To bandy:

1. to pass from one to another or back and forth; give and take; trade; exchange:

"to bandy blows; to bandy words."

He rarely ever seriously engaged in conversation with her about what it was like beyond the veil and why he was back in the land of the living. To be fair, he rarely ever engaged anyone in dialogue about it. He had let everyone postulate about the reasoning behind his return when he had arrived back but it hadn't lasted long; he had wanted to set it behind himself and move on. He didn't want people to harp on about it and he didn't want that to be the only thing people thought about when they saw him in the house or on the street.

She supposed he probably allowed Remus to ask about it on occasion, whenever a new question presented itself to his friend. Her and Remus often conversed on the highly debatable subject whenever one or both of them was in a philosophical or deep mood; it made good pondering fodder.

Harry had of course participated in the original speculations as to why his godfather had been brought back to him, but shortly after the rest had settled for dropping the subject at Sirius' request, Harry had also let it go. He was simply grateful to have Sirius back in his life and took great pleasure in his company.

"But you're saying that I came back because I was wrongly locked up for twelve years, which sounds to me like I get twelve more years out of this gig before I pop it again," Sirius reasoned.

Hermione and Sirius were in the library; this was typical.

Hermione had moved into Grimmauld Place after the war. The Burrow was too crowded for her and she knew she didn't mind the company of the two men; Harry and Sirius were easy to live with most of the time. It was quiet and it was peaceful, albeit a bit dark and depressing at times but she was used to it.

Sirius had returned the day the Final Battle had come to a close and Harry had finally defeated Voldemort. Just before midnight on May 2nd, 1998 there had been an urgent letter from the Ministry from the Department of Mysteries proclaiming that Sirius Black had stumbled out of the veil, not only not having aged a day but even perhaps grown younger every day that he had been lost in there for nearly two years.

The Death Chamber of the Department of Mysteries had gone haywire; no one ever came back through the veil after going in, regardless of circumstances, and the Department had yet to come up with a method to duplicate the parameters of Sirius' foray into the land unknown.

"If what you say is true, maybe I only get twelve years of this, what I'm owed. And I don't like the thought of living on a timer that's counting down my seconds, love. I'd rather take my time with it," he continued, taking a swig from his tumbler of whiskey before dropping his head back once more to rest against the high back of the chair.

"I don't think you only get twelve years, Sirius. I think you just got a second chance at a life you deserved, then and now. No time limit. That would be exceptionally cruel of whoever or whatever decided you warranted sending back to this side of the veil if that were the case," Hermione responded, sipping her tea easily.

"For argument's sake, let's ponder on it though; if I get twelve years from the time I came back, how much time do I still have?" Sirius posed the question to her and she shook her head.

"It's been three years since you came back, Sirius. If that was the case, you still have nine more years to do with what you wish," she answered, still unconvinced that this was the case.

"I am doing what I wish," he laughed. "Whiskey, home, Harry, friends, bike... Cleared of all charges is nice, I just wish people stopped giving me the side glances, but other than that, life is good. Could do with a new bird, though," he winked at her facetiously.

"Well, maybe if you got yourself involved in something helpful or, I dunno, stopped skulking around at night in pubs, people would perceive you in a nicer light," Hermione suggested, pulling off her jumper. The fire in the library was blazing and was making her feel somewhat suffocated.

"I like the dark," he protested. "And I like bars in the dark, and birds in the dark, and drinks in the dark. Besides, I was the one wrongly accused. I shouldn't have to make myself look more innocent after the fact. Anyone who still looks down on me for twelve years of false incarceration can sod off, for all I care."

"But surely it would be more enjoyable if they didn't give you such dirty looks," Hermione commented, leaning back again in her own chair and tucking her feet up under herself.

"Maybe but I'm not about to stop telling them off like a bastard. Plus, the ladies like a man who can pull off certain swear words," he wiggled his eyebrows at her and she blinked calmly. After three years of living with Sirius Black, she was used to his casual innuendo.

"Oh yes, surely," she rolled her eyes, but felt her insides melt a little in spite of herself. "I think you should take your time with it, as you said. You've been given this time for a reason, whether it's nine more years or a lifetime until you die of old age."

"Old age?" Sirius scoffed, taking another sip from his tumbler. "I'm much more likely to die in a horrible flying motorbike accident, a duel, or in arms of woman. I do that already actually; they don't call it 'little death' for nothing."

