Chapter One The Healer Returns

Harry Potter felt very sick. The butterflies in his stomach were flapping enthusiastically away, and becoming more and more of a nuisance with each breath. All fifty members of the Wizengamot were staring down at him with hard, unwavering eyes. Dumbledore’s presence in the chair next to him should have been a comfort, thought Harry, but the Headmaster would not even look at him. Harry had to press a hand firmly down on his leg in order to stop it bouncing frantically up and down.

“I’d like to call a witness,” said Dumbledore. Harry looked at him curiously, though Dumbledore kept his calm, blue eyes focused resolutely at the Wizengamot.

“Ah,” said Fudge, disconcertedly. His plump face, which had been smiling pompously throughout Harry’s testimony, faltered for a moment. He had obviously not expected this. “Well, yes, of course. Very well, then. Ah, Weatherby, if you would…” Fudge gestured vaguely at the doors opening to the courtroom.

But before Percy could eagerly leap out of his seat to obey, the doors flew open. Heads swiveled about in the direction of the entrance, and Harry could hear the sharp clicks of high-heeled footsteps approaching hastily. He couldn’t yet see the impending figure, but he heard various gasps echo throughout the courtroom. More than surprised, Harry thought many of them sounded impressed.

“What is she doing here?” he heard one witch sitting high up in the benches whisper loudly. Harry looked straight ahead of him, and was more confused than ever. He knew for a fact that he had never met the austere witch approaching the stand, but he felt a twinge of familiarity nonetheless. Percy was the only other person in the vast dungeon that appeared to be as mystified as Harry.

Harry estimated her to be about thirty. She wore wispy, soft-looking robes of white, and square spectacles that magnified the large brown eyes staring straight into Harry’s. One hand gripped a thick, shiny black briefcase that swung back-and-forth slightly by her side. Her hair was knotted tightly at the nape of her neck, and matched the determined eyes Harry found he could not look away from. Her stern expression reminded Harry fleetingly of Professor McGonagall’s, the strict but fair head of Gryffindor House. As she came closer, she paused for a single beat in front of Harry and winked. The corners of her mouth were upturned ever so slightly, and Harry felt the taught muscles in his stomach loosen dramatically. Then the smile was gone, the stern expression returned, and she sat gracefully into the chair beside Harry that Dumbledore offered her.

“Ms. Daniels,” said Madame Bones’ booming voice. The excited murmurs echoing throughout the courtroom quieted instantly. “Welcome. As you can see, your reputation precedes you. However, I must admit I cannot think of a reason why the most distinguished Healer in Europe is testifying in this young man’s trial,” she said, gesturing at Harry.

“I was in the neighborhood,” said the witch, “and thought I’d call in a favor to a close, personal friend.” Her voice was soft but firm, and Harry immediately recognized her robes as the traditional Healer’s garb. The witch to the right of Fudge whispered something in his ear, and Harry caught the unmistakably livid glare he fixed on Dumbledore.

“As you can see,” announced Ms. Daniels, bending over and digging out a sheet of paper from her briefcase, holding it up for the entire Wizengamot to examine, “I hold here in my hand an official medical record of subject: Dudley Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive.” She paused for a moment and readjusted her spectacles higher up on her nose. “Subject suffered from deep shock and a mild case of hypothermia. After a thorough examination, it was determined that his symptoms were not of a human source. Subject was treated and his memory modified. The record is dated and signed by both the subject and his guardians. Minister,” she said, “ I’m fully prepared to testify that the young man in question was situated within the very close and dangerous presence of a dementor, and quite likely more than one. I examined him myself.” At these words, Harry felt his heart leap and a rush of gratitude surge through his system. He could tell by the awed buzz of the dungeon that this last statement had settled the matter.

---

Harry had never been so bewildered in his life. He knew he should be elated; he had been cleared of all charges. But immediately after the sentencing, Professor Dumbledore had spoken a few words to Ms. Daniels out of Harry’s earshot, and then swept out of the dungeon without so much as a backward glance. Harry couldn’t help but feel ignored and insulted. And, he thought bitterly very much alone. Dumbledore had always been very personable and honest with Harry, but now…

Could Dumbledore be mad at him? Harry immediately brushed this aside; after all, he hadn’t done anything wrong, he assured himself. He had saved Dudley from the dementors! When was anybody going to realize that?

Harry instantly remembered Ms. Daniels. She was now standing next to the chair Dumbledore had extended to her with her back facing him. Harry watched as she delicately removed her glasses and snapped them shut into a case. Reaching back into her hair, she removed a handful of pins and shook the tight knot at her neck free. Loose, shiny brown waves tumbled down to the middle of her back. She sighed gratefully and rolled her shoulders.

“Oh, that’s much better.” Her voice no longer had the harsh edge to it; now it was lighter and much gentler. She turned and once again looked directly into Harry’s eyes.

She was very pretty, Harry realized. He had thought her to be rather plain at first, but now he noticed that her skin was so white it almost seemed to be glowing, and it was difficult to discern whether her hair was actually black or a deep shade of brown. The woman no longer looked stern and forbidding, and Harry found it doubtful that he ever could have likened her to Professor McGonagall. She was smiling widely now, revealing straight teeth and adding a rosy tint to her pale cheeks.

“Hello, Harry Potter,” she said, and held out a hand. “I’m Miriam Daniels. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Harry offered his own hand, but instead of shaking it, Miriam merely held it delicately within her own. Her skin looked very soft, but Harry could feel rough calluses along her palm.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Look at you.” Her eyes studied every inch of Harry’s face. Normally, this made Harry very uncomfortable; he didn’t like people gawking at his scar. Miriam, however, did not seem very interested in that one feature; rather, she focused on his eyes, gazing into them searchingly. Harry wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He still couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he had seen this witch before.

“Look at you,” she said again. For a terrifying moment, Harry had the impression that she might cry. But Miriam simply released his hand, and tentatively ran her fingers through the mussed-up ends of his hair. Feeling self-conscious, he reflexively tried to press it down flat. Miriam laughed.

“Your father could never get it to behave very well, either.”

Harry suddenly felt as though he had been hit in the head with a sledgehammer as a wave of realization hit him. An image began to form in his mind of his parents on their wedding day. The rare photograph was a favorite of Harry’s. His mother was draped in lacy robes of white, and his father’s hair was as mussed as ever. They stood together, smiling joyously at each other, and then up at Harry. James Potter’s best friend and best man, Sirius Black, stood next to James, grinning wickedly. Every so often he would wink at the witch standing next to his mother. Dark wavy hair, pale skin, and holding an elaborate bouquet of flowers, she too would smile wistfully at the happy couple, then at Harry. The only difference he could see was that Harry remembered the witch’s eyes in the photograph as being light and open; they seemed the be smiling all on their own. The eyes that now gazed into Harry’s, though not unfriendly, seemed older somehow. Guarded. For a moment, Harry didn’t know what to do. He simply gaped at Miriam.

