Chapter Six
Hermione wasn't sure, prior to a few months ago, that she'd have considered herself to be traumatized by her goodbye with Beta Minerva. However, when the Minerva she knew in the here and now had pushed forward with her magic, she'd immediately flashed back to that last goodbye in Beta, and for a moment she could have sworn she was in both places at once. Words spoken by Beta Minerva echoed in her mind, and as she found herself aroused and standing in front of her friend in the present - a friend she knew who was asking more of her than she was prepared to give - she heard herself quoting the woman's older counterpart in desperation, trying to explain why pursuing a sexual relationship was not a good idea.
"Between our mutually Gryffindor natures, we are both thinking of doing something before we cannot. That does not mean we should."
The deaths of Arcturus and Lysandra, she knew, had lit a fire under Minerva's arse and put her in that mode, as it had many of her nieces and nephews, to act rashly in fear that time would run out for them, as it had run out for Art and Lysandra. Slytherins were fairly easy to talk down, as were Ravenclaws. Hufflepuffs, the few that were in the family at this point, didn't really need talked down, however the Gryffindors among them required some restraining and serious counsel before they'd stand down from the impulse to seek vengeance.
Hermione wondered when exactly that impulsive nature so inherent to Gryffindors had been worked out of her personality. Certainly, she was a Gryffindor and always would be, but that part of her personality had been forever stripped away. She supposed that was why she was so often mistaken for a Slytherin these days.
Tonight was the first she was seeing Minerva since their conversation at Black Manor. It was the Scottish Witch's birthday, and while normally they met monthly for harmonic magic training, they'd had to keep canceling between Hermione's other obligations and Minerva's own start of term schedule. On the plus side, she mused, it had given her time to process their last encounter, and in many ways, to finally finish mourning Beta Minerva.
To her annoyance, even in the aftermath, her Patronus was still the deerhound that represented Beta Minerva's animagus form. With some reflecting, Hermione mused that while she'd cared very much for Alpha Minerva, and was growing to care for the Minerva here, it was Beta Minerva who she had first realized she loved. It wasn't really a romantic sort of love, although it was more than a platonic love. It was something special and unique, and frankly irreplaceable, and begrudgingly Hermione admitted that it was likely a matter of time before she came to the same emotional place with the Minerva here.
She was nearly to Minerva's quarters when she crossed paths with a student, a Slytherin, and too many years as a Hogwarts Prefect got the better of her. "Isn't it past curfew, Mister…"
"Feliz, ma'am," the boy answered with a wry grin. "Richard Feliz. Yes, it is, but I'm one of the Slytherin Prefects for seventh years, and I've just come from a meeting with Professor Slughorn. I'm on my way back to dorms now."
"Ah," she said, his name causing her to raise her eyebrow in curiosity. "I'll leave you to it then, Mister Feliz. For a young man who achieved Prefect status, I'm sure I'll be hearing your name again in the future. Besides, Slytherins are nothing if not ambitious."
"Were you a Slytherin, ma'am?" he asked kindly.
"I didn't attend Hogwarts," she told the now familiar lie. "Most often my husband and children like to say I'd have been a Gryffindor, but now and then they admit I have Slytherin qualities as well. Professor McGonagall, who is a friend of mine, likes to say I'd have gone to Ravenclaw."
"Sounds like you're fairly well rounded," Mister Feliz admitted. "Madam…?"
"Lady, actually," she replied gently. "Lady Hermione Black."
"Lord Sirius Black's wife?" he asked, looking at her with new fascination.
"That would be me," she acknowledged.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Black," Feliz said, offering his hand. "You're a bit of a legend in the Slytherin dorms these days. You and your husband, both. So many of us have grown up being told who we were allowed to marry was limited to Pureblood circles, and then Sirius Black went and married a Muggleborn, of all things, a Witch who commanded respect wherever she went. It's made a lot of Slytherins second guess what their parents have told them about what is acceptable for future spouses."
