AUTHOR NOTES: I hope you enjoy this story as much as my others. This is a different ship from some of my other writings. This will be a chaptered fic, however will be long in updates as I want to get this one right. It may not be very long, but it will be good. This is dedicated to Miss Serade Black. Thank you all.

Hermione allowed everyone to take her hand one by one and offer their sympathies. She could see with her own eyes that each of them touch her hand, but she could not feel them. She couldn't feel anything.

It was a surprise to everyone that she and Harry Potter grew closer together soon after he defeated the dark lord, Voldemort. Ron sort of knew something was going on. And Ginny acknowledged there was something more between the two of them. Both Weasley siblings stood aside and allowed their best friends a chance at love now that there was peace.

That love grew and eventually Hermione and Harry married. It was their first anniversary night when a group of estranged Death Eaters trapped them in a dank alleyway. With Hermione knocked unconscious almost immediately, Harry had been too preoccupied with her safety to see the curse coming his way in time to deflect it. His body fell beside her limp form.

Today was the funeral. The entire wizarding world seemed to have attended, but Hermione just looked through them all. It wasn't until a hand had touched her shoulder gently that she remembered she was alive.

"When we get back, would you like to lie down while I make you some tea?" Hermione glanced up and finally registered a familiar face. Molly Weasley stood there with the most genuinely compassionate look in her eyes.

Hermione tried to smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, Molly, that would be great."

Mrs. Weasley started ahead and Apparated some feet away, worried the loud crack would startle the quiet congregation now leaving the cemetery.

Hermione began a slow sombre walk back to town followed closely behind by Ron, Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys, and, believe it or not, the Dursleys. Petunia felt she owed it to her sister to be there, and after much painstaking arguing with Vernon, got him and Dudley to attend as well.

"Hermione?"

Hermione stopped and turned around. "Yes, Mrs. Dursley?"

Petunia glanced up at the onlookers and took a deep, albeit, not entirely cleansing breath. "I believe my sister would have liked you. She was just as intelligent and headstrong as Harry said you are. I won't pretend that I accept all this…rubbish…but it is what they both chose to do with their lives. I never realized that Harry had so much to accomplish."

"Good thing we kept him under thumb then isn't it. Gave him a good head full of discipline," Vernon interrupted. But he was soon put in his place.

"Sod off, Vernon!" Petunia scolded. Hermione looked on with a look of half admiration half confusion. "Forgive me, Hermione. I suppose I grew to have a newfound respect for him after he saved so many people. I just never knew it was as bad as it was. And now…" Petunia broke into soft sobs. "And now, I can't tell Harry that. I'm…I'm sorry."

Before Hermione could respond, Harry's aunt had run off to the car leaving Dudley and Vernon behind. They both nodded solemnly to Hermione and left.

She stood there for a moment unsure what to do or say. Ginny saw her and pulled her along.

"Come on. Mum's about got that tea ready," the young girl said putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders and leading her to the Floo inside The Leaky Cauldron.

It wasn't until everyone had emptied the cemetery that he appeared from behind the tree. He walked up to the stone and placed a black rose on its base.

"I'll look after her, Harry. I won't promise. I made a promise to Lily and James to look after you and look how that turned up. So, no. No promises. But I will do my best," the man said. He knelt down, placed a chaste kiss on top of the marble monument, and then Apparated to his home… well, Hermione's home now.

Several hours later, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the parlour, half drunken cups of tea in front of them going cold.

"Do you think he'll go back there?"

"Knowing him, probably," Hermione said absently to Ron's question.

Ron looked around the Burrow, not really finding what he was looking for. Then it dawned on him that what he was missing was left lying six foot below the surface of the earth. His eyes began to tear up for the fourth time that day. He couldn't stand sitting there feeling like a piece of him was gone when Hermione had her entire heart ripped out. He grabbed his broomstick and headed out the door.

How many beats does a broken heart have, anyway? Hermione didn't know. But she sat there in the quiet of the small house and listened to hers. The thunderous pulsing in her chest seemed to drown out every other noise in the room. She just listened to it, willing it to stop. Hermione didn't want that constant reminder that she was alive. She didn't want to know that her life would go on without Harry. She closed her eyes and prayed to whatever deity would listen that she be granted her wish; that the pounding in her ears would cease and she would float away to some other plane of existence to be with Harry for all eternity.

Hermione didn't know how long she sat there cursing her own coursing blood. So when Mrs. Weasley spoke to her, Hermione jumped near out of her skin.

"Oh dear! Please drink this, Hermione. It will help you rest," Molly said holding out a cup of water and a vial of something a really sick looking chartreuse colour. "I know, it looks like…well…it tastes better than it looks. Drink up."

Hermione took the small glass cylinder of what looked to be mucus, downed the vial (thankful it had a sour apple flavour), and then the water to help dilute its strength and ease into her system. Within moments, she was lying peacefully on the couch, sound asleep, visions of her wedding day dancing in her mind's eye.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Fred got up from his puzzle piecing strategy with George and answered it. Sirius Black stood on the other side, dripping wet as a downpour had begun.

"Sirius," Fred greeted with a shy smile and slight nod.

"George," he replied. Fred didn't have the heart to correct to him. The man looked as if his entire life had just been run over by the Hogwarts Express, not just his body. "Hermione here?"

"Yeah, on the couch. Mum gave her a sleeping draught. I don't think she's slept since…"

Sirius nodded and began for the living room. There he saw what looked to be an emotional drained angel. Hermione's soft curls had entangled with one another and fell into her face, framing just her eyes. Sirius recognized the flutter of her eyelashes and occasional moan as nightmares that invaded her white wash marriage ceremony and handsome husband. He had them many a night at Azkaban after James and Lily were killed. He battled himself over waking her, the more sensible side coming through for the win.