“I know you!” he suddenly blurted out. “I mean, I’ve seen you. I think. Not you, you, of course, but…” Harry felt his cheeks redden. “You were at my parents wedding,” he finished lamely.

Miriam laughed again. It was a pleasant sound, and Harry couldn’t help but smile despite his bewilderment.

“I was,” she nodded. “I was your mother’s Maid of Honor. Lily,” she added, “my best friend.”

Harry knew he was staring now, and rather rudely, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew quite a bit about his father’s life in Hogwarts; Sirius and Lupin saw to that, and they were always handy for a story about getting into some sort of trouble or another. However, he knew very little about his mother’s life as a student. Only that she, too, had been in Gryffindor, and had apparently fallen in love with his father.

“I’ve been traveling all over the continent for work,” Miriam explained, “but Dumbledore asked me to come in for the trial. He thought I might be useful since I happen to have unlimited access to medical records, and,” she said, lowering her voice so Harry had to lean in close, “a certain talent for forging signatures.”

Harry grinned. He was beginning to like this woman very, very much. She gave him a wink, and the next moment, Mr. Weasley burst through the tall double doors.

“Harry!” he panted, bending over with his hands on his knees and making a noble effort to catch his breath. “There you are. I…(pant)…was worried. Thought you had…(wheeze)…gotten lost. Taken…(gasp)…the wrong way out.” Mr. Weasley coughed once and straightened. His eyes widened as he noticed Miriam.

“Ms. Daniels!” he exclaimed, seizing her hand and shaking it energetically. “Arthur Weasley! I would have recognized you anywhere. Your picture has been all over the papers. I just read about you last week in the Daily Prophet. Amazing, how you cured that Egyptian prince from those poisonous boils, really incredible. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My wife will be so pleased, she’s been talking about this all week. Thank you so much for coming, and on such short notice.”

“Wonderful to meet you too, Arthur,” said Miriam. “Please, call me Miriam. And it was my pleasure. I’m just glad I could be of assistance.”

“Miriam is going to be staying with us for a while at Headquarters,” explained Mr. Weasley, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll be acting as our very own resident Healer.”

“Dumbledore said you needed the best, although hopefully you won’t be needing me all that much. And besides,” she said, her eyes suddenly darker and much more intense then Harry had yet seen them, “if Lord Voldemort is truly back, well, I’ve got a personal stake in seeing to his demise.”

“We all do, Miriam,” said Mr. Weasley quietly. Harry looked from Miriam to Mr. Weasley, a bit surprised from the sudden intensity in the air. But he was truly impressed by Miriam; she hadn’t been at all hesitant about saying Voldemort’s name. And couldn’t help but appreciate the passionate revulsion it was pronounced with.

Mr. Weasley noticed Harry’s curious expression, and cleared his throat.

“Well, we best be off then. The other’s will be dying to know how your trial went, Harry,” he said, and picked up Miriam’s briefcase. “I think our headquarters should accommodate you quite nicely, Miriam. We’ll get your office set up in no time.”

Miriam nodded, and smoothed out her robes distractedly. She offered Harry a reassuring smile, and he thought that it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The alarming storm gleaming in them, Harry noticed, had yet to subside.

Harry thought the trip back to number twelve was the highlight of his entire summer. He could easily understand why Miriam was so successful as a Healer; Harry felt immediately at ease with her. She laughed easily and listened intently. Harry thought she would know how to talk to just about anybody, and remembered the way she spoke so coolly and professionally to the Wizengamot, then switched effortlessly to warmth and cheer. She didn’t talk to Harry like a child either, as he knew many adults had the tendency to do. Mr. Weasley was content to walk ahead and let Harry and Miriam get to know each other, and they chatted the entire way back, pausing the conversation only to let Arthur instruct the telephone booth send them back to Grimmauld Place.

Miriam told Harry fantastic stories about his mother and father at Hogwarts; how she and Lily had grown the largest pumpkin in Herbology their fifth year, just in time for the annual Halloween Festival’s pumpkin competition. Harry’s father, however, thought it might be funny to jump out from behind a suit of armor and scare Lily in his very authentic werewolf costume. Lily was so angry that she smashed the pumpkin straight over James’ head, and refused to dance with him for the rest of the evening. Miriam also told Harry how she used to help Lily and James sneak back into the castle after hours as they huddled underneath James’ invisibility cloak. When Harry asked why they had to sneak back into the castle, Miriam simply winked, and told him to figure it out for himself.

Harry enjoyed listening to Miriam’s stories and telling some of his own so much that he didn’t realize when they had arrived at the square where number twelve stood hidden. He became so caught up in telling Miriam about his thoughts regarding the new Quidditch team now that their Captain and Keeper, Oliver Wood, had graduated, that he had walked nearly ten feet ahead before he realized Miriam was no longer by his side. He stopped abruptly mid-sentence, and turned around. Miriam was standing, seemingly frozen in place, staring straight ahead of her. Harry didn’t know what to make of the expression on her face. Her brows were furrowed tightly together, and her mouth hung slightly open. Her eyes seemed glazed over, as if in a daze, or under some sort of hypnosis.

“Miriam?” There was no response. Harry called out her name again, louder this time. Still Miriam stood, unresponsive and transfixed. Then, to Harry’s utter bewilderment, she took a step backward. And another. Then she turned on her heel and began to walk away.

“Alright, you two?” Mr. Weasley called out. He turned around, saw Miriam’s retreating back, and faster than Harry would have ever thought he could move, Mr. Weasley sprinted past Harry and had caught up with Miriam, clutching her arm, and forcing her back around.

“Miriam! Please, try to understand �“”

She let out what sounded like moan, and tried to wrench her arm free. Harry could see that her eyes were no longer glazed over, but swarming with emotions. He was shocked to see the absolute horror reflected in them.

Just then, Harry heard the click of a door, and Remus Lupin was dashing past Harry just as Mr. Weasley had done. Rather than seize Miriam, however, he skidded to a halt a few feet in front of her. Mr. Weasley released her arm, and took a wary step back to where Harry stood watching. Lupin and Miriam stared at each other without saying a word for a full fourteen seconds. Lupin lifted his hands once awkwardly, then lowered them again, then stuffed them in his pockets. Miriam stared intensely at his face.

