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ceredwensirius Oct. 25th, 2008 08:40 pm)
ceredwensirius Oct. 25th, 2008 08:40 pm)Title: Priest To Priestess
Pairing: Sirius/Hermione, Ron/Harry
Rating: NC17
Canon: Post DH
Word Count: 2626
Genre: AU
Prompt: The Fear of Horses
Warnings: Liberally using ideas from pagan religious rites as served my purposes and mixing them with sex.
Summary: Days and days of being immersed in Sirius' universe made her feel a bit closer to him and with that in mind she decided that she would honor him in this traditional way.
Author's Note: This one shot was strongly influenced by my favorite book The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Thank you to my beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ilexx. Written for the 2008 Fall Fear Challenge over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
erotic_elves.
She was not conscious of speech,
only of the power, of her own hands
blessing, of the force that streamed
out of her body, as if the very strength
of the sun poured through her and into
the man before her.
The Mists of Avalon
Hermione had listened with great amusement to the bickering quarrel of her two best friends from her perch on their bed as they decided what to pack on their 'honeymoon.' This was the first year that Harry wouldn't be in school or otherwise focused on something else and with Halloween just around the corner Ron wanted a sizeable distraction for his boyfriend. Harry wasn't prone to melancholy around this day, though, and Hermione was pretty sure it was just an excuse to get alone and sweaty with Harry. With the final decisions all made she followed them out and to the front door.
"You're sure you'll be alright alone in this big house?" asked Harry, with his hand on the door knob.
Hermione bounced up on the balls of her feet and gave him a swift peck on the check. "I'll be fine. I think I'm going to go through the books in Sirius' room. It will be fun for me."
Ron rolled his eyes as he bent to peck her check. "Only you," he said affectionately.
"Have fun, you two," she said as she closed the door on them. "Right, tea first," she said briskly and then giggled because she was talking to herself out loud.
A few days later, up in Sirius' room, Hermione had two stacks of books. One was for magical texts, the other muggle. It was surprising to her that Sirius had apparently enjoyed poetry and the classics in muggle literature. Many, many of these muggle books were signed with an inscription from Lily. She wished she had known that about him because she would have loved to have gotten his impression, as a wizard raised in wizarding society. There was always this sense about him that if he had sulked a little less, that there was a unique and interesting person waiting to be discovered.
At the back of his closet which was now straightened and orderly, she found a last stack of books shoved into a corner. Settling herself on the floor in the middle of his bedroom she began to investigate her latest find. They were magical texts no doubt but it was a side of magic that wasn't touched on at Hogwarts. She knew something of the religious side to witchcraft, the pagan roots to gods and goddesses of the harvest, but not a great deal. With so many children coming from muggle backgrounds and the disparity between different familial traditions, Hogwarts opted not to expose them to such esoteric knowledge.
She had never had so much information of this subject at her fingertips and was lost to reading for hours, never moving from her spot until the insistent grumbling of her stomach spurred her toward the kitchen for a sandwich. She glanced over the pages as she prepared her food until she got to a picture of a man with a set of deer antlers fixed to his head. The explanation was that he was taking on the ritual embodiment of the horned god who was most often represented by the form of a stag.
This made her think of James Potter and his animagus form. As someone raised in wizard society he would have certainly had some knowledge of this.
"Wow," she laughed. "He really was an arrogant berk."
After eating, she returned to Sirius' room and opened the last of the books. This one dealt entirely with the sabbath rituals, eagerly she flipped through and looked for the one about Halloween.
"Samhain," she said softly with her finger just under the word.
A paragraph titled 'Intercession With The Dead' wasn't what it seemed. Instead it explained that on the night of the thirty first of October the world of the living and the dead were closer than at any other time of the year. Reading on she discovered that witches and wizards had a lovely traditional way of honoring their deceased. There was a lot of other information about casting circles and calling quarters but she focused mainly on the meat of the matter. Days and days of being immersed in Sirius' universe made her feel a bit closer to him and with that in mind she decided that she would honor him in this traditional way.
