For having known the man for only two years, Sirius had come to mean an awful lot to Harry. He was the only one, absolutely the only one, to not care ...bout the bloody Boy-Who-Lived; to Sirius, he was just Harry, godson. Not even Ron and Hermione could say that.Now, here it was, the night before the leaving feast and he was sitting by the lake, hidden in a patch of bushes, clutching his letters from Sirius. He had pulled them out of his trunk, along with the mirror, which he had just in time. Once he was sure Adam was gone he asked, “Are you alright?” She was assaulted on duel levels by his smoky voice drifting over her and the effect on her breasts that the vibration of his speech had caused. She nodded, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of his shirt. The friction caused a lingering trace of his scent to invade her senses, a potent mix of spice, soap and pure male that upped her hormones another notch. She surreptitiously inhaled, knowing that if she were to rub her thighs. More

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