Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and all other aspects of this fic that you recognize (unless they're from any of my other fics) all belong to J.K. Rowling, and not to me! The storyline and the ideas involved in this story, however, do belong to me!

Summary: A dark force haunts the trio. When the dead come back to life, can you deal with what they might have to tell you? This is a story about loss, damnation, and a dead man's second chance at redemption ...

Note: This is the final chapter.

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Road to Redemption

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Chapter Twelve: The Choices

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As the hellhound pounced, Sirius registered dimly that he was moving. He didn't think, he didn't consider the consequences he himself would suffer, he didn't even think about what Hermione might do to him if he escaped it in one piece – all he knew was that Cerberus was attacking Hermione, and he was going to stop it. He couldn't afford to lose her. She was the only thing he had left to lose, and so he didn't care about what he was doing as he moved.

Although human, he moved faster than the dog. His arms moved around Hermione, his body shielding her from the dog. He buried his face in her hair, hearing her horrified cry from far away, and closed his eyes, preparing for the agony of claws tearing into him.

But it didn't happen.

There was a colossal burst of white light between Sirius and Cerberus, and Cerberus was flung backwards so hard that when he hit the wall, he disappeared – and a charred patch was left on the wall. Astounded and utterly amazed, Sirius and Hermione stared in silence at the patch on the wall, unable to believe what had just happened. Then Hermione turned towards Sirius with a dazed, questioning look as if to confirm that she had not imagined the entire scene. Sirius realized his heart was pounding hard, but it slowly began to slow down as he looked down at her. Then he smiled slightly and kissed her on the forehead.

"Sirius, I don't understand," she said softly, sounding like a hurt child, "What just happened to him? Why did he try to kill me? Would it have been possible for him to hurt me – I mean, he's not a living person!" Her eyes were wide as they looked up at him.

"I can touch you," Sirius said, "And if I wanted to, I could kill you. Thus, Cerberus can do the same."

"But he didn't – "

"No. Something stopped him."

Hermione looked up at him in silence for a moment, in such utter wonder that he nearly laughed. "You stopped him," she fumbled, her voice catching, "You came here and stopped him – even thought he could have killed – killed you even more than you already are killed, and could have blasted you away to those Mists or whatever they're called. You risked that."

Sirius thought she was getting a little confused. He looked awkward and looked for a way out of replying to what she had just said. "I reacted on instinct."

"Is it instinct to play the hero, Sirius?" she asked softly.

He didn't say anything for a moment, and they were diverted by Moody letting out a mixture of a sigh and a growl of triumph as Rabastan Lestrange fell down, dead. Any remaining Death Eaters had already fled. The ones in the room were either dead or doomed to Azkaban (a better guarded Azkaban). Hermione looked at Moody quietly, unable to suppress a small flicker of satisfaction that they had won a great battle today, but then something else struck her even harder. She realized that one of her best friends was very possibly badly wounded ... or dead ...

'No,' she thought desperately, 'He's not dead, not Harry.'

Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Harry himself came walking slowly out of the room up on the landing and reached the top of the stairs. An unreal hush fell over the people in the hall as they stared up at him.

Hermione felt simultaneously as if her heart was soaring as well as plunging. She was delighted to see him alive and not crippled, but she could see that he had been through hell. He was bleeding from one of his arms and there was a nasty cut on his cheek, but Hermione saw with her characteristic perception that he was bleeding in deeper places too. Perhaps those were wounds that would never heal, the wounds of war, wounds even she would carry. She stared at the figure that walked slowly down the stairs, pausing a little way from the bottom. It was no longer a boy that she looked at, and somehow that made tears spring to her eyes. This was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Won; Harry – a man.

"Harry ... ?" said Dumbledore softly, gently, inquiringly.

"Oh, yes," said Harry in an even but emotionless voice, "He's dead."

A few people stirred. Moody actually smiled. Hermione thought about how different this scene was from the one she had always pictured would follow after Harry killed Voldemort. There would be cheers and whoops and Fred and George would unleash fireworks and Professor McGonagall would try half- heartedly to reprimand them, and there would be laughter – fresh, relieved, easy laughter.

