Chapter 26

By the time Sirius came back on Sunday night to tell Hermione he'd be going to see Teddy with Harry, Hermione had nearly finished the last Alensky journal.

And found nothing.

The anecdotes about Josef's mother and father were general at best and gave no insight into what had actually happened. Josef, despite these journals being private, was a man who did not write his secrets down. Even toward the end of the journals, by which time Josef would have been quite famous for his contributions to medical magic, he remained humble and modest, recounting wryly incidents of his success without giving any specific details.

It was a fascinating read, to be sure, but it did not give Hermione the answers she desperately needed.

When she'd read the final line, she lay back in her bed. She'd spent most of the weekend there because it reminded her of Sirius. Being in the sitting room had made her miss him too much; it felt so empty without his large presence.

She would never have believed she could come to miss something so badly when she'd only really had it such a short time.

Hermione traced her fingers over the ugly wound on her chest. It had occurred to her that a Healer might have been able to reduce the scarring there, since it had remained open for so long, and was, in fact, not even quite healed yet. It didn't hurt anymore, and the ugly red lines that used to emanate from it had nearly disappeared. They'd begun to concern her when Sirius had kicked her out. It was hard to remember, because that entire week passed in a sad, angry haze, but she seemed to remember they'd been quite bad then.

Once back in Grimmauld Place, they'd given her no cause for concern.

"I miss you," Hermione whispered to Sirius' pillow, laughing at her silliness. His pillow didn't answer.

The book beneath her fingers shifted, still opened to the last page, and Hermione went to move it. As she did, a surge of power went through her body, ending above her heart, making it skip a beat.

The surge had begun in her fingertips.

Gasping, Hermione grabbed up the journal and held it to her face. There was nothing different about it except a nearly indefinable aura of something hidden.

But this was only a copy, she reminded herself. Even if there had been spells on the original, they wouldn't have transferred over. A magical copy was just like a Muggle photocopy...only the strictest reproduction, nothing more of the original than appearance.

Unless... it wasn't just a magical copy. Unless Renworth had made this copy a clone... or had even given her the original in new binding.

But why would he do that? Why hide that he'd given her more than he'd said, with no clue as to how to use it or that there was anything besides the basest replication?

Answers later, she told herself sternly. Time to figure this book out and get answers once and for all!

A number of spells did nothing to force the book to release its secrets. Since the surge had happened after she'd finished it, she read the last page again, and then aloud. Nothing.

Sighing resignedly, Hermione used her wand to open a small cut on her index finger. Blood magic hadn't had the stigma when this journal had been created that it had today. Josef may have used it, but that wouldn't have made him a Dark wizard.

Smearing the blood across the first empty page after the writing stopped, Hermione waited. Nothing happened except a decidedly unattractive rust-coloured stain on the page, which she hoped Renworth would not notice when he took the journals back.

Retrace your steps, whispered a decidedly Dumbledoric voice in her head.

But I have! she responded fervently. She'd reread the page, she'd offered it blood.

The voice was pointedly silent.

Hermione got back into her reading position. She read the last page again. She left the book open on her stomach, her fingers atop it. She gazed around the bedroom and thought about Sirius. She turned to the pillow beside her and said, "I miss you," once again. She...

Another surge. She looked quickly to the journal. Words were appearing under the stain of her blood! But just as quickly, they faded back to nothing.

Hermione broke out into a smile. She was getting very good at making books reveal their secrets, she mused, wondering if there was a job in the Ministry for such a talent.

"I miss you, Sirius!" she cried, laughing as words came back faster than before, staying a few moments longer before fading into the page.

Despite her glee, Hermione was beginning to realize that she'd never been able to read that fast. An attempt at saying those secret words as fast as possible, again and again, resulted in a quick and unsatisfactory resurfacing of the words for only a second, as if the book was admonishing her.

A declaration, she thought. A declaration made the words appear. "I miss you," was a strong declaration. Performative language had a power all its own. Vows, promises, oaths all were words that signified more than just language, they were intent. The power was not in the magic or the wands; the power was in the words.

"I love you, Sirius Black," Hermione whispered aloud for the first time.

And like a dam unstoppered, words rushed to the fore. They were faded, some obscured by her ill-advised smear of blood, but they were there.

