A/N So, I know I said that my new stories would go on my other account but guess what? I lied!

The curtains needed mending. Her heart was breaking but all she could think was that the curtains needed mending. Not that it mattered anymore, not that it was her job anymore, her place to worry about anything to do with the house. It wasn't her house, it never had been. She'd only been a visitor, a guest and now she wasn't even that. Or if she was, she was certainly an unwelcome one.

She closed her eyes, willing the tears that threatened to spill over to go away. There was a time and place to fall apart and she wasn't there yet. Just a few more boxes, a few more memories, a few more slashes against her already mangled heart.

She could already hear what people would say. "I told you it would never work out. Hermione Granger and Sirius Black; ridiculous. She was just a baby, innocent and Merlin knows he's seen enough and heard enough that he'd be able to tell stories that would curl You-Know-Who's toes." That voice belonged to Molly Weasley. She had never approved on the relationship and had down right refused to have them both over for dinner at the same time.

"Hermione, maybe it's for the best. I know you loved him, but he's just not right for you. You'll find someone new, someone young, someone who isn't weighed down by a past and the ghosts of dead friends." That was Harry, supportive yet sensible.

"That git!" Ron would bellow. "What, does he think he could do better then Hermione?"

"Do you need a hand?" Sirius asked from the doorway, interrupting Hermione's imagined conversations. She stiffened before forcing her body into a casual pose as she turned to face her ex-lover. Her expression was proud and distant but no mask, however convincing, could hide the pain in her eyes.

"What, are you that eager to see me gone?" Hermione asked haughtily. "I've lived here for nearly three years; don't you think I deserve more then three hours to pack up my life?"

She turned her back on him and continued folding clothes into the suitcase open on the bed.

"Of course you do, take all the time you need."

Hermione nodded stiffly and crossed the room to the large wardrobe against the far wall. She inhaled deeply, savouring, for perhaps the last time, the heady aroma of his scent mixed with hers, the sight of their clothes hanging next to each others.

A tear escaped as she lifted out the beautiful ball gown she had worn three months ago on the night Sirius had proposed. She swept it quickly off her cheek, cursing her weakness as she carefully shrunk the dress and packed it away. Next came the numerous other beautiful dresses Sirius had lavished her with, each bringing with them memories that cut like knives straight into her heart. She wondered how the damaged organ managed to keep beating.

When she was finished with her clothes, she began on her books, summoning more boxes and filling them just as quickly. Halfway through her books, she sat on the edge of the bed, unable to fend off the tears any longer. They poured unhindered down her cheeks as excruciating sobs wrenched from her chest.

SBHGHBS

Sirius stood in the doorway, forcing himself to watch what he had done. She clutched at her chest, struggling to breathe as her cries increased in intensity. Finally, he could take no more and rushed to her side. She clung to him.

"I can't breathe, Sirius," Hermione cried. "I feel like I can't breathe. Why are you doing this to me?"

Sirius held her head against his chest, his own body shaking as her pain consumed him. He could feel it. It was a physical presence, pressing around him and against him. It was like a barbed blanket, sticking him with thousands of tiny pricks and then seeping into those wounds. Her breath hitched and gasped irregularly as she struggle through her grief for the air her lungs were screaming for. And his screamed to as he matched his breathing to hers.

His arms ached to hold her closer, tighter. His body ached to feel her against him, surrounding him, her warmth capturing his cock and moving deftly over it. His heart throbbed, begging with his brain to take back the hurtful words he'd said to her that morning over breakfast.

"It's over, I can't do it anymore."

And she'd known; she'd known that it was coming but he could see it on her face as it truly sank in. The truth, the honest truth, which was he couldn't be with her anymore. It was too hard. It was too hard to love her the way she needed to be loved. He was too dependant on her and it was killing them both.

His past was too dark and his heart too weary and he was dragging Hermione down with him. He was too weak to fight against his demons, hold them at bay long enough to love her. He had done that for Harry, fought against the forces desperately trying to destroy him so that his Godson would know the truth. He didn't have any thing left to give her. These last years she had been the one fuelling him and he could see what it was doing to her. She hurt now, but it would be nothing compared to a lifetime of living for a hopeless man.

In his arms, Hermione's breathing finally evened though her tears did not slow. She shifted and he could feel her cheek pressing against his throat, her lips at the base of his neck and he couldn't stop her even if he wanted to. This is what his body had been pleading for and he would deny neither her nor his desires.

