The house was quiet. It was after midnight and the silence was so heavy that the house seemed to stretch then settle as if it, like its residents, stirred in sleep before settling deeper down into sweet dreams. Only one room held movement, a nervously pacing bride-to-be and a man who loved her, watching her silently from a shadowed corner.

In the library, Hermione paced amongst the books, running her fingers over the aged leather and cracked paper spines. Between the older volumes, newer editions were scattered, added by Sirius or Harry, even a few by Hermione herself. The majority of her books were already packed in trunks up in her room, along with her clothes and other possessions. Tomorrow they would be transported to her new residence. Her new home. Her husband's home.

Hermione sighed and settled down into one of the plush chairs scattered around the spacious room. It was, unsurprisingly, her favourite room in the house. Sirius had allowed her to all but take over the large desk that dominated one end of the library. Where yesterday it was piled neatly with her things, tonight it was empty save a picture of her, Harry and Ron and an ink blotter and empty quill holder. She would miss her space, her library, her room and her people.

But she was happy. How could she not be on the eve of her wedding? How? Why? Why, why, why?

"Why am I not happy?" she whispered to herself before rising abruptly from her seat and resuming her pacing. She was aware, of course, of the reason that had her second guessing herself.

She was unaware of the man in the corner. Unaware how he battled internally with whether or not to intervene. He loved her more then he loved any other on the planet, save his godson and that was a very different love. No, how he felt about Hermione definitely couldn't be compared to the fatherly feelings he had for Harry. She may have been less then a year older then Harry but for more then five years now, Sirius had not once felt anything about Hermione but deep romantic ardour that a man feels for a woman. Though the difference in their ages had been important to some, to them it did not matter once, they loved each other fiercely and that was all they knew.

But that had been over two years ago. On her side, at least, for she was to be married to her boyfriend of the past year tomorrow. For him, his feelings had not wavered once, though he had been very careful to hide them, sometimes even from himself. But at moments like this, in dim candlelight, Hermione stomping around the library, her hair wild about her shoulders, shining almost golden, her shapely legs kicking out from the part in her robe that she had thrown on carelessly over her nightgown, he could not deny them to anyone. Had anyone turned their eye to him in this instant he would confess his love for Hermione like a villain trying to save his worthless life in front of a jury sentencing him to death. Not that Hermione could be compared to death in any way. Well, perhaps to heaven, a blissful reward after death.

He sighed, shaking himself from his sappy, overly romantic thoughts and again questioned whether or not to speak up. But it was too late, he had been heard and Hermione had already turned in his direction, peering into the darkness that engulfed him.

"Sirius?" she asked, pulling her robe closed and tying it tightly. His view of her silk covered body was severed and he looked up to her face, which had lost all its colour, save her cheeks which flamed red. He cleared his throat and stood, coming into the light.

They stood staring at each other a moment before Hermione unexpectedly threw herself into his arms. Her lips found his and, too stunned to react, he stood still a moment and let her press her lips against his, forcing her tongue into his mouth. That made him react and he gently pushed her away from him though he wanted nothing more than to pull her closer.

"You are getting married in the morning."

"I know!" she cried, retreating a distance away from him. "How could I forget? It's all I think about. As the weeks, day and hours have propelled me closer to the event I have thought of less and less but that until it consumes my every waking moment."

Sirius watched her passionate speech without comment, biting the inside of his lip to convince her to abandon all matrimonial plans and to hide out in his room, in his bed, for the next month.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Hermione demanded. "Aren't you going to tell me to wake up to myself, that I love him, to wake up to myself, that I really love you? That you love me? Say something!"

He remained silent a moment, thinking. Then he spoke.

"Do you love him? Do you love me? Do you want me to still love you?"

How calm he sounded when his insides were a raging river flow of hot passionate love. He wanted to drop to his knees at her feet and beg her to love him, to leave her fiancé and return to his arms. But he could not do that. He could not force her to do it or even attempt to influence her in any way.