The handwriting was not Josef's. It was tighter, smaller, feminine. Sofie's.

Hermione conjured a scroll and quill, determined to copy this out in case the words faded, though they still remained strong and clear.

"The blood is the key... connected for eternity... the Veil has a plan for us all... when the plan comes not to fruition... will intervene."

Hermione kept scribbling, passing over words that were unclear or obscured.

"His soul and mine, intertwined, irreversible... so afraid, but he makes it better. At first... public, but it is better now, with him, my Rol... the emotion, the passion...

This word was underlined, so Hermione underlined it in her copy, brain working furiously.

"...the passion was frightening, alarming... could not be sure it was real... was real, I see that now. Part of the plan... cured me. Never thought I would be a mother... even Jessop said it was not possible... cured me. .."

Hermione tried to remember how to breathe.

"Why, I wondered for so many years, why..."

Almost there, Hermione thought. Almost...

"But now I know... now we know with certainty..."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Josef. Josef. Josef. "

And then there was nothing. The words faded back into the page until only an unsightly smear remained. So simple, the answers. There all along, really.

But how to tell Sirius?

Sirius bounded up the stairs. Two and a half days was much too long to go without the woman he loved. Much too long by half.

Not that he regretted spending time with Teddy and Harry. He hadn't thought he'd ever see such a natural father as James had been with Harry, but today put those thoughts to rest for the final time. Harry with Teddy was like watching the waves, the moonrise, the rain. The most natural thing in the world.

And when Sirius was there, when Teddy had waddled over to see him, with Harry's help, Sirius only had one wish in the entire world, and that was for Hermione to be there. Then his family would be whole.

For he truly felt as though Teddy was his family. They were related, but by more than blood. Through Remus, and through Harry.

In his long life, Sirius had been in many places he didn't belong. His ancestral home, where he'd been an outcast. Azkaban, where he'd been imprisoned under false pretences. His ancestral home again, as a voluntary captive this time, and then the Veil.

But for the first time since Hogwarts, Sirius felt at home. And it wasn't a place; it wasn't walls and a floor, not even close. It was Hermione. It was Harry. It was Teddy. Andromeda could visit, of course.

And it felt so good to be home.

In fact, Sirius was in such a good mood, he'd decided that owling Draco Malfoy deserved a place on his list of things to do. The boy really had no one now, and Sirius had so much. He could afford the olive branch, especially after hearing how the boy's wand had wavered in the key, determining moment.

Harry thought that Draco deserved a second chance. Sirius had never been in the position to offer such a thing, but now that he was, he decided it was the right thing to do. No one should be so alone.

Sirius pushed lightly on the door to his bedroom. Moonlight filtered in, but the soft glow came from a gently flickering candle on the bedside table. Hermione was fast asleep, a book in her lap, unsurprisingly.

Undressing quietly, watching his sleeping love's face for signs of awakening, Sirius crawled under the covers. He took the book from her fingers and placed it beside the candle. There was a quill and some parchment settled on her lap, and Sirius went to move those as well, when the odd, scrawling handwriting caught his eye. It was like Hermione's, only much too rushed.

He scanned the words, making little sense of them. It was obviously about the Veil, that he knew. The woman he'd read about in that Daily Prophet article, Sofie something.

Sirius read on. Cured? What did that mean? She'd been infertile? Sirius knew enough about that. Infertility ran in pure-blood families like his. Narcissa and Andromeda had managed a child each, though not for lack of trying for more, especially on Andromeda's part...everyone had known she'd been desperate for a large family. Even Narcissa had mentioned wanting siblings for her son, with Lucius casually mentioning "an heir and a spare." But Draco had put Narcissa on strict bed rest, and toward the end, it had seemed neither would make it.

Bellatrix hadn't been able to have children at all, having suffered miscarriages in the early years of her marriage.

For the first time in his life, Sirius wondered if he'd been affected as well. There were no more Blacks. He couldn't believe he'd never thought of it before. His line would die with him, and it had never occurred to him that he might not be able to father children.

But the Veil had cured Sofie... did that mean he was cured as well, if anything had, indeed, been wrong?

And what did the last words on the paper mean? Josef was the answer? Of course, it was all well and good that Sofie and her husband went on to have a happy family, and very lucky, too, for if the Veil had not....