“Remus.” Her voice was barely audible. “You look like hell.”

It was true, although, Harry couldn’t ever recall seeing Lupin looking particularly healthy. His transformations into a werewolf every full moon were violent and painful, and it showed clearly in his pale skin and weary expressions. Even so, he smiled just a little bit.

“You would be the expert, after all. Miriam,” he said, and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” she demanded, her voice growing louder and harsher with each word. Her breathing was shallow and unsteady as though she had been running.

“Couldn’t,” said Lupin, firmly. “We have to be careful this time around, very careful. You know that. I wanted to tell you, believe me, the last thing I wanted was to spring this on you out of nowhere, but�””

“Why here?” Her voice had gone quiet again, and Harry thought she suddenly looked very tired. And, he realized, very sad. “I just don’t understand. I’m assuming we’re right outside headquarters, correct? This is the secret location? Remus,” she said, her voice taking on a pleading tone, “why here?”

Harry glanced up at Mr. Weasley questioningly, but he merely shook his head, signaling Harry not to say anything yet.

“It was the safest place we could think of,” Lupin answered. “And the last place anyone else would.”

This was very true. The neighborhood they were standing in was unkempt and seemed derelict. Paint was peeling from many of the houses, and some windows had web-like cracks running through them. There was the bittersweet smell of something rotten wafting in their direction.

“I’ll explain everything once we’re inside. Miriam.” Lupin was now smiling sincerely. “It’s been too long.”

Harry’s head was now buzzing in amazement. Right before his eyes, the grave scene he had been watching transformed, and in the next instant, and the air was now filled with laughter and merriment.

Miriam’s face had broken out into a huge grin, and with a whoop, she leapt into Lupin’s outstretched arms. He swung her around once, then she grabbed his face in both hands and placed a loud, noisy kiss right on his lips. Bouncing up and down excitedly, she took both of Lupin’s hands in her own, and kissed him again. Lupin blushed furiously. Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing his former professor act quite so lightheartedly, and he could hardly believe this was the same witch who had stridden so professionally into the courtroom. They looked, Harry thought, like children, and despite his confusion found that he too, was smiling.

“Remus! Oh, for goodness sakes, you look absolutely dreadful,” She seized his chin and began to examine his scratched-up face, clucking her tongue in such a way that Harry was strongly reminded of Ms. Weasley fussing over one of her children.

“What have you been doing with yourself? Oh, look at this, you have scarring everywhere. Well, no matter, that’s what I’m here for. I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy. Still taking that potion, I hope? I’m working on a new recipe, apricot flavored, too. I’m almost positive this one will �“”

“Don’t you worry about me,” said Lupin reassuringly, tucking her hand into his arm and giving it a pat. “There’re more important things to attend to. But for now, we’d better get inside. The others will start to think Harry’s been tossed into Azkaban.”

Miriam nodded resolutely, and took a deep, shaky breath. Lupin gave her hand another pat.

“It will be alright. I’ll explain everything once we’re inside,” he promised. Miriam gave a short laugh.

“I certainly hope this is the worst of it. Any more surprises like this and I might keel over from the shock.”

Lupin laughed too, but Harry thought it sounded very forced. He still had no idea what had just happened or what was so shocking it almost had Miriam hurrying away in the opposite direction, but before he could ask any questions, Mr. Weasley placed a hand on his back and gently urged him forward.

“Inside,” he whispered, as though reading Harry’s mind. They walked forward and approached two of the more battered-looking houses on the block. Number eleven, and number thirteen. House number twelve was missing. Harry expected this of course, and concentrated on the address they were looking for.

Lupin took a folded paper out of his pocket, and held it out to Miriam. She pushed it away, without so much as glimpsing it.

“I know the address.”

Out of nowhere, a door began to appear between numbers eleven and thirteen, and soon an entire house materialized right before their eyes. Harry watched Miriam anxiously. Her face looked determined and she followed Lupin inside the house without a single hitch in her stride. But Harry noticed one hand buried within her robes, and he would have bet it was gripped tightly around her wand.

They walked into the foyer, and Mr, Weasley closed the door behind them quietly, magically sealing all of the bolts and locks with quiet clicks.

Miriam spun around in a slow circle. Her lips were pressed very tightly together.

“Things are a bit different in this house since the last time you were here,” said Lupin in a hushed voice to Miriam. “We’ve got be very careful in the hallways, wouldn’t want to wake�””

The door leading into the kitchen flew open, and Tonks, her hair blond as wheat today, threw her arms out wide and rushed towards Harry, followed by Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. They were all grinning at him, though upon seeing Harry, Mrs. Weasley looked as though she had just begun to breathe again after a very long hiatus.

“Harry!” Tonks half whispered, half shouted. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, one of her arms, flailing about wildly as she charged towards Harry, connected solidly with a dusty glass vase standing atop a dresser.

CRASH!

Instantly, Harry jammed his fingers into his ears and screwed up his face. Just as he had anticipated, the room erupted in dizzying noise. Angry shouts and piercing screams attacked them from the portraits that had awoken from the crash, bellowing insults and furious threats at the group. Harry could just barely hear Mrs. Weasley’s exasperated “Tonks!” Miriam clapped her hands over her ears, and yelped as she turned and saw the largest portrait in the hall, whose curtains had flown wide open, pointing directly at her.

Harry recognized the woman in the portrait from another unfortunate encounter similar to this. She was old and decrepit looking, her skin sallow and stretched, and wore a black nightdress and cap. She emitted a bloodcurdling shriek that echoed throughout Harry’s head despite his plugged ears.

“You!” she screeched in a voice so shrill, Harry thought for sure the vase would have shattered anyway if Tonks hadn’t already gotten to it. Her twisted index finger pointed so rigidly at Miriam it seemed as though she was trying to pierce a hole through the middle of her face. Miriam’s eyes were as wide as galleons.

“You! Filthy abomination! Wicked, foul mudblood! Tainted the blood of my flesh, how dare you walk into this house!”

Miriam looked horrorstruck. Lupin and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley dashed through the hall, stunning the other portraits into silence. Harry heard a brusque voice growl, ‘Not again,” and Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, came charging out of the kitchen straight towards the howling portrait.

“Vermin! Rotten blood traitor, shamed the name of my fathers, and it’s all her fault!”

With an enormous effort, Sirius dragged the curtains together once again, and turned towards the others, panting slightly.

