A/N: Okay, guys, go easy on me with this one. My beta's sick so I haven't gotten quite the amount of feedback I wanted. But it's an update, so hopefully there shouldn't be too many complaints.

Also - the next chapter of PtP is written. It just needs to be typed. :-D Hopefully soon.

Thanks!

Chapter Four – Trouble in Paradise

"What are you thinking about?" Remus asked, bringing Hermione's attention from her barely-touched salmon to him.

She blinked.

"What?"

He sighed.

"We've been sitting here for an hour and you've barely said three words to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, spearing her asparagus with renewed energy.

"Don't do that," Remus said softly. "These past two weeks you've been pulling away from me and…Hermione, I'd…I'd like you to stop working with Sirius."

She looked up sharply.

"Excuse me?"

He sighed again, pushing his potatoes around his plate.

"I…I've seen the looks he gives you. I've seen how you watch him when you think no one else notices. I'm a tolerant guy, love, but…if you don't want to be with me anymore…that is…if you would rather be with Sirius…"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "Why on earth would I want to be with Sirius?"

He looked up at her, his amber eyes soft with vulnerability.

"I love you. Have for years. And I know you. And I know him. And…" He trailed off, looking back at his plate.

It had been a week since her last session with Sirius. She had kept her distance from him since, trying to come to terms with the maelstrom of emotions in her brain. She decided that working on her book would take her mind away from those feelings, but every word she wrote of her character schemes and outlines had pushed her further and further into her growing obsession with the attractive pureblood.

Her eyes followed him constantly. She had thought no one had noticed.

It was silly, really, now that she thought about it, to assume that Remus wouldn't work it out. He had come into her office earlier that day, surprising her as she was working on the outline for her new chapter. He had been smiling, inviting her out to dinner. She had been hesitant, and the sparkle had faltered in his eyes.

She hadn't understood why until now.

"Remus…you know I love you. Christ, we've been together for four years! Of course I love you!"

"Do you love me enough to marry me?"

She blinked, speechless, and he smiled slightly as he pulled something out of his jacket pocket.

"It's not much," he admitted, looking at the small black velvet box in his hand before pushing it over to her. "You deserve so much more, of course. But…it was my mother's and…well…I've been carrying it around for awhile…"

Hermione picked the box up with a trembling hand. She was almost afraid to look in it. She had wanted this moment for so long – at least, she had thought she had. Opening it, she let out the breath she had been holding when she saw a small diamond ring nestled in a bed of satin.

"I want to be your husband," Remus said, looking at her intently. "Would you…rather, could you…do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I know this is probably not the most ideal way to approach the subject," he added. "But…it's just that you used to talk about marriage, and children. I had been so hesitant…then you stopped talking about it altogether. I thought maybe…maybe you had given up hope that I would propose…or maybe your interest waned…"

"No, that's not it, Remus," she said softly, taking the ring out of the box and looking at it. "I do love you. And Lord knows I wanted a marriage and children…and I couldn't imagine being with anyone but you…but…"

She saw him tense, and so she pressed on quickly.

"I will marry you, Remus Lupin," she said, putting the ring on her finger. "But not until I've finished my book. And I'm not going to stop interviewing Sirius. You're just going to have to trust me."

"I do trust you," he said, seemingly-mollified by her acceptance. "It's him I don't trust."

She forced a laugh.

"Honestly, darling, it's not like he's angling for me," she lied. "And I'm not so easily seduced." She could feel the bile rise in her throat at her deception, and she swallowed hard before affecting a seductive smirk. "Except, perhaps, by you."

He gave a soft smile, his hand reaching over to clasp hers.

"So that's a 'yes,' is it?"

She chuckled, leaning across the table and placing a kiss on his nose.

"Yes," she said before kissing him deeply. Then she pulled away, a twinkle in her eye. "Let's go home. Celebrate properly."

"Check, please," Remus immediately said to the passing waitress, causing Hermione to giggle slightly and sit back in her seat, looking at the ring. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that was building in her stomach.

"I haven't heard you laugh like that in a long time," he said, smiling over the table at her. "I missed it."

"I laugh, Remus," she said.

"Yeah…but rarely with the…the innocence that you used to."

Hermione felt her smile falter as she processed his words.

"Innocence?" she asked.

"Yes. It's those books you write, I think. I mean…they aren't exactly innocent, are they? They've…you've been letting them change you."

Hermione blinked, unsure she was hearing correctly.

