As they drove through the winding roads toward Riddle Manor, Sirius stole glances at Hermione and Remus in the front seat, chattering away, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had settled over him since the breakup.

"Fuck you, Remus, that's not funny," Hermione said, glancing at him.

"I'm not joking! Shakespeare was a wizard," he replied, a grin on his face despite her irritation.

"But I've used him as an example in so many arguments to show what Muggles can do! Why didn't anyone tell me?" She sighed dramatically.

"Maybe they found it funny," Remus laughed

Sirius forced a smile, but inside, that familiar knot of jealousy twisted like a knife in his gut. Their bond had grown closer during the planning stages, and he felt increasingly isolated from both of them, especially after taking over Harry's training. Remus had found a job in a Muggle library—something Hermione seemed to love discussing. Sirius knew his jealousy was irrational, yet he couldn't shake the resentment he felt at their closeness.

Their light-hearted banter faded as they arrived at the manor, the gravity of their mission looming large. Inside, the darkness enveloped them, and they moved cautiously, the sound of their footsteps muffled against the cold stone. Sirius wasn't sure what they would find. Hermione was convinced Voldemort and Nagini would be here, but he found himself wishing she was wrong.

The battle was surprisingly short. It started in an instant but ended in less than five minutes. As they turned a corner of the manor and began climbing the marble staircase, they heard faint hissing. Sirius saw both Hermione and Remus pale as they realized once again, Hermione was right.

"Let's go!" Hermione urged, her determination palpable.

In a rush of impulsiveness, she pushed open the door. The group froze, and Sirius felt a surge of annoyance at her reckless decision. Opposite them, a plush armchair sat in the living room, and in it lounged a grotesque homunculus of Voldemort, a twisted mockery of a baby. Sirius felt like he was looking at something obscene. Beside it stood Tiberius Nott. He remembered Nott from the first war—not an important figure then, merely a financial donor lurking in the shadows. But now, with Barty Crouch Jr. and Pettigrew dead, Nott was clearly a key player in Voldemort's resurgence.

Hermione wasted no time, launching a spell that struck Nott squarely in the chest, but he quickly retaliated, a severing charm whizzing past her as Sirius acted on instinct.

"Get down!" he shouted, pushing her to the ground just as the charm sliced through the air, narrowly missing her.

They both lay still for a moment, panting, both processing the near miss. As they lay there, they heard the crack of apparition—Nott had whisked Voldemort away to safety.

In that instant, Nagini slithered into view, eyes glinting with malice.

"Distract her!" Remus yelled, his voice reminding them of their predicament as he brandished his wand. Sirius and Hermione exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement igniting the adrenaline coursing through their veins. They lunged together, daggers coated in venom glimmering in the dim light, ready to strike down the serpent that had haunted their nightmares.

They stumbled back into the small house just before dawn, their steps heavy but fueled by the exhilaration of their victory. Nagini was dead. Despite the power and size of the snake, it stood no chance against three skilled duellers. Sirius thanked the Gods for Voldemort's overconfidence. The air still felt thick with the tension of the battle, but they had done it. Voldemort had escaped, yes, but not unscathed. They had seen him—frail, desperate, a shadow of the dark lord they had come to fear. There had been triumph in Hermione's eyes when Nagini had fallen, her blood staining the stone floor of Riddle Manor. And now, here they were, victorious but not yet done.

Sirius closed the door behind them with a soft thud, his heart still hammering in his chest. He could barely believe they'd made it out alive, much less with Nagini gone. The rush of it all was still burning through him, but beneath the thrill was something else—something raw and unfinished between him and Hermione. It had been there since the breakup, simmering under the surface, unresolved. Remus had quickly muttered his farewells before heading upstairs, seemingly to give him and Hermione some space.

Hermione stood in the center of the room, her hands shaking as she pulled off her cloak, tossing it onto the chair. She seemed distant, her mind still caught in the battle—or maybe in something deeper. Her gaze flickered toward him briefly, then away again, her usual composure cracked by the weight of what they'd just done.

"We really did it," she whispered, almost to herself.

"Yeah, we did," Sirius echoed, his voice low. He couldn't take his eyes off her. The rush of battle still pulsed through his veins, but so did something else—a pull, a yearning he'd tried to bury after their breakup. He had been trying to push it down, trying to forget how being near her had felt like fire under his skin, but it was impossible. Especially now.

His eyes traced the curve of her jaw, the line of her neck, still flushed from the fight. He could feel the electricity in the air between them, crackling, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. The distance between them these past weeks had only intensified it, and now, in the quiet aftermath, it was coming back to the surface, burning hotter than before.

