A note from Serade Black: Please believe me when I say how absolutely thrilled I am that so many responded to the sequel of Reason For Life. I do this for fun and for my warped imagination, I have no further words than to thank you for sticking around with my stories. Just a reminder: when the chapters get racier, I'll make a note regarding this that they can read the unedited chapters at my LJ. I have been on for a very long time (since my fandom in Labyrinth) and have been "banned" once for naughty fics. That is why I choose NOT to post them here...even if has evolved. Nevertheless, I will make a post regarding this when the time comes. For now, enjoy. For those that somewhat new to Sirius/Hermione: WELCOME! They're a brilliant couple to play with and even moreso when it's a sequel! Thank you for the encourgements...they do keep me going (even the quickie comments that you've been up for 12 hours reading...I'm chuffed!) Enjoy ~ SB

Chapter 2

"Revisiting Memories"

The same street Hermione remembered leaving in her fifth year for the train station with a big black dog at her side came into view. But now, as the branches hung lower, fall beginning to send their foliage to the sidewalk, and the big black dog was transformed to her side, everything appeared different. New memories were unfolding, secrets were being shared and she never felt more complete or centered on her life than she did while walking next to Sirius hand in hand. It was almost like she knew, even before she went back with the Time Turner, she was meant to follow this destiny with him. Maybe she just always had a thing for dazzling older wizards.

Their footsteps fell together in step on the brick sidewalk. Hermione would bump his shoulder every now and then when her superstitious side would skip a crack, but it was warmly welcomed with a slight turn of his head and a guaranteed smile.

Being alongside of him, basking in his essence, remembering what he was like when she would sit around the long table at Grimmauld Place, listening to his stories of how things were and how things were going to play out. She remembered him taking his seat at the head of the table, not by right, but because everyone else in the house respected him enough to allow him to take that seat, no matter how much he hated it. He would sit at the end, listening to Remus and Molly talk about how hushed the Order was, but still felt it right to clue in the "kids". It was obvious now that Sirius never saw Harry as a kid, as much as he wanted to take full responsibility for him, and he never saw Hermione in that same light, because he knew her. He knew her both as a girl coming of age and as a woman with a balanced mind. He never worried about her, he knew how she'd turn out.

"Why did you pull me from the Veil?" he asked, holding her hand tighter as they walked. Their steps were slowing now that they were getting closer to number twelve.

"Because of my diary," she said glancing over. She admired the way his wavy hair fell over the collar of his jacket, like a romantic dark knight. His expensive threads said a lot about his life transitioning from the young man that she adored into the man that she had fallen in love with.

"You found it," he confirmed, an edge of closure hinted in his voice.

"When I read your last line, something in me clicked, like you were speaking to me from beyond and I just knew."

They stopped before the iron gates of number twelve and he turned to face her, his hand reaching up to gently caress her soft cheek like he was seeing her for the first time. It made his insides tear and reform to know that she had always harbored feelings for him and just being in the right place at the right time there as he followed her along on his motorbike, begging for her name, wasn't just a coincidence. She didn't have to go back and she certainly didn't have to allow him the liberties he took in getting to know her. At first, he blamed her for the torture she'd given him, but as he grew and matured, he understood why it had all happened. He had come to terms with the reality that she was not able to save James and Lily, for the future had already happened. It was out of her hands and not the right path.

"You saved me," he whispered to her like a seductive incantation.

"I did it for Harry," she confessed, gazing up at him and hypnotizing herself. Her hands slid up the lapels of his coat, making note of how every thread was woven to perfection against him. He felt warm and solid beneath her palms. Knowing him as a man that had lived was far more thrilling than being with him when his life was still a mystery.

"Only for Harry?" he asked, quietly begging for more of an answer.

"No," she began, "I knew you had a life to live and I think, for selfish reasons, I wanted to see if I had that chance, like I wrote in the diary. I knew that my partner in life was always going to be compared to someone like you."

"Why me, Hermione?" His voice was slow and absorbing, like he was trying to discover the real reason for her to have gone back with the Time Turner.

