Disclaimer: All canon characters, places, plots and situations from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this.

Warnings: Rated M for language, violence and scenes of a sexual nature in later chapters.

A/N: Yay, an early chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who followed and favourited this story, and especially those who've reviewed. I really appreciate the feedback, it's so interesting hearing how people see this story and really motivates me to keep going. I'm still waiting for a beta, so if you see any glaring mistakes please tell me so I can correct them. This chapter is broken into different points of view, and we even get to see some things through Remus' eyes. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Four: Truth Telling

oOoOoOo

They were all at the Burrow, having had a lazy Sunday lunch. "Auntie Mione, come watch us play kidditch!" squealed a small voice. Rose was begging, bouncing on her feet, her small palms pressing into Hermione's knees where she sat on the sofa with Tonks and Remus. Her god daughter really was a cute little thing, elfin nose, an explosion of wavy red-gold hair and the most beseeching blue eyes that was Ron all the way through. Feeling a little guilty that she hadn't been around much in the last two months, she allowed herself to be dragged out to the garden.

'Quidditch', in the case of very small children, involved running around with toy brooms between their legs, playing something that more resembled a mish-mash of Muggle volleyball and soccer. It all made about as much sense to her as an actual Quidditch match, but Rose was happy, the sun was shining brightly and the grass felt cool and soft on the soles of her feet. She sank to the ground, watching the kids run around on the 'pitch', a large flat area of grass outside the Burrow where Harry and Ron had played their own games as children. The boys, with George and Bill were playing, and Ginny was off to one side refereeing.

"That's a very nice dress Ms. Granger." His voice, warm and husky in her ear made her jump. She whipped around ready to reprimand him.

"Sirius, go—sh—darn," she finished lamely when she saw the baby in his arms. He gave her a grin that was anything but innocent, and she narrowed her eyes at him as he plonked down beside her, settling the babbling baby between them.

"I didn't know you were into women's clothes, Sirius."

"Nah love, I'm more about getting into women's clothes, if you know what I mean."

"Ugh, you're incorrigible," she said, her eyes on the game, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

Sirius surreptitiously sniffed the air around the woman beside him; peaches and watermelon. He recognised the familiar scents from their shared bathroom. He enjoyed the friendship that had developed between the two of them since Christmas. She was remarkably easy to annoy and he found the banter quite energising.
For so long after his return, he'd been afraid to change, thinking it would drive his friends away. Instead, he had been welcomed with open arms. It would take time to convince everyone – himself included – after his four month stint of what Hermione called his 'brooding Heathcliffe phase.' She had been right, of course, about Harry and Remus. He was building a new relationship with his godson and best friend, but it was difficult. He hadn't spoken to them in the first place because he'd felt like he was letting them down anyway, that he shouldn't show Harry his vulnerability, that Remus wouldn't understand now he was a father and a husband and almost ten years older than Sirius himself.

After Hermione chewed him out that day after Christmas, he'd lain awake in bed at night, feeling helpless and nursing his wounded pride at the idea of letting her get to him the way she had. Eventually he'd come to the conclusion that she had a point, that he'd been living for the next axe to fall, and it was already taking everything he wanted and might even be able to have, away from him.
Listening to her was the reason he was sitting here in the sun, surrounded by good people and holding Harry's tiny son. Not to mention annoying her, that was fun too.

"So I've some news," he said, tugging on one of her curls, making her growl and swat at his hand. She turned back to watch Rose, who was doing a funny little victory dance across the field.

"Yes?" she asked eventually, exasperated.

He loved this. She was all delicious like this, with the blood in her cheeks. "I've thought about what you said, and I've decided to become an Auror."
She swiveled to face him then, her eyes bright with a genuine smile on her face.

"Sirius, that's wonderful! You'll be great. When do you start?"

Was it wrong that the sincerity of her words made him feel both invincible and terrified?

"Week after next. Three months training and then a trial month in the field. They've given me dispensation on the training because of my experience in the Order. We were all pretty much Aurors back then, just didn't have the badge to prove it." Beside him Albus stood up, clutching onto the strap of Hermione's dress. "We-hey!" said Sirius, cheering the baby on as he wobbled on pudgy little feet. He took a shaky step towards Hermione and she squealed, clapping, which made Albus clap.
She scooped him up before he could fall on his bottom, coo-ing at him for starting to walk, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Albus laughed again, babbling at her and grabbing a bunch of honey curls in one fat little fist.