Following custom on Halloween night, white candles were set all about by her, flickering gently, sending softly spooky and yet altogether romantic shadows that danced and cavorted about the ancient dwelling. The ritual platter of cakes and goblet of wine were set out in the hearth, traditional offering to the dead that pass nearby while the Veil between the worlds thinned and lifted. She caught sight of something, like distortion in her vision and shook her head of fanciful imaginings, laughing at herself for already seeing ghosts. Satisfied, Hermione left the drawing room for the kitchen and finally sat down to her take out dinner of curried lamb. The grandfather clock chimed twelve times at the stroke of midnight and Hermione lifted a silent thought to the former owner of the house.
"Merlin, that smells good!" said a deep male voice from another room. Heavy foot steps approached the kitchen.
Hermione was on her feet in a second, the hand that held her wand was stretched out and shaking.
From the flickering shadows, a dark form took shape as it neared and entered the kitchen, revealing itself to be the dead resurrected.
"S-S-S-S-" stammered Hermione.
"Sirius," he supplied helpfully, gently, taking pity on her frightened state. "Of course, dear girl. You summoned me."
Since this didn't seem to calm her, he added, "I'm not here to hurt you but I would dearly love a bite of that. It's been ages since I've had a curry."
"A-A-Are you b-b-back?" she asked finally, after watching him take a few bites of her take out which elicited almost erotic moans from him.
"Would you like me to be?" he asked, before stealing another forkful of her food.
Watching him eat lessened her fright because it was very human behavior and had the added benefit of also being annoying, stealing some of the thunder from her fear. She finally lowered her wand and stuck it in the pocket of her robes.
"We all would," she replied, thinking of how over joyed Harry would be.
Sirius stood up and took a careful step in her direction, watching her reaction closely. Only when he was satisfied that she wasn't about to bolt did he take another and another until he was standing close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body. Unable to stop herself, because her mind was alive with curiosity over the very existence of him, she placed her hands on his broad chest because she just had to feel that he was real.
"There is a way," he murmured softly, as she touched him, his eyes fluttering closed with pleasure at the feel of human contact. "If you're willing."
"Willing to do what?" she asked innocently, smoothing her hands across his chest, up to his shoulders and down his arms. He was definitely real.
"Well, first I have a question, sort of a personal question, although I imagine the relevance will become clear immediately," he answered, grazing his fingers at her temple to brush a few strands of wavy, brown hair out of her face.
"Hmm, what's that?" she asked, as she gave his biceps a firm squeeze. Very, very real indeed.
"Are you yet a virgin?"
Hermione glanced swiftly at his face and then at her hands which had been stroking and caressing him in a fairly intimate way. She immediately dropped them from his arms, embarrassed by the intimacy implied, particularly in light of his question, and wrapped them around behind her back as she dropped her chin shyly and took a small step back from him.
Undeterred, he stepped with her and placed a finger under her chin to lift it. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said softly, before letting his lips brush hers. He took another step closer and moved his lips by her ear. "I would take such good care of you tonight."
The situation was understandably overwhelming and a feeling of fear coursed through her. Not like her fear of failure or her fear of horses, but another kind of fear, one she didn't have a name for. What he had asked her, what he was asking of her, treaded on esoteric and sacred ground and it was nothing she knew much about. Her mind raced trying to put it all together and she suddenly felt very foolish because her actions tonight were not born of any intent. She only meant to honor him and now she was being asked to do exactly that, honor him with her virginity. She had not followed all of the instructions in the Grimoire, ignoring all the fuss about casting circles and calling quarters, meaning she had entered into a ritual with none of the precautions and now magic worked its own will. She felt at once immensely tiny and ridiculously powerful and she shivered with the awareness of an other worldly power, a feminine power that begged entry into her body.
How could she refuse him? How could she send him back to the void when she could feel the power to change his history tingling along her skin, needing only her acceptance to flood and over take her.
"I...am," she sighed. It wasn't in her to say no. "Yes."
