A/N: This is something I wrote as a gift for the awesome author dragonfly117 (Seriously...she is awesome. If you are a fan of Harmony check out her author page after you are done reading this) as part of a Secret Santa gift exchange on the Harmony Discord. There is an entire collection of great stories at the other place that hosts fanfiction under the name 'HMS Harmony Secret Santa Gift Exchange'

Sirius Black slumped back into his chair, doing his best to ignore the all too familiar feeling of the shackles that were currently cutting into his wrists. It had been a few years since he'd experienced the sensation, but the decade he'd spent being shuffled to and fro in Azkaban had been forever embedded into his brain.

But that was unimportant right now. The only thing he cared about was finding Harry. He'd screamed himself hoarse asking the guards for answers, but they had all remained frustratingly silent.

He had no idea where he had been transported to when his bitch of a cousin had gotten the better of him. From what he could surmise he'd been transported to another part of the Ministry when he'd fallen through that blasted archway. It was his bad luck to end up in what was clearly the Unspeakables department because they had, true to their surname, refused to speak. They'd been quiet and efficient in capturing and subduing him and since then he'd been stuck in this room; shackled, wandless and alone, screaming into the void. Finally, the door sprung open, and into the room emerged Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Something was off. He'd been battling side by side with Kingsley mere minutes ago, but his friend was now wearing different robes…nicer robes…and he looked slightly different. It was as if Kingsley had a posh older brother, but he knew for a fact that he was an only child. So if this was really Kingsley and not a trick, then that would mean that he'd-

Oh shit.

Before he could vocalize his thoughts, King had leveled his wand, poised to strike at the slightest provocation.

"What happened the night Harry was attacked by Dementors in Surrey?"

He knew the Order used this security method to confirm each other's identity, but had never been involved thanks to being exiled at Grimmauld. He took a breath and willed himself to calm before answering. He could not afford to fuck this up.

"You kept guard of me so I couldn't sneak out of Grimmauld and get Harry. I eventually took a swing at you and you dropped me with one punch. Then we drank firewhisky until dawn."

And suddenly it was as if Kingsley had seen a ghost. As Kingsley continued to stare at him, shouting rose up from outside the room.

"I don't care what your orders are. I am the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and I am entering that room. If the Minister wants to fire me then so be it."

The door burst open and Sirius, even as confused as he was, felt his heart surge. He knew this person….at least a prior version of her. The girl he had known was now much older, based on her appearance and her apparent position with the Ministry about a decade older, but there was no mistaking this force of nature.

"Hermione!" he shouted much louder than he'd intended.

The girl began to move toward him before suddenly stopping and looking at Kingsley.

"It's him," Kingsley mumbled, his voice wavering. "I have no idea how or why, but it's him."

There were so many thoughts swirling in his brain as she quickly bridged the gap between them and enveloped him in a hug, but one demanded an answer above all others.

"Harry?" he managed to croak out.

"He's alive. He's alive and happy. He won, Sirius," she managed through her tears.

And suddenly all of those swirling thoughts melted away…because Harry had won. Harry was alive and happy and he had won. He found himself sagging into Hermione's embrace and realized it was the first time he had truly relaxed in fifteen years.

Despite passing the Order's identification check, and despite it being administered personally by the Minister of Magic, his initial clearance had merely been the first step in navigating the seemingly unending bureaucratic journey to freedom.

They informed him that he had been officially pardoned a decade ago, but due to his journey into the future he has now considered a 'magical anomaly', and as such every 'i' needed to be dotted and 't' crossed before he was permitted to leave. His current accommodations were much nicer than Azkaban or Grimmauld but he still wasn't allowed to leave, and it was doing his head in.

But he supposed it was a good thing. It allowed him time to process the fact that he'd emerged from the veil ten years to the day from when he had entered. Apparently, this new regime had been smart enough to realize that an open doorway to the afterlife should be a bit more secured, and the highly guarded room where the veil was now stored was where he'd ended up.

But regardless of how many news clippings he'd read in between his interrogations and examinations, it still didn't quite feel real. Seeing Harry, healthy and whole as Hermione had promised, was what he needed.

After what felt like an eternity he had finally been upgraded to Code Blue status, which meant that he'd been deemed safe enough to be released back into society…with a caveat. He was to be accompanied by an approved Ministry representative at all times for the next week for supervision and observation. He grinned as his minder entered the room, finally signaling his freedom.

"Ready?" the Junior Undersecretary asked nervously as she entered the room, the polar opposite of their prior greeting. He'd been separated from his friends after their initial reunion due to some nonsense about them being too biased and close to the situation to make a rational decision regarding his status, and because they were so annoyingly professional they had agreed.

"Where is Harry?" he immediately blurted before catching himself.

"Sorry. Hello, Hermione. Lovely to see you again. Where is Harry?"

"He's on assignment."

He moved to protest but she stopped him before he could get started.

"We thought it best not to inform him of your return until we were absolutely sure it was you. He's in America with his team at the moment. Kingsley and I will be notifying him tomorrow morning and you will see him very soon, I promise."

Sirius grinned. "Good for him. But please tell me he didn't end up on Chudley."

