Chap 2: Secrets Out


Harry groaned as the sunlight crept in from the window and shone onto the double bed that he and his fiancé, Ginny, had occupied. Rolling onto his side, he planted a kiss on her cheek and reluctantly heaved himself up. Leaving a kiss on her forehead he trudged down the stairs, and plonked himself at the table of the Burrow opposite Ron, his best friend, who equally looked half asleep.

He smiled lopsidedly at him and ripped into his toast.

It was three days before Harry and Ginny's wedding, which like Bill and Fleur's in 1997 was taking place in the garden of the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had worked tirelessly tidying the house for the special day and it seemed that, for the first time, everything was going to plan. The food had been prepared, the outfits were ready, the garden looked wonderful with freshly cut grass and enchanting flowers. There was just one tiny, tiny problem... their absent best friend Hermione wasn't coming. She had no idea the pair had even gotten engaged, let alone knew they were getting married, and to go ahead with it without her seemed crazy, because it was down to her that they passed all their O.W.L's in fifth year, and down to her that they managed to make it through the hunt for Horcruxes without either Ron or Harry killing each other. Harry was insistent that without her, they wouldn't have won the Battle of Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort.

Hermione's abrupt departure was so out of character. She was never one to run away from a problem, she'd devise a strategic means of tackling it and she was always so organised and together; who exactly would put a tent in their handbag? Only Hermione would. They had been through what most friends wouldn't have in a lifetime, and they stuck together and told each other everything – or at least they did.

Everyone searched the house frantically for her, but she had long gone. Her sheets were stone cold. Her clothes had disappeared from her wardrobe. Photographs of her had dissolved from their frames and the spot where her trunk sat was empty and already picking up dust. It was like she had already moved on to a different stage in her life and didn't need them, or maybe she wanted them to forget her. Whatever it was, Hermione Granger had removed all traces of evidence that she had ever been a part of their lives. She had detached herself from them in every way possible, and they were clueless as to why.

Ron met Harry's eyes and knew instantly what he was thinking.

"We'll find her mate," Ron said confidently, "it's the golden trio remember? She wouldn't miss your big day for the world if she knew Harry."

Harry dropped his half eaten toast onto his plate, no longer hungry.

"I'm not so sure," he said, ruffling his messy hair in frustration, "I mean, why would she do this to us? She's our best friend! We know her better than anyone - or we thought we did. Why would she keep us in the dark like this? I mean, it's Hermione. Hermione! She has been gone for four years and we haven't heard a word from her! At first we thought she would come back after a few weeks, but the weeks turned to months, and the months have turned to years and- and- sometimes I feel like I'm going mad with rage and confusion because she just-"

"Left," a deep voice finished for him.

Harry and Ron turned around, startled.

It was Sirius.

He had obviously been listening to Harry's rant as his fists were clenched in his pockets and his grey eyes were unsettling. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and sank into a chair next to Harry.

Harry immediately regretted his outburst when he saw his Godfather. He had become gloomier ever since Hermione had left, as had everyone, but with Sirius it was like something had died inside him. He no longer had the same twinkle in his eye when he winked or the roaring bark of laughter that uplifted a room of people. He tried to act like he didn't care that she had gone, but Harry saw through his dismissive shrugs to know that he was deeply hurt with her disappearance.

"I'm sorry Sirius…" Harry began, but Sirius cut him off.

"For what?" he said loudly, almost laughing, "we were together for a bit, she had her fun and I had mine and she took off."

He said it like it was simple and casual, but Harry noticed the muscles twitching in his neck a she spoke and knew it wasn't.

"She cared about you," he said quietly.

Sirius suddenly slammed his hand on the table, as if he found the whole situation hilarious.

"I'm sure she did, and maybe in ten years time when she returns - if ever, she can tell me she cared and I'll say I did too, but before I met Loretta, a woman whose about ten times as beautiful as that bushy-haired bookworm and ten times as clever and sexy and funny…"

"No bloody way!" Ron shouted angrily, half-rising from his chair. "And her hair isn't bushy any more!"