"Remus…you've known about my writing for ages. I mean…you were the first person I told about being the H.J. Granger people were talking about."

"Exactly!" he said. "You kept it a secret from everyone. Somewhere inside you have to realize that you're partially ashamed of what you do."

"What?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"You had a nice little balance going. You didn't let your books get in the way of your life, but when everyone found out – especially Sirius – you changed. You started acting like…like…like one of the characters in your books. Bold, brazen, sexual…that's not you."

"Isn't it?" she asked, starting to get angry at the presumption of her fiancé.

"Of course not," he replied, a bemused smile on his face as if he had no idea why she hadn't thought of it before. "I mean…this whole nonsense with Sirius…just because of a silly review…you can't have thought your books were great literature, darling. I mean…they're not the most enduring books, are they?"

"Oh my God," Hermione said softly, for the first time feeling a proper anger toward the man in front of her. "You sound just like my father."

Remus blinked.

"I don't," he said defensively. "Your father didn't want you to write at all. I'm very supportive of you writing, just not…"

"Just not the genre that I enjoy writing, is that it?"

He scoffed.

"C'mon, 'Mione. You've been saying for years that you wished you had time to write something more substantial. Maybe that review was a wake-up call. Something is trying to tell you to stop trying to make your admittedly-trite subject matter into something more. To stop experimenting with ludicrous sexual positions and…"

"Excuse me," she interrupted, officially seething with rage. "You have never complained about that particular aspect of my research before and as long as we're on the subject, darling, pardon me for wanting to inject a little variety into the otherwise stale three positions that you favour."

She could see the annoyance starting to flare behind his eyes as his jaw tensed and his nostrils flared. She, however, was just getting started.

"I don't know what you're expecting out of this marriage, but I'm not giving up an extremely lucrative career just because you have misgivings about how I conduct my research."

"Research?" he snarled, his fingers digging into the edge of the table in order to maintain his control. "It's nearly akin to cheating, Hermione!"

Hermione could tell that their conversation had escalated to a point that held the other diners' unwavering interest, so she swallowed her next comment and lowered her voice.

"We'll continue this discussion when we get home," she murmured.

His eyes narrowed, and he threw his napkin on the table.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, standing and digging into his pocket, throwing a handful of galleons on the table. "Dinner's on me."

And with that, he stalked out.

Taking a look at the empty seat across from her, Hermione sighed. The small black ring box still sat in front of her, though the ring itself felt cold and heavy on her finger. So much for a happy engagement, she thought bitterly as she tried to keep the tears of anger and resentment from her eyes, wishing she wasn't such a recognizable face and that everyone would just stop looking at her…

"Your check, Miss Granger," the waitress said, handing Hermione the bill with an empathetic yet supportive smile before sending a death glare to the curious diners around them. Hermione gave her a grateful nod, reaching over with shaking hands to collect the galleons that Remus had all but slammed onto the table.

She swallowed the lump of guilt as she realized that what he had left wasn't quite enough to cover their bill.

Subtly adding more to the pile, she left the money on the table and made a hasty exit, avidly ignoring the looks and whispers that inevitably followed her. Taking off at a brisk pace once she hit the pavement, she rounded corner after corner before finding herself on a deserted street. Tired, cold, and thoroughly embarrassed by their behaviour in the restaurant, Hermione apparated to the top step of Grimmauld Place, steadying herself and taking a deep breath before going inside to face whatever arguments Remus had in store for her.

The house, however, was quiet and a quick homenum revelio showed that the only other person in the house besides her was Sirius, in the library.

'I sincerely hope he has some firewhisky,' she thought as she dropped her purse on the hall table, kicked her shoes off and threw her coat over the banister before heading toward the library.

"Good evening, kitten," a deep, sardonic voice said from the corner of the dimly-lit room. The fire in the grate cast dancing shadows off Sirius's face, making the angles of his perfectly-chiselled cheekbones all the more attractive.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Bit gothic for you, isn't it? Brooding away in a dark room with nothing but the flickering flames to console you?" she asked, making her way to the liquor cabinet.

He let out a scoff.

"Is that your poetically-polite way of calling me a melancholy alcoholic?" he asked.

"Well, there is an air of Edgar Allen Poe about you. I half expect a raven to swoop in and perch on your shoulder as you go into a nostalgic telling of a lost love named Annabel Lee."

"Annabel who?"

Hermione chuckled as she poured the firewhisky into a dusty crystal glass.

