear it?”
She nodded without another word and he chuckled.
“We will break the news to your parents, go get a muggle license, confound them, get married. Following?”
Hermione nodded.
Sirius took a stealing breath, “But afterward,” he squeezed his arms around Hermione still holding her close, “We will have to consummate the marriage. That will seal it in the ministry as well. We won’t even have to inform them properly. We will be added to the marriage register and a magical document will create itself based on our muggle one. Which is why it’s important not only for your parents to consent but to also witness.”
Hermione’s eyes had only widened slightly at the mention of consummation but she stomped down her emotions again and tried to think about it in a rational straight forward way. She nodded and added, “You can’t fool magical documents when it comes to that.” But then a thought hit her, “But we can’t tell my parents!”
Sirius eyebrows knitted, “But we need-”
“No, they’ll agree,” Hermione hastened, “They won’t be happy, but they will agree. But as far as they need to know this is a marriage of convenience. They don’t know enough about magic or our ways to understand. They’ll balk at any mention of bonds or forced consummation.”
Sirius was appalled, “I’d never force-”
“I know, Sirius,” She added quickly, “I know. I trust you. But that’s not how my parents will see it. They can’t know about any magical bonding. They won’t see it as consent.” She glanced away, “They’ll see it as a slave bonded to their master. Consent, to them, doesn’t exist in slavery.” She braved a look at him and he was listening to her intently. Hermione pulled away and looked down at her feet. Wrapping her arms around herself.
Sirius added, “They’ll ask about divorce then. If we offer up a solution to all of this, it’ll help them ease their minds that you’ll be free of it one day.” He lifted her chin so he could see her face, “One of these years we should be able to convince your parents we just don’t want a divorce.”
She nodded knowing there was no such thing as divorce when bonded to another. Breaking a bond was nearly unheard of. It was painful. Their muggle marriage license would evoke the beginning of their pledge to each other. The consummation would seal it. Breaking a bond could only ever happen when contracts were breached. But they had no contract and it could take nearly a week for one to be approved by the Ministry. There was not nearly enough time to do this in the proper magical way.
“I hate lying to them.” Hermione fought back another wave of tears. Sirius pulled in close again as he lifted her chin gently. His eyes were so full of sorrow she hadn’t seen on his face in over a year. He wiped the tears from her face softly caressing her cheek with his thumbs. Her face framed in his hands.
“I’ll do the lying,” he declared and then leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly.
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