Lifting both hands to reverently cup her face, he blessed her lips with his once again, slowly, tenderly, as though he had never touched anything so precious in all his life. Stepping away momentarily, he bent slightly and then she was off her feet, cradled to his chest. Climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he carried her bridal style while holding her gaze in his luminous grey orbs. He entered his bedroom, giving his door a soft kick to close it and then set her gently on the bed.
"Can I borrow your wand?" he asked quietly. She lifted the stick of wood from her pocket and handed it to him wordlessly.
Without uttering a single sound he made a few changes to the room, making it more inviting with the warm glow from a few gas lamps and some cleaning charms.
"May I?" he asked and she didn't know what he meant. To demonstrate he cast a charm on himself and was instantly disrobed, fully disclosed to her brave viewing. Already at attention, his erection stood out red and rigid against his body and for a ghost of a second she thought she caught sight of something around his brow. The hum of power thrummed forcefully through her veins in recognition of what they were moments away from doing. It was nearly euphoric and stole the ability of clear speech from her throat so she just nodded silently.
The feeling of instant nudity made her achingly self conscious so she closed her legs tightly and wrapped her arms around herself, casting her eyes away from his penetrating gaze. She felt small and silly and questioned her sanity, wondering if this wasn't some fevered dream. Kneeling on the floor before her, he touched his hands to the outside of her knees.
"Don't be ashamed of your body," he murmured to her. "And please don't be frightened of me."
Running his hands up the outside of her thighs, the warm feeling was a pleasant thrill. Moving them to her arms, he leaned up a little and touched his lips to hers once again. The power that had taken up residence in her surged forth and she realized with a strange sort of clarity that she both was and wasn't Hermione Granger. She was something more, something as fresh as Spring and old as the Earth itself, compliment and contradiction. It urged her, beyond her own will to return his advances and the gentle pressure of his lips turned into insistence and immediacy and she felt that he too had been taken over by something greater than himself.
Pushing her back against the bed, his body covered hers, crushing her but she didn't mind. All she wanted, all she could think about was more, more, more...
Rolling them into the bed, he sat up with her straddling his lap, his cock a hot presence against her stomach, and wrapped his arms around her back to hold her close. The warmth of his lips burned against her throat, collar bone, then down to her breast and finally sucking a nipple into his hot mouth as she broke her silence to cry out his name.
Laying back and pulling her with him, his lips on hers again, he rolled them once more and began a swift trek along her body, leaving a wet trail of licks and kisses. Settling between her legs, he lifted her narrow hips to bring her sex to his mouth. Never had she entertained the thought that anything could be this pleasurable, twisting her hips so that he had to grip her tighter and that too was a wonderful sensation. Sucking her clit into his mouth created a build up of energy that simply could not go on forever, it was too strong, too powerful and she felt that if something didn't give she would fly apart.
His name and half formed obscenities flew out of her mouth as she begged him to end her agony. At a pinnacle moment when her breath wouldn't come fast enough, her heart fluttered against her chest like a wild bird and her soul felt like it was on fire that her body did explode and fly apart but so sweet and exquisite as she sang his name in exultation.
Kissing his way up her body, she could feel the urgency of his need in the energy between them. His cock burned like a living thing next to her skin and oh, god how she wanted it. Pressing it against her cunt, wet from his mouth and her release, so that she shifted her hips in a silent entreaty.
"Please," she whispered and just before he breached her barrier she saw it again, the ghost along his brow only now it was clear, an ethereal crown of antlers. Without knowing where the knowledge came from she understood that he was filled with the presence of the Horned One, the ancient god of the pagans, the King Stag.
And then it was as though they succumbed to a force older and more powerful than themselves as he surged into her warmth. She could feel the pain and it made her cry out but it didn't stop her hips from rising to meet his every thrust in a frenzied rut. The power and pleasure flowed freely between them and she imagined she could feel everything he felt as the edge he pushed her over only moments before came closer into her sights once again. When it happened, it was so overwhelming that she was utterly lost in him as it fused into one gloriously breath taking moment of life, death, rebirth and resurrection.