"And what about you, Mister Feliz?" she inquired. "What do your parents have to say about your future spouse?"
"Oh, I think my parents are more open minded than most," he admitted with a shrug. "I'm a half-blood. My mother is an Edgecombe. My father is a Muggle."
Hermione wasn't so sure this boy's father really was a Muggle. Squib was more likely if his name was Feliz. Like Konig, Feliz was the name of one of the Goblin Kings, and so like Hermione, it was very likely that young Richard would have an affinity toward the Goblin arts. She'd have to mention the boy to Melok, and have him investigated. It wasn't every day a Goblin descended Witch or Wizard surfaced, much less one of the royal line.
Bidding Mister Feliz a good evening, she continued on her way to Minerva's quarters, looking forward to spending time with the other woman, but also worried about what conversation might lead to considering what their last in person confrontation had led to. With a sigh, she knocked on the door to Minerva's quarters, the door swinging open nearly at once. "Happy Birthday," she greeted with a smile, holding up a bottle of good brandy.
Minerva grinned. "Aberforth is a tattletale. In this case, I think I'll forgive him, though. Come in."
Hermione entered the room, and handed the bottle of liquor off to her friend, unsurprised when Minerva summoned two glasses and waved her friend over to the sofa in front of a large bay window, where they often sat to enjoy the view overlooking the grounds. The pair chatted, catching up, as they drank, and it wasn't long before they were leaning toward intoxication.
"Long as it's been since I've seen you," Minerva muttered after a pause in conversation, "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."
Hermione huffed. "Hardly. You won't get rid of me that easily, McGonagall."
Minerva rolled her eyes. "How was I to know? You avoid talking about your personal life before you moved to London with Sirius, and I was pushing. For all I knew I'd crossed a line."
She sighed. "I avoid talking about my personal life because it's complicated. What is it that you want to know?"
An excited gleam shone in Minerva's eyes as she poured them each another drink. "Tell me about your family," she requested. "Parents? Siblings?"
"My parents were Muggles. Both dentists," she admitted softly, not seeing much harm in saying that much. "John and Jean. I have a younger brother somewhere out there called Stephen. I don't even know for certain if he's still alive, though, to be honest. He was sixteen years younger than me. I told you about Kinship bonds a while back, I presume you looked that up…"
"Of course," the Scottish woman reported. "You were on the mark about me and Roland, by the by."
Hermione nodded. "I have found two Kinship bonds in my life. Two Kinship brothers."
Minerva leaned forward in her seat. "What were they called?"
Hermione offered a sly smile, knowing that since Harry and Severus would both cross paths with Minerva in due course, it wasn't wise to give her their names. "Oh, I think that's enough for you for one day. How about we detour back to you studying Mage lore?"
The other Witch pouted for a moment, and then seemed to consider the alternate avenue of discussion and decided it was worth exploring. "You told me, when we first started working on the harmonic magic, that it wasn't the first time you'd found a harmonic bond. Mage lore suggests harmonic pairs are more common among Mages than other Witches and Wizards. Will you tell me about the other person you had a harmonic bond with?"
Well, it wasn't as if Hermione could name her, given it was the same woman in another reality, but she could tell Minerva a bit about her older counterpart. "She was…"
"She?" Minerva asked, back straightening.
"Why is this even remotely surprising?"
"Well, you are married to a man, Hermione," the other woman pointed out.
"I didn't exactly come to my marriage bed a virgin, Min," Hermione said, exasperated. "I shagged both men and women before Sirius and I ended up together. You also know about me and Melok. I don't pick partners based on their physical body. Who I come to form an attraction to is more about their mind and heart than their body."
"That suggests age wouldn't matter much to you either," Minerva said suggestively.
"Hardly," came an easy reply. "I mean, Sirius is my elder by a number of years. The woman I had a harmonic bond with before you had even more on me in age than he did. Fifty four years my elder."
"That's ridiculous!" Minerva exclaimed. "Why would you be with someone that much older?"
