"Because I want to choose, Sirius. I want to choose to start over with you. Completely, I mean," she whispered, pressing a kiss into the tip of his nose before crawling back out of her lap. Slowly, their bodies detached. Hermione sat there, kneeling across from Sirius, an arm length of space between them. The magic in her gut wanted to tug her forward, tug her into the bond—both of grief, and of marriage—that she had created between them. And the guilt of loving and losing Lucius wanted to tug her back, away from this man and her feelings for him. But Hermione knew she just had to stay put. She had to choose for herself, this time. And maybe, if Snape was right, and she did have a say in the importance of it all, she could choose to love, and to be happy. Lucius was gone, but he would want that for her. The man she loved would want her to love too. 