"Goddess!" he cried out to her as he came, spurting his life into her and then more softly, "Hermione."
Collapsing onto her with a weight she welcomed, she listened to him struggle to regain his breath, the wild thumping of his heart slowing slowly and after a few minutes he rolled away, taking her with him as he slipped out of her.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
"I don't understand how all this happened, can you explain it?"
He grinned just then and nodded.
"Magic."
Pairing: Sirius/Hermione, Ron/Harry
Rating: NC17
Canon: Post DH
Word Count: 2626
Genre: AU
Prompt: The Fear of Horses
Warnings: Liberally using ideas from pagan religious rites as served my purposes and mixing them with sex.
Summary: Days and days of being immersed in Sirius' universe made her feel a bit closer to him and with that in mind she decided that she would honor him in this traditional way.
Author's Note: This one shot was strongly influenced by my favorite book The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Thank you to my beta
ilexx. Written for the 2008 Fall Fear Challenge over at erotic_elves. She was not conscious of speech,
only of the power, of her own hands
blessing, of the force that streamed
out of her body, as if the very strength
of the sun poured through her and into
the man before her.
The Mists of Avalon
Hermione had listened with great amusement to the bickering quarrel of her two best friends from her perch on their bed as they decided what to pack on their 'honeymoon.' This was the first year that Harry wouldn't be in school or otherwise focused on something else and with Halloween just around the corner Ron wanted a sizeable distraction for his boyfriend. Harry wasn't prone to melancholy around this day, though, and Hermione was pretty sure it was just an excuse to get alone and sweaty with Harry. With the final decisions all made she followed them out and to the front door.
"You're sure you'll be alright alone in this big house?" asked Harry, with his hand on the door knob.
Hermione bounced up on the balls of her feet and gave him a swift peck on the check. "I'll be fine. I think I'm going to go through the books in Sirius' room. It will be fun for me."
Ron rolled his eyes as he bent to peck her check. "Only you," he said affectionately.
"Have fun, you two," she said as she closed the door on them. "Right, tea first," she said briskly and then giggled because she was talking to herself out loud.
A few days later, up in Sirius' room, Hermione had two stacks of books. One was for magical texts, the other muggle. It was surprising to her that Sirius had apparently enjoyed poetry and the classics in muggle literature. Many, many of these muggle books were signed with an inscription from Lily. She wished she had known that about him because she would have loved to have gotten his impression, as a wizard raised in wizarding society. There was always this sense about him that if he had sulked a little less, that there was a unique and interesting person waiting to be discovered.
At the back of his closet which was now straightened and orderly, she found a last stack of books shoved into a corner. Settling herself on the floor in the middle of his bedroom she began to investigate her latest find. They were magical texts no doubt but it was a side of magic that wasn't touched on at Hogwarts. She knew something of the religious side to witchcraft, the pagan roots to gods and goddesses of the harvest, but not a great deal. With so many children coming from muggle backgrounds and the disparity between different familial traditions, Hogwarts opted not to expose them to such esoteric knowledge.
She had never had so much information of this subject at her fingertips and was lost to reading for hours, never moving from her spot until the insistent grumbling of her stomach spurred her toward the kitchen for a sandwich. She glanced over the pages as she prepared her food until she got to a picture of a man with a set of deer antlers fixed to his head. The explanation was that he was taking on the ritual embodiment of the horned god who was most often represented by the form of a stag.
This made her think of James Potter and his animagus form. As someone raised in wizard society he would have certainly had some knowledge of this.
"Wow," she laughed. "He really was an arrogant berk."
After eating, she returned to Sirius' room and opened the last of the books. This one dealt entirely with the sabbath rituals, eagerly she flipped through and looked for the one about Halloween.
"Samhain," she said softly with her finger just under the word.