“Alright,” he shouted over the noise that was just beginning to die down, “who’s the one that �“”

Sirius broke off shortly. The room had suddenly grown so quiet that Harry could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He looked around at the others. Everyone was standing very still, as though frightened that the slightest movement might set off the portraits again. Lupin looked as though he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the right words, and his mouth kept opening and closing like a goldfish. Tonks’ eyes were darting about wildly from one person to another. Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with her hands, and turned her face into Mr. Weasley’s shirt. Still, nobody said a word.

Harry now looked back and forth from Sirius to Miriam. Sirius was staring at her, transfixed. Harry couldn’t read the expression on his godfather’s face; His forehead was creased, eyebrows strewn tightly together, his lips slightly parted, though Harry could tell his jaw was clenched forcefully. On the other hand, Harry found Miriam’s wide-eyes, dilated pupils, and open-mouthed expression much easier to decipher.

Miriam was staring at Sirius as though she had just seen a ghost.

Chapter Two

Everything seemed to happen in an instant. In the blink of an eye, Miriam had Harry by the collar of his shirt and yanked him roughly behind her, stepping in front of him as though intending to shield him from some attack. With the other hand, she reached into her robes and deftly extracted her wand, brandished it once, and then pointed it directly at Sirius.

“No!” shouted Harry, at the same time Lupin yelled, “Expelliarmus!” Miriam’s wand flew out of her hand, and clattered loudly as it hit the floor.

Once again the room was silent. Sirius had not budged. He was still staring at Miriam with the same disbelieving, almost aggravated expression. Lupin lowered his wand and stepped between Miriam and Sirius.

“Miriam, please,” said Lupin, looking very distressed. “You must listen to me.”

But Miriam was now staring at Lupin as though she had never seen him before. Her eyes were narrowed, her nostrils flared with each labored breath, and her hands fisted at her sides.

“What is he doing here?” she demanded, her voice dangerously low and sounding as though each word took a concentrated effort.

Harry felt as though a light bulb had just been clicked on in his head. It was so obvious! Of course Miriam had known Sirius back in school; she had been friends with the whole lot of them, why should Sirius be excluded? The Order probably couldn’t communicate to her through OWL post the circumstances of his situation, and she had to still be under the impression that he was nothing more than an escaped murderer. Miriam doesn’t know Sirius is innocent, he thought to himself. Why hadn’t he said anything on their way back from the Ministry? Harry could have kicked himself in the head; the idea hadn’t even occurred to him.

Lupin shoved his wand back into his waistband and took a step towards Miriam. She took a step back, and would have collided with Harry if he hadn’t stepped out from behind her in time. Lupin raised his hands, palms faced outward, as if he were approaching a scared animal, to make it understand he posed no threat.

“It’s okay, Miriam. He’s alright. You see, there was a horrible mistake, a trick that I didn’t know about until recently the day that…that day. Sirius is �“”

“A murderer!” cried Miriam, pointing at Sirius in the same, accusing fashion Mrs. Black had demonstrated. In that moment, the curtains flew back open, and before Mrs. Black could even take a breath to resume her shrieking, Hermione waved her wand and yelled, “Stupify!” The curtains fell back, concealing the frozen image of a decrepit woman about to embark on a furious tirade.

“No, Miriam, I thought so too, but it was Peter Pettigrew! Peter betrayed �“”

“Peter is dead!”

“He’s alive!” exclaimed Harry. All eyes were on him now, except for Sirius, who continued to stare at Miriam. “He’s with Voldemort,” (there was a visible flinch amongst many in the room), “right now, I’ve seen him, we all have. He’d been posing as Ron’s rat, Scabbers, and…”

“Sirius was framed,” explained Lupin, speaking quickly now, a desperate edge to his voice. “Sirius convinced James to use Peter as their secret keeper at the last minute, and Peter betrayed James and Lily both to Voldemort.”

“B-but that night,” sputtered Miriam, “in the square! With the…the muggles…”

“Peter,” said Lupin, “cut off his own finger to make it seem as if Sirius had blown him to bits, and murdered the other muggles. Believe me Miriam, I thought so too, but I was wrong, we all were. ”

Miriam was now trembling visibly from head to toe, her chest heaving in short, ragged breaths. Her eyes seemed glazed over, as though she were in shock and not really able to see anything, wide and unblinking. Her head moved slowly from side to side, relaying the clear but silent message: No.

“I couldn’t tell you,” said Lupin. “It wasn’t safe, nobody can know that Sirius is here.”

Miriam let out what sounded like a half laugh, half sob.

“Couldn’t tell me?” she repeated, very slowly, trying hard to make sure each word was clear despite her shakes and frantic breathing. Her eyes seemed to be swimming. Then she simply exploded: “COULDN’T TELL ME?!”

Harry very nearly jumped at the sudden outburst, Lupin squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as if being hit by a painful blow, Hermione had to stun Mrs. Black’s portrait into silence again, and Mrs. Weasley began to sob into her husbands shirt.

“No,” Miriam said at last, her voice very hoarse, as though she had been shouting the entire time. She blinked once, twice, and Harry watched dumbfounded as tears streaked narrow trails down her paler than ever cheeks. She no longer looked shocked, Harry thought, but positively grief-stricken. Harry didn’t think that he had ever seen a more miserable-looking person in his entire life, and that was saying quite a lot.

“No,” Miriam said again, looking at Lupin as though he couldn’t be more unfamiliar to her. “This, Remus, you could have told me.”

Then, casting her eyes down towards the floor where tears began to fall freely, and deliberately avoiding Harry’s thunderstruck stare, she turned around slowly, lifted the oversized briefcase Lupin had dropped in his hurry to disarm her, and began walking towards the heavily bolted door.

Harry had never been so confused in his entire life. He really didn’t want Miriam to leave, but he couldn’t understand why she seemed so eager to. If Miriam had been so close with his parents and Lupin, then that meant she had to be close to Sirius too, didn’t it? She certainly knew him, that was undeniably obvious, so why wasn’t she happy? Harry would have thought this would be a joyous discovery; a friend she had thought to be a traitorous murderer was innocent. Yet Miriam appeared devastated. And Mrs. Weasley, well, by now she was positively weeping, Lupin covered his face with his hands, and Tonks was wringing her hands feverishly, chewing on her lower lip. It wasn’t hard to deduce that they all knew something Harry obviously didn’t.

He was about to say as much when Sirius, whom Harry had almost completely forgotten was even there, who hadn’t so much as twitched from his frozen stance in front of the portrait, charged past him in a blur, shoved past Lupin, and within three strides had caught up with Miriam, seized her brusquely by the arm, and swung her back around to face him.