Hermione turned to face him, and in the low light of the room, he saw the tremor in her hands. "You saved my life tonight," she said softly, her voice shaking slightly. "If you hadn't—"

"Don't," Sirius cut her off, stepping closer. "Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same for me. You've saved my life more than once."

But she shook her head, her lips parting as if she were about to say something more. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, everything between them hung in the balance. The past, the breakup, the mission—it all hovered in the air, unspoken but heavy.

Before he could think better of it, Sirius reached for her, his fingers brushing against her arm. "Hermione," he murmured, his voice rough with everything he hadn't said.

Her breath caught, and she looked up at him, something fragile in her expression. And then, as if all the tension between them snapped at once, she moved toward him, her lips crashing into his in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was hot, urgent, filled with the pent-up frustration of weeks of distance and unresolved feelings.

Sirius pulled her against him, his hands sliding to her waist, fingers digging into her hips as he kissed her harder, deeper. He felt like all the walls between them were crumbling, like the fire they had once shared was still very much alive, burning hotter than before. Her hands were in his hair, tugging him closer, and his heart pounded wildly. He was reminded of the first kiss they had shared; they had both been similarly disheveled and felt like they were fueled by something almost primal.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was dangerous—knew that it would only bring more complications. But none of that mattered now, not when she was pressed against him like this, her lips hot and insistent.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against hers, his breath ragged. "I'm sorry by the way," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

Hermione's fingers trembled against his chest. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Sirius noticed tears welling in her eyes. He couldn't understand what had changed so abruptly. He froze as she suddenly pulled away, her face crumpling as she began to cry.

"Hermione?" he asked softly, his chest tightening as she cried. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back into his arms, but something in her expression stopped him.

"I'm sorry," she gasped through her tears, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry."

Sirius felt a knot in his stomach. He knew there was something she wasn't telling him—something she had been holding back for weeks, even longer. It had been obvious in her evasiveness during their planning sessions. But now, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, his voice thick with concern. "Hermione, if there's something you need to tell me—"

"I wasn't going to do this today, but I can't lie anymore. I—" her voice was still shaking.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Hermione's cries intensified, and her breathing became more erratic. She seemed to struggle to form coherent words. Sirius just watched helplessly, unsure what to do.

"Sirius, it's... Harry," Hermione managed to gasp out between sobs.

Sirius's heart skipped a beat. "Harry? What are you talking about?"

Her voice was a frantic whisper, barely audible. "He's the last Horcrux. We—he has to die, Sirius. It's the only way to destroy it completely."

Sirius felt a chill of horror. "No," he said, his voice trembling with fierce determination. "Harry can't—he won't die. I won't let that happen."

Fuck no. Hermione was wrong; she had to be. His mind raced, struggling to reconcile Hermione's words with the image of the boy he loved like family. There was nothing evil in Harry, he was sure.

Hermione continued quietly, "I didn't want it to be this way. We were trying to find another solution, but... it's not working. We have to let him believe he's sacrificing himself. It's the only way to ensure the Horcrux is gone. I swear, he'll survive this, I promise."

Sirius's throat constricted painfully as he fought to understand. "No, Hermione," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

"Harry isn't just a means to an end. He's... he's a person, not an object. We can't just—" His voice broke, and he was unable to finish his sentence, the lump in his throat almost choking him. Hermione seemed to want to reach for him but clearly thought better of it. He was glad; he wasn't sure he could bear it right now.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, but the words felt so small and inadequate.

Sirius clenched his fists, his jaw tight. He hated how stupid he had been. It was clear she had been lying for months now, but he had ignored the signs. How long had she carried this secret while they planned and fought side by side? He couldn't reconcile the woman he had loved—the woman he still cared for—with the one standing before him, telling him that Harry had to die.

"I wanted to tell you," Hermione continued, her voice breaking. "I just couldn't. I knew how much it would hurt you. I didn't know how."

Sirius's mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. He couldn't breathe. Sirius had always believed, even if they weren't together, he would follow Hermione to the ends of the Earth. She was the woman with the plan, his savior. At one time, Sirius had admired the lengths she would go to protect others, but now he couldn't help feeling a little scared; he didn't know if there was any line she wouldn't cross.

"I don't know if I can do this," he muttered, his voice strained. He stepped back further, distancing himself from her. The woman who had once been his savior now felt like something else entirely—someone he didn't understand.

Hermione's sobs filled the silence between them, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to comfort her. He felt hollow, like everything he had believed in had been torn apart in a matter of seconds. He needed space; he needed to think.

Without another word, he turned away, leaving Hermione standing alone, her cries echoing in the room as he walked out into the cold dawn light, unsure of what came next