the_debt_of_time

everyone gaped at him. "Fifth year we did a whole... And then after Hogwarts, it was... It was like a
blood brothers thing. Like Muggles do. Not with semen. You know... nothing with that."
Fucking liar, Mia thought smugly. "I think last night was a little more rock and roll
than poetry."
Sirius grinned. "I'm good at that. Can't quote Lord Brian to save my life."
"Lord Byron," Mia corrected him.
"See? I'm rubbish." He smiled and pulled a few fallen leaves from the tangles of her
hair. "But give me some good lyrics, and I could make your skin sing if I wanted to."
She raised a delicate eyebrow. "Is that so, Mr Black?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You doubt me, Miss Potter?"
"I challenge you," she said with a defiant grin. "Make my skin sing."
Suddenly, Sirius was hovering over her body. His pale frame was glowing with the
empyrean light of the sunrise behind him, his ebony hair a stark contrast to the surrounding
illumination and the very colour of his skin, tainted by ink as black as his locks and a variety
of pink and silver scars. He no longer looked at the blemishes on her body caused by Dark
Magic, unfortunate distractions, and miscalculated Apparitions with horror and guilt in his
eyes. Now, especially with identical werewolf bite wounds to their shoulders, they matched
more perfectly than ever before.
"Night visions of fantasies are laying in bed with me," Sirius sang quietly to her, his voice
husky to the point where she could feel the vibrations in the air and on the breath that
brushed against her ear and down the side of her neck. "In the dark, I can see you smiling."
Her mind drew a blank at the variety of poems, proverbs, and quotes in her head
that described how he made her feel. It took her less than a minute to remember that his
love was not delicate poetry—it was lyrical, callused, and unyielding.
"You touch my body and set my soul on fire."
Mia could feel his mouth hovering just beneath her ear, not kissing—despite how
badly she wanted him to—and his hands drifted south, every so slowly, as though he meant
to set her skin aflame the way he proclaimed that she ignited his very soul.
"I can see morning light, the sun is rising, shining in your eyes."
And then he kissed her—finally kissed her—and somehow everything was different
in that one kiss. They had shared a thousand by that point. From that first—and second—
kiss in the caved-in passage on the fourth floor leading up from Hogsmeade, to his