Oh, gods.

Sirius' thoughts began again, very slowly. If the Veil had not cured Sofie, Josef Alensky would not have been born. The wizarding world would have been in danger of dying out. Josef was the answer. Not just to Sofie's happy family, but to the world as they knew it.

The Veil had taken Sofie, cured her infertility, given her a child who went on to be a saviour.

The Veil has a plan for us all....

Hermione awoke with her customary bone-rattling stretch. She could sense Sirius beside her. She was glad he was home; she had so much to tell him. She'd been smiling like the loon throughout the entire weekend, which meant, of course, that Sirius had been having fun with Harry and Teddy. She couldn't be more thrilled.

Turning over slowly, Hermione gazed upon her lover. She never thought she'd be the type to caress a man in his sleep, but Sirius' wavy hair warranted such attention. She pushed it away from his face, pacing a soft kiss on his temple.

Sirius.

Hermione pushed the sheet down his chest, baring him as much as she felt comfortable with without him awake.

He had changed a lot since she'd first seen him in the Shrieking Shack. He'd been gaunt, starved, brutalized, his eyes hollow and desperate. It was hard to believe this was the same man.

Hermione ran her fingers lightly over his collarbone. He could still stand to put on a few pounds, but other than that, the difference was night and day. He'd gotten a lot of sun from wherever he'd gone during her fourth year, and it was strange to think that tan remained, even though, to her, it was years later.

She lightly brushed over a nipple, scratching softly and watching it pebble and tighten. Smiling, she repeated her actions on the other nipple, and Sirius shifted a little, raising one arm up over his head.

Continuing her exploration, Hermione smoothed her fingertips down his ribs and over his abdomen, delighting in the muscles there. She propped herself up on her elbow, watching his faced as her finger slipped below the bed sheet, grazing his hair. In repose, he could almost be her age.

Hermione trailed one finger over his cock, surprised to find him half hard and growing. She took him in her hand, only barely circling him, creating an easy ring to stroke him with.

A low moan drew her attention back to his face. Sirius' eyes were open, and he was watching her intently. She was struck by the storminess of his eyes, even as neither of them said a word. It looked as though there were a thousand things he was desperate to say, but all were better said by silence.

His cock was growing in her sure grip, and Sirius bit his lip but gave no other indication of his appreciation. He turned onto his side, facing her, and drew her face down for a kiss. It was so intense that her hand stilled, her entire being focused on what he was telling her with his mouth.

Sirius' hand slid over her side, dipping sharply at her waist and rising to her hip. He drew her thigh up so that it rested on his own hip. Her fingers were reminded of their duty when she felt his cock pulse in her hand.

Still silent, Sirius' hand found its way between her thighs, caressing her lightly, almost teasingly.

She was the first to break the mutual quiet, whispering, "Sirius," as his hand surely manipulated her.

"I want you," he responded, to which she could only nod. The weekend had felt like an eternity without him. Now that she was sure her feelings were real and not manufactured by the bond, Hermione felt more available to give herself freely. Sofie's notes had reassured her, if only by allowing Hermione to realize that her feelings had been real all along.

Sirius moved to sit back against the headboard, pulling her into his lap so that she straddled him. When she lifted to sink onto him, he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Hermione, you're on the potion, right?"

"Of course," she answered automatically. They'd already had this discussion early in their relationship, but she had to wonder why he was bringing it up now. She didn't want to be the one to tell him she had reason to believe he'd been sterile before, nor was she exactly relishing telling him that it seemed as though they were supposed to have a child together.

"Do you think... I mean... you'd be a great mum, and I... well..." he trailed off, looking lost. Hermione was sure the expression was echoed on her own face.

"You want me to go off the potion?" she whispered, searching his eyes.

"Not right now! I mean, not that you could right now. But I want... to talk about it?" He was biting his lip as if afraid of her answer, which Hermione wasn't entirely sure she felt steady enough to give.

"We can... talk about it. Of course. You... you want kids, then?"

He nodded solemnly, running his hands up and down her arms, causing her to shiver. "You?"

"Yes," she said, leaning forward to kiss him a little.

"With me?" he clarified.

"Yes! And... you want them with me, right?"

"Very much, Hermione."