But there was none of that. Nobody was cheering or whooping or making any noise. There were no fireworks from the twins, who stared with sympathy at Harry. Professor McGonagall was sobbing into her everlasting handkerchief. And nobody was laughing. Hermione had no doubt that they were all immensely relieved and glad to hear the Dark Lord was gone – she was – but at the moment, the shock of realizing it was really all over had curbed their vibrant enthusiasm. And – and this was the real reason behind it all – every person in the room, including those who had never even actually spoken to Harry before, like Hestia Jones – they were all affected by the sight of Harry standing there on the stairs and looking down at them with that impenetrable expression on his face. But his eyes weren't blank. They were moving over the group, as if they were searching.

Hermione saw Harry through a hot film of tears, but she moved. She wove through Lupin and Tonks, Dumbledore and Hagrid, and reached Harry on the stairs. Out of the corner of the eye, she saw that Ron had started moving at exactly the same time. Harry looked at her as she started up the stairs towards him, and she saw the emotionless mask on his face crack and shatter.

She put her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. He was the boy again, the wounded child looking for comfort. He hugged her back, and she could feel a dampness on the side of her hair where his face was buried. She thought that for now, at least, the bleeding had stopped. Ron came up to them, taller and lankier than either of them, and he hugged them both.

"It's over," mumbled Ron, nearly crying himself.

Hermione stroked Harry's hair gently, an oddly maternal touch.

"I hope you're proud of me," they heard Harry say softly.

"We are, mate," said Ron.

Hermione smiled slightly. She had a feeling Harry hadn't been saying that to them, but to the three people he had lost and who were undoubtedly all watching him.

Far across the room, Sirius stared at Harry, Ron and Hermione. His hand rested against the wall for support; he had been wounded by Cerberus, and he just stared at the three young teenagers standing on the stairs. Nobody had broken the silence, and he could see why. Nobody seemed to have the voice to; although Professor McGonagall and Molly Weasley were crying. Sirius glanced sideways and saw Remus Lupin looking in his direction, his eyes probing as if searching for the figure he knew was standing there. Sirius smiled slightly. He looked back at Harry and Hermione. Voldemort was dead. Hermione was safe. Harry was alive. Sirius was happier than anybody could know about that, but he would not have been human if he hadn't felt a terrible surge of regret.

His time was over.

There was a shimmering sound beside him, and Sirius didn't even have to turn to know that Saint Peter was now standing next to him and looking at him with that benevolent and sympathetic gaze of his.

"Touching, isn't it?"

Sirius didn't reply. He said instead: "Time to go?"

"Yes ... you must come with me now, Mr Black. Your judgment has arrived."

"I thought it might have. After all, my task is complete. Even if I may have screwed it up."

He could feel Peter's thoughtful gaze.

"Do you want to – ?"

"No," said Sirius quickly, "I don't want to say goodbye. I – I can't."

"Very well then," said Peter gently, reaching out and taking a hold of Sirius's arm. "Come along then."

But he didn't shimmer them away for a moment.

Sirius looked slowly from Moony, his best friend, to Harry, his godson, and Hermione.

Yes, his time was over.

Dead men have to return to their graves.

And sleeping dogs must lie.

"Well," he said with an effort, smiling his old Marauder's grin, "It's been fun."

And then they were gone.

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Sirius found himself standing once again in Peter's office. He had grown heartily sick of it by now, and he was extremely tired and drained. As he landed on the absurd flooring of clouds, he saw that all of his injuries were gone. That meant his weariness and pain was inside. Well, he had expected that. He sighed and looked around – gold pillars, white walls, a large arched door and through the door he could see across masses of clouds to a flight of stairs that led up to large Golden Gates. Hardly his destination, he thought. He tried to imagine what hell would be like.

"You know, Mr Black," Peter's voice cut into his thoughts, dry and faintly amused, "It never pays off to be such an incurable pessimist. I would suggest you cease your imaginings of what Hell is like. Should you ever witness it, it will exceed all your expectations. It is – in a word – hell."

Sirius frowned at the saint, who was now perched on the edge of his desk in a very un-saintly sort of way. "You can read my thoughts?" he demanded indignantly.

Peter waved this away impatiently. "I'm a saint, my boy, I can do anything."

"Got a good opinion of yourself, haven't you?"

"Don't expect to lure me into an argument, Mr Black, I'm far too old for such indulgences." Peter shook his head and then leaned back slightly, tapping his mouth with a finger in a very thoughtful manner, his eyes fixed upon Sirius with that same closely penetrating look. Sirius felt once again like a schoolboy being brought to task by Professor McGonagall. Then Peter spoke: "I wanted to know if you have any questions for me. Anything you're confused about?"

