Chapter 27

The next few weeks seemed to flit past Hermione and Sirius in a maelstrom of discovery.

No longer attempting to make sense of what the Veil had in store for them, the pair simply enjoyed one another's company, relaxed and secure in the way that only those whose futures were predestined could truly experience.

And for Sirius, especially, the lack of true free will didn't feel like a trap anymore. In fact, it gave him a renewed sense of freedom. It didn't matter what he did, because everything would turn out as it was meant to. But that didn't take any of the excitement out of it, not at all. Hermione was still a mission in discovering everything he could, from the freckle on the back of her knee, to the perfect ringlet that formed in the hair on the nape of her neck when she was just out of the shower.

It wasn't as though his life was planned; it was just going exactly as it was supposed to.

And now he had a meeting with his godson to explain exactly that and more. Sirius didn't think Harry would be upset that Sirius and Hermione were planning on getting married, but Sirius wanted to reassure him that he was not losing a godfather.

Sirius knew that family was the most important thing in the world to Harry, and as much as Sirius was related to him, now Hermione would be, as well. Through over a decade of friendship, each member of the Trio would finally be official family. Harry would be thrilled, Sirius was sure.

But just in case, he brought out his best bottle of Ogden's Old, placing it rather obviously beside two glasses on the kitchen table. Hermione had been called into work, a more and more frequent occurrence these days, despite the late hour. She'd planned on letting Sirius handle telling Harry anyway; she'd said it was because Sirius would know what to say, but he had the impression that it was more because she was afraid Harry would be hurt. Though she wasn't one to back down in the face of a friend's pre-emptive upset, something about this was certainly different, for both of them.

Harry's approval might not change their minds about what they wanted, but it could alter the course of what they chose to do. Neither was comfortable getting married without Harry's blessing.

When the Floo announced the younger man's arrival, Sirius wiped suspiciously damp palms on the front of his denims and went to offer his support for Harry's haphazard entrance.

"Sirius!" Harry laughed, gratefully accepting the steadying arm he offered. "I was just at Andromeda's with Teddy. I think he misses you; his hair was long and black."

Sirius felt that place inside him effuse warmth and took heart from that sensation.

"I miss him, too. But I hope to see him tomorrow, if you're... if you're up to it."

"Sure," Harry said agreeably, waving a hand to get his clothing back in order. "Why wouldn't I be up for it? I usually see him for at least an hour after work."

"Well, I'm not exactly sure how you're going to take what I brought you here to say," Sirius hedged, wondering where his previous approach of just coming right out and saying it had gone.

"Is everything okay? Is Hermione all right? Is this about the Veil?" Harry took a seat, his hands tight over his knees.

"Everything is fine, I promise. It isn't that. It's good news, really," Sirius assured him, patting his shoulder a little awkwardly.

"It doesn't sound like everything's all right," Harry said, unconvinced.

"It's just that... well, you know how much I've come to care for Hermione, and she for me. We love each other, Harry."

Harry didn't exactly look surprised, but his face was still scrunched in concern. "That's great, Sirius. I mean, really. I never would have thought it, but seeing you two together, it just somehow works, doesn't it? And you're both happy, I can see that much. So, I mean, if you need my blessing or whatever, you've got it in spades."

Sirius smiled. "That means a lot to me, Harry. More than you know. But it's more than that. Well, we want to get married. That's what I brought you here to say. Not right away, mind, but soon."

Harry's eyes widened fractionally, but he gave no other indication that he'd even heard. "You're going to get married? Wow, that's... soon, isn't it? And Hermione'll be... like my stepmum?"

Harry's consternation caused Sirius to laugh out loud. Harry looked a little shell-shocked, but there was a smile playing on the corners of his mouth.

"Well, we don't think it's too soon. And we know that our feelings are true, but more than that, those feelings are going to be there forever. So there's really no difference between doing it now and waiting five years when the outcome is going to be the same, regardless. We mostly just want you to be on board with this. Your opinion really matters, Harry, especially to me. And if you want to think of Hermione as your stepmum, well, that's up to you, though if you tell her that, be assured that she will take advantage of the position. You get enough mothering from her without the title!"