His breathing became shallow and he could barely move from fear of breaking the spell as Hermione explored, for the last time, his body. She unbuttoned, slowly, his shirt and pulled the edges aside revealing his chest, lightly sprinkled with black and grey hairs. He could feel her tears drip onto his bare skin and each one seared his flesh like acid.

Her hand grabbed his and she directed it to her pants. He caressed the creamy skin above her jeans before unbuttoning the four buttons down the front of her pants and slipping his hand inside her panties.

As her mouth found his, he searched his mind, looking desperately for some thought, some evidence that would convince him that this was a bad idea but he came up blank. Maybe he wasn't searching too hard or maybe the feel of Hermione's heat against his fingers or the taste of her on his lips was reason enough to keep going. She tasted like tears and the masochistic side of him glorified in the pain they were causing each other in doing this.

His fingers moved against her, not teasingly, the pain was too intense for such a light-hearted exchange. Instead he caressed her roughly, moving with skill, familiarity and precision as he quickly brought her to readiness for him. He could feel her wetness flowing over his hands and he tightened in response, desperate to be inside her.

He groaned in a sick mixture of pleasure and pain as he removed his hand and she ground violently against him. But still is was not hard enough and he grabbed her hips and as her hot mouth pressed against his, her sweet taste clouding his mind, he thrust harshly against her. She whimpered in pleasure and knotted her fingers into his hair, gripping it painfully and pulling him closer.

It was unlike anything Sirius had ever encountered as the pulled each other's clothes from their bodies. Their actions were rough, frantic. They were aroused to the point of desperation. Sirius almost sighed in relief as he put a name to what he was feeling. He was desperate for her. He didn't have time to think it over, though, as Hermione ground her heat against his cock. Nothing separated them now except for the split second it took to position himself and enter her and then that, too, was gone.

He didn't pause to relish the feel of finally being inside her, not that she would have let him if he had. Immediately they moved together in an ancient ritual they had always excelled at together. Her body curved to his as he moved in and out of her, against her. Her knees came up to grip the side of his body and he stared into her eyes, forcing himself to see the pleasure ripple across her face as the pain burned in her eyes.

"I love you, Sirius," she whispered. He closed his eyes and his heart clenched painfully. He could no longer do it. The weaker part of him won out and he felt less like a man then he had in years. He could find no dignity, no pride or self respect left in him as he turned his head away and continued to take what he wanted, needed, from Hermione.

That's all he ever did; take, take, and take from her. And she gave! So willing she offered up herself and he snatched at her, taking every little morsel and reaching, grabbing for more still. She brought out the selfish and the desperate side of him.

He moved faster, harder, obeying the commands he hadn't even heard her give. As he neared his climax the world became very clear to him. He wasn't doing this for her. His darkness and brooding hostility was bringing her down, it was harming her and it was reaching the point of irrevocability. He would rather die then see her end up like him but that wasn't the deciding factor when he had broken her heart over eggs and pumpkin juice. He was destroying her, but it was killing him.

As she reached her climax and her cries reached his ears, he quickened his movements before spilling into her a moment later. He gasped in surprise at the truth hit home and his body slumped over her, slick with sweat. His selfishness ran deeper then even he thought. He was doing this to save himself. The knowledge that he was doing this to her, hurt more then the consequences. He had happily broken her heart to save his own. He raised himself off her and roughly pushed her body away from his.

A whole new level of hurt rushed through her but Sirius was beyond caring. He was lost in self pity and disgust as he realised he was an even bigger monster then he had thought he was. His arm shot through with pain as he lent against the side table and pushed himself up off the bed. A new pain shot through him and his breathing rasped through his teeth as he clutched his chest.

"Sirius?" Hermione asked worriedly, wrapping herself in a towel that had been slung over the end of the bed. "Sirius?" she asked again but her voice was strange, like it was coming down a long tunnel.

I'm a monster, Sirius thought to himself as he staggered to the dresser, knocking Hermione's collection of perfumes over, filling the room with their sickly sweet scent.

"Sirius!" Hermione screamed, rushing to his side.

But Sirius was gone, his mind running over all the things he'd done in his life that he had thought had been motivated by selflessness but were now being relived for what they truly were. James, Lily, Remus and Harry's faces swam in his vision and he reached out blindly for them.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. The pain in his heart intensified and his knees gave out beneath him.

"It's okay, Sirius, I forgive you." Hermione's hands worked frantically against his chest. "Breathe!"

"I'm sorry…"

No flames, please. I know not everyone will like this but don't just yell. Constructive criticism, however, is always appreciated. And yes, Sirius is dead.