Hermione chuckled. "We never actually were together, although we discussed it. We wanted to, both of us, but the timing was off. It didn't help that she was married and her husband was not the sort who'd have agreed to open the marriage to someone else. She wasn't inclined to enter into an affair."
Minerva crossed her arms. "Wasn't love then, was it?"
"No," she admitted. "Far easier to walk away from something when it is simply an attraction and affection. When you're in love… walking away from that is agonizing."
The Scottish woman poured her another measure of brandy. "I don't know, love or no love, if given the chance, I'm not sure I'd be able to walk away from you. Not with the harmonic in play. It's too intoxicating."
Hermione had been mid sip as Minerva spoke, and nearly choked on the alcohol. "Minerva, I believe I made my position quite clear at the manor. For the love of Merlin, I'm a married woman."
"Fine, fine," the other woman said, waving off her concern. "I'm not pressuring, Hermione, I'm just saying that as one half of a magical harmonic, I don't get it. I don't get how you can feel what we feel and still walk away from it. For Merlin's sake, the dreams are enough to drive me up the wall, much less when you're actually in front of me and I can feel your magic tangling with mine. Out of curiosity, do you dream of me as I dream of you?"
Hermione swallowed. She didn't like to lie, and when it could be avoided, she did. "Yes, I have dreams. I have merely learned self control as I've gotten older, not to mention as I said, married. I've been with a fair few women in my lifetime, and don't think for a second I'm not bloody tempted by you."
"Oh, so it would be cruel of me to… tempt you, purposefully, then?" Minerva asked, biting her lip suggestively.
She groaned. "Damnit, don't do that."
Minerva reached out her hand slowly and hooked her pinky finger with Hermione's, pushing forward with her magic, even such a slight contact allowing the core of what made them Witches to mingle, and causing Hermione's breath to hitch as her head lulled back against the back of the sofa. "Fuck," she heard Minerva whisper.
Hermione growled, tightened her grip on Minerva's hand, and standing abruptly, she pulled her friend to her feet, and pressed the other woman against the nearest wall, hands cradling Minerva's face as the Scottish woman looked at her, stunned, both of their chests heaving with arousal as their bodies pressed together. For a split second, Hermione lost control, and began to move forward to kiss Minerva, and then she clenched her eyes shut for a moment and let out a ragged breath, before forcing her lips to find purchase on the Scottish woman's forehead instead. "No," she whispered, stepping back, and letting go.
Quickly, she moved toward the fireplace, refusing to look back at her friend. "Hermione!" Minerva called, accent thick with emotion.
"Grimmauld Place," she called into the activated Floo, still not glancing behind her. Tears were already beginning to fall as she stepped into her kitchen. She made a b-line for her office and warded it against entry, knowing she needed some time to sober up and pull herself together before her husband or step children saw her.
"Damn you, Minerva," she sobbed, curled up in her favorite armchair. "Bloody well damn you.
She wasn't sure if she was talking to the woman she'd just left behind at Hogwarts, or the woman in Beta who still haunted her dreams.
Sirius smiled brightly at the familiar face of Olive Hornby as he left the Wizengamot chambers for the evening. It had been a late session, and he knew full well that she'd have gotten off work hours ago and should have gone home. "Waiting for someone?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I thought perhaps you'd like to grab a late dinner. I had some paperwork that kept me after hours that I didn't finish until about half an hour ago, so it wasn't much of a bother to wait a little longer for you to finish up in there."
He knew that Hermione would have eaten her own supper hours ago by now, so if he ventured home at this point he'd be eating alone. "Sure," he said, pulling both his own cloak and hers out of a nearby closet. The pair of them had gotten lunch together on numerous occasions over the last few months, so at this point her favored dark blue cloak, very appropriate to her Ravenclaw alma mater, was familiar to him.
"Such a gentleman," Olive muttered as Sirius gently placed the cloak over her shoulders before pulling his own on. "Anywhere in mind for dinner?"