“Don’t touch me!” cried Miriam, trying to wrench herself free from Sirius’ grip. She was squirming around as though her life depended on nothing more than freeing herself from Sirius’ grasp, but with nothing more than a frown, Sirius simply took hold of her other arm and gave her a sharp yank towards him. Looking around, Harry noticed that everyone in the room, including Lupin and Mrs. Weasley, were now watching the two anxiously. Harry realized he had been holding his breath.

Sirius’ eyes searched Miriam’s face, her hair, her white robes. They were very, very close to each other, and Miriam was holding herself awfully rigid, alternating between squeezing her eyes shut, and staring fixated on the floor, focusing anywhere except at Sirius, who looked as though he were trying to see through her with his eyes. All of the blood had now drained entirely from Miriam’s face, and in her white robes she looked nearly ghostlike.

“It really is you, isn’t it?” whispered Sirius. Harry had never seen his godfather look so mesmerized before. He seemed utterly in awe of her very presence, and had not taken his eyes off of Miriam since he first walked into the hallway. And yet, as with Miriam, the undertones of his wistful expression hinted at something bittersweet.

“You were the first thing they took from me,” murmured Sirius. “My only happy memory. I haven’t thought of you in fifteen years.”

Very suddenly, Miriam raised her head and looked directly into Sirius’s eyes. Her own had become awfully cold, and extremely determined.

“And I’ve had to think about you everyday. For fifteen years,” said Miriam, darkly. Her voice trembled. “I win.”

Sirius’ head looked taken aback for a moment, and something in his eyes changed. He was still gripping Miriam’s arms tightly, although she had stopped struggling. Lupin cleared his throat, awkwardly.

Harry suddenly remembered that there were other people in the room. He had been so curious, so puzzled by the scene before him. Harry looked around at the others and saw that they had been as riveted as he had been; they all had the startled looks look on their faces that suggested that they had just been sharply awoken out of a dream.

Mrs. Weasley was no longer sobbing, but her lip was still quivering tremulously, her hands clutching her husbands soaked shirt. Tonks stopped biting her lip, and Hermione hiccupped wetly. The twins both shared identical blank looks. Ginny was chewing on her fingernails nervously. Ron looked at Harry, questioningly, his eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared behind his flaming red bangs. Harry shrugged.

“Well, uh, yes,” Lupin stammered, clearing his throat again, “I think, perhaps, we should clear out. Let these, uh, let them…Molly! It’s almost dinner by now, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, and she scurried back into the kitchen. A moment later, the kitchen door swung open again and two plump hands shot out and snagged the twins, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione by their collars, yanking them expertly into the kitchen.

Tonks muttered something about being hungry, even though she looked as though the last thing on earth she wanted to do was eat, and Harry was left alone in the hall with Miriam, Sirius, and Lupin.

“You too, Harry,” said Lupin in a low voice, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently nudging him towards the kitchen. Harry didn’t want to leave, but Lupin looked intently at him, and he couldn’t think of any good reason why he should be allowed to stay. Lupin leaned down so only Harry could hear him, and whispered, “Later.”

Dozens of questions buzzing through his head, Harry walked into the kitchen, but not before twisting around back towards Miriam and Sirius.

“It was nice to meet you, Miriam!” blurted Harry.

She looked at him, her eyes still glimmering with tears, but meant it when she smiled back.

---

Miriam couldn’t breathe; her lungs were burning, she couldn’t feel her legs holding her upright, and she felt dizzy and unreal. It was as though she were watching the scene unfolding before her from an outsider’s perspective, looking through a pair of eyes that were not hers. She was also trying extremely hard to ignore the sickly warm feeling in her mouth and the nausea churning in her belly, warning her that illness was not too far off. She felt her blood beginning to heat with the tidal wave of emotions swelling inside of her, however, she couldn’t seem stop herself from shivering. But the worst feeling of all, and yet the only thing that kept her even slightly lucid, was the powerful and keen rage she felt at herself for feeling so pitifully frail at the sight of Sirius Black.

She tried to focus her energy on something, anything else but him; but all she could feel was Sirius’ hands digging into her arms, his eyes boring into hers. She watched as he blinked, jerking slightly as her words sunk in, and finally when he began to see her at last. Miriam knew exactly what Sirius had been so spellbound by before, because it was just that vision she wouldn’t let herself see. What she couldn’t let herself see. Miriam was terrified that if she did, if she allowed herself that indulgence even for a moment, she would never be able to look back.

Sirius had been looking at Miriam as he had known her fifteen years ago. He was seeing a woman with whom he had shared a volatile past with, had bickered and argued endlessly with, had shared wild adventures and quiet evenings with, future dreams and innocent wishes; the woman he had once shared a life with.

He was seeing a woman who had disappeared forever exactly fifteen years ago.

But not anymore. Now as he studied her, Miriam felt very self-conscious. She hated herself for the flush she felt raising into her cheeks. She hated the tears that she couldn’t seem to stop from dripping down her stinging eyes. But even more, she despised the shiver that ran through her body when his one of his hands clutching her left forearm so tightly slid leisurely down to lift her hand level to his eyes. Without saying a word, his thumb and forefinger moved to rub the bare skin around Miriam’s ring finer.

It was all Miriam needed to get a grip on herself, to call back the anger, the hurt, and the fury that had so suddenly abandoned her for grief as Sirius, at long last, had looked at her for the first time after so many years.

He stared at the finger for a long time, finally lifting his gaze back to Miriam’s.

“You took it off.”

Her eyes went stormy and cold, and her chin jutted out arrogantly.

“Of course I took it off,” she said, and wrenched her hand away. “Just what did you expect, precisely? That you would just come back and find everything exactly as you had left it? Well, think again. I still don’t understand what is going on here, and I’m very much hoping that I will wake up and find this all a terrible dream, however, I consider myself a sensible woman. As such, until you prove yourself to be nothing more than a figment of my imagination, I will remain civil to you, for Harry’s sake, and only for Harry. Otherwise, we are not…anything. As far as I’m concerned, we’re nothing more than strangers,” she said, stopping only to breathe. “And stop touching me!” she shouted, stumbling back as Sirius reached for her again.

“You’re not even going to listen to me?” demanded Sirius in a gruff voice, temper hinging along the edges. “About what really happened, why �“”

“As far as I’m concerned,” interrupted Miriam, her own temper rising, “that was an entire lifetime ago. You can’t change the past.”

Sirius was looking at her very strangely again. The anger seemed to have fizzled out of his disposition.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly very quiet.

Miriam felt her eyes burning again, felt her throat tighten up. No, she told herself. She would not fall apart. Not here. Not now. Oh God, not now.