"Because, it was the way you looked at me. The year you were on the run, breaking the rules to visit Harry, to see all of us. You would look at me, like you saw something more. It was like you knew who I was going to be and then I realized that you had lived a life already and still had an incredible adventure ahead of you," she felt his arms pulling her in close as the night breeze blanketed them in the darkness. They still stood before the gates of number twelve, their house just a few feet away. "I was so saddened by your death; I kept replaying it all in my mind about how things could have gone that night. What if I was there, what if I could have done something-?"

"You couldn't have done anything, sweetheart," he calmed. He cradled her close, feeling her entire body beginning to shiver, but not by the cold.

"I found my diary one day and when I saw your handwriting with mine, how elegant, how precise, I just needed to try. I was finally in a position to take a chance and when you came out of the Veil, my heart broke," she confessed, loving the way his arms felt around her as she told her inner secrets. She felt lifted, free and finally ready to move on with him. "It was who you were and what you did and what you lived through that reached out to me. Maybe I was always in love with you and that's why I let myself fall."

Sirius was on the brink of emotions with her, listening to the way she told her story, her inner deep secrets and confessions, and all he wanted was the girl that let him be himself when he was reckless and fearless. Little did he know that she saw him for the man he was going to be in the boy that played pranks with James.

Believing he had the permission, Sirius leaned down to kiss his sweet girl. So young and full of life, he wondered where his place would truly be in her life. He had his doubts at first, but sooner rather than later, he was discovering the depth to what she would do for him all over again, if she had the chance.

When in the foyer, Sirius helped Hermione remove her coat and handed her bags of shopping to put away. As she took the first step, she stopped and turned around as he was just hanging his own coat on a waiting hook.

"What love?" he asked, seeing that she stilled, staring at him from the staircase.

"You tried to tell me, didn't you?" she asked quietly, as if standing on the staircase helped her revisit some memories.

"What's that?" he asked, leaning over the side of the railing, looking up at her like an angel, still holding her shopping.

"Right before I left...you cornered me," she looked at the wall next to her and reached out to touch it, "here."

He said nothing; he only licked his lips and looked away as he remembered when he shoved her up against the wall, demanding to know if she needed him. He recalled the tension in his body, the hungry desired look played on his face, but he also remembered the way her breath hesitated for him...like she wanted it.

"You were so mad at me, furious even-"

"I wasn't angry at you. I was frustrated at the situation. I cracked and I'm not particularly proud of myself for that moment," he recalled, finding it hard to meet her eyes at the moment.

"Still," she said, breaking the tension and turning to finish up the stairs. She fanned herself and said, "You were so incredibly sexy with the way..." her voice faded as she reached her bedroom.

She joined him in the kitchen for what she thought was going to be hot tea, but instead she was met with a glass of red wine in delicate crystal. He stood there holding it out to her with a dashing smirk to the side of his mouth, the top buttons of his shirt undone and he'd rolled his sleeves up his forearms. He looked so regal, so handsome, she could not resist without biting her lip before taking the glass.

After the first sip that tasted aged, but sweet, Sirius reached for her hand, "Come." He took her out the backdoor that emptied out onto the little deck before the back garden. Sirius slid his wand out of his pocket and aimed it up to the hanging branches that hung low over the center of the back garden, "Suspendio Foliage Illuminatus."

His voice recited the spell smooth enough that she was just as enchanted as what was transpiring in the back garden against the starless night. As if someone had strung electric holiday lights through the branches, the tips of every other leaf was illuminated with a silver white glow creating a canopy of magic. The garden was beautiful and it was enough to take her breath away.

Sirius reached for her hand again after tucking his wand in his pocket, "Set down your glass." He started down the steps while setting down his own.

She resisted for a moment, "Sirius, I've no shoes on."

"Even better," he said with a wink, removing her glass from her fingers for her. He pulled her down behind him, stopping a few feet from the center of the back garden and under the pretty white blowing lights.

"What are we-?"

"We never finished that dance on your birthday," he said. His hands were already positioning on her waist and raising her hand up into his.

"My birthday?" she started to recall the night of her twenty first birthday and how she had found Sirius alone on the back steps. They talked for a few minutes, but it was Hermione that had asked him to dance...because it was her birthday.