"Lady's choice," he determined, not really caring where as long as the food was edible and the company was good. Thus far, Olive's choices in venues had been more than decent, and her companionship had been enjoyable. He really didn't see the evening going badly.
"So," she said as they were finishing up dinner at the Italian place on the Muggle side of London she selected. "Is that wife of yours still spending most of her time with her Godsons and their father?"
He sighed. "A good bit, yes. When she's not doing that she's dealing with prep work for the bills we head up together in the Wizengamot. It's not that I'm a complete dunce, but when it comes to drafting legislation, Hermione is simply better at it than I am, so she tends to do much of the preparation, even if I end up presenting the things. Honestly, if not for the fact that women can't serve on the Wizengamot, she'd probably be doing it all. Then, when she's not with Melok and the boys, and not working on that shite, she's studying something or other."
"Studying?" Olive asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't she a bit old to be in school still?"
It was a well practiced cover story to excuse his wife's perpetual studying, and flowed easily from his mouth at this point. "Hermione was home educated, and most of her studying was self guided because her parents were Muggle and really didn't have a good idea of what she should have been reading up on at any given age. They died right after she came of age, and she just kept studying as a means of survival, and never really stopped. It's habit at this point, really. I don't know if she could quit learning if she tried. It's too ingrained in her personality at this point, honestly, and if that was all she was up to I wouldn't mind so much, but when it's one more thing to take her time away from me, it does get a bit frustrating."
"You're lonely," his companion posed. "She has to realize that."
Sirius shrugged. "I don't know if she gets lonely the way most people do. She's always been fairly self contained. Hermione would be content on an island by herself with a pile of books and call that paradise. Sometimes I think she considers relationships an imposition."
"What the bloody hell did she get married for, then?" Olive asked, looking perplexed. "There's nothing wrong with being a career woman. Merlin knows the world is changing and women in the professional realm are becoming more and more commonplace. She seems the type who wouldn't be put off by men telling her she didn't belong as some women might be. If she's so driven and so keen to prioritize her education and professional interests ahead of her marriage, then why marry?"
He snorted. "Perhaps a question I should have asked her five years ago, but it's a bit late for that now. The Blacks marry with the old vows."
The woman across from him looked annoyed. "Really? How asinine."
"When we married, I thought it was romantic," he admitted. "No exit clause is the ultimate commitment, after all."
"The ultimate commitment can be a curse if you find yourself in an unhappy marriage," Olive pointed out. "Of course, Pureblood society being what it is, those families who do follow the old ways and use the old vows with marriages often condone the taking of lovers. Socially speaking, as long as it's kept quiet, it's acceptable. Merlin knows my parents both had lovers from time to time. Mum was a Goldstein, and her parents only allowed her to marry my half-blood father on condition they marry with the old vows. I think my brother and I were twelve and fourteen when we figured out their marriage was less than happy."
"Hermione and I discussed having an open marriage, briefly, when we were engaged," he admitted softly, not sure why the hell he was being so transparent with this woman. A part of his brain was screaming at him to stop, knowing it was inappropriate to be talking about this with an unmarried woman who was clearly showing an interest in him. In the last few months, she'd been subtle in her flattery, but it had been there all the same. She wasn't outright hitting on him, but she was being clear enough that all he had to do was make a move, and she would not reject him.
"It sounds to me like you're free to do as you please, Sirius," she replied, voice low. "Merlin knows any woman would be lucky to have your interest. I for one am a bit boggled by the fact that your wife isn't giving you the attention you deserve."
"Olive…" he said weakly, telling himself he really should let her down. He loved his wife. He really did. He wasn't interested in involving himself with someone else, no matter how lonely he was.
She offered a sly smile, and stood. "Walk me home? I live just around the corner. It's not worth apparating, and honestly, I think I've had too much wine this evening for it to be safe in any case."