"How is it that you manage to make even French seem inelegant?" Hermione rolled her eyes at his reference to the French term 'petite mort' for orgasm.

"Well love, you're elegant enough for the both if us so I figure I can leave that part to you," he grinned flatteringly.

"While you cover the...?"

"Smoking, drinking, swearing, seduction and general debauchery, of course." His eyes twinkled merrily as he observed a light blush begin to creep up her neck out from under her top.

In moments like this, they were both independently reminded of their age difference and the fact of their gender. The tension between the two was sometimes at a high; Hermione maintained that it was her general disapproval of his lifestyle choices and Sirius was convinced that one day she would cave and beg to be one of the women he brought home for a night. Neither, of course, voiced their thoughts to the other but the tension was undeniable, whatever the cause, and after three years of living with each other, both were finding it increasingly hard to ignore.

"Which begs the question," Hermione flapped a hand at him trying to defer his attention away from her throat, "why are you still here? It's Friday night; why are you not out on the prowl? Just think of all the women you're depriving of your precious company."

"Too right," Sirius knocked back the remaining alcohol in his glass and thumped it down on the small table beside his plush chair. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck, Sirius Black," Hermione commented lightly as he made his way from the library with a treacherous grin that made her shift a bit in her seat after the distant sound of the front door slamming reached her ears. Hermione sighed and thumped her head back on to her own chair.

Ever since Harry had started spending more time with Ginny lately, Hermione and Sirius had found themselves spending more and more time together at the house, and also outside of it. Sirius would accompany her out to run errands or do some shopping, and on occasion actually cooked her dinner after a long day at work.

She would come home and drop all her things in the front hall, leaving her heels haphazardly about wherever they had fallen from her feet and she would hobble into the kitchen to find him dancing to the music on the wireless and making a stir-fry or a roast or something else that immediately made her mouth water at the smell. He would set down a large glass of red wine for her and let her ramble about her day and the people she'd had to deal with, all the while tending to their food. Harry rarely made it home for dinner these days, and they had spent the last few months adjusting to the slightly smaller group that consisted now if just them.

Molly regarded it as good; Sirius needed company in that big old house that consisted of more than the women that left in the morning, never to return again. Hermione needed a place to live away from the prying eyes of the wizarding world where she could have her privacy to do work and whatever else she liked.

Hermione had taken on Healer Training and then St. Mungo's shortly after the downfall of Voldemort and had worked tirelessly over the last three years. She had made it to Head of the Magical Bugs and Diseases Department, Second Floor by the time her 21st birthday had rolled around. Her entire hodgepodge family had been ecstatic for her, but of course with that victory came the flip side; she was 21 and single and very much in need of some company.

Which if course was why she was finding it harder and harder to keep from jumping Sirius when he did kind things for her, like cook her dinner, listen to her rant, refresh her teacups, and put away her books. Just one good shag...

Shaking that thought from her head, Hermione proceeded to clean up after herself and flick off the lights as she went, retreating to the comfort of her room slowly. She dismissed the thought of going to pick up her briefcase, jacket and shoes, leaving it for the next morning. Saturday would dawn early but she would thankfully be able to spend it doing whatever she liked as she had weekends off now, being the Head.

Hermione grabbed a fresh towel, pinned her hair up in a bun, and made her way to the bathroom at the end of the third floor landing. The floor below held the drawing room, the library and the guest room that visitors used when they came to stay. The third floor held the room Hermione had claimed, the room Harry lived in, a spare room and the bathroom the residents of the house used most. The fourth floor above her held Regulus' old room and the room that had belonged to Sirius as a child which he had taken up again when he had returned.

Closing the door behind her, she continued to shuffle over to the large white claw foot tub amidst the opulent fittings of the Black Family bathroom. It was done entirely in black and white marble and it had taken Hermione quite a while to adjust to it again after her time on the run, using bushes as privacy and grabbing a shower at every opportunity that had presented itself in the wild. In contrast, this was luxury. Hot water steamed as it fell from the shower head above and Hermione stripped down to her slippers before leaving those behind and stepping through the gold shower curtain and under the water.

Hermione hissed at the initial contact but was soon relishing in the stream of hot water. She avoided getting her bun of hair wet and sudsed up her skin with her loofa; infinite circles and scrubs, sloughing off the day in order to enjoy the weekend. The air was thick with humidity and fog from the heat of the water but Hermione carried on.