"I was out here, because I knew your time was getting close," he began, taking the first step to the side as her hand rested on his shoulder. "It was the beginning of the waiting game. I had no idea when you were going to go back, just that one day you would return and everything was going to be different."

Hermione grinned and looked down to see their feet slowly moving from side to side on the grass. Her feet looked so small next to his larger ones in dark alligator leather. She moved closer, so that they were touching now. Her hand that rested politely on his shoulder slid up behind his neck where she could feather her fingers in his soft black waves.

"I remember feeling that you were missing when I was inside the house when everyone was there," she recalled, tilting her head back to better see his face. "I looked around the kitchen, it was right after I opened those running shoes that everyone thought were a great novelty and was laughing when Fleur put them on. I wandered into the study, ran into Charlie, but I was really looking for you and that's what made me go outside."

"You looked so beautiful that night," he whispered, ducking his head to kiss her temple. She smelled so fresh, like jasmine and roses, that it numbed his senses.

"I asked you to dance, because I knew you wouldn't deny me. It was the only thing that I really wanted," she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, "from you anyway."

They swayed together slowly, the cool crisp breeze circled around them lightly. The enchanted leaves above them slowly began to burn out overhead, until only a few scattered ones remained.

"All I could think of was the way you used to lay your head on my shoulder when we rode my motorbike," he said in a low nostalgic voice. "Or the way your eyes saw me through the crowd when you'd meet me in front of Flourish and Blotts. They were simple things, but those were the moments I held onto for all these years."

"I'm right here, Sirius," she whispered as her hand traced the Azkaban barcode that snuck out just over his collar. "I'm within your reach."

His smell was intoxicating to her and his touch on her body gave her butterflies in her stomach. She imagined herself back at Andromeda's house. The music of Billie Holiday playing in the distance while they shared a quiet intimacy that only involved the two of them together, like they were dancing on air. She felt safe and content, realizing that her mission to go back to him really was successful, for he knew that he was valued. He was desired and loved by the young witch that found solace in his arms that very night.

"If I knew that you would make me feel like this, I would have waited even longer," he whispered against her soft skin.

"Tell me about Azkaban," she whispered, her fingers traced over the skin from the open buttons. Tuffs of chest hair were visible.

"What is there really to tell, other than what you already know," he sighed painfully. The memories were difficult to allow to be repeated, but he would never deny any of her requests.

"Were you afraid?"

A long silence crept along before he shook his head, "No, I wasn't. It wasn't fear that I was experiencing, unlike my neighboring cellmates. I was just ashamed. Being afraid was never a factor, only the nightmares later in my sentence when I got out. The memory of the Dementors was enough to...well, it was very difficult to sleep at night, even when safe here in Grimmauld. But, when I was in there, I was worried what the Order would think, or what you would think." He ducked his head low, so that his face was right next to hers and their lips only inches apart. "Though I dearly missed my friends, I thought of you often. I wondered where you would go. I wondered what you would think of me. I imagined you believing that I would commit such a terrible crime. I kept replaying the night in my head, the vision of James and Lily dying and believing Remus was probably along side with them. I imagined you standing there, waiting for me, only to have the news broken to you by the Daily Prophet."

They had stopped dancing, stopped swaying and they stood together close in the cool night air. Whispers of the wind blessed the branches, causing them to crack and show their season. The night illuminations were nearly gone, the spell having worn away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, placing a hand over his cheek, kissing him at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry you had to endure all of that without knowing any of the truth. I promise to spend all my time making it up to you."

Sirius lifted her chin to meet his lips, sliding his tongue between them, wanting to relay to her the passion that welled up so strongly within him for her. His need for her was like quenching a thirst at the end of a very long journey. His waiting had ceased, his prayers to the Gods had been answered and the way she lifted him was beyond mental paradise. When she was with him, standing there, holding him so close, he was home. He would be glad to be anywhere, but he was home only with her.

Their night together was coming to an end and Hermione was starting up the long staircase with Sirius close on her heels. When they reached the landing with both of their bedrooms, she turned and stopped in front of the thick old door that had long been weathered and aged. It still had the nameplate "Sirius" on it.