"Harry doesn't play Quidditch," she informed. "He's an Auror. He was promoted to Lieutenant two months ago." The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

Not for the first time in the last few days Sirius had to recalibrate his brain to this new norm…that he'd lost yet another decade of Harry's life. Harry was now an adult who had a job and a team. He'd missed so much. Again.

He quickly did his best to squash down his annoyance. Regardless of what he had missed, apparently Harry was happy, and that was all that mattered.

"Ready to get out of here?" she asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"You have no idea," he replied.

"Great!" she exclaimed. "Unfortunately you won't be able to get through the protections on Harry's place until he gets back, so you'll be staying with me at my flat for one night. We can either take a floo or I can app-"

"Hermione," he interrupted, "I'm sure your flat is lovely, but the last thing I want right now is to be cooped up inside again."

Hermione folded her arms and appraised him. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well first of all, I'd like to take a walk outside, away from any and every sodding wizard and witch, besides you of course."

Hermione nodded. "Seems easy enough. Then what?"

"Pub!" he exclaimed, garnering the expected eye roll.

"Harry would have been my first choice as my drinking cohort, but you are a very agreeable alternative."

Hermione smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "There is something you should know; not everyone made it. Remus, and Tonks-"

Sirius raised his hands to stop her. He'd read the accounts…about the war memorial and all the names engraved. He'd read and reread and was in no way ready for that conversation.

"They've given me some old Prophets to catch up. I've seen the names…it's all I've been able to think about while I've been sat waiting in this sodding room. But right now I want to take a walk outside, have a disgusting meal and a pint or three at the pub I used to go to with James, and talk about anything but that. Only when I am utterly smashed will I be ready to talk about that."

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself. "Sounds like a plan," she eventually managed, a sad smile on her face.

For the most part the walk had been lovely. He had kept quiet and let Hermione do the talking as he basked in the great outdoors and marveled at how everything was slightly off from what he'd remembered mere days ago. The shopfronts, the hairstyles, the fashions, it was all very familiar yet different.

It was a typical London afternoon, a little colder and grayer than he'd prefer, but having the freedom to walk amidst the too cold and too gray environment was exactly what he needed after being cooped up in the dual prisons of Azkaban and Grimmauld. Getting to walk outside in a typical London afternoon never felt so good.

Hermione seemed to be doing her best to only speak on the most mundane things (who married who, her and Harry's promising careers in the Ministry), but that was fine. He had the distinct impression that she was purposely avoiding the uncomfortable and difficult topics and, as he had said earlier, he needed as many pints as possible before wading into those treacherous waters. His only fear was, while she spoke at length about Harry's rise through the ranks in the Auror department, she seemed to be avoiding any comments on his personal life. Hers as well.

As they entered the pub Sirius noted the bartender give Hermione a slight nod of recognition, and her choice of table seemed very purposeful and routine.

"You've been here before," he stated after he'd ordered himself two drinks as a starter.

He'd expected her to look a bit scandalized…perhaps make a tutting sound of disapproval, but apparently, that version of Hermione was well in the past. This version merely smiled and ordered her own pint as well as two glasses of water for both of them.

"This is where Harry and I usually wind up if we've been working late and don't want to bother with making dinner."

That sounded suspiciously like something romantic couples would do. Now we were getting somewhere. But if that were the case why would she have been so determined to avoid the topic? He'd noticed earlier that Hermione's hand was absent of any telltale rings but bit back on asking about it at the time…but it was past time to start getting some real answers.

"Just you and Harry?" he asked.

"Usually, yes," she answered before taking a sip of her drink.

"Interesting," he said with a grin, waggling his eyebrows for added effect.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't fight the grin breaking through. "Harry and I have been…seeing each other…for about six months."

"Is that what they call shagging these days?" he replied with a grin.

He'd expected her to be flustered…at the very least embarrassed. But he had once again made the mistake of thinking about fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger. Twenty-five-year-old Hermione Granger was an entirely different beast. She subtly cast a privacy charm before answering.

"We've slowed down just a bit, but yes. There has been loads of shagging."

He barked out a laugh. "Please explain why this wasn't the first bit of news you shared," he demanded, causing Hermione to roll her eyes once again.

"Besides a few close friends we've managed to keep it a secret. We spent over a decade having articles written about us being together in the Prophet. They've only given up speculating about it the last few years and we'd like to keep it that way for a bit longer."

Sirius feared his face might burst from the ferocity of his grin. "Give me more of the good stuff you've been holding back," he urged.

Hermione eyed him curiously. "Good stuff?"

"Why did it take so long? When is the wedding? When can I expect to see little Harry and Hermi's running around?"

She laughed. "First of all, we won't be getting married any time soon. Secondly, if there are any little versions of us running around in the future we will not be calling any of them Hermi."

"Fair enough," he replied, "but what about the first bit? I thought you'd be going at it like bunnies by your seventh year."

"We're both idiots?" she said with a sad chuckle. "If Harry had come back to Hogwarts I think it might have happened. But we ended up dating other people, got too involved in our own careers, and as the years passed I suppose we assumed the other person wasn't interested."