"Oh, how would you know?" Sirius retorted. "Seen her recently have you?"

Ron scowled at him, his ears burning pink. "Don't compare her to your girlfriend, and don't talk about her as if she's ugly and unattractive, when everyone knows she isn't!"

Sirius grinned and pointed at him, "ah, she's got you as well hasn't she Ronnie? Don't fall for Miss Granger my lad, don't fall for her," he clapped Harry on the back and got up from his seat. "I'm so glad I didn't."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks as Sirius headed to the garden rather hastily for a cigarette.

When he was out of earshot Harry and Ron nodded in silent understanding. They hadn't seen Hermione in three years, and she was their best friend no matter what, and that was all that mattered. They were the Golden Trio, always on adventures and getting in to trouble, and for years could rarely be seen without one another. They had fought as a team, and dealt with each other's problems together. Whatever Hermione's problem was, they could do the same. So they were determined to find Hermione. Search high and low for her, even if it meant not sleeping until the wedding.

They had to find her. For all their sakes.


It was two days later when Hermione and Oliver were cuddled on the sofa, having fallen asleep watching muggle television, that there was a knock at the door.

Hermione squinted and slowly sat up, trying to decide whether her mind was playing tricks on her or not. When the knock sounded again, she bolted upright. Who the hell was knocking on their door at this time? They only ever got two or three regular visitors, and they included Oliver's mother or a few of his team mates, and none of them would be rapping impatiently on the door at one o'clock in the morning.

Oliver stirred against the cushion and continued snoring. She carefully rose from the sofa and grabbed her wand off the coffee table and tip-toed towards the door, drawing back in a moment of hesitation before clasping her hand around the handle. What if this was someone she knew? She shook the silly thought away and unlocked the door.

She was met with a face she knew well, so well, but hadn't seen in a long time; a man with enchanting green eyes, untidy black hair and rounded glasses. They stared at each other and stood open-mouthed for what felt like hours, until he broke into an infectious grin and collided with her in a bone-crunching hug. It was, of course, her best friend and unbiological brother Harry.

They both sobbed like babies into each other's necks as they held each other like a brother and sister reunion. He kept whispering her name over and over like he was trying to convince himself that he was really there with her after so long being apart.

Harry somehow manage to persuade her to come with him to his favourite café in Diagon Alley to talk things over. Hermione agreed, and wrote a rushed note to Oliver explaining where she'd gone should he wake up, which was unlikely.

"I'm not sure about this Harry," Hermione said, biting her lip as they walked arm in arm along Diagon Alley, a place Hermione hadn't set foot in since she left. The risk of seeing one of her old friends was too high, and it still rung true for now.

"Oh c'mon 'Mione!" he urged, practically pulling her to follow when they approached the café which was open until two. They had an hour to go through everything.

The Leaky Cauldron was a few shops along, and she could hear the drunken singing and yelling of men as they staggered rowdily from the pub. She prayed that nobody noticed her. The thought trickled out of her mind as Harry invited her into the warmth of the empty café and they settled themselves in two chairs against the window.

They ordered two tea's from the waitress before Harry smiled and rested his hand on hers.

"So why did you leave?"

Hermione sighed heavily. She knew the time would come where she would have to start telling people what had happened and she guessed this was it. She would get through this. She was a Gryffindor after all.

She cleared her throat and began, speaking of her illness a few days before her departure where she was being violently sick up to midday and - overwhelmed with tiredness - found herself sleeping into the late afternoon. She explained all the other symptoms she was experiencing, such as her headaches and mood swings, and the tenderness of breasts (which Harry found hilarious), and lastly of her suspicions that she was pregnant.

Harry gasped at that. "P-pregnant?" he said weakly as he numbly accepted their drinks, "you – what about – is that why…"

Hermione shook her head, "let me finish."

