the_debt_of_time

When the opening door woke her, and she looked over to see Padfoot staring down
at her, Hermione blushed.
Sirius shifted into his human form and frowned, his brows furrowed. "Are you all
right, Hermione?"
"I.. ." She tried to think of a lie but was too tired to come up with anything good.
"I was worried," she admitted and glanced behind him at the door. "Is he—?"
"He's fine. Sleeping. It'll be a few hours still until sunrise. I thought I'd get a cup of
tea and some biscuits. Would—?" Sirius cleared his throat. "Would you like to join me?"
Hermione stared up into his grey eyes and smiled. He had regained a lot of the
weight he lost both in Azkaban and on the run. There was no denying that he was
handsome—darkly beautiful, in fact. His aristocratic features reminded her of the Malfoys,
but the casual way that he held himself was relaxing, comforting even.
Realising that she had been staring and had not answered him, Hermione turned
her head down as she felt a blush fall over her cheeks. She shook her head and stood up.
"Umm, no, thank you. I just wanted to make sure Professor Lupin was all right," she
admitted and made her way quickly for the stairs.
She stopped when Sirius called after her.
"I'll take care of him. I promise, kitten," he said in a whisper, looking at her as
though he were asking her for something rather than offering.
He looked sad. Guilty.
Perhaps, she wondered, he was asking for forgiveness, but for what she could not possibly
imagine, least of all why he would want it from her.
The words coming off of his lips—as well as the only slightly less
irritating pet name—and the genuine way he had spoken, as though he knew how important
it was to her that Professor Lupin be cared for, felt... intimate. It stirred something in her
once more, and she tried to bury it under a polite smile before she rushed away, back up
the stairs to her room.
Once inside, Hermione tried to catch her breath—shocked to feel her heart racing
in a way that had nothing to do with sprinting up several flights.
Great, she thought to herself. Two professors, Viktor Krum, and now Harry's godfather?
Why can't I be attracted to someone my own age?