Sirius was probably already with some witch, boozing them up and hardly needing to talk her into coming back with him for romp around in his bed upstairs. She was sure to hear the woman's heels clicking up the stairs soon enough, and she dreaded the moment at which she would he able to identify his voice outside the door of the bathroom or her bedroom, wherever she happened to be at the time he would roll in home. Luckily for her, Sirius had had plenty of practice and always remembered to put up a silencing charm so that she didn't have to listen to them all night. Except for one time, he had never forgotten. Hermione had laid awake in her bed, trying to block out the noise that was coming from somewhere over her head. Thumps, shuffles and mattress groans had been the accompaniment to the symphony of strangled moans and grunts of pleasure. It had been largely annoying until somehow she had managed to separate the noises Sirius had been making and then it was all downhill from there. She had tried desperately to just go to sleep and not until after she had listened to him finish had it occurred to her to silence her own room against noises from the outside. She had both cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner, and secretly taken pleasure in hearing something so intimate.

She had tossed and turned until finally relenting and letting her fingers drift below her covers to relieve some pent up stress, all the while recalling the sounds she had heard earlier that night.

Facing Sirius the next morning had been a challenge, for every time he had looked at her or asked her a question about something in the morning Prophet he had been shuffling through, she had blushing crimson. Sirius, being the troublemaker that he was, wouldn't let it go and had eventually realised that he had not put up any charms and had apologized profusely, swearing never to forget again.

Hermione was always at war with herself over this; on one hand she wished desperately for quiet so that she could sleep, none the wiser of his actions above her head. On the other hand, she had never had an orgasm so powerful as the one she had driven herself to after the events of that night and the memory continued to be one she used time and time again.

Fresh material?

Urgh, Hermione scolded herself for the thought and rinsed shampoo from her hair, resisting the urge to let her hands roam over any amount of skin in any capacity other than rinsing the soap from her body. Proper ladies didn't eavesdrop on other people's ecstasy and use it as fantasy fodder.

Properly self-shamed, Hermione turned the water off and reached for the towel hanging on the wall just outside the curtain when she was done. She stepped over to the vanity and brushed the condensation away in order to observe herself as she patted her skin dry. Arms, torso, legs, and sure enough there was the sounds of people on the stairs.

How did he always manage to get someone from the bar back to shag in less than an hour on a regular basis?

Bending, Hermione shook her head and braced herself for the familiar feeling of jealousy as the two of them would pass the bathroom in a few moments. She tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach and rubbed her towel up over the tops of her feet and up her calves with a sigh.

She barely had time to register the deviation for the norm as the bathroom door swung open with a whoosh and the cold air from the hallway met the damp heated skin of her backside and puckered the whole of her into goose bumps. Hermione squeaked and stood up straight, spinning and raising her towel to cover her chest and by proxy drape to cover the rest of her rarely seen parts.

"Woah! Sorry, I thought you were in bed -" Sirius' face reflected just as much shock as she felt, her heart racing and her blood contrastly standing frozen in her veins. He was standing there in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob, stock still and gaping at her in awe. "I'll just - sorry - I'll - yeah -" he turned, momentarily realising that standing there gaping was probably making her uncomfortable. Hermione felt her body thrum and blood rush to her face and chest, creating a splotchy blush that mingled with the skin that had already turned pink in the shower.

The door clicked shut again and Hermione didn't know what to do. She was still frozen in shock and she couldn't hear Sirius' boots on the landing, climbing up or descending back down away from her. Perhaps he had been to quick to re-join his latest female friend and Hermione felt her heart sink at the thought.

"Oh, sod it -" the door opened again and Sirius reappeared, leather jacket, baggy black jeans, boots and all. "If I've only got nine years left, I'm living in the damn moment."

"Sirius, what're you -" Hermione squeaked and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as he strode up to her in two long steps and seized her shoulders.

Suddenly, his lips were crushing into hers and he was kissing the very breath out of her lungs, making her swoon. Her senses were completely bombarded with him; the smell of cigarettes, the taste of whiskey, the feel of his leather jacket on the bare skin of her arms, still cold from outside. It was all she could to to stand rooted to the spot and hold her towel in place in front of herself, and break away to take in a shaky lungful of oxygen as he rasped his stubble down the column of her neck, dragging his lips after it.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" she breathed, hearing herself that her words did not hold the conviction they usually did. Her knees were going weak under his attentions and she fought to instruct her brain to keep herself standing and not grab onto his arms.

