DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Harry Potter, apart from this story and plot line. Joanne Rowling is the genius. I owe her so much! (Although if I did own it I wouldn't have killed Sirius and would probably be spending my millions sunbathing in a hot country rather than in rainy London).

Hope you enjoy the story everyone, don't forget to leave feedback at the end!

Hollister9/Soph :)

UNSAID THINGS

The blustering wind whipped against Oliver Wood's face like a piercing knife as he struggled to his front door and fumbled for his keys. He had just got back from Quidditch practise with Puddlemere United, where he was Goalkeeper as well as Captain; a title he had worked very hard for and was immensely proud of.

He opened the door and beamed at the sight he was welcomed to. His breathtakingly beautiful witch was curled up on the sofa, her wavy curls wildly hanging down her back and a rather thick leather book tucked under her arm which she was completely absorbed in.

"Darling, I'm home!" he sang, kicking the door shut gracefully with his foot and throwing his bag on the floor.

She looked up him and smiled, "how was practise?"

He grinned wickedly and immediately started giving her an in-depth and overly enthusiastic analysis of the team's session, speaking for five minutes just about the game play.

Oliver's obsession with Quidditch was unhealthy.

Hermione's mind wandered off from Oliver's rambling to Harry in their third year, remembering when he used to bolt for the boys dormitories whenever the Quidditch captain entered the common room, his eyes maniacally searching for Harry in order to give him another earful of tips for the next match.

"Okay Oliver!" she sighed playfully, holding up a hand to stop him. "I think I've heard enough."

His voice faded to silence and his face cracked into a smile. "How's little Al?"

Hermione closed her book and smiled sleepily.

"The little terror's sleeping," she yawned, accepting Oliver's hand to pull her up.

"I'd better check on him actually, the cheeky bugger has probably worked out a way to escape from his cot by now..."

She tip-toed into the dark bedroom, trying to make as little sound as possible and peered into the cot.

She felt her heart warm as her eyes chocolate eyes locked with his grey innocent ones. Her three year old son sat wide awake, his black curly hair messy and unkempt around his adorable face and his mischievous smile sliding across his lips as he saw his mummy.

He immediately lost interest with the miniature broomstick he had clutched in his small fist and dropped it as he raised his arms to be lifted up.

She laughed softly, and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Albert sweetheart you're meant to be sleeping!"

"Me not tired mummy," he said sadly, and pulled his best puppy dog eyes look which he knew his mum always fell for.

Hermione struggled to keep a smile from spreading across her face.

His father had the puppy dog look worked perfectly too, he could simply turn it on when something didn't go his way because he knew that no one could resist his eyes that leaked innocence, or his lips that pouted and trembled so cutely your body squirmed.

"Do you want me to read you a story darling? I'll read your favourite," she said, stroking Albert's head lovingly.

His eyes lit up and he began to clap his tiny hands together excitedly positively yelling, 'the three little pigs!'

"Can you do the roar mummy? The wolf's roar," he pleaded, on the verge of pulling the puppy dog eyes again.

She laughed and nodded.

The little boy's nose crinkled in thought for a second and he looked up inquiringly.

"Could my daddy roar?" he asked.

Hermione blinked in surprise.

They had only talked about his father once or twice before. It wasn't something she liked discussing, but she knew that one day Albert would start asking questions about him, what he was like andwho he was.

So she wasn't totally unprepared for when the exact question came a few days later, after she'd finished reading his usual bed-time story.

"What's my daddy like mummy?"

Hermione pondered the thought for a minute... what was he like?

The front door snapped shut and seconds later were followed by hurried stomping footsteps up the stairs. His eyes narrowed in concern when he saw her and rushed to her side.

Hermione was lying on the bed, her soft brown curls falling across her face in her deep slumber. She felt a shower of gentle kisses brush her face and neck, and she immediately started to awaken.

"Mione," he whispered in her ear, his goatee tickling her skin and causing her to shiver. She felt his strong arms weave around her waist and pull her closer to him.

"Mione, how are you feeling baby?"

She didn't say anything for a while.

Her mind was currently too busy smelling his familiar gorgeous masculine scent. His breath drew hotter on her neck as he leant in and nibbled her ear playfully. That and his cologne made him deilicious and simply irresistable in every way.