Sirius watched them thoughtfully. He'd never thought he'd want a family of his own, but being surrounded by so many families and children, he was reconsidering. Anyone looking at them might've thought they were one, and there was something that thrilled him about the picture, making him imagine what his family could actually look like. He wondered if he should go on another date with Crissy. He wondered what their children would look like.

Hermione was waving at Rose now. The little girl was jumping up and down trying to get her godmother's attention in that way small children do when they want to be the center of your world. He still couldn't believe that the lanky red-head he'd met years ago as a spotty teenager was grown up and married with children.

"So what happened with you and Ron anyway?" he asked. "I was certain you'd be a Weasley by now." He was curious. In the months they'd been living together he'd only seen Hermione go on one date, a professional Quidditch player she'd gone to school with – Oliver Wood? Right smarmy bastard that one. He was glad she hadn't seem interested in seeing him again since.

Hermione laughed. "Oh this is as close to being a Weasley as I ever want to get," she said. "It was a childhood infatuation, and those rarely last do they?" She cast a glance towards the field where Harry and Ginny stood. "By the time the war was over, we were already becoming different people, although now I'm sure we were never right for one another. It was safe though. It was a good first love to have, all things considered. We're still friends and I'm really happy that he found Eva. They're such a good match, and I adore Rose," she said, smiling fondly at the sight of the little girl.

"What did you mean by 'all things considered"?

She joined Albus in picking at blades of grass. "Well this is probably going to sound terribly conceited, but after the war it's been difficult to know who's interested in me for me, not because I'm a 'war hero' or Harry Potter's best friend." She rolled her eyes, but he noticed that her they had become a little more guarded as she spoke.

"I think I know what you mean. Sometimes I meet women who are into me and then I figure out it's the legend they're after. It pis-frustrates me, I mean, I'm obviously a catch but it's hard competing with a mythical figure." He looked wistfully off into the distance.

She snorted. "They've clearly not seen the state you leave the bathroom in, there was nothing magical or mythical about the other day." She was talking about finding a pair of women's underwear in their bathroom, a lacey scrap of fabric she said didn't belong to her, and which he could not for the life of him place either. They'd got in a terrible row about it, with him accusing her of being a jealous prude, and her accusing him of being a disgusting man-whore. It had been ugly and they'd not spoken for two days afterwards, gingerly reuniting over a cup of tea.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You're not a prude, I know I've been…"

"Loose with your affections?"

"I-"

"A scarlet man?" She giggled.

He growled. "I was going to say, I know I've been inconsiderate. Gods you just love taking the mickey with me," he said, putting on a pout.

"Well if that's not the pot calling the kettle… black. Don't laugh. And put that thing away – is that supposed to be attractive? You look like a blow-fish." He sucked his lip in. They both turned to watch the game as he ran a hand absentmindedly over the fine dark hair on the baby's head.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think that's my thing anymore."

"You're becoming a monk? Bit late in life don't you think? And you'll need to shave your hair-"

"Woman! I meant casual hook-ups!" he hissed. She was actually grinning at him like the cat that got the cream and he realised that she was playing him at his own game, the cheeky thing! "What I was saying, is that it's difficult to meet women at clubs who want something more. And quite frankly the ones that seem to make me suspicious."

"Wow, Sirius Black, growing up," she teased. "What's next, joining a book club?"

"Only if it's yours," he replied silkily, intending to throw her, but instead she laughed disbelievingly, making him object.

"Beg your pardon Ms. Granger but what are you implying?"

"I've only ever seen you read Quidditch Magazine," she exclaimed.

"And how do you know I don't secretly have a pile of novels at my bedside?"

She snorted again. He loved that she used a full range of facial expressions and sounds to express herself. It was so much more interesting than women who barely moved their faces in order to remain 'attractive'. His cousin Narcissa came to mind. "I'm wounded!" he said, lifting a hand to his heart.

"You'll live," she said airily. He grinned at her.

"So Harry and Ginny asked me to be godfather to the new baby," he said. It had been a surreal moment. He would never forget how grateful he felt, knowing that he'd get another chance to be a good godfather.

"Really?" said Hermione. "They asked me to be the godmother." They shared delighted smile.

Molly's voice floated out across the field and they turned to see the maternal witch standing at the door with her wand at her throat. The sonorous reached all the way to the other end of the garden. "Who wants tea and cake?"

"Oh gods," Hermione said, suddenly, rushing to get up and snatching Albus to her.