She slid her hands up his shirt, letting her eyes linger on the barcode on his neck before lifting them to his hypnotizing grey orbs. His body felt warm and solid, she pressed her palms flat against him, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

Sirius was hesitant when touching her. Even when his fingers traced the outline of her jaw or pushed a stray lock away from her face, he believed she was like a bubble about to burst with first contact and would no longer exist. He would never have dared to softly caress her neckline a few days ago, no matter how enticing she was to him, but now he took direct liberties in doing so. However, every time she took his hand to interlace their fingers, it took his breath away like he was enjoying human contact for the first time.

"I cannot be away from you tonight, no matter what you say," she whispered to him. Their foreheads leaned against the other as teasing kisses were given. His hesitant hands reached out to her waist, closing his eyes for their intimacy. "I'll go change and I'll be right back."

He was at a loss for words when he felt the needy burn in his chest. He watched her pull away and hurry to her own bedroom four doors down. His eyes studied the way she moved with the grace of a Veela. He was concerned for his sanity to resist touching her that evening, knowing it was to be the strongest test of strength.

Crossing over his own threshold and knowing that she had every intention to return to his room was barely enough for Sirius to handle without sitting down and sorting his head out. Memories of the way they used to be intimate rushed back to him like a flood. He remembered what she did and how well she knew how to do it with him.

Touching her would mean the world to him, having waited for so many years for her to come of age and know about their past. But, it was all too soon for her. He needed to allow her time to decide if he was the one she wanted, for tasting her before her decision would only mean a bigger disappointment. He'd rather not know what he was missing, than to live with the recent memories of how she cried out his name while he made her his own.

"Hey," she said as she stood at his door wearing a bathrobe. Sirius hadn't even started to unbutton his waistcoat; his mind was running too quickly.

The side of her mouth smirked when she noticed him shift anxiously when she walked in. She closed the door quietly and turned to admire the dark mahogany furnishings around her. His four poster bed never looked so regal or intriguing with its decorative pillows and maroon comforter. And she never remembered being in there when the lights were so dim, adding a seductive ambiance about the room.

Sirius's eyes were on her as he basked in the child-like thrill that she came into his bedroom willingly and without platonic intentions, even if they were holding out two weeks. He watched her walk across his bedroom with the same grace as a witch whispering a hypnotizing incantation. He was incredibly drawn to her, unable to look away and eager to see what she had on, if anything, under her robe.

His eyes followed her hands, mesmerized by their slow moving gestures. She untied the loose knot and opened it up to reveal herself to him. Very slowly, she slid the robe off her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor without any care. Beneath the satin robe, she wore a fitting cotton tank top with tiny matching shorts that exposed more of her skin than he was ready to see. However, just like he remembered, her skin looked smooth and her legs a milky pale white that were slim, but firm, as he recalled the way they would wrap around his waist.

Hermione was not blind to notice him studying her every movement like a lion getting ready to pounce on his pray, so she took slow timid steps towards him. She looked down towards the rug, but her eyes looked up on their own from dark mysterious eye lashes. She feigned bashful and her heart skipped a beat to notice that hungry look in his eye that made him appear weak and vulnerable to her every wish.

She stood a mere twelve inches away and he chanced a glance down to her pleasantly displayed bosom beneath stretching cotton. His mouth watered to kiss her skin just once. He hungered for her touch, just to feel the satin-like flesh beneath his finger tips. His allure to her was like a vampire to blood on its first night. He felt his breath beginning to shorten the tougher he needed to be as she pushed herself into his personal space she was very much welcome in.

Hermione sensed his pleasurable discomfort and pushed all her enchantments towards him, in the event he might cave. She heard his intake of breath and moved in closer hoping to lure him in enough that he might concede to their overwhelming urge to be one again. The suffering was not one-sided, Hermione's skin began to burn for his touch. She yearned to be handled the way she used to, submitting to his desires and discovering new ones. His aura was strong and powerful and it reined her in like a beacon.

Exhaling slight frustration, but with innocence, she said, "You can touch me, Sirius."

His eyes trailed down over her collarbone, imagining himself leaving hot suggesting kisses along her skin. He sighed, "You're going to make this very hard on me, you know that, right?"

Hermione looked away, feigning innocence, "That's my intention."

