"Are we okay?"
She pulled away and looked up into his grey eyes, ignoring the age lines around
them that signified not laughter but hardship. "I'm here. I'm not leaving. And I love you."
Sirius sighed with relief at her words.
"Come to bed." She pulled him to the large four-poster where they both crawled
beneath the covers, Sirius still in his clothes. He pulled her against his chest, and she settled
a hand on his sternum, fiddling with a button on his shirt.
"Was it enough?" she whispered. "Did I love you enough to make up for what you
had to endure?"
He closed his eyes and breathed out shakily. "No. But we've got the rest of our lives
to fix that."
September 21st, 1998When the sun broke over the horizon and flooded the east-facing windows of
Grimmauld Place, Sirius stirred awake to find a witch in his arms: his witch. He grinned
brightly, savouring the last moments of a night of perfect sleep, something he had not
enjoyed in nineteen years.
In the quiet early morning, he could hear the others in the house moving around.
Ron had apparently returned, seeking out Harry and food. He could overhear Remus
talking about a bakery down the street that made chocolate-covered croissants and eclairs.
With a plan set in motion, the three other occupants departed Grimmauld Place through
the front door, closing it quietly behind them so as not to awaken Walburga's portrait.
"Sirius?" Mia mumbled upon waking.
He smiled down at her when she rolled over, her sleep-mussed hair wild and
carefree. "Good morning, kitten."
"I have a question," she said with a smile.
"I might have an answer."
"Did you...? Did you date anyone after I vanished?"