"Wha-" His question was answered when he was nearly bowled over by an ambush of children with no other goal in mind than their next sugar rush. Shouts of disapproval from various parents went completely unheeded. "Vicious little herd of gnomes!" gasped Sirius, righting himself. Following a movement in the corner of his eye, he saw an actual garden gnome flipping him the bird before popping back into the shrubbery. Hermione was laughing, passing Albus back to him as she dusted bits of grass from her dress.

"Oh-" She leaned closer and picked a few leaves out of his hair. From where he was sitting, the sun was behind her and he had a perfect view of the silhouette of her legs and hips through the fabric. "Coming for tea?" she asked, and his eyes snapped back up to hers but she was still picking at her dress. Her eyes met his with a smile. "See you inside," she said, and he nodded, watching her head off towards the house.

"I don't know what you said to him Hermione, but he's already miles better than he was in December," Remus was saying. Hermione was comfortably sunk into a cushy couch, joined by Remus, Tonks and a very nice bottle of wine. Around the lounge adults and children were resting languidly or playing around. Remus nodded towards the kitchen where Sirius could be seen holding Albus on his hip and talking animatedly to Mrs. Weasley. The older woman was beaming with joy at having another person to mother and fuss over. And she certainly had, for the Animagus had filled out well, exercise and good eating transforming him into what Hermione could easily imagined he looked like as a young wizard. His t-shirt stretched slightly across a wide, muscular chest, his bicep flexing appealing as his forearm supported the baby's bottom. When he glanced her way for the tiniest moment, her stomach flipped.

"Hermione?" asked Tonks.

"Oh yes, gods, sorry," said Hermione, flustered. Her friends were both looking at her with twin expressions of amusement. "What did you say?"

"We were just wondering what you'd said to Sirius. He won't say."

"Ah well, just that he had choices, I suppose," she said, unwilling to give any more information if Sirius himself had decided not to. Her cheeks still felt flushed. Gods, at the risk of sounding crass even in her own head, she obviously needed to get laid if she'd gotten to the point of staring at her best friend's godfather like he was a piece of meat.

"I'm going ouuuutttt," he sang loudly, thumping through the living room where Hermione was curled up on the sofa, book in hand.

"Circe, can't you speak like a normal person," she asked, rubbing her ears. He was too cheery about actually having a boys night, to take her very seriously. Instead he grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey from the kitchen, thumping back through the lounge, singing very loudly, an extremely inappropriate Irish bar song. "Sirius!" she shrieked, annoyed to be disturbed, but he just sang louder. "Argh!" He fairly skipped past her couch, stopping only to ruffle her hair violently and plant a wet smooch on her forehead, which she immediately objected to, wiping her skin frantically. He cackled on his way out the room, just missing the book she'd hurled at him by inches. Wide-eyed, he stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around.
"Hermione Granger, you just threw a book," he said, with mock shock. Hers was real, he could tell by the way her eyes grew larger, and she rushed over to the book. "Poor book," he said sorrowfully. She whimpered.

"Oh god oh god," she was muttering, checking the book for damage. He took the opportunity to sneak out the front door with Remus before she had a chance to blame him for anything.

They popped out of thin air at an apparition point near Harry's place, Remus still shaking his head. "Why do you have to irritate her so?" he asked his friend. Sirius just grinned.

"Cause it's fun!" Remus couldn't but smile. It'd been wonderful seeing his friend come out of his shell. He was different now, but it seemed some things would never change. Remus didn't care; it was worth the return of Sirius' childlike enthusiasm and cheeky sense of humour, bringing with it a light to his grey-blue eyes that had been missing before.

"And why the hell do you have a bottle of Firewhiskey in your hand, we're going to a pub!"

"No, we're going to Harry's first and everyone else is meeting us there and we're flooing to the pub," Sirius said slowly, as if Remus was a bit slow himself. "What are we supposed to do at Harry's while we wait?" he said. About three shots each and an hour later, an irate Ginny shooed them all through the Floo. The Three Broomsticks was noisy, Saturday night being one of its busiest. They managed to get a booth and Remus, the most sober thanks to his werewolf's metabolism, waved hello to Madame Rosmerta, ordering over a selection of drinks for the boys. There was Harry, Ron, George, Bill, Sirius and himself. It was a long overdue outing for them. Charlie was back in Romania and Percy was… Percy.