"Yes," said Sirius at once, suddenly realizing that he did have a great deal to be baffled about, and that as a last wish for a condemned man, it was probably simple courtesy for saints to offer the truth. "I want to know about Harry."

"Harry? What about Harry?"

"What's his fate? Where is he going to go when he dies?"

"I don't usually share the fates of others with a person, but I shall do so for you. After what he did today in literally saving the world, Harry Potter's fate is assured. He is going to join his parents in Heaven. After this day, if he chooses to ruin his life with vice, cruelty and criminal behaviour, he may earn enough negative points to warrant Hell – but I somehow doubt he will do any such thing."

"No, no he won't," said Sirius, suddenly smiling. It made him feel a little happier to know that his godson would be all right, come what may. He had people to watch over him in life, and he would have people to take care of him in death. He was thrilled to know Harry would be with his parents again, even if he couldn't be there.

"However," said Peter with an indulgent look, "It will be a long time yet before Harry Potter arrives in the Tunnel of After-Dying, so you may rest assured on that fact. That boy is going to live to a ripe old age, and may possibly have twelve children. Of course, that depends on him."

"I should hope so," murmured Sirius.

"Anything else?"

"Yes – what the devil happened to Cerberus tonight?"

Peter's expression shadowed for a moment, and he actually scowled. "A very troubling incident. Cerberus, I am happy to inform you and very happy to know it myself, has been blasted into the Mists. Not by Hades, as you may assume, but by – well, never mind. I shall come to that. His threat to the world is over. Once a dead person or creature has been blasted to the Mists, there is no reversal of the destruction. You may also like to know that Beings More Powerful Than Myself are going to be dealing very severely with Hades for what he attempted to do. Most irregular, and against all laws of the Afterlife."

"Quite," said Sirius, still rather baffled.

"And did you have any other questions?" Peter inquired.

Sirius shook his head, feeling empty and tired again. "No ... nothing."

There was a pause, in which Sirius looked up at Peter and saw the saint staring back at him with a quiet and thoughtful look in his eyes. It was as if Peter knew exactly what he was thinking – which, of course, he did. The saint said, "Why do you look so miserable, Mr Black?"

"Nothing made any difference," said Sirius bitterly, "Everything I did – everything Hermione has done – it hasn't made one bit of difference. Oh yes, innocent lives will be saved like Mundungus Fletcher's was saved. But what about hers?"

"Mr Black, I want you to understand something. This was all meant to happen. It was planned beforehand by the fates, and only the choices made by the players in the puppet show – the humans themselves – can change the course of time. Hermione's excursion into the future gave her a certain knowledge that she was meant to discover. It offered her a choice once she returned to her own time. By the course of time that progressed, resulting in the future you and she saw – she chose not to let herself get captured. Nonetheless, she was eventually captured. You attempted to protect her for a year, Mr Black, a whole year. After about a year and a month of protecting her, an accident occurred – Cerberus's doing – and she was captured. By then, people were already dead. By making her choice, Hermione precipitated Harry's killing of the Dark Lord – and lives were saved."

"But even after Voldemort is gone, there are still some Death Eaters on the loose, waiting for revenge!" Sirius protested angrily, "And Hermione is doomed to see the Grim and to die on the wretched night!"

"Haven't you realized yet, Mr Black? It was never the Grim she saw. It was Cerberus."

"Cerberus?" Sirius stared at Peter, shocked.

"Yes, Cerberus ... up to his tricks again. Because, you see, in the alternate future, he was not destroyed at all. The person who sent him back to hell thought he had destroyed him for good, but no human soul has the power to send a minion of Hades's to the Mists by themselves."

"But Cerberus is gone for good now," said Sirius slowly.

"Yes, he is. And thus, Hermione will not die."

Sirius looked up sharply, staring at Peter with wonder and amazement filling him. "You mean – she'll live, and the future we saw will not come to pass after all?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"But – how?"

"Tonight, one more choice was made that changed the course of time, Mr Black. You made that choice, and it has saved Hermione's life. Future consequences cannot count in your point totals, I'm afraid, but I'm sure you're happy enough just knowing that she will live."

