Sirius could concede, with little reluctance, that Remus had been right about many things during their protracted discussion a few weeks before, but in nothing more so than his observation that he wasn't typically one to let the grass grow under his feet. Sirius had known that was true, known it of himself, and recognised when his friend had pointed it out, yet it hadn't really hit home until the last traces of light in the cinema faded, and he could feel the slight weight that was Hermione resting against his chest. Something inside him shifted into alignment with her fumbling invitation, a sense of promised wholeness that had been missing for so long.

So he had sat through the film, reacted in all the right places, and he was adept enough at employing masks that he didn't think that anyone would have noticed that he was a man distracted, a man that was practically vibrating with the need to act. When the showing was over he had walked Hermione home, not pausing long enough to second guess it when he reached for her fingers to intertwine them with his, rewarded immediately when she squeezed his hand briefly before carrying on her 'autopsy' on the best and worst bits of the picture, as if nothing monumental had happened. Sirius no longer knew if he preferred watching the plots with her, charting the emotional response displayed clear as day on her face, or listening to her passionate descriptions after.

Once he had dropped her home, kissing her goodbye with a lingering press of his lips to the apple of her cheek, he walked straight into Grimmauld, not even bothering to shrug out of his coat before he strolled into the kitchen. Harry and Ginny were there, sharing a rare moment of peace in the life of new parents, a bottle of wine open on the table. Sirius didn't take a seat before owning up that he was leaving. Not only moving but that he was planning on going to live with Hermione.

His godson had been more than a little stunned by the revelation, to put it mildly. Ginny had frozen entirely, her full glass halfway to her lips as he looked between Sirius and her husband, wordlessly entreating someone to explain. Once the initial dust had settled Harry had been less mute, he had asked Sirius repeatedly about his intentions, and the older man had batted back the questions as much as he was able. He loved Harry, almost as if he were his own son but he wouldn't bare his soul to him, not about a woman who was his best friend, not before he had bared it to her.

In the end the drawn-out, but calm discussion came to some conclusion, though not one of full resolved understanding. Harry couldn't comprehend how anyone could be in a romantic relationship, of sorts, and not want to shout it from the rooftops, he interpreted Sirius' preference for a gentle pace and privacy as hesitance. It wasn't entirely the boy's fault, Sirius hadn't really tried to explain. Harry was so very much like James would have been at that moment, he could just imagine his friend screaming at him to seize his happiness, despite the way he had been so considered when it had really mattered. Ginny, who had been making gooey eyes at her husband since before she could have understood what it meant had been equally perplexed.

Sirius hadn't paid it much heed, as he walked back to his room, leaving the couple of the rest of their quiet evening, he reminded himself that he had lost enough time.


With Hermione's agreement, they had settled on a week later for him to move in, and Sirius had spent much of that time with the young family of Potter's. It was overly dramatic in a way; he wasn't going anywhere, not really, and considering the amount of things that he already had planned with them for the following week it was almost as if he was just sleeping somewhere else. Though despite his regular, unsolicited assurances he wasn't sure Harry believed him. Sirius recognised issues relating to abandonment when he saw them; he had, after all, spent a vast deal of his youth in front of a mirror. Harry's residual fears mixed in with his reticence over Sirius and Hermione's burgeoning relationship meant that the vibe in the house when he was boxing up what amounted to his life was a little… odd. Not exactly strained but at the same time there wasn't much in the way of congratulations flying around, at least not from the inhabitants of Grimmauld, the feedback from outside its walls was far more pleasing. Tonks had sent a very enthusiastic card, containing a number of increasingly suggestive comments, with one in particular that had made Hermione almost glow red and a tiny scribble in the corner to show that it had been signed off by Remus, probably with some coercion.

For himself, Sirius couldn't have cared less about what the others had to say, he was doing what he wanted, and that particular day he didn't have any space in his mind to consider their myriad concerns. No, he was more preoccupied with moving out of his childhood home, finally, without the intention of ever coming back, at least not to stay, and he was ready to go.

There was no more fear.

He had woken up in the night a few days before, a lingering dream taunting at the edges of his memory, him moving in and it all going wrong, Hermione kicking him out for some imagined infraction, but he quickly shook away. The girl was a pain in the arse herself, she was aggressive, pushy and could probably inadvertently smother someone to death with the weight of her good intentions but she wasn't rash, not like he was, they could sort it out, they had sorted it out when they had argued so far.

It would be fine.

She had slept in his coat. His leather jacket that had been worn past the point of aesthetic recovery. She had tucked it around her like her favourite blanket.

He wasn't disposable to her.

It would be fine.

When Hermione arrived, he had just finished moving his meagre possessions from all of the cupboards until they barely filled four large boxes. He had heard her approach, her trainer clad feet squeaking against the polished floorboards. He barked out a laugh when he turned around, taking in her denim dungarees that she had obviously worn for the occasion, she cocked a thumb under one of the straps and grinned at him, almost daring him to challenge her. She had insisted on taking a day off in spite of his many, many protestations. He recognised the choice of clothing for what it was, a clear indicator that she would not be swayed from helping.