"And what miraculous event occurred to pull your collective head out of your arse?"

"We went to a Ministry Christmas party together because neither wanted to find a date. It was hideously boring, so we kept to ourselves as much as we could manage, drank more than we should have, and before I knew it I was waking up in Harry's bed the next morning."

Sirius frowned. "I thought it would be more romantic."

Hermione laughed.

"We'd been dating in some form for a decade at that point…we were just too stupid or stubborn to realize it. All that was really left for us to do was shag."

Sirius realized that the entire time she had been regaling him with her not-so-grand love story, Hermione had never stopped smiling.

"You look happy. Annoyingly so," he observed, causing her grin to grow even more.

"Waking up that next morning…seeing that the world hadn't ended…that Harry hadn't run away…seeing his smile when he realized I'd woken up…I knew I never wanted to leave."

She paused, clearly thinking over the six months. "And I haven't."

Her honest and heartfelt confession had taken him by surprise. Within seconds what had started out as a joking conversation had evolved into something much more meaningful. Hermione had previously told him that Harry was happy, but hearing the details…seeing the manifestation of what Harry was in the midst of building with Hermione…it was too much.

He remembered Lily and James sporting a look very similar to Hermione's…the look that screamed 'I may not have everything sorted out, but this love thing is most definitely sorted, and all the other shit can kick rocks.'

Not only was Hermione sporting that look, but somewhere in America Harry was sporting it as well.

His musings were interrupted by Hermione. "Are you…crying?"

Oh shit. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the wonderfulness of it all he hadn't realized that a bit of moisture was poised to escape from his eyes. He quickly brushed it away and gave a nervous cough.

"Course not," he mumbled before downing the remainder of his first pint, fearing for what was in store for the rest of the night. If he was getting teary-eyed after one beer, it was bound to get exponentially worse as the night progressed.

Three hours and myriad beers later his prediction had come true. He'd laughed and cried and shouted at various times, all to his drinking companion's amusement. After his first outburst he'd thought to apologize and promised to modify his behavior, but Hermione laughed and said it wasn't a problem…that he'd more than earned a night out.

Then she said the most remarkable thing…that seeing him so happy was making her happy…and that she couldn't wait to tell Harry about it in the morning. The girl had hit him with too much emotional honesty out of the blue again, and this time he'd imbibed way too much to hold back.

"The future is the best. I love you guys so much," he'd blurted, drawing another laugh from Hermione.

But like all good things, his first night of freedom and drunken revelry had to come to an end. As Hermione helped him out of the pub, he expected her to duck into a nearby alleyway so they could apparate back to her flat. But instead she carefully led him across the street and around the corner toward…something. The direction they were headed and the buildngs they were passing seemed very familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why.

He chalked it up to the alcohol before Hermione blurted, "Oh! I'm almost forgot," before pulling a piece of parchment out of her bag and handing it to him.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger live together at Twelve Grimmauld Place.

As he read the last word the fog was lifted and he instantly remembered his ugly, miserable childhood home. He must have made a face because Hermione immediately spoke.

"Stop pouting. It's nothing like it was before, and I'm warning you now: We've made too much progress with Kreacher for you to muck it up. If you insult him I'll personally stick you back in Azkaban myself."

Three Days Later…

As their aeroplane began making its descent into Laguardia, Sirius mused how amazing it was to have friends in high places. Code Blues certainly weren't supposed to have their wands returned to them before receiving clearance, and they most certainly weren't supposed to leave England. But thanks to a muggleborn Junior Undersecretary fully versed in the muggle world, and a Minister more than willing to look the other way, he was now mere minutes away from seeing Harry. He had spent the last few days visiting with and mourning old friends and not so patiently waiting for this moment.

Before he knew it the little bell thing had gone off indicating that they could exit the plane, they'd retrieved their bags, gone through some Azkaban worthy levels of security and document review, and were now standing on a metal staircase that slowly descended on its own. He was eternally grateful to have Hermione along, patiently explaining everything they encountered on their journey. Thanks to Lily he considered himself somewhat well versed in all things muggle, but he had no idea everything they had managed to come up with over the years. Without Hermione, he would have been totally and utterly lost.

He felt a nudge on his side and turned to see Hermione pointing toward the bottom of the metal stairs. It took him a few seconds but he finally spotted that familiar hair jutting haphazardly in all directions.

Harry had realized he had spotted him and for a brief moment that nervous little boy emerged once again. Sirius' heart warmed as he realized that despite how much he had grown and everything that he had accomplished, the spirit and kindness of that boy he had known, his Harry, was still front and center. It was at that moment that he decided that the mechanical staircase was moving entirely too slow.

"What are the American laws on the Statute of Secrecy?" he asked.

"Don't even-"

Whatever she was about to say was lost to time because he had apparated in front of Harry and wrapped him in a hug, drawing a surprised laugh from his godson.

"Hermione is going to murder you," Harry mumbled.

"It's her fault for giving me a wand," Sirius replied, refusing to let go. Any lecture from Hermione on the propriety of his actions was the least of his worries.

All that mattered for the foreseeable future was he was with Harry. That Harry was happy. That Harry had won.