A note from Serade Black: I can only apologize for my hiatus, but life took an amazing turn! My husband and I are expecting our first child this summer. Anyway, back to the story, I've had questions about the timeline, so to answer, yes time is progressing and I'm trying to document what time of year it is as best as I can. At the beginning of this chapter, it will be clear when they are. Sirius and Hermione's story took a different direction and I had to rehash the story a bit (for my outline), before I could continue. I always have an outline for my stories, but this one went slower than I wanted. I hope you enjoy the upcoming chapters and the words I have are: Things aren't always what they seem. Enjoy!

Ch. 7 - Flashes of a Good Life

The wind outside started to pick up with fierce force. Brittle branches belonging to old trees danced into the air, tapping against any window pane it could reach. Snow fell heavy this season, blanketing the streets and brick windowsills, creating a typical look English look. Beyond the strong wrought iron gates of number twenty-four, candle light could be seen illuminating the windows.

In the warm house with newly finished wood flooring, a fire burned strong as it lit up the faces of the two inhabitants. Sirius was lying on the floor, his legs stretched and his ankles crossed. He was wearing plaid pajama pants with no shirt, displaying his toned chest adorned with tribal markings. His eyes were fixed on the fire as the beautiful young witch next to him covered her bare shoulders with a nearby blanket. She wore a red satin night gown that didn't leave much to the imagination and not much to keep her warm. Several remarks were made that she wouldn't be wearing it much longer.

The room they sat in, the main parlor of the house, was still unfinished. In fact, the whole house was far from done, but it was finally settled enough to sleep under the roof, that was now repaired. The wall paper had been stripped, the cabinets in the kitchen had been ripped out, the modern electrical lights hung with exposed wires and candles were being used in the meantime.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend tonight with Harry and the rest of the lot?" Hermione asked, raising her champagne flute to Sirius's level. She tossed her hair over her other shoulder, in order to allow the heat from the fire to warm her face.

"Absolutely," he cooed, raising his glass to toast with her. "What better way to bring in the New Year than alone, together, in the first night of this house?"

She smiled, dropping her eyes to his mouth and then to the floor between them. He had a way of making any moment feel so special, enough for butterflies to well up within her all over again.

"You're beautiful, you know. You continue to enchant me beyond words, Hermione Granger." He pushed a lock of her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I couldn't imagine myself without you."

"Then don't," she said simply as she sipped her champagne. She allowed her eyes to drift towards the flames in the fireplace before them.

"I haven't a reason to, my love." He pushed the blanket to fall off her shoulder in order to lay a light kiss on the exposed skin.

She closed her eyes to take in his gentle caress; she knew his motives too well. With minimal effort, Hermione slid out of her blanket and crawled onto him. As she straddled him, her arms pinned him down as he was still upright and leaning on his elbows. She felt his hands gently sliding up along her ribs, letting his fingers catch on the satin fabric. With hunger in her eyes, she leaned down and met his eager lips.

She trailed kisses over his cheek, along his sharp jaw, and up to his ear where she sighed, "Happy New Year, Sirius."

The end of January was approaching. The holiday season was behind them and work resumed without a second thought. Hermione was filing away some folders into a cabinet, as her partner Isa could be heard clicking down the hallway in her rather elaborate pumps, not conventional for work.

She swung around the corner entering Hermione's office and holding rolls and rolls of parchment and laying them all over her just neatened desk. "Out of the three hundred and seventy-two people you pulled out that day, we only have record on about two hundred and thirty. Forty-eight are presumed dead and one lives with you," she jabbed. "There are still several cases undetermined."

Closing the drawer in her cabinet, Hermione sighed and walked over to her desk, looking down at the rolls and rolls of scrolls without an end. They gathered in the center, keeping them neat and tidy for her, due to her anti-clutter enchantment on her desk. "I think that we may have to conclude that perhaps, some just don't want to be found."

"Why not? They're entitled to a stipend, they could really make out on this project if they came forward," Isa added, bewildered why anyone would turn down free galleons.

"We can't think for them, Isa," she said pushing away a few stray locks that had pulled away from her pins holding her hair back. "Perhaps I'll speak to the Minister about putting up an enchantment for them, should they ever enter the Ministry. Nothing to hurt them, just something to put a mark on them so people know."

Isa looked beside herself and turned to leave her office, clicking away down the hallway with furious steps.