"Not much to show for a life is it?" he asked, turning back around to regard the small stack.

"Well," she replied, moving to stand next to him, "you haven't had much time to accumulate crap yet. I'm sure you'll make up for it."

He smiled at her, "you've got enough crap for both of us poppet."

"I do not horde," she replied frowning, clearly trying to force her face to remain impassive though her lips twitched.

"Oh yeah?" he taunted, "What's that green blob thingy that you keep on your desk at home?"

"I'll have you know that thingy is a very special award," she replied hotly, crossing her arms over herself.

"For what?"

Unexpectedly she giggled. "I have no idea," she admitted, "Victoire presented me with it when she came into the offices last year, and she looked so proud, I didn't dare ask what it was for."

"I'm sure it was for an excellent reason," he teased.

"Yes, well, none of your guesses, I love that thing, whatever it is, and I don't want you perverting its attentions."

After giving him a warning look she leant over to pick the first box, testing its weight, and he tilted his head back to regard her arse, who knew dungarees could look that good? "Poppet, if you're trying to prevent my perversions your current situation isn't going to help your crusade."

Her head snapped back over her shoulder, her cheeks pink, but she didn't bother chastising him instead she simply made a show of rolling her eyes before righting herself and pointedly turned around. "If you're quite finished, Mr Black, I think they're all light enough, we can just carry them through the floo."

Sirius nodded, "there's one more," he revealed not quite meeting her eyes. He reached into the back of the cupboard and pulled out the box bearing Regulus' name. "This one's a bit heavier," he said softly, "I should really go through it before taking it though," he dropped it onto the bed and made to open the lid, "probably a whole bunch of crap…"

Before he could lift the flap Hermione placed her hand over his, leaning up to rest her chin on his shoulder, "Why don't we take it with us, we can do it when you're ready."

"We?"

She faltered, "Sorry I shouldn't have presumed, only if you want."

Sirius turned to rest his forehead against hers, "presume Hermione, always presume."


Dungarees or not Sirius did eventually manage to cajole Hermione into not taking any of the boxes herself and left her to return to the kitchen where several of the 'gang' had congregated for afternoon beers. Once he had finally taken the last box through, delicately placing the unsorted remains of his brother's life into the back of a different cupboard, he came back through the floo only to pause outside the kitchen door when he could overhear a slightly tense conversation taking place.

"But what's going on Hermione?" he could hear Harry say, his tone similar to the one he had used on him a few nights before. "He's going to live with you, and then what? I just don't think you have thought this through; I don't want you getting hurt, either of you."

He was sure she would have something to say, but Ron was the next person to speak, "he's right Mione, this seems rash, and that's not like you, I think that…"

Whatever the idiot thought was cut off by Luna's dreamy tones, "I've always considered that Sirius is an all in kind of person, Hermione too, don't you think? Not a half-measure between them."

The room was silent for a moment until Harry went to speak again and this time it was Hermione who interrupted. Her tone, was not the angry one he had heard her often use when backed into a corner, it was softer, not pleading but almost as if she was someone much older than her years, unmoved by the lack of understanding in the room.

"Harry," she began, "I'm happy. He makes me happy; we haven't defined it and-"

"- You should," Harry interjected, and Hermione sighed.

"Why? Would it make you more comfortable?"

"What if he brings another witch home?" Ginny asked, and Sirius tried not to snort, did she think he would do something like that?

"Well," Hermione replied airily, "I hope he would ask first, it would be the courteous thing to do, considering we share a bed."

Luna's light giggles filled the room, and Sirius felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. But he was done being a passive observer, straightening his shoulders he walked through the door, stepping towards Hermione and laying his hands on her shoulders, the move was calculated and possessive. He looked down at her when she leant her head back to see his face. "Ready to go?" he asked breezily, ignoring the lingering tension in the room.

"Yep," Hermione replied, popping the 'p', apparently behaving in kind.

There were cuddles and hugs that felt a little silly as he would sure he would see most of the occupants of the room the next day, but he couldn't help the slight feeling of jubilance that spilt over. As he walked through the floo, pinching the side of the denim-clad witch he was moving somewhere for the first time in his life through choice, he wasn't running, he wasn't trying to escape, he was safe and loved where he was and he had been offered the promise of something more, and he had taken it.


Going to bed that first night was… different. Previously Sirius had either let himself into Hermione's flat, inviting himself into her bed when she was already under the covers or, if he had come over earlier, they would have been messing around in her room, watching a film or chatting before they would have tiredly drifted off to sleep. That evening there had been no such distraction. After moving his boxes around absently for a while they had eaten dinner together downstairs, he had hesitantly raised Harry's concerns and had felt calmed by Hermione waving the issue off, 'it will blow over' she had said. It was comforting. After washing up they sat together in the living room for a while, pottering around like usual, not really committing to any one task for any particular length of time. As the clock had chimed eleven, Hermione stood, a little clumsily, saying she was going to turn in and Sirius had yawned himself before deciding to follow her.

