Archive of Our Own

Love can be such a fickle thing.

Perfect one moment, dangerous the other. It fills you inside with an insatiable thirst for happiness, then it leaves you hanging in the remains of your broken heart.

Hermione would be scared to love, if it weren't Sirius on the receiving end. This was the same boy who couldn't stop staring at her since the beginning of magic, or the first year of Hogwarts as others may call it.

In such a new environment, one thing stuck with her for the entirety of the seven years spent at the castle: Sirius Black and his unbeatable resistance.

May it be towards his own family, who still believed in values that cursed those of Muggle descent, or society itself, who deemed him too pure to fall for a sickly girl like her.

She's hard work, they said right in front of her, even when she had yet to give him a chance. He blinked, smiled ruefully and shrugged. "She's worth it."

What could he have possibly seen in her? And she did ask him that, as she watched him take big gulps from his bottle water for the upteenth time. It sure was a hot, parched day but she hadn't expected him to struggle so much.

Sweat trickled down his arm and she threw him a wet towel, receiving a grateful peck that still left hair standing on the back of her neck.

"What don't I see in you? I see everything, I see perfection. You're like the puzzle — ha! Did you see how I included Muggle things in this? — anyways, you're the missing puzzle to my entire being, my life."

A small smile spread on her lips and he gestured for her to join him on the sofa, falling in his strong arms that wrapped around her form. She let out a satisfied sigh, entirely forgetting about the sun that continued with pointed heat waves.

-

After graduation, when it had only been a year of them dating and of their first Hogsmeade date ever, they stood in the empty station, void of the families that had already left after reuniting with their families.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked, blowing away a tendril of hair that had fallen over her eye. Sirius snorted when it didn't work, ignoring the roll of her eyes and tucking the strand behind her ear.

"I know I'm not going anywhere you're not," he murmured quietly, his silver eyes dancing over her face with an anticipating look.

"I can't go back home," to my dead family, was left unsaid.

"We'll find one of our own."

-

So, they started from there. Inexperienced as he was in any Muggle place except for London, he allowed Hermione to act as the guide, watching her with an amused look as she continued to ramble on about every place they visited.

She highly doubted he'd even heard one word she'd said, but she couldn't really be mad — he was left in a daze because of her, beauty and all, as he had said back then.

They got their apartment, small and shabby with the lack of money on both sides, only for it to be decorated after the unfortunate demise of his uncle, Alphard Black. After he received the fortune, he was set on making sure she had her own personal bookcase, not once complaining about how little space it left in the living room.

And oh— the fateful meeting of Sirius's second soulmate, his motorcycle. Sandra, as he so fondly named the vehicle, caught his attention when they made their way back from the ABBA concert. He admitted he was a tad bit drunk when he held her hand and guided her inside the shop, only for the owner to be hurrying to close it down,

The kind man must've noticed the eager expression on her boyfriend's face, because he immediately set the keys on the counter and gestured for them to take a look at the motorcycle on display.

The two wheeler, Kawasaki Z 900, shone under the dispersed blanket of stars as they made their way back to their flat. And of course, it didn't take long for Sirius to attach enchantments to make it fly — make it even more unnecessarily dangerous!

She couldn't say much back then, when his sleeves were rolled up and he was explaining his magical work on the vehicles with that deep, smooth voice of his. She sat on the paddle and wrapped her legs around him, her lips immediately on his.

"I love you," he groaned as she breathed out a moan, "So fucking much, Hermione."

"I love you, too," she said as she tugged on his shirt, fiddling with the buttons as he grinned against her mouth.

He was wicked; her wicked love.

-

There was a knock on the door. She gave a wide eyed look at Sirius, whose eyes moved towards the book in her hands and back at her. He gave a defeated sigh and removed her feet from his lap, moving towards the entrance in big strides. Immersed in the text, she didn't pay much attention until she heard a familiar name.

"Oi, Prongs!"

Her face snapped and brightened in surprise, moving towards the man in no time and wrapping her arms around his neck. "What took you so long?"