Harry laughed, and the mesh cage that had been tightening over Sirius' heart eased a little.

"Too right," Harry agreed, chuckling. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order?" Harry grinned that easy, wide grin and poured them both a generous dose of Ogden's.

"Thank you," Sirius said softly, letting his gratitude, for so much more than Harry's easy acceptance, shine through to his godson.

"No problem, Sirius. Just... take good care of her. And... and let her take care of you, okay?"

Sirius clinked their glasses together and downed his hearty drink. "You got it, son," Sirius vowed.

Harry looked surprised for a moment, but he seemed to understand that Sirius meant his words honestly, not as a usurpation of James' rightful role, but as an honourary title that Sirius would have been only too proud to have been literal.

After Harry left, Sirius wrote an owl to Draco Malfoy. He hadn't known him very well, having only seen him a few times in the young man's youth, but from what he'd heard, Draco had made good in the wizarding world, though almost too late.

When asked, Harry hadn't had many positive things to say about the young Malfoy, but neither had his opinions been negative. Draco been kept out of the thick of the war by Snape, but his neutrality still rubbed Sirius the wrong way. If he'd really realized the errors of his ways, he should have gone to the Order, to Harry, for help.

Sirius knew he had a problem with seeing things in shades of grey.

But despite all that, he was intent to at least make the offer to mend the broken fence. Draco was a part of his family, and Sirius himself had found forgiveness and as such, felt more easily prepared to offer it in turn.

Though rather tersely worded, the Black crest on the owl missive was enough to show Draco that some bonds were worth keeping, even if they were tenuous.

After opening the window for the owl to deliver the message, Sirius walked toward the front door. Hermione was home. For some reason, like with many things these days, Sirius didn't know how or why, but he just knew.

As expected, the front door opened instead of the Floo sounding. Sirius saw why a moment later; Hermione was wearing the blue silk shift dress with a white cardigan. She always Apparated when wearing fine materials. Sirius smiled, proud to know such a simple but intrinsic detail.

"Hey, love," he said softly, taking her into his arms. She let herself be folded, obviously weary from a very long day.

"How did it go with Harry?" she asked, trying for casualness, but the tension in her shoulders belied her nervousness.

"Fine, just as you must have known it would be. He's thrilled for us. He only had one caveat, and that was for us to take care of one another."

Hermione snuggled deeper into his embrace. "I was planning on doing that anyway, so I supposed it's a simple enough sacrifice," she whispered into his chest.

"Me, too," he confessed, smiling into her hair.

Breaking the embrace, Hermione walked into the kitchen. "What did you have for dinner?" she asked, opening the larder.

"Oh, just something Kr...something I whipped up," Sirius said easily. Kreacher's 'help' was still a secret, though probably not one for very long, after a near-slip like that. Though Sirius knew he should tell Hermione the truth about who really did the cooking and cleaning around Grimmauld Place these days, he chose to stay mute for the sake of peace.

"Mmm," she said distractedly, putting together a basic sandwich. She munched thoughtfully, and Sirius watched her, feeling as much a voyeur observing her eat as he did watching her get dressed in the mornings; though he had absolutely no plans of discontinuing either activity. She took small bites, chewed slowly, and swallowed gently, if such a thing could be said about swallowing. After a sip of water, Sirius had to kiss away the beads that rested on her lower lip.

"I owled Draco today," Sirius said, pulling out of the kiss and allowing her to finish eating in peace. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, obviously hesitant to speak with a mouth full of food.

He pretended he didn't understand her, shaking his head and furrowing his brows. Hermione huffed through her nose, raising her hand to cover her mouth delicately. "And?" she prompted.

Sirius chose not to tease her further. "And nothing, I only did it five minutes ago," he reported.

