Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, therefore these characters are not mine. Of course, you'll see them doing things they definitely didn't do in her novels, so… well, those ideas are mine!
Chapter 1: Warm Milk
"Warm milk," Hermione muttered. Although her bed was warm, and the rest of Grimmauld Place was very cold, Hermione recognized that she needed her mother's favorite insomnia remedy, and that meant a trip down to the kitchen. A pang of sorrow struck her at the thought of her mother. Hermione was supposed to be on a ski trip with her parents, and had chosen instead to come to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix to be with her friends. They were all unnerved by the snake attack on Arthur Weasley, though, thankfully, the staff at St. Mungo's was predicting he would make a full recovery. Hermione didn't love skiing, but she did love her parents very much, and perhaps missing them during the holidays, plus the weirdness of that attack on Mr. Weasley, kept her from sleeping very well since she'd arrived here a few days ago.
If only she were 17 years old and could apparate, like Fred and George (who had been apparating everywhere as if they had no feet for walking anymore), she wouldn't have to walk down those chilly staircases. Oh well. For the next several months, walking would just have to do – even when she wanted warm milk at 2:00 am on a cold night. She pulled on a pair of warm, wooly socks, and slipped her snuggly blue chenille bathrobe over her nightgown, as she moved quietly to the hallway so as not to wake her roommate. She was probably being quieter than was necessary: Ginny slept like a rock, Hermione reflected, a little enviously.
"Lumos," Hermione whispered, and used her wandlight to guide her. As she passed the mounted heads of Kreacher's ancestors, she grimaced. With the light from her wand throwing their features into sharp relief, the house-elf heads looked more grotesque than ever, despite the Father Christmas hats and beards Sirius had put on them in a fit of holiday spirit. Out of habit, she tiptoed past the portrait of Sirius's mum. In her soft socks, Hermione wasn't making any noise, but she certainly didn't want to risk having that mad old bat alerting everyone that she was out of bed. Just because Hermione was still awake, didn't mean the rest of the residents and holiday guests shouldn't be able to get some sleep.
As Hermione rounded the corner, she saw a faint golden glow coming from around the kitchen door, which stood very slightly ajar. She rejoiced at the thought of the fire's embers, which must still be glowing in the hearth. At least the kitchen would be warmer than the icy halls. She extinguished her wand and stowed it in the pocket of her bathrobe, but just as she was about to push open the kitchen door, she heard voices. She froze in mid-step, not really wanting to run into anyone and get caught in conversation that would keep her awake even later. She drew back her hand, and instead peeked through the crack in the door to see two figures: one seated by the fireplace, and the other standing behind the chair. The fire had been rekindled, and was casting flickering shadows on the walls and ceiling.
"Ah, Sirius, thank you. You give the best shoulder rubs," she heard Professor Lupin's voice sighing.
"I know, Moony. You always say that. Now if you need anything else rubbed while I'm at it, you just let me know," Sirius teased.
"Come on, Sirius, be serious. This is not the place for that kind of behavior."
"I choose to ignore your overused bad pun, as well as your implication that my kitchen can't be sexy." Sirius Black leaned over the back of the chair, and kissed Professor Lupin on the temple, and blew gently in his ear.
"Really, Sirius," Lupin protested softly, "What if someone comes in? Just get back to that shoulder rub, will you? I'm stiff from traveling all day."
"Just the way I like you, Moony," crooned Sirius, now trailing kisses down Lupin's neck. Lupin moaned quietly, and Hermione, her right eye glued to the crack, could tell that Sirius was sure to get his way.
She knew she should turn around, creep back to her room, and just do without her warm milk. But she also knew there was no way she would be able to sleep after what she was witnessing. Sirius and Professor Lupin! Together? Well, of course, now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense. The way they had greeted each other that night in the Shrieking Shack during her third year – it was clear now, in retrospect, that their relationship was more intimate than just close friendship. Bit of a shame, really, that two such sexy men should be taken out of the dating pool all at once. But she did have to admit they made a very attractive couple.
Watching Sirius nibble Lupin's neck and earlobes, Hermione found it was a tough call who she's rather be at that moment. Sirius, getting to kiss, lick, and suck on Professor Lupin's long, lovely neck? Or Remus (she had to stop thinking of him as Professor Lupin, if she was going to entertain these kinds of thoughts), being teased so expertly by the devilish – and devilishly handsome – Sirius Black? Hermione also realized that her imagination wasn't the only part of her responding to the scene unfolding in the kitchen. Her heart was thumping so that she was almost afraid the lovers would hear it and discover her. She had completely forgotten about the chill of the hallway. Her hands – and knickers, too – felt warm and slightly damp.