He laughed as he pushed her back. "Lily has been having a hard time with Harry lately, so I — as the best man on earth — had to help her with him."

She glanced at Sirius and cocked a brow. "Hear that, love? Take notes."

Putting his best affronted look on his face, his arm sat around her shoulders and his breath fanned against her ear. "Shouldn't we make a baby first?"

Her lips twitched, but James's disgusted noises brought both of them back. "I don't think this is how you greet a guest!"

"I don't see any guests around here," she told him, pulling her hair in a soft bun as she moved towards the kitchen. "You're family, are you not?"

"That I am," he announced proudly and moved towards the couch, intent on jumping on it before she called out to him again. "Then, get your arse over here and help us cook."

"Look at you, James. Being ordered around everywhere," teased a voice from the door and she whirled around. Remus and Peter had also arrived.

"You two also get here!"

Sirius laughed from somewhere, until she realized he was right behind her, peppering her bare neck with soft kisses. She lightly elbowed his stomach and sweetly smiled at his betrayed look. "It's your turn to cut the onions."

-

Her therapy sessions were getting easier, or as easy as they could. Sirius always waited for her outside, staring at the small butterfly painted on the blank, white wall. His head only snapped up when the door opened and he recognized the sound of her heels as they clicked against the tiles.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, immediately bringing her in a tight embrace. She inhaled, allowing her memory to pick up the warm scent of home, Sirius Black. "How did it go?"

She leaned back to look at his watery eyes, filled with worry for her, and her heart churned. She was responsible for that but - but it was okay, now. It was going to be, she hoped. "He said that I only need to see him monthly now."

Her heart skipped a beat at the wide grin that split on his face. "My strong, gorgeous woman," he said, his hands gripping her waist as he whirled her around.

Only when he realized the leering stare of a man, who had been watching from outside the window, did he put her down.

The stranger went home with a black eye.

-

James deserved to be the first one to know. Him and his family had basically taken her in and adopted her, when she would've been left to the streets for more than seven years.

"Do you think . . .?"

She nodded with a trembling smile. "I tried the spell five times, James."

"Hermione—" His mouth snapped shut and his eyes glittered with tears. He let out a heavy breath before gathering her in her arms.

"Don't worry, little brother. Sirius, and also I will be strong for the baby, I promise," she said fervently. She will never break down, not with the growing light that blinked inside of her. New hope that will heal her mind.

"I'm so proud of you," he choked through tears. "You've come so far."

She wiped his tears and sat back with a small smile. "How should I tell him?"

With a wicked grin that should have her worried, he said, "The boys and Lily will think of something. You sit back and just relax!"

-

So, Hermione dressed well after the call she received from Lily. The Potters had prepared a lovely flower carpet in their giant backyard, and she took the opportunity because she truly wanted to make this special for her boyfriend. She had even sent Sirius to the Leaky Cauldron, telling him to just meet her at the Potters to buy enough time to get properly ready.

And — and who knew, maybe Sirius was planning to propose to her? Surely, he wasn't going to wait any longer. It had already been three years of them dating and the long, fond looks thrown her way were becoming obvious.

She smoothed out her blue dress, allowing it to hug her curves that she was sure he won't be able to take his eyes off of.

Hermione walked to the tea room, where she was sure he was waiting for her with their friends.

"Hey, guys. I'm finally here—" She glanced at the empty spot on the velvet couch, and stopped. "Is he late, again?" she asked, exasperated as she glanced at the couple.

The redhead wouldn't meet her eyes, so she tried James instead, who looked like he was sick — too sick to even open his mouth.

"Hermione," a voice spoke from behind and she whirled around to find Remus, his gentle brown eyes clouded with caution and - God, was it despair?

She choked out a laugh, forcing her mind to stay shut - please, please, please, don't be negative for once. Don't ruin this for me. Don't ruin me.

"His motorcycle broke down again, didn't it?" she asked, her voice coming out less steady than she hoped.