"It would be poor form as a gentleman to do otherwise," he admitted, standing as well and tossing a few pounds on the table for the tip, having already paid the cheque.
He helped her into a wool coat, transfigured from her cloak, and shivered as she linked her arm to his and leaned into him. As they left the restaurant together, Sirius knew full well that anyone watching them would assume they were a couple by their body language, and he wouldn't deny that he was attracted to this woman. One of the things he and Hermione had in common was that neither of them gave two shites what the body looked like, at the end of the day. They might have preferences, but it was the mind and heart they were ultimately attracted to, and Olive reminded Sirius a great deal of too many people he missed for it not to strike a nerve.
She had Remus' sharp wit and gentle cadence. She had Severus' no nonsense outlook on life, and tendency toward realism. She had James' sense of humor and ability to push past his walls and cheer him up no matter how dour his mood. She had Camille's manner in that she took absolutely none of his shite and called him out when he was being a prat.
Camille. He smiled softly as he thought of Camille Benoit. She'd been a Muggleborn girl a year below him and the guys at Hogwarts, and Merlin had he been head over heels in love with her. Like Sirius and the rest of the Marauders, Camille had joined the Order right after school, and while she and Sirius were both open about the fact that they fancied one another quite a bit, Camille was not prepared to invest in a relationship until the war was over. They had dated briefly during his seventh and her sixth year, but once he'd graduated she'd called it off, saying they'd revisit the notion after the war was done.
She'd been killed three months before James and Lily. By that Halloween, when Pete had betrayed them, Sirius had run off half cocked because he really had nothing left to live for. He hadn't heard about the Carrows getting at Frank and Alice yet so he figured Harry would be safe with them, and as far as he was concerned his hope of a future worth having had died with Camille. That he lost James and Lily so soon afterward was just the last nail on the coffin.
"You alright?" Olive asked, bringing his attention back to the present.
"Yeah," he muttered, forcing a smile. "Just got lost in memories there for a minute. Happens when you get old."
She snorted. "You're hardly old, Sirius."
"I'm eighty years old, darlin'," he pointed out, deciding not to point out that he'd be eighty-one in less than a month, in the technical sense. Or, at least, in the official sense where that was how old everyone thought he was, even if physically he was technically only fifty two. Or something. Whatever.
"Ah, but you don't look a day over forty," she remarked.
"You need glasses," Sirius snorted.
"Never," Olive swore. "I'd invent a spell to correct my vision first, assuming there isn't already one to do so."
"Not a fan of glasses, huh?" he teased.
She looked at the ground, hesitating to respond. "Let's just say that not all nightmares are conventional, and some life lessons are very harsh."
He'd never seen her look that vulnerable before, and it worried him. "Hey," he said tenderly, using his fingertips to tilt her chin back up so she would look at him. "Everyone has regrets. I'm not asking you to share if you don't want to, Olive, but please know I'm here to listen if you want to talk about it."
They were standing face to face now, nearly touching, and his breath hitched as her hand raised and rested lightly on his chest. "And if I just don't want to be lonely?" she asked.
Like a dam breaking, what resolve he had to not cross the line with this woman shattered in an instant as he realized she was as lonely as he was and needing of companionship as he was, and something in him justified finding comfort in her arms by the fact that she was using him just as much as he was using her. It wasn't love. It wasn't. It was more than lust though, and that was something. Fireworks exploded in his brain as he kissed her, barely registering the fact that she was dragging him along a cobbled path and up to a door, lowering some rudimentary wards and then pulling him inside what he assumed was her home.
Nothing was said - no questions about being sure, and no options to back out - as clothes were removed in short order and they made their way down a hallway into a bedroom, Sirius relishing in the exploration of a body he'd never before had the chance to see. She was more slender and lanky than Hermione, and taller. Her legs seemed to go on for miles, and she tasted like spring. Olive wasn't nearly as dominant in bed as his wife, content to let him be the one in control, and to be perfectly honest that was what he needed right now anyway.
