A/N: This story came about when plot bunnies invaded my thoughts during the writings of one of my other current stories "The Two Halves of Hermione Granger", I did not want any of this to happen in that fic, so I started this very short one. It will probably be three chapters tops, and was mostly inspired by the song "One More Night" by Maroon 5, which if you haven't heard, listen to it if you can before reading! Following quote is from the song.

"You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war,

You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the doors"

"Sirius, I'm home!" Hermione called out as she walked into Number 12 Grimmauld Place late one Thursday night. It had been an awful day at the Ministry and all she really wanted was some tea and to go to bed.

"Sirius?" she called out again, pocketing her wand after setting down her handbag and walking into the study. There was her husband, dead asleep on his desk with an empty glass and an empty bottle of firewhiskey next to him. Hermione cursed to herself as the tears came unbidden and unwelcome into her eyes. She left his study, closed the door and walked up the stairs to the room she shared with him, throwing herself on the large bed and sobbing. She hadn't let herself cry like this since it all started happening. But what with her job getting threatened that morning and now coming home to the house she had grown to hate with a husband who was passed out drunk; she just couldn't stand it anymore.

She rolled over onto her back, looking up at the chandelier on the ceiling of their bedroom. That room used to be her favorite place. It was the place her and Sirius made love, and cuddled and talked and shared a life. But now she didn't even know the man who she seldom shared that bed anymore with. She felt utterly alone.

She wiped her eyes as she thought back to a year ago. It was the happiest time of her life. She was twenty-six and standing in the most gorgeous wedding dress in the Weasley's backyard. She was surrounded by all of her family and friends and she was giving her vows and her life and her heart to Sirius Black for the entire world to see. After the second war, Hermione had finished school and started working at the Ministry as the new Secretary for Muggle Relations. Harry and Ron worked there too, and she got to spend her days with her two best friends. And they all slowly grew up. Harry married Ginny, and they had their first baby James. And Ron had married Luna. And once again she was single—focusing almost entirely on her career when Sirius Black walked into her life as more than just Harry's Godfather.

They had always flirted casually, but one day he walked into her office at work and suggested they just give it a try, asking her out for dinner that night. They had fallen in love so quickly, and a ring was on her finger six months later. And six months after that she was saying "I do". Looking back at it now, it seemed quite surreal.

It wasn't that she didn't love Sirius now, in fact, she loved him so deeply it hurt. But she just didn't know if it could work anymore.

The first six months of their marriage was pure bliss. She had always thought he would never renounce his bachelor habits, but he supported her and she supported him and he finally grew up. He brought out the playfulness in her and she brought out the responsibility in him. They were a perfect pair.

And then Harry had been killed.

No one saw it coming. There had been rumors that Voldemort's remaining Death Eaters were rallying, but no one really believed it. Everyone wanted to move on. Harry, Ron, and Draco worked as Aurors at the Ministry during that time when Lucius Malfoy finally went crazy and struck Harry down in cold blood on a Monday afternoon at the Ministry. It was the day all of their lives changed forever. Harry was no longer protected by any love or Horcrux. And he had just been having a conversation with Remus Lupin when he was struck by the curse, falling into his former Professor's arms as the entire Ministry turned on Lucius.

He was now in the highest security cell at Azkaban. But it didn't change the fact that Harry Potter was still dead.

The weeks after were mind numbing. Hermione still could remember his funeral as if it were yesterday. She could smell the wet earth that was dug up around his grave. He was buried next to his parents in Godric's Hollow and hundreds attended. Sirius himself placed Harry in the grave. Hermione cried for a week straight, often holding Ginny as his wife had refused to eat and could barely stand, she was such a shaking, sobbing mess. The entire Wizarding world mourned, but it was nothing compared to how they all felt inside. Part of each of them died that day.

Hermione closed her eyes and remembered Draco sobbing over Harry's freshly filled grave, begging his headstone for forgiveness and apologizing over and over again. It broke her heart. Hermione tried to be strong for everyone else, but it cut her to the core knowing she had lost her best friend in the entire world.

But life had moved on, and after a few months, everyone had picked themselves up and tried to continue without him. Ginny found her peace and her joy in baby James. Ron found his solace in his new bride. But the one man Hermione needed had turned away from the world entirely.

It had started off slowly at first. Sirius just became drawn, didn't want to leave the house, or talk to anyone. He cried alone in his study or the library often, and Grimmauld place, which Hermione had tried her best to make homey after their marriage, quickly became solemn and neglected.