A paragraph titled 'Intercession With The Dead' wasn't what it seemed. Instead it explained that on the night of the thirty first of October the world of the living and the dead were closer than at any other time of the year. Reading on she discovered that witches and wizards had a lovely traditional way of honoring their deceased. There was a lot of other information about casting circles and calling quarters but she focused mainly on the meat of the matter. Days and days of being immersed in Sirius' universe made her feel a bit closer to him and with that in mind she decided that she would honor him in this traditional way.
Following custom on Halloween night, white candles were set all about by her, flickering gently, sending softly spooky and yet altogether romantic shadows that danced and cavorted about the ancient dwelling. The ritual platter of cakes and goblet of wine were set out in the hearth, traditional offering to the dead that pass nearby while the Veil between the worlds thinned and lifted. She caught sight of something, like distortion in her vision and shook her head of fanciful imaginings, laughing at herself for already seeing ghosts. Satisfied, Hermione left the drawing room for the kitchen and finally sat down to her take out dinner of curried lamb. The grandfather clock chimed twelve times at the stroke of midnight and Hermione lifted a silent thought to the former owner of the house.
"Merlin, that smells good!" said a deep male voice from another room. Heavy foot steps approached the kitchen.
Hermione was on her feet in a second, the hand that held her wand was stretched out and shaking.
From the flickering shadows, a dark form took shape as it neared and entered the kitchen, revealing itself to be the dead resurrected.
"S-S-S-S-" stammered Hermione.
"Sirius," he supplied helpfully, gently, taking pity on her frightened state. "Of course, dear girl. You summoned me."
Since this didn't seem to calm her, he added, "I'm not here to hurt you but I would dearly love a bite of that. It's been ages since I've had a curry."
"A-A-Are you b-b-back?" she asked finally, after watching him take a few bites of her take out which elicited almost erotic moans from him.
"Would you like me to be?" he asked, before stealing another forkful of her food.
Watching him eat lessened her fright because it was very human behavior and had the added benefit of also being annoying, stealing some of the thunder from her fear. She finally lowered her wand and stuck it in the pocket of her robes.
"We all would," she replied, thinking of how over joyed Harry would be.
Sirius stood up and took a careful step in her direction, watching her reaction closely. Only when he was satisfied that she wasn't about to bolt did he take another and another until he was standing close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body. Unable to stop herself, because her mind was alive with curiosity over the very existence of him, she placed her hands on his broad chest because she just had to feel that he was real.
"There is a way," he murmured softly, as she touched him, his eyes fluttering closed with pleasure at the feel of human contact. "If you're willing."
"Willing to do what?" she asked innocently, smoothing her hands across his chest, up to his shoulders and down his arms. He was definitely real.
"Well, first I have a question, sort of a personal question, although I imagine the relevance will become clear immediately," he answered, grazing his fingers at her temple to brush a few strands of wavy, brown hair out of her face.
"Hmm, what's that?" she asked, as she gave his biceps a firm squeeze. Very, very real indeed.
"Are you yet a virgin?"
Hermione glanced swiftly at his face and then at her hands which had been stroking and caressing him in a fairly intimate way. She immediately dropped them from his arms, embarrassed by the intimacy implied, particularly in light of his question, and wrapped them around behind her back as she dropped her chin shyly and took a small step back from him.
Undeterred, he stepped with her and placed a finger under her chin to lift it. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said softly, before letting his lips brush hers. He took another step closer and moved his lips by her ear. "I would take such good care of you tonight."
The situation was understandably overwhelming and a feeling of fear coursed through her. Not like her fear of failure or her fear of horses, but another kind of fear, one she didn't have a name for. What he had asked her, what he was asking of her, treaded on esoteric and sacred ground and it was nothing she knew much about. Her mind raced trying to put it all together and she suddenly felt very foolish because her actions tonight were not born of any intent. She only meant to honor him and now she was being asked to do exactly that, honor him with her virginity. She had not followed all of the instructions in the Grimoire, ignoring all the fuss about casting circles and calling quarters, meaning she had entered into a ritual with none of the precautions and now magic worked its own will. She felt at once immensely tiny and ridiculously powerful and she shivered with the awareness of an other worldly power, a feminine power that begged entry into her body.