He obeyed and listened to her intently, hanging on to every word. She told him about her and Sirius's relationship, how she was in love with him at the time but wasn't sure if the feelings were reciprocated. Harry interrupted her again.

"He did love you 'Mione," Harry said firmly, "without question. You should of seen him when he realised you'd gone, it was terrifying. I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown! He still does love you, I know he does…"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and smiled sadly, "well anyway…"

She could feel her mouth moving and knew she was speaking but all she kept thinking about was that he loved her. Sirius loved Hermione, and possibly still did, according to Harry but to her, it didn't make sense. Yes, he had told her that he loved her on more than one occasion, but how could he have done? If he loved someone he wouldn't have talked about her in the crude and careless manner that he did. No. She wouldn't believe it. He couldn't have done. And even in the unlikely case that he did and still did, she was with Oliver now, and she was happy. That was all that mattered.

"…and so I didn't know what else to do. I was pregnant with his baby, he wasn't the man I thought he was and so I left," she clutched Harry's hand tighter as a rush of anger and pity crossed his face. "What you must understand is Harry, I didn't want to hurt any of you, especially not you, Ron and Ginny. You mean the world to me, and if I caused you any pain I'm sorry but I had to do what was best for Albert, my baby. I think it was the right thing to do."

Harry nodded understandingly, "I get it 'Mione, you don't need to apologise. I would have done the same if I were you. He's called Albert?" he grinned happily and patted her hand, and after a few minutes turned angry again, "but how could Sirius be so – so …"

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I don't care about that now; I'm over it and I'm over him."

Harry nodded again.

"But you know..." he began awkwardly, "you're going to have to tell Sirius that he has a three year old son, and things will get ugly."

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "I know that, and I've known that from the start," she smiled at his apologetic look and shook her head.

"Don't worry Harry I'm ready for Mr Black! But anyway, enough about me..." she grinned, "you and Ginny! Getting married! I can't believe it, it's amazing! Congratulations!" she squealed, and launched herself at him in another hug.

Harry laughed at his best friend's incredible courage and excitement and felt his veins spark with happiness. She had lighted up his life already, after being back in it for a little less than an hour.


Sirius shoved the pub door open and stepped out onto the cobbled street, impressed that he was able to walk reasonably straight after drinking a bottle of elf wine to himself, and several shots of fire whisky in only a few hours. He stretched widely like a bear and allowed his feet to take him to the apparition point at the bottom of the street, his boots clonking on the floor as he went.

He loved the quiet strolls after a night of drinking. The cool night air cleared his head, and allowed his mind to roam and think about things. He loved throwing his head back and gazing at the stars as they twinkled above him, so small yet so clear and dazzlingly beautiful. The stars always reminded him of a girl he used to know.

He was lounging in a chair in the garden of the Burrow, the darkness of the night dawning upon him as he sat alone. He sucked on his cigar and let the smoke escape from his lips, blowing it out in rings, feeling truly at peace with the world.

"What have I told you about that habit Sirius?" an angelic voice spoke from behind him. He knew who it was. He felt her come up behind him and wrap her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry 'Mione, love," he said sincerely, taking one last quick drag and flicking it away, "its Charlie; he's a bad influence on me. You know what he's like."

She rolled her eyes and settled her chin on his shoulder. "And I know what you're like."

He responded with his innocent puppy dog look and she slapped him playfully on the shoulder and made to leave, but he laughed and roughly pulled her on his lap. His arms slid and locked around her waist, holding her to him, and his hands settled on her abdomen.

They both sat observing the stars for a few minutes before he smirked, "I'm named after a star, you know."

She wriggled to face him on his lap, shaking her head, "of course I knew that! How gormless do you think I am?"

He chuckled at her defensiveness and kissed her cheek, "I love getting you worked up. What is it then?"