"Well, love, if you don't stop me now I'll be doing a lot more than kissing you, I can guarantee you that," he growled, releasing one of her arms to drag the towel out of her hands and let it flump to the tile a short distance away. Completely bare before him, Hermione blushed ferociously but he seemed to take no mind, turning her bodily to press her against the door of the bathroom, her back meeting someone's robe that was hanging there, acting as a barrier between her hot back the cold door.

"Why?" she gasped as he held her there and groped his way down her torso, nipping at her clavicle. Her back arched off the door when he rolled a pert nipple between his fingers and he grinned lasciviously down at her.

"Because your arse is fantastic and I find myself with a desperate need to fuck you," he stated and her knees buckled at his response. He laughed lowly and pressed her more closely to the door to hold her up. "Any objections?" He shrugged his jacket off and let it join the towel on the tile floor, listening for her answer as he did so.

"N-no," she breathed, skin puckering at the chill as he pulled away momentarily before descended upon her once more.

"Excellent," Sirius groaned. "Leg up," he grasped one of her thighs and she lifted it shakily. He held it high and sandwiched it between his hip and the door behind her, angling away in order to expose her centre to him. His lips grappled with hers again roughly and Hermione stood up as tall as she could to get closer to him.

Was this real? Surely not.

Sirius' hand roughly groped her breast before dragging down and she felt his fingers slide down between her legs and she nearly screamed. She would have if her voice hadn't caught in her throat at the blunt and sudden contact, but as it was she just jumped and twitched as his middle finger slid smoothly between her folds.

"Jesus Christ, Hermione," Sirius ground out, his hips jumping forward as his fingers were met with an overwhelming amount of moisture. "I take it you like this," he buried his face in her neck and nosed her ear softly, circling her bundle of nerves and making her hips search out more friction as he did so. "Tell me," he demanded.

"Mhm," Hermione licked her lips and was struck with the enormity of the situation. Harry's godfather had her pressed against the bathroom door and was a short distance away from sliding a finger or two into her and she could feel herself coating his hand as he moved between her legs smoothly. "More," she gasped, the realization that this could have very terrible consequences being pushed to the back of her mind quickly.

"Aye-aye," Sirius laughed bursts of hot air against her neck and obliged, teasing her entrance briefly before slipping a long finger into her and pushing as deeply as he could to stroke her inner walls before pulling out and adding another finger to the mix gently.

Hermione's head dropped back to rest against the door. It had been so long since she had been touched at all, and on top of that, he was so good at what he did. Within minutes he had her shaking and thrusting against his hand and he was looking down at her keening in his arms with the darkest grey eyes she had ever seen in her life, like a tropical storm close on the horizon.

"Would you like it if I made you come?" he asked, as if he wasn't currently pushing her body to its limits, pulling away to just skim her lower lips and tease the skin of her inner thigh with his damp hand.

"Yes," Hermione heaved a breath, "yes, please yes."

"Tell me, what can I do after I make you come?" he probed again with his fingers and Hermione's mind was reeling, searching for the answer.

"Fuck me, you can fuck me," tumbled the almost incoherent response.

"Fantastic, just what I wanted to hear," he growled, pressing his hand more firmly against her clitoris and swirling faster. "Arms up, love and hold on," he instructed as she followed his orders and grasped the hook on the back of the door above her with shaking hands. Hermione was inhaling and exhaling large lung fulls of air and she felt her impending release creep nearer and nearer at a remarkable pace, body tensing in anticipation. Sirius lowered his head to her breast and took the closest nipple into it, laving before sucking hard and quickening his hand between her legs.

Hermione couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she couldn't yell or scream or cry; all she could do was open her mouth soundlessly and push her hips as hard as she could against Sirius' hand. Her body shook and seized, her orgasm breaking like a wave against the shore, a big one and then little tremors coursing against her until her mind came back to her and she sighed heavily, sagging in his arms against the door.

"Not done yet, kitten," he growled, pulling his hand from between her legs and standing back to pull her up unsteadily, turned her to face the vanity. Her limbs were still like noodles and she sagged against the counter, hearing the clink of his belt buckle and the whoosh of him pulling his shirt over his head, and his groan as he released himself from the confines of his jeans behind her. Hermione shivered and stuck her arse out further, leaning over more and placing her elbows on the counter in front of the sink. Sirius' rough palms groped the globes of her backside and he groaned again, pressing closer to her heat. Hermione felt his length against her and wiggled feebly back against him with a groan of her own.