His large hand wrapped around hers and he gently tugged for her to follow. "The Aurors need to see you," he explained, not waiting for her to say anything as they Apparated.

"Remus," she muttered with a groan, "You need to warn me, before you do that. I'm pregnant, if you weren't aware!"

The Potters and Peter soon followed, their faces pale as they looked at her. And - she was tired of the unusual silence. They should know that she hated change, she hated — everything.

No, she didn't hate Sirius.

Putting on the most genuine smile she could — don't look like you're about to have a fucking breakdown! — she tried to address the werewolf again. "Why are we here? Did Sirius annoy Moody again, because I will personally apologize to that arrogant man—Oh, hey Moody."

She gave him a not so apologetic look, really - she knew he had a small, very minuscule soft corner for her as she kept the Animagus at bay. Still, she expected the usual grunt of acknowledgement, one that never came.

"Follow me," he said quietly - too damn softly for it to be him.

"Have you been Polyjuiced?" she asked incredulously, her eyes swiping over his movements for any odd behaviour. She still followed him though, strangely aware of the stares that she received from the other workers.

Sure, she chose not to work at the Ministry, despite all the offers she got, but she didn't expect them to be so offended about it.

Everything seemed too strange. "I'm getting a bit nervous," she told James, who visibly swallowed and grabbed her hand, pushing her away from all the crowd and telling Moody to hurry.

He pushed a door open. The room was dimly lit and there were a couple of nurses waiting with folders in their hands. "Did my therapist send you those? Because he said that I was doing better now—"

"Give her the pictures," Moody barked from behind and she jumped, her heart in her throat as she looked at the hesitant expressions she received.

It was getting harder to breathe—it would help if she had Sirius, his scent attacking her surroundings, protecting her from yet another panic attack—

She held onto the papers, her eyes immediately on the purple bracelet pictured. "What is this about?" she demanded, her tone biting as her eyes snapped up. "Someone fucking tell me already," her voice broke and she looked back at the gift that she — fuck, that she'd given Sirius. "Why do you have a picture of this?!"

"There was an attack at the Leaky Cauldron. Hooded figures killed several people - mostly Muggleborns - before they Apparated away."

Her grip on the pictures loosened, her energy giving up on her as everything clicked in.

Her chest constricted and she was sure, so damn sure that there were tears streaming down her face but she refused to believe anything. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. His body, they — this was all we could find to identify him."

With that, her whole world shattered in pieces.

She was on the ground, gasping for breath and finding that none of it could be enough to fill her lungs, to stop them from hurting.

How could you leave me?

-

He was sure that he'd broken more than one bone as he Apparated away from the chaos, thinking of a random place that could keep him away from prying eyes. Bright light filled his mind and he was led to a sea of snow, his body gently falling on top of it.

He could see a door and he begged his magical core to keep him going enough for him to cast a Notice-Me-Not that could last as long as he wanted. Once that was done, he ignored the black spots that appeared before his eyes and his knuckles rapped against the door in front of him, hoping with all he had that someone was home to save him.

His ears caught the sound of footsteps that hit the pavement and with hooded eyes, he watched as brown curls came into view, caramel eyes widening at the sight of him and . . . his face shattered.

-

"Sirius!"

He came to, not sure how long it had been, but his body still hurt. His arm seemed to be wrapped around in a cast, but his bones had surely been repaired with magic, he could feel it.

"The dead man's not dead!" a child screamed on top of his lungs excitedly, jumping up and down as he stared up at him.

His breathing shallow, his eyes slowly moved towards the source of voice that said, "Don't call him that, sweetie."

He was sure that he was dead — there was no way that he could've possibly ended up in her house after—

"How are you doing?" she asked, her gentle eyes crinkling with a small smile as she checked his forehead. "Your fever seems to have gone down."

He looked away then, only for his eyes to find the small kid watching him with pure innocence.

How pure could one be, he wondered bitterly.

"Sirius, stop bothering him."

His breath hitched, and his fingers looked for his wand, intent on Apparating right then and there.