How could she refuse him? How could she send him back to the void when she could feel the power to change his history tingling along her skin, needing only her acceptance to flood and over take her.
"I...am," she sighed. It wasn't in her to say no. "Yes."
Lifting both hands to reverently cup her face, he blessed her lips with his once again, slowly, tenderly, as though he had never touched anything so precious in all his life. Stepping away momentarily, he bent slightly and then she was off her feet, cradled to his chest. Climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he carried her bridal style while holding her gaze in his luminous grey orbs. He entered his bedroom, giving his door a soft kick to close it and then set her gently on the bed.
"Can I borrow your wand?" he asked quietly. She lifted the stick of wood from her pocket and handed it to him wordlessly.
Without uttering a single sound he made a few changes to the room, making it more inviting with the warm glow from a few gas lamps and some cleaning charms.
"May I?" he asked and she didn't know what he meant. To demonstrate he cast a charm on himself and was instantly disrobed, fully disclosed to her brave viewing. Already at attention, his erection stood out red and rigid against his body and for a ghost of a second she thought she caught sight of something around his brow. The hum of power thrummed forcefully through her veins in recognition of what they were moments away from doing. It was nearly euphoric and stole the ability of clear speech from her throat so she just nodded silently.
The feeling of instant nudity made her achingly self conscious so she closed her legs tightly and wrapped her arms around herself, casting her eyes away from his penetrating gaze. She felt small and silly and questioned her sanity, wondering if this wasn't some fevered dream. Kneeling on the floor before her, he touched his hands to the outside of her knees.
"Don't be ashamed of your body," he murmured to her. "And please don't be frightened of me."
Running his hands up the outside of her thighs, the warm feeling was a pleasant thrill. Moving them to her arms, he leaned up a little and touched his lips to hers once again. The power that had taken up residence in her surged forth and she realized with a strange sort of clarity that she both was and wasn't Hermione Granger. She was something more, something as fresh as Spring and old as the Earth itself, compliment and contradiction. It urged her, beyond her own will to return his advances and the gentle pressure of his lips turned into insistence and immediacy and she felt that he too had been taken over by something greater than himself.
Pushing her back against the bed, his body covered hers, crushing her but she didn't mind. All she wanted, all she could think about was more, more, more...
Rolling them into the bed, he sat up with her straddling his lap, his cock a hot presence against her stomach, and wrapped his arms around her back to hold her close. The warmth of his lips burned against her throat, collar bone, then down to her breast and finally sucking a nipple into his hot mouth as she broke her silence to cry out his name.
Laying back and pulling her with him, his lips on hers again, he rolled them once more and began a swift trek along her body, leaving a wet trail of licks and kisses. Settling between her legs, he lifted her narrow hips to bring her sex to his mouth. Never had she entertained the thought that anything could be this pleasurable, twisting her hips so that he had to grip her tighter and that too was a wonderful sensation. Sucking her clit into his mouth created a build up of energy that simply could not go on forever, it was too strong, too powerful and she felt that if something didn't give she would fly apart.
His name and half formed obscenities flew out of her mouth as she begged him to end her agony. At a pinnacle moment when her breath wouldn't come fast enough, her heart fluttered against her chest like a wild bird and her soul felt like it was on fire that her body did explode and fly apart but so sweet and exquisite as she sang his name in exultation.
Kissing his way up her body, she could feel the urgency of his need in the energy between them. His cock burned like a living thing next to her skin and oh, god how she wanted it. Pressing it against her cunt, wet from his mouth and her release, so that she shifted her hips in a silent entreaty.
"Please," she whispered and just before he breached her barrier she saw it again, the ghost along his brow only now it was clear, an ethereal crown of antlers. Without knowing where the knowledge came from she understood that he was filled with the presence of the Horned One, the ancient god of the pagans, the King Stag.