Happy? He would jump over the moon if he could!

Only ... a shadow fell over the elation.

He wouldn't be there, to live alongside her.

Sirius closed his eyes. 'Don't be a selfish bastard,' he told himself, 'This isn't about you'.

"Yes, I'm more happy to know that than you'll ever know," he said quietly, "But I'd rather get the rest of this meeting and its trimmings over and done with as quickly as possible. I – I'm tired."

"Then we shall proceed to your judgment."

"Sure."

"Well, as it stands, Mr Black, you're in a very unusual position indeed. I shall summarize events for you as briefly as possible. When you were sent back to earth, you had equal positive and negative points. With your excursion with time travel, an illegal operation, you lost a point. However, that was made up for by the point you gained by protecting your charge valiantly throughout the dangers of the future. Once again, your scales were balanced. Then your charge escaped your watch and got herself captured, for whatever reasons, we shall not go into them, you know them as well as I do. The fact remains, she was captured – you had failed to prevent that. Thus, one more negative point. Your negative points were greater than your positive."

Sirius gritted his teeth, looking down at the cloud beneath his feet. He knew all of this. Why didn't Peter just go ahead and announce his fate so that it could be over and done with.

"However, your adaptation skills on earth in the way you nobly protected a second charge – Harry Potter – when Hermione Granger was captured, earned you another positive point. Once again, you struck a balance. But then almost immediately you earned another negative point by exacting violence on a defenceless human – the owner of the Hog's Head pub, even if he deserved what you gave him."

"So it's pretty simple, isn't it," said Sirius gruffly, "I've got more negative points than positive, so I have to go to – "

"Mr Black," said Peter, amused, "You struck a balance again."

"What?" Sirius gaped.

"Yes ... I've never known a more annoying soul than you. For the fourth time, you struck a balance. Your act of mercy, Mr Black, earned you more favour than I can explain. You had every reason and every opportunity to destroy Cerberus right then and there when you had him on the ground – but you showed him mercy and spared him. That was a mark of true nobility and strength of character. It earned you a very great positive point indeed. If our system of points allowed the endowment of more than one point per deed, you would certainly have won many for that act. As it stands, you balanced your scales out again." (Sirius groaned).

"So what now?" the much-tried wizard said exasperatedly, "You're not going to give me another task and send me back down to earth to do some more good and mischief, are you?"

"In the final total, Mr Black, you most certainly do not strike a balance. There was one more act you committed after showing Cerberus mercy. That, I am very happy to inform you, has given you more positive points than negative. In fact, that act has earned you an Exceptional Point. It is a special point that offers certain benefits."

Sirius stared in disbelief, unable to believe his ears.

"Tell me, Mr Black, why did James and Lily reach a special world of Heaven?"

"Because – because they died for Harry?"

"Precisely," Peter actually smiled, "That act was one of pure goodness and sacrifice. There was no selfishness allowed in it at all, and they earned Exceptional Points for that as well. Tonight, you did something that saved Hermione's life in the future. That did not win your Exceptional for you. What did win it was the fact that you saved her life in the present."

"I don't understand – "

"Cerberus would have destroyed her tonight, Mr Black, don't you remember? You, however, didn't let that happen. Instinctively, nobly, heroically – and a little poetically, I'm afraid – you risked your own neck – your own agony and destruction – by barring the way and preventing him from attacking her. In a way, you gave your life for hers."

"But Cerberus didn't attack me. Something happened – he was thrown against the wall – "

"And blasted into the Mists, into his own destruction," said Peter, smiling.

"How?"

Sirius's head throbbed from all the information he was receiving, and he was utterly at a loss. But Peter was smiling at him still, that indulgent and amused smile.

The saint explained: "Consider what Cerberus and his master are. They are dwellers of Hell, Mr Black, they are purely wicked and evil. It is not difficult to understand. Indeed, it's a similar concept to that of your Dark Lord, who was destroyed as well tonight. There is only one weapon that is infallible when dealing with evil, only one weapon that they have no power whatsoever to fight. Without realizing it, Mr Black, you used that weapon tonight and that weapon destroyed Cerberus for all of eternity."

"What weapon?" Sirius demanded, thinking of Hermione's wand. Certainly it was a powerful one that even Harry was rather afraid of.

Peter smiled. "Love."

Sirius stood stock still, staring at the saint.