"So... what does that mean, exactly? I mean, I know people have kids without getting married all the time, but I always thought...."

"Oh! Did I forget to tell you? I want to marry you." Sirius grinned as Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Was that a proposal?" she asked, shocked.

"No! I mean, yes. I propose that we get married. But that wasn't the proposal. I don't think. Did you... want it to be, or...?"

Hermione had the fleeting thought that if they were going to get married and have kids, they'd have to eventually learn to say what was on their minds.

"That was fine," she said, feeling almost numb. "We're getting married?"

He nodded firmly. "We're getting married," he confirmed.

"Wow," she whispered, leaning against his shoulder, burying her face in his neck. He smelled amazing, and she knew she would never forget that scent for as long as she lived. It would always remind her of the day Sirius had proposed.

"Hermione, I want to tell you something. Now, just listen and don't say anything. And you don't have to answer me, or feel pressure, or anything. You don't have to say it back. But I've known... for a really long time, actually, that I've wanted to be with you forever. And not just because of the bond, though that certainly helped to make me see things clearly. But I love you. I love you so much."

Hermione remembered that breathing was necessary for life, and without life, there would be no marrying, so she took a deep breath. Sirius loved her.

"I love you, too," she said simply, as if nothing was ever easier. And maybe nothing had been.

Sirius' lips met hers in a kiss that was soft and sweet, full of promises and words finally spoken. Her lips parted immediately; she would never deny him. When his tongue touched hers, Hermione smiled into the kiss. Everything about this moment was perfect.

Maybe it had taken too much sacrifice and too much suffering to get to this point. But everything they'd gone through had brought them here, and Hermione wouldn't take that away if she could. And though Sirius had suffered infinitely more than she, she somehow knew he felt the same way.

The kiss lasted forever, their lips touching in a vow to never hurt the other, never lose the other. When Hermione finally settled on top of Sirius, he filled her in a way that was more than a perfect fit. It was a perfect match. Everything about Sirius was made to complete Hermione. Her soul was in him. They were more connected than ever in this moment.

"So hard not to tell you," Sirius confessed, his hands on her hips, guiding her slowly. "Not to tell you that I love you."

Hermione's arms were around Sirius' neck, their lips never far apart, so when she answered, she breathed it into him. "I wanted to say it, too. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know..."

He shushed her with a hard kiss, his hips moving beneath her in a rhythm that fell perfectly in line with her own. "I said it, sometimes. Not... when you could hear me," he said, sounding a little sheepish, but he was too close for her to actually see, beyond the overwhelming grey of his eyes.

"I feel like I heard you," she responded, her hips moving more quickly, as though her words had released something. And it was true. When he'd said the words only moments before, it hadn't felt like he was saying them for the first time. It seemed like she'd been hearing them for an eternity.

Then words were no longer possible, though they spoke to one another in a different way. Hermione's hand through his hair told him she would keep him safe. Sirius' hand clenching on her hips told her he'd never let her go. Her whimper when he licked her lower lip revealed that she found him irresistible, and his lick said he loved the way she tasted.

In the way that only seems right for two lovers who have just revealed their truest feelings, Hermione and Sirius came together, crying out in unison, hands grabbing, fingers tightening, eyes flashing.

Sirius rocked them both when Hermione's body didn't seem to want to answer her mind's directions. His gentle thrusts into her made her feel completely loved.

And then she realized. She was loved.

Curled on top of him, Hermione knew there was still a lot to say, but she didn't care. She let Sirius draw the blankets over them, tucking it around her lovingly.

"I read your parchment," he whispered.

"So, you know?"

"Maybe not as much as you know, but I think so. I wouldn't have been able to have kids if I hadn't gone through the Veil, would I?"

Hermione hugged him. "I don't think so, Sirius."

He was quiet for a long moment. "Then I'm glad. I'm glad it happened. I think I would have fallen for you either way, Hermione, but I'm glad it happened this way, because now we can have a family." His words were decisive and had the quality of an oath.

"We already have a family, love. You, me, Harry, and Teddy. Now we're just going to expand it a little."

"Or a lot."

Hermione considered. Growing up an only child had been lonely at times. Maybe she wouldn't have thought so if she'd had more friends, but she'd often wished for siblings. "Or a lot," she agreed, smiling.