Prompt: “I want you” made me think perhaps H is a Beatles girlie cause her parents, and I’ve never seen Sirius as a Beatles Guy in fic before
Thank you to Beatificbean for this prompt, I really enjoyed piecing this together
She shrieks, heart in her throat, not just because she’d been sure she was home alone, but because he’s uttering the words that haunt her nightly.
Hermione turns to the doorway and sees Sirius leaning oh-so-casually against the wooden frame, arms crossed as he looks at her. She’s in an ACDC t-shirt of his that she’d stolen from the washing basket and a pair of red jersey shorts. Perfectly acceptable loungewear for baking in the kitchen.
“That’s the song, you’re humming, right? I Want You, by The Beatles? Merlin, Hermione, you’re practically the perfect woman, knowing music like that.”
He laughs and she tries to copy him, but it’s hollow.
Of course he didn’t mean it.
She was more than 20 years his junior. She was the final stray haunting his home; Harry and Ron having moved out and moved on two years earlier. She rattled around the house like a ghost, hardly straying from her bedroom, the kitchen, or the small office they’d transformed into a potions lab for her to mess around in while she figured out what she did next with her life.
Funny how ambition quickly dries up when it’s a reality instead of a child’s dream to survive long enough to live.
“I didn’t know you knew The Beatles,” he continues on, unaware of her internal monologue, stepping towards the oven where she’s finished pouring batter into a loaf tin.
“Don’t you dare stick a finger in there, there’s raw egg! And yes, of course I know The Beatles. My father worshipped them,” she informs him with a wry smile. “Makes me think of home, of learning to bake breads and pastries on Sunday afternoons with him. Mum was useless at the sweet stuff, but Dad was a whizz at baking, you know. Ironic, given his professional quest to save every tooth he met. He’d stick a cassette in and-”
The tears overwhelm her and he pulls her in for a hug. It doesn’t soothe her like he intends, just twists the knife of loneliness harder, but she swallows it all down, pushes and pushes until she doesn’t feel it anymore.
“I have the vinyl in my room, if you want to listen over banana loaf and chai?” he offers.
The only way he knows how to offer comfort is through company and hot drinks. It’s kind of adorable, though she’d never tell him as much.
Forty minutes later, she’s at his bedroom door with chai and a plate with sliced banana loaf, hovering, knows crossing this threshold changes nothing - it’s Sirius, the man who sees her as his ward - but nonetheless the trepidation tangles in her tummy.
The door opens and he’s lounging on his bed, vinyl cover in hand, patting the mattress beside him.
The opening chords of Come Together fill the room. She perches on the edge, pushes a plate in his direction, and busies her hands with her own.
She nods, not meeting his gaze.
They listen to the entire album in silence, only moving to turn the disk over in its player. She lets the songs surround her in a nostalgic blanket, wistful for the easy, breezy carelessness of childhood.
“Oh darling,” Sirius breaks the silence when the final song ends and the record player clicks off.
She peers up at him, questioning.
“My favourite song on the album is probably Oh! Darling.”
She smiles, it’s weak and thin but that’s as sincere as she can muster. Wishes those words meant something more.
“Because is mine. You know it’s inspired by Moonlight Sonata? The complexity of the harmonies is unbelievable, it’s so layered. And yet, the sound is almost deceptively simple. A real conundrum of a track.”
His mouth twists, not a smile or a grimace, but something pained nonetheless.
“I was sure you’d say Here Comes the Sun,” he murmurs. When she quirks a sardonic brow he grins fully. “Y’know, because you’re so hopeful and full of light. Always looking for the silver lining.”
She’s not sure she is, but she takes the mischaracterisation as a compliment with a snicker.
“Sure, Sirius, whatever you say.”
“I best go clear up my mess,” she says, moving to stand.
“What about it?” she asks, stacking empty plates and mugs.
She blinks, confused and feeling as though he’s making fun of her. The vulnerability rolls her shoulders in anticipatory defense.
“Hermione. I want you. It would be a literal crime to let you walk out of this room now I finally have you in it. Wearing my fucking clothes, no less.”
She must surely have entered an alternate dimension. Or she’s having a stroke. Because there’s no way in hell this is actually happening.
His tattooed hand shoots out to grab her wrist, pulls on it, forcing her to look him in the eye.
What she sees knocks the wind out of her.
His expression is open, vulnerable, eyes gleaming. Hermione is baffled, completely unprepared.
“Unless, of course, you’re not interested. And- well, why would you be. Ignore me darli- Hermione. Just, forget it. Call it a senior moment, let me get the door for you.”
He leaps from the bed, jostling her as he passes, opens the door, head bowed.
“You- you want me? Seriously?”
“I will smack you, Sirius Black.”
He chuckles but it quickly morphs into a weary sigh.
“You don’t understand how incredible you look when you’re lost in the music, Hermione. Transcendental. You’re a vision. I mean, you always are. But you’re sitting there in my fucking t-shirt, listening to my favourite album, and you have this dreamy little grin. You’re hardly in the room, but it doesn’t matter. You’re comfortable enough to let yourself fully feel the music around me. And that’s no small thing. I know it isn’t. So, yes, I’m struck by an epiphany listening to my favourite band with my favourite witch who’s added my favourite spice to my favourite fruit loaf. Is it really so surprising?”
She laughs and it’s melodic. She’s euphoric.
“Yes, you dolt. It’s utterly baffling. Completely bewildering. Now kiss me.”
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