The hours passed and the Butterbeer, Firewhiskeys and other drinks flowed abundantly. It was a typical lads night, loose talk about women (accompanied by desperate demands that none of it reach their wives, lest they be murdered in their sleep), Quidditch, kids and current news. It was the last that turned the conversation to the war. It wasn't solemn in the least, but Remus noticed the way Sirius grew quieter and more withdrawn with every story of hurt and loss accrued. And the quieter he got, the more often he had a glass to his lips. Eventually they stumbled into Grimmauld through the Floo, Sirius' dragging feet pulling ash out onto the carpet in a smear. He was already lifting the bottle to his mouth.

"Right, that's enough for you I think," said Remus, reaching for the bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Nooo, my precioussss." Sirius made a grab for the bottle but his blurry vision let him down.

"C'mon mate, let's get you laying down," said Remus, propping Sirius up with an arm around his side.

"Lucinda, oh Lucinda! I love you!" moaned the black-haired Marauder, confusing the hell out of Remus.

"Who in the blazes is Lucinda?" he asked.

"S'my whiskey…" mumbled Sirius, trailing off.

"You named your bottle of Firewhiskey?" said Remus incredulously, dragging Sirius onto the couch. "What am I saying, of course you did."

Sirius clutched at his shirt, pulling on a few chest hairs at the same time, making Remus wince. "Ow ow," he said, trying to untangle his friend's ridiculously strong grip from him. "What is it Pads?" he asked. Sirius wavered on the spot.

"S'my fault."

"What is?"

"George's ear. Fred gone. So much I didn't- I should've been there, I should've-"

"Nah mate, don't do this to yourself, it wasn't your fault," said Remus, patting Pads on the shoulder. The Animagus continued to whine about the myriad ways in which he was an absolute failure at life. Loudly. Remus startled as Hermione stomped into the room, her hair a fright, wearing a hastily tied red flannel gown. She had a hard look on her face; it was somewhere in the vicinity of three in the morning.

"No," she was saying in a decisive, take-no-prisoners tone. "You're doing it wrong. Like this," she said, bending so she was hovering above Sirius to grab his attention.
"You," she said, "are a grade A idiot. Your ego is even bigger than I thought, if you are seriously trying to take credit for shit that happened during the war." Remus leaned back, wide-eyed.

"But-" said Sirius, his eyes rolling back in his head. Godric, he really was plastered.

"No. No buts. You're going to be an Auror. You have a goddaughter on the way. You have friends and family who are thrilled to have you here. Stop being a self-obsessed, masochistic idiot, and learn to appreciate what you've got."

"Whyyougotta be sucha bitch to me," moaned the drunkard. Hermione gasped, and leaned forward.

"Oh you haven't seen bitch yet, dear." She pulled out her wand.

"Hermione, really-" said Remus.

"You want to baby him, Remus? You want to let him sulk and get all twisted up in this bullshit? Go ahead. See what good that does him."

"We've all got demons Hermione, you ought to know that," he said quietly. She stilled at that, sighing, and tucked her wand back into her waistband.

"Yes Remus, we all do. The difference is that this one over here is wallowing. The rest of us have had to get on with it pretty quickly," she said.

Remus thought of her nightmares. At this very moment he could see dried tear tracks on her cheeks. She looked exhausted. "Maybe that's not the best way to deal with things either," said Remus, giving her a pointed look. She'd been about two seconds away from slapping Sirius across the face.

"Gods Remus, this is not about me!" yelled Hermione, jabbing a finger in Sirius' direction. "What about Teddy? You want him to see this, to hear this?"

"I love Teddy," mumbled Sirius.

"If you love Teddy, then why are you behaving like you won't be here tomorrow, you drama queen?" she bit out. Sirius was looking up at her through slitted eyes.

"Yer pretty," he slurred. She rolled her eyes, growling, and shot Remus a look.

"Sort him out," she said. "If you want him to get better, sort him out." She turned on her heel and stormed back up the stairs. Remus looked down when he felt a tug on his hand.

"She's scary Moony. Canna 'ave Lucy back?"

"Nah mate. No Lucy. Go to sleep." Just like he remembered Sirius as young teenagers, his friend was suddenly out like a light.

He'd been about to go to bed, but Remus settled onto a nearby couch instead, thinking things over. Hermione had made several good points. He just wasn't sure telling Pads to get over it was going to do any of them any good. Remus knew better than most people, what could happen when you pretended parts of who you are didn't exist.

Sneak Peak Chapter Five.

She felt a single bead of sweat roll down her forehead, tickling her, and she fought the urge to wipe it away. Not when she was so, so close.