“You did,” she managed. “But never again.”

Miriam was suddenly very tired. She felt like an ice pick was chipping away in a corner of her brain, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear into a dreamless sleep.

Without another word, she headed for the stairs, a difficult task as her legs had extraordinarily turned into lead, weighing down each step.

“We will talk,” called out Sirius after her.

Miriam reached the hallway, where doors led into bedrooms on each side. It was hard to figure out which room was hers; her vision was now so blurry, she felt like she was navigating half-blind underwater. Without any luck, she heaved a great sigh, and trudged her way up the second flight of stairs leading to the third floor. She tripped once, but managed to drag herself back up. Mercifully, she was somehow able to recognize the luggage stacked in the first bedroom in the long hallway as hers. She staggered into it, shutting the door loudly behind her.

Unable to take one more step, Miriam simply leaned her back against the door, and sank down to the floor. Exhausted, she curled up in a fetal position, and gave in to everything she had been holding back since she first glimpsed Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Miriam wept until she was dry.

She had no idea how long she had lain on that floor, but eventually she pushed herself to her hands and knees, and crawled towards her suitcases. The headache was worse than ever before. Selecting a large, box-like purple one, Miriam clicked it open, and extracted a glass bottle containing a clear blue liquid. She took a large swig from it, and carrying the bottle with her, inched her way to the queen sized bed in the center of the room. Without bothering to turn down the sheets, she collapsed onto the quilted covers.

Miriam lay flat on her back and felt a painful emptiness in the pit of her stomach as if she had been scraped raw. Lifting her head slightly, she took another enormous gulp form the glass bottle, then curled into herself once again. She did not want to dream tonight.

---

p>Harry did not have much of an appetite, but he sat at the table nonetheless, and tuned out the chatter of the adults, no doubt trying to distract the others from what was going on in the hall outside. Tonks managed to entertain Ginny by changing the color of her eyes, hair, and shape of her nose. Lupin engaged Fred and George in a serious discussion about investment, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley inputting their opinions every few words. He thought that Fred and George’s extendable ears would certainly come in handy right about now, and by the sheepish looks on the twin’s faces and the suspicious eye of their mother, they all thought so too.

Harry sat between Ron and Hermione, shuffling around the peas on his plate without much purpose. Hermione was still sniffling, and Ron continued casting bewildered glances at Harry.

“I’ll never understand adults,” he said at last, keeping his voice low and out of the range of Mrs. Weasley’s hearing. “Everything has to be so complicated with them. Nothing can ever be plain and simple.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“I mean, so she thought he was a murderer, and found out he’s not. But no, instead of being happy to see each other, they get all moody and…Hermione, do you need a tissue?”

“No!” she snapped, swiping the back of her hand under her nose and shooting an exasperated glace at Ron. “Honestly, you two can be so thick sometimes! Don’t you realize what is going on?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked back at Hermione, shaking their heads in unison.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. Ron looked as if he were about to say something not particularly friendly, when she continued, “Miriam and Sirius were in love!”

Harry and Ron’s jaws dropped.

“In love?” repeated Ron incredulously. “Well, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. That didn’t look like love to me, it looked they were about the start trading blows with each other!”

But Harry leaned back against his seat thoughtfully. In love? Harry was very fond of his godfather, a haughty, mischievous, sometimes reckless man, but had a difficult time imagining him ever falling in love with anybody.

“Ron, you’re obliviousness never ceases to amaze me. That’s why she was so upset, naturally, because she’s been under the impression that Sirius had…”

Hermione broke off as Sirius, looking grim and tight-lipped, trudged into the kitchen and took a seat next to Lupin, across from Harry. All conversations came to a halt just as abruptly. Everyone was looking at Sirius nervously, but Sirius just glared down at the table and didn’t say anything. Finally, Mr. Weasley pushed back from the table and yawned, hugely.

“I’m exhausted,” he said, yawning again. “Bedtime I think. Come along, children.”

“But it’s not even seven o’ clock!” protested Fred.

Mrs. Weasley shot him a warning glance, and he and George resentfully got up from the table and headed for the stairs, grumbling beneath their breaths the whole way.

“You too, girls. Ron.”

After a barrage of protests and whines, Harry was left alone in the kitchen with Lupin and Sirius. Finally, Sirius looked up at Harry and tried a smile, but it was really more of a grimace.

“Well then,” he said. His voice sounded odd somehow, strained. “Harry, I suppose you’ll have a few questions. I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer everything, not sure if I missed much in my absence,” he said, glancing at Lupin who nodded.

“I’ll try to fill in the blanks as best I can,” said Lupin.

Harry thought for a moment, remembering the incident in the hallway, mulling over what Hermione had said.

“Ah, okay. Well, Miriam said that she knew my Mum and Dad back in school.”

“Aye,” said Sirius, nodding. “She and Lily had always gotten on well, but towards fifth year they became inseparable. They were always running back and forth from table to table in the Great Hall to talk to each other, Miriam being in Hufflepuff and your mother, of course, in Gryffindor. James, Lupin, and I didn’t get to know her all that well until sixth year, but James became very fond of her, and she and Remus were both prefects, so they spent some time together with that whole business.”

“What about you?” asked Harry, hesitantly.

Sirius sighed heavily. For a few seconds he didn’t respond. Then, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, responded in a casual voice, “I fell in love with Miriam the moment I laid eyes on her. We were engaged to be married.”

Harry’s jaw dropped rather rudely, but he couldn’t help himself. Questions bubbled in his throat, but he thought it best to say silent and let Sirius continue.

“You see, Harry, in sixth year I was involved in a little…accident,” he said, smiling wistfully.

Lupin was smiling too, now, and his eyes seemed a bit glazed over. Harry had the distinct feeling that Lupin and Sirius were no longer completely with him in the kitchen anymore.

“I was made to stay in the hospital wing for quite a while, and Miriam was often there, studying under Madame Pompfrey. She’s the reason I’ve still got this leg, here,” he said, patting his right leg gently. “Even back then, nothing more than a student, she was the best.”

Harry looked at his godfather, stunned. He tried to imagine Sirius, a day or two of stubble on his chin, roguish looks, and sometimes reckless behavior with Miriam’s rosy cheeks, and cheerful, pleasant demeanor. He was surprised when he did, and rather easily.