She returned her eyes to the stars shining above them. "The brightest star in the Canis Major constellation," she said matter-of-factly. "The dog star."

He grinned and interlaced their fingers together, noting how small her hand felt in his, yet how perfect they fitted. "Can you keep a secret Hermione?"

"Well," she said, resting her head against his, "it depends."

"Oh?" he raised his eyebrows curiously, "On what?"

"If you're going to tell me that you're gay, then I have a haunch it won't stay a secret for long."

He barked with laughter and playfully bit into her neck, re-enacting a vampire sucking her blood, and she spasmed in his arms giggling. "If I'm gay," he whispered seductively into her ear, "then why is my mate down here getting hard as a brick?"

Hermione clasped her hand to her mouth in a mixture of shock, horror and disgust. "Sirius!" she admonished. "That is..." she shuddered, and purse her lips to stop the inevitable laugh. "I'm going to try and move past the fact that you just called your penis your 'mate' and onto this secret of yours. Are you going to tell me or is it just a tease?"

"Not a tease love," he said with a shake of his head. He leant in closer to her. "When you were younger, I always found your intellectual ability very sexy and I..." he closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"Sirius!" she tugged on his shirt collar, "Tell me!"

He opened his eyes to her, smiling at the cute pout of her lips, the small crinkle of a frown on her forehead. "Alright," he sighed, feigning hard done by, "When you came to stay at my house in the summer..."

"Before fifth year?"

He nodded, unconsciously pulling her closer to him. "You used to sit in the library for hours, curled up and reading in the armchair in the corner. I used to sit in that very armchair when I was a boy, and I don't know why but I..." he hesitated, and she kissed him as a way of getting it out of him. It worked. "I used to watch you. And... wonder what you were thinking about. And I'd leave honey dukes fudge on the coffee table for you."

"Oh, Sirius," her lips parted in a gasp, and she stroked his shaggy hair lovingly. "All along, that was you? I thought it was Molly trying to get me to eat more!"

"Nope," he smirked, running a hand gently down her cheek, "all me."

He watched her watch him, how her eyes were excited and warm with past memories. When she was sleepy, her long eyelashes would flutter. Her nose was small and cute like a button and her lips were full and feather soft when he kissed them, like fresh bed sheets and pillows. Her cheekbones were sculptured and were an artist's best work and her hair was the colour of chocolate and hung in elegant curls down her back. But it was her eyes he loved most. It was so bewitching when his grey eyes locked with hers that he could have sworn she had put him under a spell, and he knew that he could never deny her anything in the world if she looked at him with those eyes… though she didn't know that.

"You are so beautiful," he muttered against her neck, burying his nose into her hair. It smelt of roses and almonds. "You are more beautiful than the stars."

Her head swam with emotion as he stared into her eyes, cupping her face in his hands.

"I mean it," he said hoarsely, his expression sincere.

He claimed her lips before she had a chance to reply. His heart thumped so hard against his rib cage it was beyond him that she couldn't hear it. She parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. She whimpered as his tongue found hers and they danced slowly together, sensing one another's movements and who'd go that way and this. Her fingers tangled themselves in his unkempt, shaggy hair, her hands cupping the back of his neck as he kissed her harder. She tasted like the sweet Honeydukes chocolate he'd left for her in his house and he growled softly. God, he wanted her. He kissed a trail down her neck as she moved to straddle him, the little gasps and hot breaths she made were undoing him. She could feel his erection - (his 'mate') throbbing beneath her, rubbing intimately against the spot no one had gone before.

"We can stop if you want," he breathed, searching for her eyes which were burning with lust, "I'll do whatever you wish."

Her lips crushed against his and he kissed her hungrily in response, running his hands under her skirt and unabashedly squeezing her arse as he barked with laughter. As hurriedly as they could she unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zip, followed by the hasty tugging of his trousers and boxers.