Her breath was harsh and her chest rose and fell, swollen with emotion. She shook her head.

"I don't know. I mean, yes, I love him. I love him with all my heart, with all my being, I love him! But you? You are Sirius," she sighed, her eyes going sad, "and I will always love you."

"That's not an answer," Sirius said. His lips quirked in a mocking smile. "You are confusing me."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, welcome to my world."

They both resumed their seats, Sirius bringing his out into the light cast by the candles and fire that burned merrily in the hearth. They sat silent a moment, both staring at each other, remembering their past together when they shared more then just a house, a library, back to when they shared a bed. Their lives had gotten so full of work, friends, charities and their own seperate lives that soon the only times they saw each other was in bed. A quiet, rarely eventful bed. The love was there, the passion too but it had grown quiet, muted. They had parted amicably, better than that, in fact, for Hermione did not move far out of Sirius' room, just down a floor to the room next to Harry's. Apart from a few drunken slips, they had stayed parted. When Hermione had began her new relationship, they had sat down together and talked about it as mature adults. Their break-up and consequent peaceful relationship was without any fights, any sparks, that Hermione had sometimes wondered if they should have had a big blow-out to finally get some closure. But no, it was not meant to be. Even now, looking at each other across the room, the same muted love was there but Hermione could summon no passion like she thought she would and she was glad.

Sirius could not say the same. His love for Hermione was just as he had always felt, dulled only by the knowledge that she loved someone else.

"You love him," he acknowledged. As she should. Her groom was a good man, one of the best and that knowledge too, dulled it further. They were right together, more right then he and Hermione ever were. Though he and Hermione had loved greatly, he had always known, though ignored, the fact that their love was fleeting. They were too different and at the same time, too much the same. But her and her husband-to-be were perfect. They fought. Sirius smiled and Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"We never fought," he said by way of explanation.

Hermione smiled back, her eyes suspiciously glassy. "No, we never fought." She knew what he was talking about, exactly. Their passion, though it burned ferociously, burned pure, sweetly almost. He didn't know how to love Hermione completely, without bringing some of the darkness that tainted him into her life. Sirius knew her new love had once worried over the exact same thing, but it seemed Hermione would not let him hold anything back from her.

"You deserve each other and I mean that in the best possible way," he said to her now.

She smiled softly, happily at him. "Thank you and I'm sorry for jumping on you. It was nerves. Please don't tell anyone."

He shook his head at her. "You know me better than that. I'll take it to the grave."

"Sharing secrets are you?" Harry said from the doorway, catching Sirius' comment. They both started but there was no guilt on their faces. Harry came into the room. "To bed with you, Hermione. Remus will be angry with us if you fall asleep at the alter."

"You are right, of course, Harry. I think I can sleep now." She got up and kissed first Sirius and then Harry, both on the cheek. "Thank you both." Sirius nodded once to her and Harry gently pushed her out the door. They listened to her climb the stairs to her room.

"You alright, Sirius?" Harry asked, lingering in the doorway.

"Course I am, Harry, why wouldn't I be?" Sirius rose and started blowing out candles, even though Kreacher would have done it.

"I don't know," Harry said, "your ex-girlfriend is only marrying your best friend, after all. Every man would be fine with that."

Sirius crouched in front of the fire, stirring if with a poker. "I don't know about every man, but I am."

Harry watched him a moment, not believing him. He went to leave before pausing. Sirius had been like both a father and friend to him but now it was Harry's turn to give some advice.

"You will be, you know. Fine, that is."

"I know, Harry, I know. It's hard, but I know she will be happy with Remus, happier then she ever was with me. I can see it now."

"Where earlier tonight maybe you didn't?" Harry queried.

Sirius still faced the fire and only nodded.

Harry left him to his brooding then.

Sirius summoned some Firewhiskey and a glass and settled back into his chair. He poured himself a drink and raised a silent toast to Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin and their marriage before raising it to his lips.