The room was quiet, aside from the ticking clock on the wall. If silence made a sound, it would be thick, like rushing water and both bedroom occupants could hear it.

His shoulders relaxed as she stepped closer to him. She was beautiful and barefoot, running her hands up over his chest and settling on the buttons of his waistcoat. His insides felt like warm lava stirring about him, making his blood boil with her presence near him. He appraised her young features blessed with satin-like skin and admired the slight swell of her breasts dipping beneath her tank top.

He was stiff, frigid even, as she stood before him, lightly tracing each button of his clothing. Having her standing at this close proximity was causing his pulse to quicken. Her smell filled his senses, rendering a brilliant wizard powerless. He made no movement when she leaned up to touch his lips with feather-like pressure. Holding his own, his arms to his sides, his hands balled into fists, he fought against the overwhelming urge to take her where they stood. But, he remained steadfast and firm, allowing her to trace her fingers along his neck where his shirt met at the bent collar without any risk. He wanted to pinch himself, convincing himself that all was really happening. Having her there so close against him was too good to be true.

Hermione pulled away, sensing that something was off. She could tell that Sirius had tensed up under her hands. Her eyes met his, dark and weary, pained and tortured. It was like she was reading his mind and seeing the lightning sparks of confliction. He was torn, beaten and mentally exhausted with what had been placed before him.

"Do you remember the first night we made love?" she whispered, her fingers beginning to unbutton his waistcoat for him.

"It was a long time ago, but of course, I remember that," his voice was hoarse as he watched her carefully.

"You lifted me onto the counter and started to remove my clothing there," she recalled, letting the words fall from her tongue like she were slowly casting a spell to convince him of their necessary need. "You carried me into the living room and we did it all in front of the fire on that soft fur rug."

"I love that you remember it as vividly as I do," he praised.

"Of course," she opened his waistcoat and slid it down his arms. "It was only a month ago."

"I might need you to recall a few things, at times."

"Or, what about when you took me for a ride on your motorbike and we stopped in that field to watch the clouds overhead before the storm?"

"I kept you on the bike," he began on his own; she pulled his shirt out of his pants to start on the bottom buttons.

"The wind was fierce that day and it made my skin cold," she explained, never looking away from his eyes as she captivated him with her own memory. "You ripped my panties off of me, lifted my skirt high to my waist and with very little convincing, took me right there over your motorbike."

"You were so gorgeous," Sirius said, running a hand down her cheek; his fingers traced softly under her jaw as she unbuttoned his shirt fully. "Your face in the shadowed sky radiated like a Grecian goddess to me. I loved the way you screamed my name into the heavens."

"I managed to balance rather well with my legs around your waist, but it was when you put me down and bent me over the seat that made it undoubtedly hard to stop," she cooed.

Sirius was numb from his toes to his fingertips as she replayed the image of their public coupling. She explained it better than he could remember and it was then that he realized images and memories were somewhat blurry to him. Not that he didn't want to remember, just that it was fifteen years ago, plus the five he was floating in oblivion and who can remember what they did day to day twenty years ago?

Her fingers lingered along the delicate cotton of his shirt, his chest visible between the two panels. Like she was opening a desired disguised present, she pressed her palms between the fabric and opened it to see him. Slowly sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, her hands smoothed over the chiseled planes of his torso, taking in each muscle and each curve that had changed.

He was tan and mature, his chest was well defined and adorned with intricate markings and scars from his days incarcerated. She bit her lip as she admired him, her fingers tracing lightly over each design, memorizing their placement. It was like touching a legend, a man she had only read about in stories, and now was at the touch of her fingertips. He was real and he was hers.

He submitted to her control, allowing her to touch him in any way she wanted. His breath caught as her fingers and their velvet touch caressed him. She made him feel alive again, appreciated and aroused. His senses were peaked, taking in each touch carefully, finding his resistance excruciating.

"Am I much different?" he asked, watching the way her eyes studied him like he were an intriguing puzzle.

"You are, but I think you're more beautiful now than before," she said. Her fingers slid around his neck to gently caress his ears. She loved how strong he developed. Far from the boy that took her to bed, he was now more of a man comfortable in his own skin. "This is the man I wanted to come home to. This is the man I was wishing for."

