the_debt_of_time

arms. At the sight, especially from a distance or in low lighting, she often mistook him for
her brother, and it always set her emotions back to square one. However, since reading
Lily's letter, Mia felt like she had a piece of closure on that chapter of her life, and now she
was eager to spend the next bit of it with Sirius, Harry, Remus and his family.
"Are the little ones off to bed?" Sirius asked, leaning casually against the doorframe
of the drawing room where Mia was situated in a large armchair, book in hand.
She smiled, rolling her eyes at him. "Little ones. Harry's an eighteen-year-old man."
Sirius chuckled. "Man?"
"Do you think it will be weird?" she asked, not fighting when he walked over and
picked her up into his arms, prying the book from her fingers. "That ours and Remus's
children will be so much younger than Harry? It shouldn't have happened like that."
"I think," Sirius murmured as he kissed the tip of her nose, "that it doesn't matter.
Harry should have had James and Lily, but instead, he got a broken godfather, a used
werewolf, and a time travelling witch." He laughed. "He should have had siblings, but
instead he got a second-hand Weasley and a time travelling―"
"Time travelling witch, yes, you're right," Mia said, laughing at his simplification of
their overly complicated lives. "Where is it, exactly, that you appear to be taking me, Mr
Black?"
"Why, Miss Potter, I am taking you to bed."
"Sirius, our bedroom is back that way," she said, gesturing around his broad
shoulders.
"Oh, well, when I said 'I am taking you to bed,' that was my way of romantically
saying that I'm looking for a place to fuck you," he elaborated and winked at her.
"Well, look at me, all starry-eyed over your sweet words." She laughed when he
pinched the back of her thigh in response. "'You are the one I am lit for. Come with your
rod that twists and is a serpent. I am the bush,'" she whispered against the shell of his ear,
stopping her words only to lightly nibble on the lobe there. "'I am burning. I am not
consumed.'"
Sirius grinned as he pushed her through the door leading to her old bedroom.
"Kitten," he said, his pupils dark and dilated. "You know reading me poetry makes me
think of Moony."