That was how they found themselves now, each standing on either side of the bed, hands almost hesitating before reaching for their respective corners of bedding. Himself clad in black drawstring pants, Hermione with a tatty robe wrapped around herself, locked in an awkward stare-off. He tried for a flippant remark, but nothing was forthcoming, in the end, it was Hermione who saved them from staying there until morning. "I, I bought new pyjamas," she said with forced cheer, "I thought you might like them," she continued before her mind apparently caught up with what she had said and her face flushed.

Sirius swallowed, he tried to lean against the wall nonchalantly but was not quite sure he managed it, "give us a look then."

"Right," Hermione mumbled, her fingers wrestling shakily with the towelling sash before she finally released the tight knot and threw her outer layer to the floor.

Sirius' head tilted to the side as he took in her full-length plaid bottoms and white top, not quite the image he had in mind, until he stepped closer, as close as he could get without colliding with the bed, and saw the faint paw prints dancing across her chest were bordering lettering in an elaborate italic script; 'she who sleeps with dogs'.

"I thought it would be better than cats," she murmured, her hand twisting into in the bottom of her top.

Sirius laughed, lurching forward to kneel on top of the bed, ignoring how she flinched in surprise at his sudden action and circled her wrists with his hands to pull her onto the mattress with him. "To sleep with a dog Hermione, you need to be in the bed, not just looking at it."


After the tension had broken, they cuddled up together, switching the lights off and saying their goodnights. Sirius had expected to feel lighter, his mind to be lulled into restful sleep immediately like it usually was when he was wrapped around her, but that night his mind, stubbornly, decided to stay awake. And unless he was very much mistaken he wasn't alone.

"Hermione," he said into the darkness, "Do we need to talk about this?" He hadn't wanted to put them under any pressure, no setting out expectations that one of them wouldn't have been able to commit to, but that wasn't the same as providing assurance when it was needed, or asking for it in the reverse case.

Hermione's small hands moved from being tucked under the pillows, to trial under the covers until they rested over his own. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked calmly.

"Are you going to answer each question with a question?" he deflected, thankful for the darkness.

She gripped him a little tighter, and he responded in kind, till she was so close he could feel her heartbeat against his forearm. "Are you planning on going anywhere?" she said at last.

"No," he answered firmly, with a shake of his head for good measure and he felt her exhale against his skin.

"Then… I don't have any more questions, which before you say anything I am aware is miraculous."

Sirius fiddled with the collar of her shirt, feeling the newness of the item from the plush delicacy of the cotton before dragging it to the side so he could rest his lips against the flesh of her shoulder.

"Is there anyone else?" he asked.

"No," she replied, almost before he had finished asking the question, her tone just as strong, as unwavering as his had been.

"Then I'm good too."

After a couple of seconds the grip they had pressed on each other loosened, became more restful and only a few moments after Hermione's breathing had evened out Sirius fell into a deep sleep.


They settled into a routine pretty quickly. Hermione made space in all of the rooms for Sirius' stuff, not that he had much, even going so far as to offer to put another desk into the study. He had refused, stating that he would much rather share, it was no real concession, considering most of his activity in there was focused on distracting her from any real work.

A week after he had moved in Hermione came home from work as usual but instead being assaulted, in the best way, by her endearing stream of babble about her day she was clearly preoccupied with something. She went about making dinner, waving off his repeated offers of help but she continually approached the little table he was sat at, reading the paper, stepping over till she was almost hovering at his shoulder and then walking away again.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she replied, leaning up onto her toes, swaying on her feet as if animated with nervous energy.

"While we are still young?"

She deflated, her feet now mercifully still. "How do you feel about a party?" she asked with a curiously non-committal tone.

Sirius was blindsided, "A party?" he asked blankly, and Hermione busied herself with the dinner she was preparing.

"Sure, you've moved house, and I suppose it's like a new home-ish type thing." she replied with a wave of her knife.

"What kind of party?" he pressed, already bemoaning the interruption of his sanctuary.

"A dinner party?" she suggested, possibly picking up on his reluctance for something bigger. "Saturday night, nothing fussy, just couples."

"And us," he murmured.

"Yes," she replied though she avoided his eyes, "just couples and... us."

"What's brought this on?"

Hermione pushed a curl behind her ear, "nothing really, Fleur mentioned doing something at work today, and I thought it might have been a good idea. What do you think?" she asked her expression hopeful.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed with a shrug going back to his paper.

"Err, well great."


A/N so yeah, I promised a dinner party, and there wasn't one, the sections above ended up being a little longer than planned. Though the next bit is mapped out, so there should be another update this week.