"Lower," he said with bated breath, nudging her back and she dropped her head down to the edge of the counter, leaning against it heavily. She opened her eyes and between her spread legs she could see Sirius' boots and his jeans dropped down to sit on top of them in a messy pile around his calves. "Perfect," he ground out and brushed the tip of himself against her slick folds, eliciting a breathy moan from her lips without effort. He nudged and stepped closer, his warm palm on her lower back and he pressed into her slowly. Hermione felt him shake behind her as he relished in the sensation of her body welcoming his wetly and his palm slid down over her hip, squeezing her tightly back against his hips.

"Siriusss-sss," was expelled from her lips when he pulled out and pushed back in fully a moment later and she felt him react to his name on her lips. He was so hard inside her, pushing so deeply into her and she was trying to capture the feeling for her memory in case she was unlucky enough for this to never happen again.

"Yes?" he chuckled breathlessly, picking up his pace. The force of him entering her was edging her up closer to the sink and she raised her head, gripping the edge of the counter tightly to keep herself upright. Hermione tightened painfully around him when she glanced them in the mirror suddenly; She was flushed and leaning against the vanity limply as he stood behind her. He met her eyes and licked his lips, his pace never faltering and Hermione groaned at the look on his face. Sirius was thrusting into her, making his hair swing free and his mouth was open, his lips moist from the brush of his tongue not a moment ago. He gazed at her and then tipped his head back, closing his eyes and dropping his mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy.

If only she could hear the same groans from him as she had overhead when he had had an encounter with that other woman months ago.

The thought made her tighten around him again and heat flooded where they were joined and to her amazement, he gave a gravelly grunt in response, making her nipples pebble in pleasure.

"Urngh," came her body's reply and he pulled her up more upright by her shoulder, stepping them forward to press the tops of Hermione's thighs tightly to the edge of the marble counter, making her cry out in shock at the sudden chill. Sirius' pace was picking up again and he was shoving her up against the vanity harshly, pushing deep and pulling out quickly. Sweat was gathering on his chest, and she could see his skin glistening in the low light of the bathroom. Their skin was starting to stick slightly every time he pushed his hips flush to hers with a soft sound and then pulled back.

Sirius hooked his left arm under hers and reached up across her torso, grasping her opposite breast in his hand fully and hauling her up, back against his chest, while still pumping in and out of her steadily, heavenly. Hermione could feel her insides fluttering in anticipation again and knew she was close for the second time.

"Leg - up," he panted and she lifted her right leg and he pulled it up to set her knee on the corner of the counter. "Keep it there," he ordered and she nodded nonsensically. She was balancing precariously on the ball of the foot still on the bathmat under them, straining to get higher. Sirius grasped her hands and brought them back, looping them loosely back over her shoulders to hold on to his neck for stability. Hermione was stretched tall and open for him and his gaze was blazing a trail over her skin, leaving scorch marks in its wake. He held her tight, hand having moved form her chest and used his right hand to reach over her raised leg to where they were joined. With a low protracted groan, he circled her bundle of nerves once more and she cried out to the ceiling after glimpsing his actions in the mirror.

"Your cunt - is so - tight," he panted, punctuating his words with his forceful thrusts and Hermione gasped, feeling her release break again. As if her first one had left a trail of petrol behind it, the second ripped through her, hot and blazing, and she came around his cock loudly. She vaguely heard him groan her name - 'Hermione' - and he convulsed behind her, shaking and coming hard. He had released her and they both slumped forward, panting and sweaty.

Hermione was holding up the majority of his weight as he leant against her back, chest heaving after his efforts.

"I think I might be getting too old for this," he laughed breathlessly against her shoulder and Hermione let out a breath.

"I hope not," she muttered tiredly.

"What's that, love?" he picked his head up and met her eyes in the mirror once more.

"I said I hope not," she gave him a satisfied smile.

"Does that mean I get another crack at it?" he asked, swagger evident without having to even take a step away from her.

"Mhm," she nodded slowly, "but not tonight."

"There's always more time for me to have another go," he laughed.

A/N: I'm in the middle of a long chapter fic revolving around George and Hermione but this just wouldn't leave me alone. I've never written Sirius at all, I don't think, so this was new for me.

Let me know what you think (not that there's much plot to comment on, hahaha).

Review!

Cheers