And then it was as though they succumbed to a force older and more powerful than themselves as he surged into her warmth. She could feel the pain and it made her cry out but it didn't stop her hips from rising to meet his every thrust in a frenzied rut. The power and pleasure flowed freely between them and she imagined she could feel everything he felt as the edge he pushed her over only moments before came closer into her sights once again. When it happened, it was so overwhelming that she was utterly lost in him as it fused into one gloriously breath taking moment of life, death, rebirth and resurrection.
"Goddess!" he cried out to her as he came, spurting his life into her and then more softly, "Hermione."
Collapsing onto her with a weight she welcomed, she listened to him struggle to regain his breath, the wild thumping of his heart slowing slowly and after a few minutes he rolled away, taking her with him as he slipped out of her.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
"I don't understand how all this happened, can you explain it?"
He grinned just then and nodded.
"Magic."
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I love everything you added before the actual candles and curry, btw. I laughed out loud at the little R/H pairing and for some reason wanted to thank you for doing that. Also, good run-down on the pagan background of it. And yes on the arrogant berk.
Undeterred, he stepped with her and placed a finger under her chin to lift it. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said softly, before letting his lips brush hers. He took another step closer and moved his lips by her ear. "I would take such good care of you tonight."
This was incredibly delicate and sensual.
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I've wondered about Prongs before and what he means. It must mean something, she does little by accident in her universe and would shore up that whole arrogance run amuck thing she has for his younger self. Somewhere in book 3 Sirius explains that they chose their forms and while I know a lot of fanfic likes to take the choice out of their hands and let the form choose them, making it their choice reveals a lot about their personalities.
Glad you enjoyed it!
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Not sure about a continuation. I'll say definitely maybe but nothing more definite than that although now that it was been asked for 3 times ideas are taking shape. This was meant as a one shot but who knows?
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My heart was burning...
In RL, my husband is Pagan and is very strong with his personal opinions - especially at Christmas (Solstice and such...) where he LOVES to compare Christianity and the ironic similiarites people believe all started by them. Sorry, I digress....
...on to finish reading.....
BTW - the Ron/Harry thing baffled me. To the point where I scrolled up to check and see if this wasn't someone else in a different community that I was reading. But, alas, you wrote the two other contenders out of the house.
The way you wrote the transformation was so vivid, I could almost feel him coming back, coming alive. As if he were feeling his own hot blood pumping into his living breathing body, he probably never believed she would be his lamb. Well done. Well done!
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Re: My heart was burning...
I was raised Lutheran and then my parents switched to Church of Christ. I went to all parochial schools for the most part, even boarding school. Despite all of this indoctrination, I always had a problem with Paul. I read a book about 8 years called The Hiram Key and opened the door for me to do a lot of questioning. I was very surprised to learn that Jesus is only the last in a long line of virgin born gods, who came into the world in a manger, under a star, etc. Clealry the story was borrowed from somewhere else. I can't say that I am a full ledged pagaan but a devout Christian would argue that I wasn't that either. I have broadened my perspective quite a bit in these last 8 years and prefer to make up my own mind now. Organized religion never really worked for me, even the local pagan groups so I sort of find my own way. I think I like it better that way.
Yeah, too obvious on the Harry/Ron thing? I just can't seem to make myself not explain why Ron isn't working and it just wasn't central to the plot so... my first tentative foray into slashiness. Not really something I tend to explore though, occaissionally reading it because there just isn't that much het!Sirius, yes, but write it? I can't. Just not into it.
I'm so pleased the transformation worked. This was quite fun although it took me awhile to figure out how to write a fear into erotic. That really baked my noodle, lol. I'm not the only one that had trouble with it. They had a ton of sign ups at
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LOL! I loved it. It seems like death brought some humbleness out in Mr. Black.
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Well, generally I don't write him quite as cockily as some others do. I focus more on his intensity, I think, which sort of transcends the cockiness. Its not that he isn't confident, he most certainly is, it just gets expressed differently.
Plus, he is at her mercy, if she says no its 'thanks for the curry and I'll be on my way.' He has to sort of lure her into this, seduce her for this favor, he can't come across as entitled.