"Never mind." She downed the drink, cringing slightly as the alcohol burned through her body before filling her with warmth. Pouring herself another, she turned to face him, glass in hand, and leaned back against the cabinet.

"So," she said, appraising him. "Decided to take a night off carousing?"

He gave a small smirk.

"Still interested, are we? I thought I had scared you away."

"What gave you that idea?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"You haven't spoken to me in the past week or so. I figured you had everything you needed. At least enough to fill one book. Unless," he added, eyes alighting in their mischievous twinkle. "You're starting to get some small thrill from being around me?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"If that was the case, which is isn't, are you saying you would rather I stayed away?"

His eyes raked slowly over her body.

"Not at all, kitten," he all but purred. "It's just…I wouldn't want Remus thinking we're carrying on something a bit more intimate than just interviews."

"Ah, so you care now, do you?" she countered. "Last week you didn't seem too terribly concerned."

He looked at her – appraising her – and she could almost feel the heat from his gaze travelling slowly up and down her body. She felt that same sick feeling of desire and fear – something only he could instill in her – and she knew he saw the shiver that passed through her under his gaze.

"You like it, don't you?" he asked softly. "You put up a strong front, but deep down, in a perverse way you like the way I make you feel when I look at you."

"What woman wouldn't," she admitted, though she avoided his gaze. "But we both know neither of us would take it passed just looking."

"Oh?" he asked, and she looked up to see him slowly standing and approaching her with an almost-predatory grace. "And what makes you so sure that you possess the self-control?"

"Well, I…wait. Me?"

He chuckled, getting closer.

"I know when to stop, kitten. It comes from years of training. But do you?"

"Of course I do," she snapped, though she sounded much more confident than she felt as she caught his unique scent of sandalwood and cinnamon on the air.

"I'm no so sure," he breathed, his body barely an inch from her as he lowered his head closer to hers. "After all, you and Remus haven't made love this week. I know, because I haven't heard you. And I could smell you from the moment you entered the room. Desire mixed with anger and resentment. You're practically panting for it."

"You get all that from a scent?" she whispered, her eyes locked on his, feeling very much like a tiny, defenceless animal under the spell of some larger, dangerous creature.

"All that, and more," he said with a grin, his breath warm on her upper lip. "Like I know you really want me to kiss you right now."

"I do not," she said stubbornly, but she could feel her pulse racing as she felt him flush against her body.

"Oh no?" he purred, his lips millimetres from hers and she inhaled the smell of firewhisky and could feel herself starting to falter.

"No," she replied, images of her lips pressed against his and her body completely under his control.

To feel – just once – what it would be like to lose herself so utterly to someone.

"Then why are you pressing yourself against me?" he asked.

"I'm not! I…" but as she looked down, it was her body that was shifting against his, the liquor cabinet almost half a foot away from her body.

"Damnit," she hissed, knowing she should pull back, that it was wrong, that Remus would be home any second…

But she just couldn't move.

"You see, kitten?" he said softly, his nose nudging hers ever so gently. "I warned you…"

Then his lips were on hers. She didn't know who had started it – though if she had to guess, she knew it was probably her – and within seconds he had her sitting on top of the liquor cabinet, legs spread on either side of his hips and his large hands moulding to her waist.

"We shouldn't…" she gasped between hot, passionate kisses, her fingers winding through his hair, fisting the silky raven tresses as she pulled her body closer to his, longing to feel every inch of him pressed tight to her body.

"No…we shouldn't…" he replied, his voice husky with his desire as he ravaged her mouth again, insistently taking and devouring every secret she possessed. Heat – the likes of which she had never felt before – slid over her, burning its way across every patch of skin he touched. He ran his hands up her arms, entwining his fingers with hers and pushing them back against the wall, causing her chest to thrust out to his hungry gaze while limiting her movement. She panted in anticipation of the fall off the precipice of no return.

Then he froze.

She looked at him, arms still locked, chest heaving, and frowned when she saw his gaze fixed on her hands. Following his eye line, she realized what he was looking at.

Her ring.

"You're engaged," he whispered.

"Yes."

"You're engaged and…oh Jesus…" he murmured, pulling away from her and stumbling slightly over the carpet.

She slowly slid down to the floor, straightening her clothes as the moment of heat disintegrated and the full weight of the situation swept shame and guilt through her.

"I should…I'm gonna go," she said, chancing a glace at him.

She was almost at the door when she heard him whisper:

"Why?"

She turned.

"Why what?"

He looked up at her, and she nearly gasped at the look of vulnerability mixed with a tiny glimmer of sheer hatred.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked flatly.