Love ...

Harry had been protected by love. He and Hermione had been protected by love. Cerberus had died because he tried to attack people protected by the unbreakable sacrifices of love.

"You were willing to die – in a manner of speaking – for her. Your love was so powerful that no demon can ever fight it."

Sirius didn't say anything; his eyes stung.

Finally, he looked up into Peter's twinkling eyes again. "So that earned me my Exceptional Point?" he said quietly, and with a hint of excitement throbbing inside him. Could this be true? Was he really, finally, going to reach Heaven and reach old friends who had not been forgotten ...?

"Yes," said Peter. "You see, in the alternate future, you made a different choice. Instead of showing Cerberus mercy, you killed him and there. However, you did something else that night that earned you a different kind of Exceptional Point, but none of that matters now. The point is: you destroyed Cerberus, but as I said, no soul can do that on his own. Cerberus was only sent back to Hell but not to the Mists. Thus, he was available when Hades, thirsty for revenge, sent him to drive Hermione to the brink of madness. He haunted her, and succeeded in sending her out on that fatal night. But you made a different choice, Mr Black, and he is destroyed now – unable to haunt her."

"Merlin's beard," muttered Sirius, utterly swamped.

"Do you know what the Elysian Fields are, Mr Black?"

Sirius shook his head.

"The Elysian Fields are found in Greek mythology, if you will care to look it up sometime. As it stands, they exist – a special world in Heaven. Most people who reach Heaven merely reside in the Afterlife, content and at peace, but little else. In Elysium, it is almost literally a party. People enjoy themselves, laugh, make merry, drink and the like. All those souls who earn Exceptional Points are granted access to the Elysian Fields. Only the most exceptional of people reach there. You are thus granted access to the Fields."

Sirius stared at Peter in silence for a moment, amazed. Then, instinctively, he turned his head and saw the Golden Gates of Heaven slowly, noiselessly, open wide. For him.

He asked slowly, "So I go ... there?"

"One moment," Peter said, smiling, "There is a little more for me to tell you. Elysium also offers one more choice for the souls. They can either reside in the Fields forever and enjoy themselves as they are presently, or they have the option to be reincarnated. It takes great courage to choose to be reincarnated, for it is an unpredictable world and you don't know what lot you may get."

"Are you giving me that option?" asked Sirius, suddenly alert and remembering something.

"Not quite. I have been conferring with the Fates. They are three women – the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. They – ah – seem to be rather taken with you. Your looks, I suppose, and charm ... the Maiden is particularly giggly whenever your topic is brought up. Women," Peter sighed, and then said, "Mr Black, between us, we have agreed that you are an exceptional and most unusual man. We have decided to give you one more option. Instead of being reincarnated, you have the choice of going back to earth as you are. Sirius Black's return, exactly as you look and are presently – only alive. Literally a resurrection of a dead man."

For a moment, there was utter silence in the room. Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was he really being given the chance to go back to earth as he was now? Could Sirius Black really live again? He stared at Peter, reading the answer in his eyes, and croaked out: "Can you do that, really?"

"It's a stretch, but it's a very unusual case. We offered the same choice to Joan of Arc, the only other soul to strike a balance between positive and negative in the Tunnel, but she chose to enter the Elysian Fields and enjoy herself. I think she was rather tired of all she had tried to do and had basically sent her message out to the world when she was burned."

Sirius stared in silence.

"Come with me," Peter said with a smile. He took Sirius to the arched doorway where they stared at the open Gates. Sirius saw a shadowy figure standing in the gateway. "You have someone waiting for you."

Sirius would have recognized that figure anywhere.

He stared longingly at James, remembering how he had dreamed of being with his best friend again. There had been times when he had been guilty of confusing Harry with James – twelve years in Azkaban had made him very lonely and never given him the chance to get past his best friend's death – and now there was James, waiting for him. Or was he? Sirius squinted against the glow of sunlight. Was James reaching a hand out to him, or was he grinning and waving?