She threw herself into her work and sometimes they wouldn't speak for days. She no longer knew how to console him. He blamed himself and he blamed the world and he was angrier than she had ever seen. They got into horrible fights. And then he had started drinking.

It was so bad as of late that nights like these weren't uncommon. Harry's death had destroyed Sirius to the point of no return. She had tried to make him happy as his wife, but she no longer saw the twinkle in his eye when he looked at her. He looked like the living dead.

About a month ago, she and George had started seeing each other secretly. It was mostly common knowledge now to the rest of their friends and since Sirius didn't seem to give a fuck what she did and had never mentioned the few times he saw George leave Grimmauld place in the mornings when he was nursing his terrible hangovers.

George still missed his twin, and wasn't and would never be over that blow. And he was newly single, nursing heartbreak from his longtime girlfriend Mary. It was just sex, and companionship. It gave her something and someone to turn to on particularly hard nights.

As she rolled over once again on her side, Hermione thought of going to George, but she just didn't have the energy. With her current mental state, she would probably just end up blubbering all over him.

Summoning the last bit of energy left in her emotionally drained body, she got up from off the bed and started to strip off her work clothes to change into pyjamas. She tried her best to avoid looking at the picture of her and Sirius on her nightstand. It caught her eye every time she was like this and pulled her back to a happier place, a place that renewed the will in her to help him and to try and fix him.

It was taken in the South of France, on their honeymoon. They were on the beach and Sirius had her in his arms, twirling her around on the sand. She was laughing happily.

As she slipped on her camisole, she reached over and tipped the picture in its frame on its front so she wouldn't have to look at it before crawling into bed and hoping that sleep would overcome her.


"Do you have any plans for the day, love?" Hermione asked Sirius across the breakfast table the next morning. She hesitated to add the endearment at the end of her sentence, but had done it anyway. There was no doubt that she loved the man sitting in front of her, but this morning she hardly recognized him.

The circles under his eyes were darker than usual and his hair had grown grayer in the last six months than Remus' had altogether. He simply just looked tired, and much, much older than his 47 years.

"No," he said curtly. So he was mad, Hermione deduced. She should have known by the way he was shoveling his breakfast into his mouth, but she had just thought it was from his hangover.

"Well, I should be home by seven, I'll make us dinner," she replied softly, trying her best to refrain from being confrontational. Sirius' famous temper had grown in the last six months, and when they fought it was terrible and brought out Hermione's innate stubbornness.

"Would you like to invite George?" Sirius asked, looking up at her, the way he pursed his lips after saying the name warned Hermione that they were about to have a fight of epic proportions.

"I'm sorry?" she stalled. He had never once before brought up George's name. For Merlin's sakes the man was drunk 18 hours out of the day, she didn't really think he would notice too much.

"I said would you like to invite George to dinner so I can sit down to a meal with the man my wife is fucking behind my back?" his voice was so calm, lilting in that aristocratic way that he had never quite been shaken of.

Hermione looked dumbfounded; she really didn't know what to say. She stammered for a moment, but suddenly the hurt and emotion came bubbling up from inside her and she couldn't hold it back anymore.

"You haven't bloody touched me or kissed me in five months Sirius, FIVE months…what am I supposed to do? I don't love George, alright? I'm sorry…I didn't even think you cared!" she yelled at him, standing up from the table. He shifted out of his chair, standing up too.

"Of course I care, you're my wife!"

"Well you act like I don't even exist!" she countered, walking out of the dining room and into the hallway, taking her coat from the hanger and slipping it over her shoulders. He followed.

"The closest thing I ever had to a son is dead, Hermione! I have nothing left to fucking live for!" he roared, pulling at his hair as he paced back in forth in the hallway. She stopped and stared at him, feeling as if she had just been punched in the stomach.

"Nothing to live for…really…" she repeated sadly.

He moved to her, to hug her, but she backed away.

"I have been here for you, every step of the way, but you just hole up in that room and drink all damn day! I thought you would want to live for ME. You married ME, not Harry. Ginny married Harry and she's doing just fine. We all have our days but we haven't given up on life like you have. Do you think Harry would want you to be like this? Do you?" she yelled. She was thankful their house had all sorts of wards and spells on it, that no one could hear their fights.

"Hermione, please…" he said, softer now. She was desperately trying to fight back the tears.

"I'll tell George you passed along the invitation," she said before walking out the front door and slamming it as hard as her tiny body could.

A/N: As you may be able to tell, this is not a happy story like some of my others, but reviews are welcomed and wholly appreciated!