"I really think this is a good thing, Sirius. Draco has nobody, you know. And no one ever sees him out. I see Blaise Zabini all the time...his boss is my boss's boss...and even he never sees Draco, not even during the holidays."

"Blaise is Draco's friend?" Sirius guessed, not recognizing the given name, but knowing the last name well enough.

"He was, anyway," Hermione said, throwing the last bite of crust into the rubbish bin. Sirius grinned at her predictability. Just like she always covered her mouth to speak when eating, she always threw out the last bite of her sandwich, and she'd looked at him aghast when he'd offered to eat it for her, as though that last bite contained undiluted bubotuber pus, even though the rest had been perfectly serviceable. Sirius wondered if love was comprised of knowing all these little details about a person and decided that it was at least a small but important part of it.

"Well, I hope that he comes back with a positive response," Hermione continued, rinsing her dish before spelling it clean and back into the cupboard. "It might even do him good to meet Teddy. They are, what, second cousins, after all, right?"

"Something like that," Sirius said agreeably, pushing Hermione back against the counter and holding her there with his body. "I missed you today."

Hermione hummed, her arms coming up to encircle his neck. She lifted her face for a kiss, and he obliged. "I missed you, too," she said once the kiss ended.

"I thought about you today, you know." Sirius grabbed her hips and hefted her onto the counter, smiling as her legs automatically came around his waist, pulling him against her core, her silk dress riding high around her thighs.

"When did you think of me?" she whispered, kissing his neck.

"In the shower," he admitted, though he hoped she wouldn't ask more details. Sirius felt it almost a betrayal to his playboy youth to wank while thinking about his steady girlfriend, but there was nothing torrid about the way his hands had gripped his cock, imagining they were hers instead.

"I thought about you, too."

"When?" he countered.

"Not telling," she evaded, and Sirius forgot about it when she pulled his head down for a kiss.

Sirius' cock was already straining against the confines of his snug denims when Hermione's searching hand opened them, pulling him from his pants and stroking him in a way that was simultaneously gentle and incendiary.

Sirius rucked her dress even higher, until it pooled around her hips, bearing her to his gaze. "Beautiful," he whispered, moaning as her hand tightened around him.

"Oh, gods, Sirius," Hermione said, rocking against him on the countertop. "Want you."

Sure he would never tire of hearing those sweet words fall from her lips, Sirius pushed her panties to one side, unable to wait even the scant seconds it would take to get rid of them. He pulled her to the very edge of the counter and wrapped her legs higher up around his waist.

"Ready?" he asked, lining himself up to her glistening entrance. She was so responsive, Sirius marvelled.

She only twitched her hips forward in response, and that was more than enough for him. He slid into her impossible tightness, sinking his teeth into her neck to avoiding crying out. No matter how many times he did this, he was always amazed that he could, that he was allowed to, welcomed to.

Her head fell back a little, and Sirius took her up on her subconscious offering, feasting on the sweet flesh of her neck as he filled her. He remained still within her, unable to move for fear of embarrassing himself.

"Touch yourself," he commanded softly, not that he needed the visual stimulation. But there was something so deliciously forbidden about watching that private part of her, that part that knew instinctively what would please her.

After a brief moment's hesitation, Hermione's hand moved into the space between them, two fingers tentatively spreading her folds and lightly pressing against her clit. She whimpered, and Sirius took this as his cue to move.

He slowly withdrew, evoking that sweet sound from her again, but plunged back in immediately, deeper than before. She was so wet, so tight, and Sirius found himself telling her that, interspersed with confessions of devotion and long-known love. A part of him recognized that he was saying things he hadn't meant to say, not this soon, anyway, but the resultant whispers from his love were more than worth his secrets.

"Harder, finger yourself harder," Sirius directed, holding her hips as he thrust into her, shaking them both with the force of his movements. Her fingers stopped teasing and immediately began a frenzied pace on her clit, circling and smoothing over the swollen nub.