They climbed to new passionate highs together that night. They always came together, and looked into each other's lusting eyes as time slowed down and the world fell around them in the last seconds of their frenzied coupling. They collapsed into each other's arms as they shivered in the darkness, their sweat stinging cold as the breeze blew.

That was the first time that Sirius and Hermione made love, under the stars and shadows of the moon.

Sirius wished he'd had bought another firewhiskey now as he growled under his breath at his cherished memory. He didn't want to still feel these feelings, because they were causing him too much agony to deal with and it was killing him inside. He could never admit that Hermione broke his heart, but his mind, body and spirit ached for her constantly, even when he had another witch in his arms or in his bed, it wasn't his 'Mione. No one would come close.

You're with Loretta now. He reminded himself, wrenching his thoughts away from the woman who drove him crazy and had occupied his thoughts and his heart for what seemed like forever.

And then he saw her.

She was laughing and walking arm in arm with Harry.

Her laugh. The amount of times he had heard that beautiful sound. It was like a breath of fresh air in his infected lungs, like sunshine in the height of a storm. Harry said he would find her, and he had.

He felt like his heart had stopped beating as he froze on the spot, debating in his mind whether he was dreaming or she was real, for he had never remembered her to be this stunning, this angelic. His stomach lurched; she was like no woman he had ever met or indeed wished to meet. He would have never described Hermione as 'leggy' but in those heels they seemed to go on for days, toned and topped off with silky smooth skin. Her chocolate waves hung to her breasts as it always had done, shining in the moonlight and illuminating all that he loved about her, all that made Hermione her. Her infectious, throaty laugh rang in his ears, shooting sparks through his veins and nearly caused his head to split from the threat of fainting.

His hungry eyes never left her as the pair continued to walk towards another man whom he didn't recognise. Sirius watched the man hug his witch close, all the while his heart aching, and then he snapped his eyes shut as if they'd been burnt by the sight.

The man was kissing her. His 'Mione. His muscles tensed threateningly as he ran unsteadily towards them, he didn't know what he was going to say or do when he got to them, he just needed to speak to her.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw who was approaching. Hermione was still wrapped in Oliver's arms, apologising repeatedly for leaving him.

"You need to go and check on Albert!" Hermione said impatiently, kissing him chastely on the lips to shut him up, "please, go and get him Oliver! I'm not going to be back for a while so go and get him now, then Harry can meet my little boy," she beamed and turned around to face Harry, who wasn't alone…

Sirius.

She nearly choked on her own breath as brown met with grey for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. God, he had missed her so much. His eyes leaked confusion as they searched hers, wondering if he'd heard right. Hermione knew what he was thinking and broke his stare as he stepped inquiringly towards her. Close enough to touch.

He took enough step closer, his hands twitching to touch her, just to gently brush her chin with his fingers... anything. He reached and touched her hand instead, and there was jolt of what felt like electricity surge through their bodies. They both felt it, and neither of them mentioned it. He lifted her chin to look up at him.

"'Mione?" he whispered, uncertainly. He swallowed nervously as her eyes didn't quite meet his. "Your – your little boy?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, knowing that it was going to take every ounce of her strength not to cry. This was the moment where he would find out the secret that had been eating her up inside, like a disease. Her watery eyes met his grey fathomless ones and she cleared her throat.

"I have a three year old son, Sirius," she muttered, her lips trembling as she saw him slowly come to terms with what she was about to say. Sirius's hand dropped numbly from her own as the news had momentarily left him speechless. His chest throbbed as he stared at the floor, and his eyes pricked with tears that started to well around his eyes when he managed to catch her words...

"and you're his father."

Her words hit him like a bucket of ice cold water and the shocking pain didn't subside – he felt as though he couldn't breathe.

He struggled to remain upright as the news sunk in like a hammer to the head. Harry was trying to hold him up, trying to talk to him. But he couldn't face her - him - the lot of them. He faintly heard her call his name and reach for his hand but he pulled away as if her touch burned him and disapparated without looking back.