Harry realized his mouth was still hanging open and quickly closed it, then opened it again a second later to ask if…

But he knew immediately that Sirius was no longer there; his mind had traveled completely elsewhere, to another time, another place. Perhaps, thought Harry, to a school infirmary where a pretty student nurse was bandaging a badly injured leg…

Chapter 3

Sirius Black was in very poor shape. His head ached viciously and throbbed to a dull beat, tempting him back into the peaceful nothingness he had emerged from. With a great effort, he became dimly aware that his head was resting comfortably on a plush surface; however, he was unable to account for the rest of his limbs. Sirius was completely numb from the neck down. With another enormous amount of willpower, he attempted to gingerly move each of his arms and legs, and nearly screamed. Dizzying, mind-numbing pain swamped him, and it took every last ounce of concentration not to fall back into the welcoming darkness. Sirius interpreted this as a good sign, however; it meant that each was limb was still attached, and even better �“ he was alive.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Fearless is finally awake. No, you don’t want to move that, not yet. Oh, you poor fool. Here �“ I just came in from outside and it’s freezing, so this should feel nice.”

The next moment, Sirius felt a pair of icy, gentle hands press firmly against his forehead, then his cheeks, and neck. He groaned appreciatively, earning a distinctively female chuckle from his companion whom he had yet to see.

“Thought it would. Oh, you idiot, what did you think you were doing over there?” She sighed. “I suppose you’re not in any shape to answer that at the moment. There now,” the girl murmured, gently stroking the damp hair back out of Sirius’ face. “I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit. You should try to get some more sleep, I promise it’ll be much more enjoyable than staying awake at this point.”

No, Sirius thought frantically; he couldn’t yet bring himself to form words. Wait! He felt a sudden, desperate compulsion to see his caretaker before she left. Concentrating, his eyes fluttered open, and he blinked furiously trying to clear his vision.

Finally, a blurry image began to form, and he could make out long, dark hair framing a face so fair, he thought for a moment it was glowing. She was draped in wispy robes of white, and there was a halo of light shimmering around her. One chilly hand was still cupping his cheek, her thumb tenderly stroking his sweaty brow. As she began to move away, Sirius shot out his hand and seized her wrist, barely registering her surprised, “Oh!” She needed to stay with him. He needed her to stay.

Unfortunately, the sharp movement brought on a wave of sickening pain that made his stomach roll and his vision blacken around the edges. An angel, he thought dreamily.

Then everything went black.

---

Sirius awoke to the sounds of familiar voices chattering away close by. He opened his eyes and saw his best friends, James Potter sitting to his right, and Remus Lupin standing beside him. Lily Evans, a pretty girl with vivid red hair was arranging flowers at the foot of his bed. The pain in his body had lessened dramatically, and he found he was able to think clearly once again. Glancing around, he realized that he was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, lying in one of the lumpy beds they provided for unlucky patients.

“Wicked beating it was. I thought he had snuffed it for sure. It should have been me in there, I never should have let him go by himself.”

“James, shut up,” Lily snapped. “He’s awake.”

Lupin turned and smiled down at him and James grinned broadly, gripping Sirius’ hand in his own. Sirius grinned back.

“Welcome back,” said Lupin.

“You look like hell,” observed James, and gave Sirius’ hand a squeeze. His voice had a rough edge to it, as though there were something large caught in his throat he couldn’t quite manage to dislodge.

Sirius squeezed back. He had understood the unspoken sentiment, and responded in turn.

“Enjoy it, mate; you might not get another chance to be the good looking one.”

“Amazing,” marveled Lily, walking back over to the bed and placing a hand on James’s shoulder. “Practically gets beaten to a pulp, yet his ego remains perfectly in tact.” Her voice had a sarcastic edge to it, but she too was smiling happily.

Together they filled him in on the incident, as pieces of his own memory slowly fit back into place. On a recent venture into the shrieking shack, James had forgotten his invisibility cloak, which they normally used to sneak Lupin back into the school after his transformation into a werewolf had reversed itself. Intrigued by the challenge, Sirius had volunteered to retrieve it, and bet James he could make it past the Whomping Willow without transforming into his Animagi shape first; a large, black dog. The Whomping Willow was a recent addition to the Hogwarts grounds. A rather ordinary looking tree, anyone unfortunate enough to get close enough soon discovered that the willow did not appreciate company. This was evidenced by the impromptu graveyard of bird skeletons surrounding the perimeter. No one else was exactly sure what had happened next, as he had insisted on going it alone, but Sirius distinctly remembered mounting his broom and weaving brazenly in and out of the Willow’s violent, furious branches. He had just nearly reached the knot on the trunk that froze the Willow’s attacks, when out of the side of his vision he caught a glimpse of a thick, rough branch swinging towards him at an alarming speed. The next image that formed in his mind was of the dark-haired girl who had soothed him with cool hands and a kind, soft voice.

“You’ve been out cold for three days,” said Lupin, somberly. “We weren’t sure if you were going to come out of it, had us worried half to death, but then Miriam told us you had �“”

“Who’s Miriam?” interrupted Sirius.

“Miriam,” answered Madame Pompfrey, walking towards the bed and delicately balancing a silver tray packed with bandages, some sharp-looking tools, and half a bottle of foul-looking green liquid, “is the reason you’re alive, my dear. Now, stand back, let me see, let me see…Hmm.” She snipped away at bandages examining the healing bruises and bumps, poking here, prodding there. “Ah hmmm. Very good, very good indeed. Magical hands, that girl’s got. I daresay I couldn’t have done a better job myself. You’re a very lucky young man; if she hadn’t been tending to you in my absence, you very well might have lost this,” she said, and gave Sirius’ right leg a sharp jab with one of the tools.

“Bloody hell!” The blood drained straight out of his face and seemed to collect in the pit of his stomach where it gave one slow, sickening roll. Lily winced, Lupin looked away, and James grimaced as the hand still gripping Sirius’ was crushed in his friend’s reflex to the pain. Panting for breath, Sirius looked down at his leg, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The leg, or what was left of it, was hardly recognizable. Thick, black stitching circled around the length of it, and looked as though a jagged chain had been burned into his very skin. The flesh itself was a sickening purplish-green color, and swollen. His toes appeared twice the normal size, and seemed to splay out at odd angles. Madame Pompfrey, tutting to herself, dabbed absently at fresh blood that began to leak out of the stitching.

“This,” hissed Sirius, breathing heavily still “is lucky?”

“Be glad that you’re able to feel that! Goodness, I’d never seen such a mess in my life. Not all on one body, that’s for sure, and to think, non-magical it was, too! So much blood. Any other student would have passed out cold at the sight of that leg. Girl’s got a stomach of pure steel, she does. It’s a miracle you’ve still got it, hate to think what would have happened if Miriam hadn’t volunteered cover for my leave. Full marks, I say. Full marks, indeed.”