Unsure of what the next step was for "Project Veil", Hermione vacated her office to go downstairs to the main hall of the Ministry to get a cup of fresh hot tea and a scone. As she left her department, passing a few rows of offices along the way, she couldn't help but think of the day she executed Project Veil. Months of planning went into it, the science of whether someone could actually come out, based on the fact that only some could hear voices just on the other side. The veil was supposed to be final, the next phase, not a waiting room of bodies and souls that weren't ready to pass over.

Hermione's rather simple plan of sending someone in, namely a convicted Death Eater in Azkaban, restrained on the living side. Said prisoner, or subject, would reach into the empty void and see if survivors were possible. All but a dozen were alive and were grateful to return. They had an immediate aversion to the light, shading themselves and crying that even the torch lights in the Department of Mysteries were too harsh. They needed to feel others; they reached out once they were back in their own world, for a connection, another warm body. They were starved for affection.

Her motivation for the project was Sirius.

Because of a simple two worded sentence she found at the end of her diary from when she was fifteen, it prompted her to push forward with the project in the event that the wronged prisoner could be saved. In the process several others were also retrieved from beyond the veil, but it wasn't until she rescued Sirius did she stop. Seeing him as a rescued soul in the arms of McNair, having just been yanked back to the side of the wizarding world, was a beacon of hope. He represented a second chance, but mostly it was for her selfish reasons that he might be the man that she needed. She never forgot the way he reached out for her, held her and whispered her name once he realized where he was. In return, she held onto him tight, believing at the time, that he needed and wanted her. Little did she know the past they had already shared due to her travel with the Time Turner, Hermione welcomed him with open arms, wanting desperately to be that person to him. Her mission had been completed.

The business day at the Ministry was a normal one. Low flying office memos soared into lifts, while news stands heckled their papers. The fountain, having been demolished by the epic battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore seven years earlier, had been restored and refinished to a new shine.

Weaving in and out of employees coming and going to work, along with guests meeting different departments, Hermione managed to locate her favorite kiosk where a nice older man with blue eyes always knew what she wanted. Offering him the sickles and looking around as she patiently waited for her hot beverage, her eyes caught someone directly down the hall from where she came. People passed between them blocking her view, but she noticed a man that looked a lot like the man she saw months ago at the secret park her friends had gone to play pick-up quidditch at.

The man with dark hair leaned against the wall turning the pages of the Daily Prophet. He glanced towards Hermione's way and for a second their eyes met. Hermione felt a pang deep inside her chest. She didn't feel unsettled, just curious to the man. There was something odd about him, something a little off, but still intriguing. After they glanced at each other for a third time, the man folded up his paper and started walking towards the commuting fire places.

Hermione thanked the older man for making her tea and set off to follow him, not sure what she would say to him if she were able to catch up in time. Visitors of the Ministry blocked her view as they looked around the magnificent hall, admiring the large hanging portrait of Minister Shacklebolt. She apologized as she pushed through them, barely keeping track of the man who was set on making it to the commuting fire places. She wanted to call out, try and get his attention, but before she was close enough to call out to him, he walked into a fireplace and disappeared.

0o0o0o0o00oo0o0o0o

Two bodies lay wrapped in high count bed sheets. The afternoon was still bright outside of the windows, but the sun's rays were beginning to turn a pink shade, indicating its initial decent onto the horizon. Hermione lay on her stomach, her bare back exposed as the sheets fell down just below her hips. Her hand rested on Sirius's handsome chest as her fingers absent-mindedly traced over his tattoos. They smiled to one another, basking in the afterglow of pleasing the other; their breath just now settling and their muscles relaxing.

"What was it like being in the Veil?" she asked in a quiet voice.

He sighed to himself, knowing that he would never deprive her of anything she wanted to know. "Dark." His eyes focused on the ceiling and he began to clear his mind to think back on the experience. "Timeless."

"Could you feel?"