"I…I don't know. I…I guess I was caught up…"

"You just got engaged!" he roared. "How the fuck could you just…" He trailed off, shaking his head and turning away from her.

She took a deep breath, looking at his back.

"I guess I just wanted to see if I could…you know…if I could do it."

He whirled around.

"See if you could what?" he asked in a soft, dangerous tone.

"Cheat," she said simply.

They looked at each other for a second before Sirius was in front of her – upon her – her body trapped between him and the door and his face so close that she could the tiny flecks of crystal lunacy that always threatened to escape just behind his eyes.

"You want to know?" he breathed, and suddenly he had lifted her up, pressing the hard, denim-clad outline of his erection into her cotton-clad, aching core as her legs involuntarily wrapped around his hips. "Allow me to demonstrate…"

"Hello?"

They froze, listening as the front door slammed shut and footsteps drew closer.

"Hello?"

Sirius let her legs drop, and backed away silently as she straightened up. Heart thrumming and head pounding, Hermione set her face into the much-practiced façade of cool indifference.

She opened the library door just as the footsteps drew up to it, and almost walked into Remus.

"Ah...yes. I…er…hoped you'd be home," he said.

"Well, I am," she replied, using her self-hatred of the moment as a catalyst to re-ignite the anger and frustration she had felt for her fiancé earlier that night.

She knew he felt her icy tone, because he sighed.

"I was wrong," he said, sounding thoroughly shamed. "I was just being a jealous sod and I know you and I trust you enough not to betray me. I suppose…I suppose I was just insecure. I honestly didn't mean what I said about your writing. I think you're a marvellous writer, and however you'd like to share that talent is your own decision."

She blinked, looking up at him with confusion and indecision.

"Say something, please," he begged after a few seconds had gone by in silence. "Tell me you forgive me. Tell me we can put all this behind us."

She frowned.

"I…I don't know, Remus. It's just that…well…things seemed to have gotten more complicated…"

"Remus, old man, may I offer my congratulations," Sirius interrupted, striding over quickly and inserting himself between the two. "I hear you're finally gonna make it official."

Remus looked from his friend to Hermione in mild confusion.

"I…well…if she consents to it, yes."

"Well, she's wearing the ring, isn't she?" Sirius said, gesturing to Hermione's left hand. "She came in and showed me as soon as she got home, which I would assume is a good sign, right?"

Remus blinked.

"I…yes, I suppose it is."

"Tell you what," Sirius said. "I have a bottle of ludicrously expensive champagne in the kitchen. What do you say we put it on ice and celebrate, eh?"

"I…well, alright."

"Remus," Hermione said. "Why don't you go get it? I have to speak with Sirius for a moment. Just some…unfinished business."

Remus looked at her.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

Hermione chanced a glance at Sirius, who in turn gave her such a dark look that she quickly looked back into the warm, pleading amber eyes of her fiancé with a small smile.

"Of course it does, darling," she said.

He gave her a broad smile and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a deep kiss.

"I love you," he said before hurrying down to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" both Sirius and Hermione hissed at each other at the exact same time.

"I'm helping you avoid a potentially damaging situation," Sirius replied.

"I was trying to be honest with him," she countered.

"Wake up, Hermione. You love him, and he loves you. Whatever you might think you feel for me…it's nothing compared to what you have with him."

"Don't pretend to know what I'm feeling, Sirius, and for the record…well…I know I'm not alone in feeling what I'm feeling."

His eyes darkened.

"You're playing with fire, kitten. Don't make nothing into something."

"It wasn't nothing to me," she hissed.

He looked at her, seemingly registering her words, but before he could respond, Remus returned.

"Ah, the bubbly," Sirius said, taking it from Remus and opening it while Remus handed out glasses. The 'POP' of the cork seemed to echo through the cavernous house.

"To the happy couple," Sirius said as they toasted. "And to a lifetime of happiness and loyalty together."

They clinked glasses, but as Hermione lifted hers, she once again chanced a glance back at Sirius. He was watching her, and his gaze triggered images of them in the library and imaginings of what would have happened had they not been interrupted.

Sirius swallowed the alcohol, breaking his gaze to look at his best friend. Remus was watching him, but the glow in his amber eyes was not warm like they were for Hermione. They confirmed the one thing Sirius had always dreaded – that Remus knew.

He had always known.

'Not this time, Padfoot,' his look clearly warned. 'This one's mine.'

Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!