It was intoxicating and she was becoming intoxicated.

She finally allowed one eye to peek open.

"Hmm?"

He grinned wolfishly and cuddled her tighter, "Finally you're back from the bloody dead! God I've missed you."

She smiled and buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"Missed you too, being a corpse is boring after the first two days," she mumbled.

His rumbling laugh warmed her insides as it shook her. She knew he would be an amazing dad, but how was he going to take it when she told him she was pregnant? If she was of course, but her suspicions had never been wrong before. Surely he would have put two and two together with their sex and her morning sickness and realised?

Perhaps not. This was Sirius Black, and he was oblivious to many things.

But Sirius had never got round to finding out that Hermione was carrying his baby because she had left two days later without a word to anyone.

That was three years ago.

She hadn't seen her three best friends, Ron, Harry or Ginny, she hadn't seen any of the Weasley's or Remus or Tonks and most painfully, she hadn't seen him since.

Hermione swallowed nervously and picked Albert up from his cot.

"Your daddy was a very nice man. He was as brave as a knight. Remember I told you about the Hogwarts Houses sweetie? Well, your daddy - like mummy was - he was a Gryffindor. The first in his family. He played Quidditch too. He could make me laugh when I was sad, and gave the biggest, most snugly cuddles. He was also very clever, and he read lots of books like me too, but not as much..."

She smiled as she reminisced.

"He was cheeky-"

'Like you' she wanted to say.

"And he got into a lot of trouble sometimes, but that never stopped your daddy."

Her eyes stung as tears threatened to fall but she ignored them.

"You are so like him sweetheart and one day you'll see just how much."

Hot burning tears trickled down her cheeks but she refused to wipe them away. She would not feel guilty for what she did. It was the right thing to do.

There wasn't a day that slipped by when she didn't think about what happened when she last heard his voice, and her stomach felt like it'd been kicked repeatedly each time she thought of it.

She stepped quietly through the front door of Grimmauld Place, pressing her cheek to the back of the door when she had pushed it shut.

She couldn't believe this was happening. Her suspicions were true, and she was pregnant. She had just got back from St. Mungos where the Healer had confirmed it.

She started to make her way to the stairs, not bothering to remove her coat or scarf. She was so moody that she wanted nothing more than to hibernate under her bed covers and speak to no one for months. How the hell was he going to react when she told him? She buried her face in her hands and continued trooping up the stairs.

She heard his infamous bark of laughter from the kitchen and her foot froze in mid-step. He was speaking to someone.

She heard another voice, of whom she recognised to be Charlie Weasley.

"You lucky barstard! The things I'd do to Hermione Granger if she was wrapped around my finger like she is with you," he wolf whistled to prove his point, "who knew a book-worm could be so sexy?"

Sirius laughed again, "yeah I know, but let's be honest here Charlie. I'm THE Sirius Black, the one and only. Every witch I woo falls for me eventually. She is my bitch."

She could tell he was smirking.

She felt sick churning in her stomach. And it wasn't from the pregnancy.

She knew all those things he had said to her - promised her - were all lies. Of course they were. How could she have believed them when it was 'THE Sirius Black' who had said it?

She couldn't bear to stay and listen to him arrogantly bragging about his womanising ways, yet her body wouldn't move – she was frozen. Stuck. Trapped.

"If you get some action tonight, film it for me yeah? Don't tell her you're doing it obviously, I doubt Hermione is that eager."

Sirius sighed incoherently, "I doubt I'm getting any tonight mate," he said gravely, "she's been doing my head in the last couple of days because she's been so ill and I haven't been able to get a good shag. I mean c'mon! A man has needs!"

Charlie grunted in agreement.

"Well just switch on the Sirius Black charm and I'm sure she'll widen her legs," he said, "if not Madam Rosmerta asked me to tell you that she's still waiting for you to take up on that offer from a few months ago."

Hermione's breath hitched. She felt as though the world was crumbling around her, the floor cracking beneath her as well as her heart - breaking and shattering into a thousand pieces.

She ran from the house and ran from it all and swore to herself that she would never love Sirius Black again.

So that's the first chapter! What do you think?

Yep, Sirius is such a git at the moment... but don't you worry. He will pay.

Click on my profile to see the 'Unsaid Things' trailer and my portrayal of the characters! :D