"Yes, mama." The boy—Sirius—pouted petulantly, walking over to his toys and flopping down the small mat set up for him.

Sirius, that was - it couldn't possibly be—

"I apologize for my son's behaviour. He doesn't often get visitors," she explained in a soft voice and he forced his eyes to remain away from her, her enticing beauty and all that was part of her.

"It's okay," he mumbled in a low voice. "Do you have my—"

"Wand?" she cut him off. "It's on the dining table, but I don't think you should use any magic right now."

"I need to leave." He stood up then, ignoring the protests of his burning muscles, and walked over to the table. His fingers gripped the tight wood and he sighed in relief. Now, if only he could Apparate to their house - no, to his father's house.

"You can't leave," she said from behind. "There is a heavy snowstorm going on right now. You're in no condition of Apparating and . . . I don't have a Floo set up."

Why not? almost escaped from his mouth, but he bit his tongue. It wasn't his business, no matter how he wished it still was. "I see."

"You can stay, though," she said quickly, finally coming in front of his eyes once again. Her face was kind, rid of any signs that she'd even aged. "We have an extra room set up. My friends sometimes come visit us, but not in this weather. I have it set up for you already."

He stared at her, his face impassive as he nodded.

She gripped the cuffs of her cardigan and he clenched his fists. Don't touch her.

"It's upstairs - the last room, on the right."

He gave her one last look, turned on his feet and went up the stairs with only one thing in his mind: he needed to leave.

-

"Stop being picky!"

He could hear her through the door and he wanted to do nothing but rid the room of any noise, any reminder of his past.

He was a terrible person and she was a reminder of that. That boy was a reminder of that.

A coward, bitter enemy was what he should be considered.

And yet, his feet moved on his own and soon, he was watching the whole thing happen. Her hair a frizzy mess as she pushed a strand away, still watching the boy pick at the peas on the plate.

"Sirius will do what Sirius wants," the boy happily chirped, face set defiant. He glanced towards Sirius and pointed his finger at him, causing her to notice his presence. "I think dead man would like these peas instead!"

"Stop calling him dead man," she chastised him firmly, though her eyes remained gentle at the sight of her son. She glanced back at him and motioned for him to join them at the table. "I'm sorry. I never asked for your name. I'm Hermione, and you?"

Sirius. "Leo."

She gave him a smile, nodding at the plate that she placed in front of him. "I hope you're not a picky eater, as well," she said with a teasing tone.

He laughed shortly. "I learned to eat just about everything."

"See?" She ruffled her son's hair, calling him out to look at Leo. "You should learn something from him."

"If he doesn't play Quidditch like Uncle James, I'm not interested," the boy exclaimed with a shake of his head, looking quite serious regarding the sport.

He was, after all, his son, too.

-

Sirius froze on his steps. Hermione was sat on the floor, a dozen of pictures surrounding her frail form as tears streamed down her face.

He could leave. He should've left, but he was now kneeling close to her, his hand on her shoulders as he asked, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes widened, before she shook her head as thought to clear her thoughts. "Oh, God. Yes, I apologize that you have to see me like this. It's — it's been seven years since my boyfriend's death and I still can't—" A sob wretched from her mouth and his arms instantly wrapped around her body, his mind still acting on the habits of the past.

"I'm sorry," he said, his own eyes blurring at the actions that led to this numb pain.

He had fixed her, only to break her again.

"It's fine," he heard her say in a choked voice. "You don't have anything to feel sorry about."

But he did.

-

"Whoa! You're an Auror?!" the boy exclaimed in excitement.

He nodded slowly, his eyes dancing over his son's face.

This was what he missed.

"You must know James Potter, then," Hermione commented as she handed him a warm cup of hot chocolate.

Sirius chose not to answer, instead he watched as their son looked expectantly at him. "Can I have a sip?"

He let out a chuckle, pulling the small body closer to him and messing his long, black hair up. "Of course, you can. Here," he passed his son the mug, not before blowing off the steam that could be seen coming from the drink. "It's going to be hot."