"Distressed sleep is better than no sleep at all," he reasoned with himself. He then turned back to the kitchen and sat down opposite the twins.

"Where is everyone?" he asked while looking around absently.

Fred placed another piece of the jigsaw in its place. "Mum had to go to the market."

"Dad had to file the burial papers," George followed trying not to look up at Sirius.

"Ron had to get away."

"Playing Quidditch, I believe."

"No sure where though."

"Ginny is upstairs."

"Bill and Fleur are at St. Mungo's."

"She went into labour as soon as she walked in the door."

Sirius felt like he was at a muggle tennis match turning his head to the left, then to the right. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Fred was beginning to say where Charlie went off to, but Sirius couldn't stand it anymore.

"Stop! Alright. When Molly gets back, tell her I will be at the house. I will come get Hermione when she wakes up. Or she can send her there with one of you. Either way."

Fred and George both nodded and continued with their puzzle.

Sirius walked back out into the torrents and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. He would just have to wait to show Hermione the room he redecorated for her this afternoon.

Two days passed and Sirius had given up that Hermione would return home. She probably didn't want to walk into the bedroom she shared with Harry. She probably didn't want to see the pictures on the mantel. She probably wanted to forget that this was a part of her life once. Sirius accepted the fact that he would once again be all alone in this large, empty, dark, depressing house.

"Sirius, are you alright?"

The voice sounded like sweet music to his ears and for some reason, having all hope drained from him, that sound broke him.

With one quick motion, he stood up, swivelled on his heels, took hold of Hermione around the waist, and held on for dear life while the racking sobs shook him uncontrollably.

Hermione awoke the next morning. She rubbed her crusted eyelids open and tried to sit up. That's when she noticed the abnormally heavy object partially lying on top of her. She moved her head as far as she could and saw a mass of shiny soft black curls.

She startled slightly. She didn't expect for a dog to be sleeping beside her. In an instant, the black fur turned to fine hairs atop golden brown skin, but the large blue eyes stayed the same as he held his gaze on her.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Sirius said.

"No, no. Not at all." Hermione began to sit up again. Sirius looked to her again. He could still see a moment of confusion in her eyes.

"You called out in your sleep. You said you were cold. I couldn't find your duvet, so I changed and curled up next to you to keep you warm. It was all I could think of."

Hermione softly laid her hand on his arm and gave him a tender smile. "Thank you for taking care of me. I wish I could have done the same for you…"

Sirius covered her hand with his. "I'll be fine," he said as he started for the stairs. He had taken the first two when he stopped and looked off to the wall beyond Hermione. "It's just…Now I've lost James and Lily completely."

Hermione wrung her hands to keep from breaking down. She knew he would come down the stairs to comfort her if she did. And who knows how long they were up last night doing that very thing.

One of them would relay a funny memory of Harry and the other would laugh half-heartedly. The giggles would then stop and one of them would begin crying. They cried together until they didn't know how to catch their breath. They would take a few moments to compose themselves and refill their tear ducts. Then the cycle would repeat.

Neither had the energy or got enough sleep to go through it all again. Therefore, Hermione trudged to the kitchen to prepare herself a soothing cup of herbal tea as Sirius stomped up the remaining steps and slowly disappeared behind his bedroom door.

Several hours later, Hermione looked up from her third cuppa and glanced out the window. It was approaching dusk. She thought it wise to take Sirius something to eat. He hadn't emerged from his room all morning or afternoon. Hermione prepared a light meal of grilled chicken sandwiches and salad. Having poured a generous amount of brandy into Sirius' favourite sifter as a food alternative, Hermione took the tray upstairs.

"Sirius? Are you awake? I made some sandwiches," she said into the crack of the door and its crown moulding facing. She added, "Or a stiff drink, if you prefer."

She heard the knob click and the door creak. Hermione shifted her gaze and locked onto his bloodshot eyes. "Brandy?" he asked roughly.

She handed him the glass and followed him into the room as he turned around. The first thing she noticed was how his room looked. The lamps were shattered. His bed linens were torn and tossed about. The glass of the antique picture frames, once whole, laid in pieces and shards across the mahogany floors; they glistened like crystals and diamonds. Hermione realized that he must have cast Silencio so she wouldn't hear him destroying his bedroom in lieu of the ones that desperately deserved to be crushed, shattered, torn, and demolished.

She began to pull out her wand to repair the damage.

"No, don't. Leave it."

Hermione did as he asked and took a seat next to the dresser. Sirius chose to sit on the edge of his bed as he took the entire contents of the glass into his mouth and swallowed hard. He didn't flinch at the burn of the liquor sliding down his gullet.

"Anything else you need?" she pleaded.

"No. Just…I don't know."

She stood up and walked to the bed. She sat softly beside him and placed her hand on his upon his knee. "I don't have the answers. I don't know what would comfort you. But know that I am going through just as much as you are. I lost the love of my life. I'll never get that back. I don't know if I'll ever love again. But if there's anything you need, I will help you."

Sirius sat there quietly and didn't say or do anything. Hermione resigned herself and began to leave him alone with his destroyed room. She had made one step when his strong grip wrapped around her wrist.

"Don't leave me alone. I don't know what I'd do if you left me alone."

She quickly returned to her spot beside him. "I won't leave you alone. Never."

He looked up into her chestnut eyes and saw something that surprised him. It wasn't pity, but compassion. It warmed him to know she related to what he was going through. He could see so much pain in her eyes. He could see down to her shattered soul. He wanted to show her the same compassion. Hermione pulled away sharply.

"I can't," she said as she swiftly left the room.

It took Sirius a moment to realize that his lips tingled. He had kissed her.