He might be Head of the Blacks in name, but he heard the whispers. He knew full well that most people understood it was his wife who ran the show. He wanted to say he was proud of her and that it didn't bother him, but it did bother him a bit. His ego could only take so much, and there were days he felt like a laughingstock. How the hell did one compete when your wife was a Mage? How did one not constantly feel inferior?
"Gods, yes!" Olive muttered. "Just like that. Fuck, you're perfect."
Taking to bed a woman who was not a Mage and thought you were Merlin's gift to Witches was a good start, Sirius thought ruefully, continuing to slam into the woman beneath him. "You like that?" he whispered as he nipped at her neck.
She squirmed against him, long arms reaching around and clawing at his back. "Don't hold back," she panted. "I'm not going to break, Sirius."
It was nearly an hour of ruthless rutting before exhaustion overtook them and he found himself drifting off in Olive's arms. In retrospect, he thought at some point before the following morning would have been an ideal time to consider he had a wife at home, but it wasn't until he woke up as the sun began creeping in the bedroom window that his brain suddenly connected the fact that he was in bed with a woman who wasn't his wife. "Fuck," he muttered, sitting up.
Olive groaned. "Am I to take it that it's crossed your mind about now you have a wife at home?"
He let out a pitiful whimper. "Yup."
"Don't expect me to be sorry for last night," she said softly. "I'm not."
Sirius rolled over and looked at his lover tenderly. "Me neither. I mean, sort of, because I've got consequences to deal with now, but being with you was…"
"Pretty great, right?" she asked with a grin.
He sighed. "See you at work? I don't know if this is going to happen again, but at the least, I promise not to be an arse and start ignoring you at work, okay?"
She sat up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Fair enough. Good luck with the wife."
"Thanks. I am definitely going to need it," he replied, standing up and getting dressed quickly. He knew damn well he'd fucked up. For all of Hermione's faults, she was always home and ready to go to bed with him at ten in the evening, and on the rare occasion she couldn't be, she let him know in advance. Hell, even the night of her Awakening when she'd fucked off to Old City for a month, she'd sent word and not left him hanging. He, on the other hand, had not sent word he wasn't coming home. Especially considering the recent deaths of Art and Lysandra, she'd probably been up all night worrying about him. The adultery completely aside, he was in trouble.
As soon as he was through Olive's front door, he apparated to Grimmauld Place and let himself in, not even remotely surprised to find Hermione sitting in the front room on the sofa. "Hi," he greeted softly.
His wife glanced at the clock and then back at him, pursing her lips. "Well, good news for me, you're not dead. Unfortunately, that's very bad news for you, unless you have a hell of a good explanation for why you were out all night without sending word."
He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when Lycoris walked in, looking frazzled. "Thank Merlin!" she exclaimed. "Where the bloody hell have you been, Father? We've been worried sick!"
"Out, Cor!" Hermione snapped. "Your Father is clearly safe and sound, although if he stays that way remains to be seen. He is welcome to offer you and your brother all the assurances in the world after he has answered to me."
Lycoris paused in the doorway for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, Mum," she said. "Just… go easy on him, will you? He's never done this before, alright?"
Hermione offered their daughter a tight smile and nodded in acknowledgement of the request, and Sirius thanked Merlin for his foresight in building a positive relationship with his children, deeply thankful for his daughter sticking up for him even though he was pretty sure she knew damn well how much he'd screwed up. Cor was no dummy. As soon as Lycoris' footsteps faded into the distance, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Am I allowed to sit?" he asked, pointing to the sofa across from Hermione.
"No," she said firmly. "Start talking, Sirius Black."
"I might have screwed up," he admitted hurriedly, before he lost his nerve. A part of him thought it might be wise to draw his wand in self defense, but considering his wife was a bloody Mage, he sort of felt that would be a pointless effort if she did decide to attack him. His best bet here was to talk himself out of this mess.