"Yes," he hissed, alternately watching her fingers and her face, which was screwed up in concentration, a furious blush spreading at being watched, her lower lip swollen and whitened from her teeth's merciless grip on it. Her eyes were hooded, dark and expressive with lust as she met his gaze.

"Beautiful," he repeated, for if anything bore repetition, it was that.

"Sirius," she said through gritted teeth, bringing him back to himself. He could feel his orgasm building as though outside himself, her body such a welcoming place for him to be, so safe and warm and pure.

"Come, love, you have to come," he told her, hips moving jerkily as his balls drew up, ready to release the moment he knew she was going over her edge.

When she cried out, her fingers stilled, pressing into herself as her body clenched around him, from pussy, to thighs, to soul.

Sirius gave into the rhythmic pulsing of her body, his body going rigid as his veins turned to ice, and his entire being seemed to empty inside her. He panted as the rolling tide of his climax ebbed, and the room was silent but for the shaky breaths of its occupants.

He slowly pulled from her, hypnotized as a string of come followed his movement and escaped her body. Hermione leaned limply against the cupboard, legs spread, dress straps trapping her arms from when they'd slipped down in their passion. Never was such an angel so wanton as his.

"Wow," she said, laughing as she readjusted her dress, blowing her messy hair from her eyes.

"You said it," he rejoined, helping her with a tangle of hair that had woven itself around an earring.

"I should work late more often," she mused, hopping down from the counter. It seemed as though her legs were unwilling to support her, but Sirius offered an arm, and she soon steadied. He couldn't help but lean on her a little in return, as his own legs regained power.

"I think we would have done that even if you'd stayed home all day," Sirius said truthfully, pouring them both a much-needed glass of water.

"You're probably right," she conceded, taking a long draught. "But it is nice to think that you just couldn't contain yourself after such a long absence."

He shook his head, chuckling softly. "If only you knew... I can't contain myself even now, when I should be spent and satisfied."

Despite the weariness that had graced her features after she walked in the door from a trying day, Hermione's eyebrow quirked in a way that was undeniably an indication of interest. However, Sirius was not as young as his words made him out to be, though his cock did valiantly twitch at her suddenly sultry gaze.

But just a moment later, her eyes lightened back into their normal whiskey brown, and she smiled ruefully. "I'm ready to call it a night, love."

He only nodded. He shooed her up to bed, and she obediently trudged up the stairs as Sirius washed and put away the water glasses, after filling his once more.

A tapping on the window brought his attention away from imagining Hermione undressing one floor up, and he opened it to admit an unremarkable brown owl bearing a sealed letter. He took it, and the bird flew off without pestering for payment or even treats. Shrugging, Sirius went to crack the seal before he'd realized it wasn't the Malfoy insignia.

Looking at the front of the envelope, he saw it was for Hermione, but there was no indication of the sender. He was curious enough to bring it up to bed with him, and a very sleepy Hermione opened and read it while he performed his nightly ablutions.

"Well?" he asked upon his return to the bedroom, climbing into the sinfully comfortable bed.

"That reporter, Frankenhodge," she mumbled. "Wants his interview."

Sirius only vaguely recognized the name, and then he realized it was the man who'd helped Hermione find Renworth Alensky during the week Hermione and Sirius had been apart. That felt like so long ago now. Sirius was almost surprised that the reporter hadn't owled before today; Hermione had painted him as the insistent type.

But any and all musings were eradicated by the steady, shallow breathing of the woman who shared his bed. Before succumbing to sleep himself, Sirius turned over to face her. As always, her hair was taking over more than its fair share of the pillow, and he shifted it out of her face. Her nose wrinkled, but a small smile settled as she snuffled lightly.

Sirius kissed her sleep-warmed lips before settling onto his back. There was a time when number twelve Grimmauld Place had felt more like mausoleum than a home, and another time when it had been a prison cell. But now, simply by virtue of one woman's presence, for the first time in his life, the house felt like home.