"Yes," he said quietly, "and no." His chest rose and then fell with a patient long prepared breath, "I knew I was somewhere else. I had no sense of life anymore; no sense of breathing or emotion. I could move, but the longer I was there, the less I wanted to. When I first fell in, it was like being submerged underwater: you tried to kick around, reach for something, but there was always a current against you. Pretty soon, your drive to get away, or get out, began to lessen. You no longer felt compelled to get out or get anywhere and so you'd float. You didn't have to breathe, you couldn't hear, you definitely couldn't see, but you just waited. My arms began to lose any kind of strength, my legs were lifeless and my heart stopped beating." He heard her immediate intake of breath and turned to see the sorrow shadowed in her face. Silent tears slid down her cheek. She looked desperate, hurt and worried for him. "Occasionally, I would bump into another there with me, but the need or desire to feel was no longer there. Nothing could be said, nothing could be expressed, you just existed."

Hermione broke even more, her sobs becoming more apparent. She felt absolute pain for him and his loneliness. The idea of him being somewhere so out of touch was almost too much to fathom and she reached out to touch his beautiful face that looked upon her with deep grey eyes of love and passion that had lurked behind transparent walls for too long. He had died, twice, and she fought to bring him back both times.

Sirius rolled on his side, spooning his body close to hers and rolling her on her side so that he could couple with her body again, becoming one with their naked flesh. "Then one day, I was grabbed by something I actually felt and the magic began to flow through me, like something extended on the other side. I was lifted out of the muffled abyss and my senses returned to me. I could hear, I felt the ground beneath my feet and then I desired nothing but touch. I could barely open my eyes, for they needed to adjust again to natural light. I remember hearing a voice and then I recognized it as yours. I reached out for you and you embraced me. I felt the warmth coming back into my soul, weight falling into my muscles and I needed to learn how to breathe again." Sirius began leaving feather kisses against her eyelids and temples, "You brought me home."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

A gathering at Harry's brought everyone together. The weather outside was still putting up a fight, having been one of the heaviest winters that England had seen in decades. Making the most of outdoor sports, the twins had enchanted a sled to pull itself up and down the hillside, until it capsized near the bottom of the slope.

It was Ron's turn next and he volunteered Hermione to join him on the sled. Making sure her jacket was closed tightly and her hands were positioned around Ron's waist, the two started to pick up speed over the first hill drop. Their laughter could be heard from the wizard spectators, but it was the pure exhilaration of being airborne on the second drop that erupted some unsteady cries. Hermione hid her eyes into Ron's back, not wanting to see where they were about to land, but being on an enchanted sled, their landing was much softer than to be expected.

Of course, once they landed, the sled turned itself over, dumping out its occupants and starting back up the hill to retrieve more thrill seekers.

"That was fun," Ron said, brushing himself of the excess snow. "Bet you didn't see that soft landing happening."

"No, I didn't. But, I should have known, it being a Weasley product and all." Hermione brushed herself in unison and started the hike back up to the house where they could properly warm up.

"Sirius not coming, then?" Ron asked, taking Hermione's hand as he started up the steep slope upwards.

"He is. Just getting here, later. He was a bit tied up at the Ministry, today. They called him in for an opinion on a couple that came up on my project. He's kind of an Ambassador for them, you could say." Hermione held Ron's hand tightly, careful of her steps through the untrusting snow.

"That's great that he can come in handy like that. And all because of the work you did, Hermione. Truly, it was a great thing you did. I couldn't have come up with a plan like that, but then again, this is you we're talking about," he said with a glance.

"Stop, Ron. I just focused on one thing for a friend and the plan pretty much developed on its own after that. I can't take all the credit for it."

Ron glanced down to where his and Hermione's hands were joined. Her gloved hands wound nicely within his, allowing her thumb to pass over his fingers from time to time. He wondered if it was some kind of residual habit.

"So, what is to become of you two now that you're sharing a house together?" Ron asked, clearing his throat and seeing the house more in view. Subconsciously, he slowed his steps.

"Ah, well," she stalled, "We're still getting settled into the house. I mean, we have totally gutted it since he lived there so long ago. It's virtually like a new house, compared to what he knew. I really loved it the way it was, but it was part of the compromise if we lived there. He wanted everything updated. Said he didn't want to look at the same walls from a lifetime ago."

"You mean when he was younger? Before the Potters were killed and he was with you?" Ron asked, pulling his hand away and stuffing it into his pockets. His choices of words were not as comforting as he thought.

"Yes. It conjures a lot of bad memories for him and I wanted to cleanse that if I could. Otherwise, all of it was fine really. I didn't mind it." Hermione took to dusting off residual snow out of habit, before approaching the house. The next pair, Ginny and Harry, were already attempting the enchanted sled and they whizzed by with jolly laugher.