"Screwed up how?" Hermione asked. "I can think of a dozen ways you could have screwed up. Pulled a Severus and joined Voldemort with intent to spy? Gotten yourself roped into an Unbreakable Vow? Promised one of our family members' hand in marriage to some Pureblood supremacist? What?"
"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed. "I met someone at work and bloody shagged her!"
Her eyes widened in surprise, as if that would have been the last thing she'd have suspected. Hermione sighed heavily and after a moment pointed to the sofa across from her. "Sit," she ordered, voice soft.
Sirius did as requested with caution. "That is not the reaction I expected," he admitted.
She rubbed her temples. "Who is she? How long has this been going on?"
"It was just last night," he tried to assure her. "I mean, we've been getting lunches together for a few months. She works in the outer office at the Wizengamot so I see her a few times a week there. We get on well, you know. It just sort of built from there. I was honestly just enjoying the friendship and I didn't mean for it to turn into… this."
"Name?" his wife pressed, rolling her eyes.
"Oh," he said dumbly, realizing he'd left that bit out. "Olive. Olive Hornby."
"Olive Hornby?" Hermione said, laughing a little. "Honestly? Of all the people you could have shagged, Sirius, you picked her?"
He frowned. "She's nice. I didn't even know you knew her. What the fuck is wrong with the woman?"
His wife let out an annoyed sigh. "Remember Moaning Myrtle? Ghost at Hogwarts? Your girlfriend was the student who bullied her so badly that Myrtle was crying in the bathroom when she was attacked by the Basilisk, you idiot. Good on her if she grew out of being a bullying prat, but I assure you that Myrtle isn't likely to forgive her anytime this century."
Sirius' eyes widened as he remembered Olive mentioning, briefly, about how she'd sooner invent a spell to correct her vision than get glasses, and how some life lessons were harsh. She had to have been talking about her experiences with Myrtle. He knew from the Hogwarts rumor mill, from when he was a student, that there had been a student who Myrtle had haunted after her death, because she'd teased her so badly in life, this going on for a number of years before the now resident ghost had been bound to Hogwarts properly, allowing the former student to move on with her life without the ghost's interference. He'd just never heard the name of the other girl. "Fuck. I had no idea."
"Would it have mattered if you did?" Hermione asked, voice scathing.
He shrugged, and opted for honesty. "Probably not. Everyone has regrets, hun. That could just as easily have been me or James or Remus. We all teased a number of students in our time, and had there been a bloody basilisk on the loose when we were in school and we'd made some kid cry to the point they retreated into the bathroom only to be found by a giant killer snake…"
She sighed. "I get your point. Are you in love with her?"
"Emphatically, no," he said firmly. "I like her well enough, and admittedly I'm attracted to her, but I'm not the sort who can be in love with more than one person at a time, and I'm in love with you, Hermione. I don't see that changing. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry."
She scoffed. "Sorry like it's never going to happen again, or sorry like you wouldn't mind shagging her brains out next time you get the urge, even if you're not in love with her?"
"Oh come on, don't be like that!" Sirius exclaimed. "There's no way that's not a trick question. I already told you I'm attracted to the chit, so if I tell you it'll never happen again you're going to say I'm a liar. If I tell you I want to shag her again, you're going to call me a man whore. What am I supposed to say here? What can I do to make this right?"
Hermione crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "Time turner?" she suggested.
Fear gripped him like never before. He knew full well that the vows they'd taken when they married wouldn't allow for them to divorce, but that didn't mean they had to reside together. They could separate and effectively go their separate ways if they chose to, each taking on lovers as they liked until one of them kicked the bucket allowing the other to move on and remarry. He didn't want that, though. He wanted to keep Hermione. He desperately wanted to keep Hermione, in every way. "I know, I know!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Fair is fair, Hermione. I had a one night stand. Free pass, no questions asked. Whoever you like, at your leisure, one night of shagging someone other than me."
If he wasn't so scared of losing her, he might have found the look of shock on her face a bit funny.
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