An image swam before Sirius's eyes. It was the image of a boy, a handsome boy with dark hair and eyes and great intelligence but a streak of mischief ... and the boy called Harry 'Uncle Harry'. Sirius suddenly felt understanding dawn on him. He heard Harry's voice in his mind – "I've got a godfather, yet now I have a godson" – 'I've got a godfather' in present tense ... "Reed's father – has been my only hope for thirteen years, believe it or not" ... a perfectly reasonable statement if one considered who Reed's father actually was! Sirius's head whirled. In the alternate future, when he had been given the same choice, he had gone back. He existed in that future ... where Hermione had not. And now ... now what was he to do? Would he make the same choice? Would he join James again, where they could watch everyone, or was he really going to go back and face the pain and pleasure of life?

He looked at Peter, and knew that Peter had heard all his thoughts. And that Peter already knew what Sirius was going to do. After all, saints knew everything that went on in mortal man's dreams and secrets.

"Go home, Sirius," said the saint with a smile.

Sirius nodded. "Yes. Home."

And before Peter sprinkled the silver dust on Sirius's head, Sirius remembered smiling and thinking:

It was smarter not to let sleeping dogs lie after all.

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Harry Potter sat on a rock beside the lake, staring out over the shimmering surface, lit with dew and the glistening rays of the sun. The leaves rustled in the autumn wind, and he picked up a pebble and tossed it over the smooth surface of the water. Hopefully, it wouldn't smack the giant squid while it was sleeping. That would not be a very wise move to make. Dark Lords could be dealt with. Violent water-dwellers were a different matter altogether.

Behind him, there was a great deal of noise. There was a lengthy sort of beach stretching up between the lake and the grove of trees that obscured the distant castle from view. It was Saturday afternoon and there were naturally no lessons to worry about. Fred and George had made an appearance on Hogwarts grounds with Lupin, and they were engaged in some unnamed game that involved a lot of unruly behaviour. Ron had joined them, while Lupin gladly escaped it and settled for watching them instead. Hermione was leaned against one of the nearest trees to the 'beach', a book propped up on her knees. Harry turned his head away from the water and looked at her. Her expression was thoughtful and concentrated as she looked at the book, but he knew she hadn't turned the page in over an hour.

It had been a week since the night he had killed Voldemort. Celebrations were rife all over the magical world, and at Hogwarts it was no exception, although people like Snape kept them drilled to their lessons. It felt very strange.

Harry had felt his selfish anger and short temper ebb over the past week. He even had it in him to feel sorry for the Slytherins, many of whom were sons and daughters of Death Eaters. People like Malfoy had lost fathers. Harry, after all, knew how it felt. He was more mature now, but there were times when the boy in him surfaced briefly to join in the games and pranks. But most of the time, he didn't have the heart, and he felt like a traitor. It was just that he didn't feel anything was complete without –

Sighing, Harry stood up. It was time to let go.

He started walking towards Hermione to see what was the matter with her, but he had barely gotten five steps away from the rock when he heard a whooshing sound and a crash as a weight fell into the reeds lining the lake. Turning around sharply, his jaw dropped in astonishment. He saw a male figure struggle to extricate himself from the thorns and reeds. His astonishment faded; the colour drained from his face as he recognized the male figure standing up.

"No," he choked out, "You can't be – "

Sirius walked towards him, stumbling in his hurry. "Harry," he croaked, and seized the boy in a hug that nearly cut off his blood supply entirely.

Harry stammered. "But – I don't – Sirius, how – oh my God!"

As soon as Sirius released him, he threw himself right back at his godfather and this time it was Sirius who choked for breath. But the Animagus didn't mind; it was good to feel choked for breath again. He touched his lip which had been cut when he had come whooshing out of the sky. It was bleeding a little. It even felt good to really bleed. He was alive. He was actually alive. Suddenly he was thrown back against the grass as three weight descended upon him and Harry. Fred, George and Ron had realized they were not hallucinating and had decided to express their unadulterated delight at seeing Sirius Black again. Ron, Sirius realized, was howling.

Taking pity on his godfather and unable to repress the elated smile and the light in his eyes, Harry wondered whether there were gods in the sky after all, who had granted his dearest wish. He bodily picked Ron away from Sirius, and managed to make Fred and George regain control of themselves. But it was Lupin who reached down, pulled Sirius off the ground, and hugged him.

Harry registered a sense of déjà vu. The last time he had seen almost exactly the same choked-up movements between Lupin and Sirius had been in the Shrieking Shack when Lupin had confirmed his belief of Sirius's innocence and had embraced him like a brother. He looked at the two last Marauders, laughing and hugging each other. Sirius grinned at Lupin as the slightly older man drew back and stared at him in wonder. "Come now, Moony, don't tell me you're glad to see me!"