"It has been agony watching you," he kissed her passionately and with desperate need while holding her tightly to him.

She managed to break away for a second, her breath ragged and absolutely submerged in him, "I'm home."

They laid together side by side, Hermione on her stomach and Sirius on his back, both watching the other. Her hand was resting on his chest and he frequently pressed her palm to his lips, closing his eyes and reminding himself that she was not a hallucination from years of tormented memories and yearning. She was flesh and bone and lying beside him, where she wanted to be. They talked very little, asking questions and telling stories of their pasts. Sirius spoke most of the time, retelling the darker times of his solitude and his ultimate escape from Azkaban. Hermione would remain silent, gazing at him like he was a real life character from one of her history books. She was happy to tell him that his name had made it in the latest edition of "Hogwarts: A History" regarding the secret passages under the school, but sadly informed they had since been discovered and resealed.

Realistically, life was getting in the way of the reconnection. Hermione had no choice but to return to work, going and keeping her lips sealed on her personal new developments. Her head was nowhere near as focused as it should have been when dealing with the remaining aftermath of the Veil survivors (Sirius was one of the first cleared and released, due to his high profile case), so she volunteered her position with paperwork, taking in reports of how they were adjusting in society since their return.

When home in Grimmauld Place, Hermione slipped in through the front door to an allure of Italian spices from the kitchen down the hall. After hanging up her coat, she glanced into the sitting room to see Sirius sprawled out on the sofa with his feet propped up on the ottoman and a book lay open on his chest. Darkly handsome and oblivious to the occasional loud clink erupting from the kitchen, he dozed pleasantly as if he'd just nodded off in mid sentence.

Removing her shoes, Hermione was careful not to step on the hard wood floors that might wake him. His legs were stretched out in front of him, so she stepped over to straddle them, pulling her skirt up and easing herself slowly onto his lap. She bent her knees on either side of him and removed the book that was resting on his chest.

Her shifting weight woke him and his eyes opened on a relieving heavenly thought. His hands settled on her waist as she rested her arms around his neck. She said nothing to him, but kissed him as she shared in his silence.

Waking up to her straddling his lap and smelling her sweet intoxicating scent was only what he dreamed of. Her lips slid over his, her tongue to follow and he drank into her with the dire need of missing love. His hands wrapped around her waist tightly, pulling her against him so that she could feel him thrust just enough to remind her he was a patient man.

She smiled into the kiss at the feel of him, acknowledging his muscle hardening beneath her. She giggled innocently, gasping for breath and whispering, "In good time, my dear."

The tips of her hair tickled his cheeks and his breath was near to a pant when she pulled away. He crept a hand behind her head, tugging gently on her soft brown curls, "I missed you."

Pulling back and touching her forehead to his, her eyes fell heavy at the sound of his voice, "I missed you, too." She curled her fingers into his hair while running a free hand between them down his chest. She lingered over the top two buttons, eager to open his shirt.

Chuckling deeply at her eager playfulness, he stopped her fingers, "Sweetheart, Remus is home."

"That's his problem," she cooed, watching the way his brow perked.

They shared a moment before her dejected fingers left his fastenings and met her other wandering hand that combed through is black locks. Her face ducked closer, her bitten lip acting as an enticement for his passion. She leaned against him more, pinning him to the couch willingly as the beast within him started to stir. Her arms settled around his neck, her brown curls falling around her shoulders, shielding their show from onlooking portraits. Sirius complied and felt the fire surging through his veins. His hands slid to her rear and with an easy adjustment, shifted her closer to him.

With a slight thrust of his thighs, he reminded her of the hardening muscle sheathed only by expensive wool. He left nothing to the imagination, knowing that his actions were not foreign to her. It had just been so long that he had acted upon them with her; it felt like more old habits coming to surface. It was ages ago that he was able to feel her in this capacity and though, at times, it still felt very taboo, he knew that this was right in every sense of the word.

"Is this what you really want?" he whispered hoarse, his hands sliding up under her shirt and running a thumb over the clasp of her bra.

"I want you, Sirius," she moaned desperately against him.