"So, are you adjusting? To him, that is? I can only imagine how many hiccups you two are dealing with from the after effects of the Time Turner. I mean, aside from the generous age gap-"

"Ron, where are you going with this? Our age has nothing to do with anything. We're fine."

"That's all well and good, but what are your future plans with him, now that you're settled?"

She looked away, displaying sincere frustration from his constant prodding, "Life, Ron. Just life."

"Hermione, you're the smartest girl I've ever known. There is no way you're going along with this without a plan." Ron seemed to have genuine concern for his long time friend. Her voice didn't sound confident and he was calling her out on it.

"It's just free will. I'm happy. He's happy. Let's drop it."

Ron sighed and shook his head, "You're right, I'm sorry. I was just looking out for you. I feel like I should, so I am. Don't blame me for trying."

Hermione glanced over to him, but this time with a softened face. She appreciated what he was doing and knew that she was coming back a bit harsh. With a slight nod, she opened her arms and reached out to hug him. He welcomed her warmly, without a word further. They were just so familiar to one another.

Later that evening, Sirius and Hermione returned to their nearly finished house. The outside panels of the house had all been replaced, a new railing had been installed leading up to the front door and the handle of the dark wood had been polished nearly too new. Once entering the house, you got a much warmer feeling stepping over the threshold than you once did in its prime. The walls now had color and dressed on them were updated moving and unmoving photographs depicting their lives.

"You're troubled, love," Sirius said, removing his scarf and hanging it up on the hook awaiting his coat. He then turned and helped Hermione remove hers, "What is it?"

She sighed, "It's just, Ron." She freed herself of her coat and continued down the hall to the kitchen where she pulled down two glasses to ready for a bottle of wine. "I get so tired of his questioning."

"In what way?"

"He's compelled to inquire about us nearly every time he gets the chance. I understand how this might appear so sudden to him, but he's just not letting it go. It's beginning to become rather annoying," she concluded while uncorking the bottle.

Sirius took the bottle from her and took the liberty of filling both their glasses. With a routine toast, he sipped in thought and said, "He's protective of you. That's clear."

"Yes, but I'm really over all of what he's saying. He doesn't know me. He didn't know me well enough back then, so why now is he so keen to what I'm feeling?"

Sirius walked around their counter and took a seat on one of the bar stools across from her. He shook his head and as he leaned on his elbows, his glass dangling from his fingers, he peered up at her from beneath his long locks, "Perhaps what he is thinking, is that he can offer you more than I can."

"No-"

"He is closer to your age; you have a lifetime left with him-"

"I have a lifetime left with you. We've been round this and I don't care to discuss it further, Sirius." She sounded exhausted over the subject and started to retreat towards the stairs.

"You're leaving me? Just like that?" he asked with a sarcastic tone. A smirk grazed his lip, for he loved it when she was so easily frazzled.

"I'm going to draw a bath," she added as she stepped on the first stair and looked back. "Aren't you coming?"

His slight smirk broadened into a smile and with little convincing, he followed her up the stairs, taking the wine bottle with him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was an overcast afternoon and a day that both Hermione and Sirius had decided to stay in. Small touches were being made and moving portraits were finding heir new arrangements on parlor walls. The kitchen had finally finished its complete overhaul, along with the bedrooms receiving the finer royal treatments that Sirius insisted they splurge on. Proof that his rich sense of taste came from being a Black.

"Now, keep your eyes closed!" Hermione said, her hands covering his eyes as she stood close behind him. Very carefully, she guided him through the hallway towards the back of the house.

"I really do not think this is necessary, love," he said, holding his arms out cautiously as he walked. As much as he loved feeling her warm body hugged close behind him, he still didn't have a lot of confidence in her direction. "I trust you, but I think you might find it funny to run me into the door."

She stifled a small laugh only to add, "I'm not going to run you into the door. Now, through here." She led him through the kitchen and out the backdoor to their garden. Positioning him centered on their deck, making sure he would get the best view to his surprise that sat about fifteen feet before him.

"You are going to be taking your clothes off, right?"

She ignored his question and continued, "Are you ready?"

"No."

"Alright, you can look!" she exclaimed, removing her hands from covering his eyes.