"I've never been happier to see anyone in my life! And this time I can actually see you!"

"This time?" Fred was puzzled.

Harry demanded: "Sirius, we saw you fall – but you're here – alive – "

"And a good week too late to catch the excitement," Ron said very reproachfully.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged a grin.

Sirius said gravely, "I'm sorry to hear that, Ron. I take it Voldemort's dead, then? By the way, I'm here because the Fates decided my work in the world isn't yet done. So I'm back."

"Black is back," sniggered Fred and George happily.

"Harry killed You-Know-Who," said Ron importantly, for all the world as if he had been the one to do the heroic act.

"For pity's sake, Ronniekins, he's dead! Why are you still afraid to say his name?"

"It's a mistake to insult the dead, you know."

"Pshaw!"

Harry paid no attention to any of this. He was too busy staring at Sirius and drinking in the fact that he had his godfather, brother, substitute father and friend all back! If anything could have completed the magic of the week ... wait, it wasn't yet complete. He realized Hermione had not appeared to see Sirius yet. Sirius appeared to have realized this at the same time, because his eyes were suddenly fixed on a point over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned and saw Hermione. The book lay fallen on the grass beside her and she was standing a few feet away from the tree, staring at Sirius as if she was seeing a ghost (which, technically, was a reasonable reaction).

But what happened next startled Harry as much as anybody else. Hermione suddenly burst into tears and flew across the 'beach' that lay between them. She flung her arms around Sirius's neck and he lifted her up right off the ground, laughing. Then he lowered her to her feet, leaned down, and kissed her.

"So," he murmured against her mouth, "Do I kiss better alive?"

"It's something to think about," said Hermione, with a sound halfway between a laugh and a teary hiccup.

"I love you," Sirius said.

Harry's mouth fell open.

Ron had fallen over.

"Well!" said the twins with identical grins.

Lupin was smiling, and appeared greatly amused by something.

"Sirius," Hermione said suddenly, frowning suddenly, "Why are there scratches on your arms?"

"Those damned reeds nearly maimed me!"

"Excuse me," protested Ron weakly from where he was still prostrate on the ground, "But the rest of us are still here and are in states of considerable shock, in case neither of you have noticed."

Sirius looked awkward for a moment. He let Hermione go and turned to Harry, who was hauling Ron to his feet. A reassuring glance from Remus seemed to restore his tongue to him. He sighed and said, "I realize you're shocked, Ron, and Harry, I think I owe you an explanation."

"No, Sirius," said Harry suddenly, smiling. He was looking at Hermione's face; her eyes held more youth and light than he had seen in a very long time. "You don't have any explaining to do at all." Ron made a protesting noise – clearly he required explanations – but Harry promptly stepped on his foot, to the amusement of all the others. "I just have one thing to say to you, Sirius, and so you'd better listen to me." Harry suddenly grinned, the happy boy's grin again. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you myself."

Sirius laughed, while Hermione blushed fierily. Sirius pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. "That's my boy," he grinned.

Naturally, there was a great deal of clamouring for explanations and George reflected on the probabilities of whether his mother would faint or have a heart attack if she saw Sirius again. Fred was more interested in Snape's reaction, while Lupin and Harry started to plan a party and how to break the news gently to Dumbledore (who probably already knew, knowing him) and Ron continued to demand answers from Sirius as to when, where and how romance between a Marauder and a know-it-all rule-abider could possibly spring up.

Hermione was noticeably silent. Sirius moved towards her and saw that she was staring at the lake and the thorny shrubs in which he had fallen. He also saw that she was smiling, more radiantly that he had ever seen her do.

"What's so funny?" He raised an eyebrow.

Hermione turned towards him, still smiling. "I just realized something."

"What's that?"

"I know now why we decided to name our son Reed."

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The End.

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A/N: This is a long chapter! I would have added a very short epilogue, but I don't think there's anything more to add. –Sigh- and I did so want to drag this story out as long as I could, but that would have ruined it. I've got a few ideas for other stories, including a possible sequel to this. The ideas are still unfolding in my head and may not work out, so I can't make any promises ... I think it's time to stop stalling and say my goodbyes to this fic. Thank you all SO MUCH for reading and reviewing this! Until next time ...