"Thank you! You're very nice."

He swallowed. He wasn't sure about that.

-

Days passed and he eventually allowed his son to ask for stories, funny ones that could make his mom laugh. Sirius agreed with the clench of his heart, allowing the hole in his chest to be filled with the thankful smile he received from the young boy as Hermione laughed; the sound a melody that his ears wanted for eternity.

Then, he found her in the kitchen at night. She seemed to be humming a familiar tune, the glint of a bracelet shining under the few candles lit.

"You have a very nice voice," he told her, heading towards the filter to fill his water bottle.

She glanced at him, the wistful smile disappeared from her face. "Thank you."

A frown now marred her face, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong?"

"Your voice. It's very similar to someone I knew."

"Did the person also use it to say wise things?" he tried, an attempt of curiosity now on his face.

She snorted and put the jar of honey down. "He said wicked things, if anything." Her voice wavered and she gripped the bracelet around her wrist.

His hand latched around her fingers, a perfect fit - same old. He looked down at the piece of jewelry and an automatic smile slipped on his lips. "True care," he murmured.

She moved away from him then, her eyes wide as she stepped back. A moment of silence passed, his body frozen as he realized what had slipped from his mouth. "How do you know that? You're not supposed to know that. It's - only him and I could read it—"

Her chest continued to rise with shallow breaths and he instantly sprung towards her. "Hermione," he breathed out in panic. "Take deep breaths, look at my eyes."

The safe incantation that had been wrapped around his face for weeks now wordlessly slid away, giving her a chance to stare at the silver that used to calm her down, to—

"It can't be you." Her voice broken, she tried to grip his arms but her hands slipped as she fell to the floor. "You're not Sirius."

"Love—"

"Why?" she asked, dragging herself away from him.

"I can explain everything. Trust me!" he exclaimed, forcing her up. His hands cupped her face and he pleaded with his eyes to listen to him. "I had a mission to complete—"

"You didn't die."

"I didn't—" he stopped with a sigh. It was inevitable and maybe, just maybe the truth could lead to a better future with his family, his true loves. "I didn't know you were pregnant, love! At the time, I needed to pose dead."

"All these years, for what? What fucking mission, Sirius? Do you even know how much guilt my heart bore all this time at being responsible for your death? I sent you there! Were you even there?"

"I was there, but that was my mission, love. My parents and I needed to hurt them to make the Ministry understand—"

She stumbled away from his grip, her eyes wide. "You're part of that group," she whispered, her voice hollow.

He took one step closer. "Yes, I am, but Hermione! This was my chance to gain more wealth, for our future—"

"You hurt Muggleborns, Sirius." She shook her head, tears trickled down her cheeks. "It could've been me. Would you have hurt me?"

"Of course not," he said gently, his brows scrunched as he watched her grasp her wand. "Hermione—"

"You still killed children. Would you kill our son, too?" A sob, and then someone had her pushed away.

James.

"Prongs—"

"I heard your fucking speech," James spat, looking at this old-time best friend with pitiful eyes. "I would rather have you dead than let you be a fucking coward."

Sirius huffed out a smart laugh. "Now, James. Let me talk to Hermione."

"There's nothing left to talk about. You're coming with me to Azkaban," he grit out, flicking his wand at him but Sirius has already ducked.

"You don't want to fight with me," Sirius warned him, but James just shook his head.

"Hermione, Lily was with me and she has probably already taken your son to the manor. You should go too—"

"She's not fucking going anywhere," Sirius roared, aiming his wand at the man that stood before him.

"Fuck you. You think I'll let her stay with a psycho like you?"

His nostrils flared and his eyes turned regretful. "I never thought I'd have to do this to you, Prongs. Avada K—"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione's wand fell from her hands with a clank. A sob wretched out of her mouth, her feet moving against her own will as she stopped to look down at the lifeless man.

Sirius.

Her feet swayed and once again, she drowned in the ocean of love that turned to be lethal.