With low expectations, not believing that this witch could give him anything more than what he already wanted, he opened his eyes slowly. At first he contemplated what it was he was looking at, only to widen his eyes to the size of saucers. He rushed down the stairs, his hands outreached in disbelief as kept turning around to look at her and then his present.

There, displayed like a present on Christmas morning, was a 60's dual chrome Harley Davidson in decent condition sitting right in his back garden beneath an oak tree.

He was in awe for at least seven seconds, before he finally muttered, "Truly?"

She smiled ever so smug and followed him down the stairs and into the grass. "You have your work cut out for you. I wasn't going to make it easy and get you a new one."

Sirius circled around the bike, touching it in small areas to examine it carefully, mentally appraising it. He was amazed that Hermione had found such a jewel, sitting on its stand like a stallion waiting for a rider and in desperate need of a shine.

Quite pleased with herself that he was so elated over his gift, she hugged her arms around herself as his face lit up like a small child. She admired how handsome he was as he focused all his attentions on something he once cherished. Shadows of the younger man could be seen by the well-known eye, for it was as if he was given another piece of his forgotten life back.

He crouched down next to it in order to inspect the body parts closer, pushing his black locks behind his ear. Admiring his general form, memories flooded back to her of the way he used to be. A side of him was reflected in this bike and only she knew the way to it.

"The previous owner said it rides like a top, but it still needs a bit of extra attention in the right area. The seller rode it over here, with me on the back, and even I have to say it's pretty smooth, " Hermione explained.

Sirius looked up at her and for a moment he was the picture perfect younger version of himself kneeling there next to the motorbike. "But, I thought the bike always scared you."

"Not when I was on it with you," she smiled as he stood up and walked over to her. "The man I bought it from didn't give me the same sense of security that you did."

Wishing he could tell her how much this meant to him, he was short for words. His charm was the only thing that made it through, "Then, I suppose you've learned your lesson not to ride off with strangers?" She grinned. "The bike is our thing."

"Well, it's all your thing. I just like to be with you," she said, sliding her hands around his neck as he rested his on her waist.

"You know, you never did drive my motorcycle back then, after we made that wager in the maze," he said low and close, referring to the night of their first kiss.

"Perhaps, I really didn't want to win, after all?" she whispered back.

His eyes were intense. His angel stood before him, tightly wound to his body, he was eternally grateful for everything that she was. With one more whisper before a kiss, he said, "Thank you."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After a long grueling day finalizing the Ambassador program for the Returnees in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione ventured down into the main lobby of the Ministry of Magic. As she exited the elevators, after traveling at a perpendicular direction, she made her routine path towards her favorite coffee cart. Passing the hawking newspaper wizard, she read in flashing letters of the Daily Prophet headline: Bulgaria beats US! After picking up a copy, she stepped in line behind two others waiting to place their order to the wizard barista.

Her eyes peeked over the page and recognized the dark blue shirt in front of her. With black hair pulled in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and a certain grace about him that was clearly recognizable, she folded her paper under her arm and ran a hand up his back.

"Coming to surprise me, love?" she asked with a sultry voice, almost as an invitation.

The man turned around and looked upon his admirer with first a surprise, then a warm smile, "Sorry, I believe you're mistaken." She was met with a handsome face, but with brown eyes and darker features. It was not Sirius!

"Pardon me, sir! I'm ever so sorry, I thought you were...I'm so so sorry!" she said yanking her hand back and dropping her eyes to the floor, wishing she could sink into it.

The man smiled warmly and said, "No harm done, Miss. Though, I believe you just brightened my day with the slight thrill."

Hermione tried to smile, but her cheeks felt as hot as coals and she could barely meet his eyes as he spoke to her. Still, she didn't want to be rude and mustered enough strength to face him. Warm and friendly, meaning no ill, she recognized him as the man she had only seen a glimpse of when he was quick to disappear into a fireplace.

"Well, just for good measure, I'm sorry again," she added, taking in his appearance. She was pretty sure this was the same man.

"No worries. Allow me to buy your coffee. I'm sorry I wasn't who you had hoped. He must be a lucky gentleman," he finished, and before Hermione could object, he insisted on her not paying for her own coffee.

With not a second more, the man said good-bye and walked towards the fireplaces to leave, his java in hand. Hermione was left in slight awe of him, because she was so embarrassed. Still, in the back of her mind, there was something oddly familiar about him.