Sirius had come around to the front of the chair and was leaning over Remus, both of his hands covering Remus's hands on the arms of the chair, and his lips covering Remus's lips in a deep, tender kiss. When he finally broke the kiss, Sirius moved down to Remus's open collar, kissing the collar bones, while one hand moved to the remaining buttons on his lover's shirt. "Come on, Moony," he whispered between kisses, "everyone's asleep. It's the middle of the night. No one from the Order will be coming through before dawn. It's just you and me, and I'm so glad you made it home before Christmas day." Having licked and sucked a path all the way down his torso, Sirius came down to his knees between Remus's legs, and ran his hands hungrily across his flat belly while doing his best to undo his belt with his teeth.
The werewolf's only response was a soft moan. Remus appeared to have given in completely, as both Hermione and Sirius had known he would. He ran his fingers through Sirius's long, black hair, and let his own head drop back in surrender, a wide smile easing across his tired features. His eyes were closed, all his attention on the feel of Sirius's hands on his body, Sirius's hair between his fingers, and Sirius's tugs on his trousers.
Hermione breathed deeply to steady herself as she took in the scars laced in white across Remus's lean and muscular torso. His chest, golden in the firelight, rose and fell as his breath came more quickly. His nipples were wet from Sirius's kisses, and they glistened in the light of the dancing flames. Of course he would be scarred, having turned into a wolf every month for decades. Hermione wished she could trace those lines with her fingers, or maybe her tongue, and make him glad they were there.
Sirius had managed the belt with his teeth. (Hermione made a mental note: must try that technique sometime!) He tried valiantly to undo the trousers with his mouth as well, while one hand still grazed Remus's belly, tracing the line of hair that started at his navel and headed south, and the other toyed with a nipple. After a minute, Sirius gave in, and used his hands to manage the button and zipper. Moments later, he had freed Remus's erection and was nuzzling it playfully.
Hermione swallowed hard. Were all men that big, or was that a side effect of being a werewolf? After all, there ought to be some compensations for the hardships she knew he had endured since he was bitten as a child.
"Please, Padfoot," Remus begged, and Hermione noted the change to Sirius's nickname. That was all the invitation Sirius needed. He put his lips on the engorged tip, and slowly took the entire length into his mouth. Remus arched his back and growled, "Oh, sweet Merlin, YES!"
Hermione watched, entranced, as unable to move as if someone had cast an Incarcerous spell upon her. Every time Sirius slid his mouth, now accompanied by his right hand, all the way down Remus's member, she felt an almost electric zing from her hot and wet core up to her now erect nipples. Sweet Merlin indeed – she and Viktor had kissed last year, and it had felt sexy and exciting at the time, but these sensations were entirely of a different order. And so much better than anything she'd managed to achieve on her own in her four poster at school, despite her best efforts.
When Remus came, he came hard. One hand clutched in Sirius's hair, and the other gripping the arm of the chair, his body rocked as the sweet relief of orgasm pulsed into Sirius's mouth. He made a sound that didn't seem to Hermione to be human anymore, as though he'd been taken to some deep primordial place in his being. The sound somehow took her knees out of commission, and she stumbled a little. Unfortunately, she knocked into the kitchen door, which swung inward a few inches. Both men's heads spun toward her, and her eyes locked with Remus's.
Sirius and Remus were stunned into frozen silence, but Hermione gasped and suddenly found her leg muscles again. She bolted from the kitchen back up the stairs to her room, shucked off her bathrobe and her knickers, and dove under the covers. She reached one hand under her nightgown to find herself soaking wet and more slippery than she had thought possible. She plunged in a finger, then brought it to her mouth to taste the salty sweetness. Still sucking her finger, she began to stroke herself firmly and rhythmically with the other hand, while images raced through her mind. Remus's golden chest heaving. Sirius's tousled hair and swollen lips. Remus's impossibly thick erection. Sirius's tongue on Remus's collarbones. Remus's eyes locked on her own… And like Remus, Hermione came hard, sobbing with pleasure.
Ginny, bless her Weasley genes, slumbered on, oblivious to the tidal wave of sensation that had crashed over her friend. Hermione lay back on her pillow, exhausted from the intensity of the past hour. Ah yes, she thought to herself as sleep finally claimed her: orgasm – more effective than warm milk, apparently, and tons more fun.
A/N: Well, I started this story off with a bang, eh? Told you it needed the M rating. Reviews? How do you like it so far?