“You should have seen the rest of yourself,” said James grimly. “You looked like you had been trampled by an angry herd of hippogriffs.”

“Gashed from head to toe,” added Lupin.

“Miriam was able to patch the rest of you up fairly well,” said Madame Pompfrey. “However, no amount of magic, I’m afraid, will be able to instantly heal the number of

injuries you acquired. You’ll be sore for a few days yet. This,” she started, and began to wrap the gruesome leg in fresh bandages, “will take a bit longer, I’m afraid.”

“What exactly happened to it?” asked Sirius through gritted teeth. The pain was unbelievable.

Madame Pompfrey heaved out a huge sigh. “Ripped completely in half, it was. Bones crushed to smithereens, entire leg just lying ripped open, pouring, just gushing out blood…”

“Alright,” said Sirius, catching the slightly green tint to Lily’s cheeks. He wasn’t feeling too keen himself. “I get it. It was a big mess.”

“A big mess! Gracious, a big mess, he says. Miriam had to completely vanish the remains of whatever bones were left in, and re-grow them, all the while patching up layers and layers of your flesh. I don’t know how she did it, and all by herself. You see,” said Madame Pompfrey gravely, “you cannot rely on magic for everything. There’s only so much one can perform on a body before it’s overloaded with this and that, and your spells start to cancel each other out. Otherwise, you’d simply explode with it. Sooner or later you have to rely on nature. Hence,” she said, and finished up the bandage with a neat bow, “those stitching. Primitive, perhaps, but it’ll heal. As for your bones, those will take some time. You can expect a painful next couple of days,” said Madame Pompfrey, and she carefully poured a dollop of medicine into a large spoon. “Drink up!”

Sirius swallowed a spoonful of the sickly green liquid, and had to try very hard not to gag. Almost immediately, however, he could feel the merciful numbness in his body returning. Madame Pompfrey informed James, Remus, and Lily that they had ten more minutes before it was time for Sirius’ afternoon nap and ambled away with her tray, muttering something about hazardous vegetation.

Sirius, who felt like he had been napping for an eternity, ignored this and looked intensely at Lily.

“Who,” he asked meaningfully, “is Miriam?”

“What, do your ears need to be bandaged up as well? Madame Pompfrey just told you all about --”

“Miriam,” interrupted Lily, obviously understanding Sirius much better than James had, “is a sixth year, like us, in Hufflepuff. Pretty girl, dark hair. We’ve partnered together loads of times in Double Herbology. I’d say she’s very likely the brightest girl of her House. Don’t tell me you don’t know her,” said Lily, incredulously. “We’ve all had dozens of classes with her over the years.”

Lupin nodded agreeably.

“We have Charms with her this year,” he piped in.

“I’ve partnered with her more than once in Advanced Potions,” James added. “There isn’t an antidote known to wizard-kind she can’t conjure up. Quite entertaining, really,” he said, and smiled. “I’m quite sure Professor Scourgish would have loved to fail me dozens of times. You should see her face when she walks by our perfectly concocted potions,” he laughed. “Priceless.”

“I’m sure those ‘perfect concoctions’ of yours were also perfectly equal efforts,” quipped Lily. James shrugged, grinning. He picked up the hand on his shoulder and nibbled playfully on her knuckles. Lily blushed furiously and yanked her hand away, her lips pursed so hard together trying not to smile it seemed as though there were something particularly sour in her mouth.

Sirius tried half-heartedly not to smile himself as he and Lupin exchanged knowing glances.

“Anyway,” said Lily, clearing her throat, “she’s training to become a Healer. I remember her mentioning something about apprenticing under Madame Pompfrey a few weeks ago. Oh, she must be so pleased, she’s been dreaming about this for years.”

“I guess I’ve never noticed her before,” admitted Sirius, and tried to look nonchalant. Lily, however, caught the gleam in his eye.

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t even think abut it,” ordered Lily, her voice rising. “Miriam does not need any distractions, especially of the romantic sort. She’s worked very hard for this, and has got enough on her plate without the likes of you meddling about. And besides,” she said, calmer now, “she’s not your type.”

“And what,” inquired Sirius, “exactly is ‘my type?’”

“Well,” muttered Lily, and blushed. “It’s just that…I mean, Miriam’s…” She seemed as though trying to word her answer as delicately as possible. “Miriam’s smart.”

James snorted derisively, and covered his mouth with his fist, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Lupin bit the inside of his cheek, and stared determinably at a crack in the ceiling. Sirius, however, was not amused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come off it, Sirius,” said Lily, giving up on delicacy. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you give a girl a second look because of a particularly insightful answer in Transfiguration.”

“I like smart girls,” said Sirius, grudgingly.

“Oh yeah,” scoffed Lily. “Tiffany Phillips, now there was a genius. I’ve never met anyone so knowledgeable about the chemical structure of their lipstick before. And Brittany Rosen, well, I suppose it can’t be easy to match ones robes to hair that blonde quite so perfectly.”

Lupin abandoned his attempt for politeness and guffawed quite loudly. James was clutching his sides, his entire body now quaking with laughter.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” muttered Sirius. “So I’m not exactly known for picking the brainiest sorts,” and glared at James whom he had distinctly heard mutter, “or brunettes,” under his breath.

“Well, to be fair, I suppose she’s not exactly the most striking girl, is she? She does tend to kind of…blend in,” Lily admitted. “Still, I don’t doubt every boy in Hufflepuff has tried to catch her eye.”

“Why, if she’s not beautiful?” asked Sirius, and regretted it instantly. Lily drew an indignant breath, her green eyes blazing.

“Because,” she said, her voice rising a few octaves with each word, “not everybody is in agreement that looks account for everything! Believe it or not, some people are actually attracted to intelligence and wit! And substance! And common sense! And --”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius relented, holding up his hands in peace. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant �“”

“I’d imagine because of the challenge,” Lupin interjected, glancing at Lily apologetically and preventing Sirius from wedging his foot further into his mouth. “She’s almost always buried behind some book or another, and she has this very innocent, I think, way about her. And she is very pretty, just not particularly…obvious about it. I suppose it would garner some bragging rights to be the one to finally nail �“ ow! I mean…er, win her heart,” he finished, rubbing his arm where Lily had punched him.

The next minute, Madame Pompfrey was rambling towards them, shooing James, Lily, and Remus promptly out of the hospital wing, insisting that the poor, mindless idiot needed his rest.

Alone, Sirius leaned back against his pillows. He frowned, thoughtfully. Again he tried to imagine the dark-haired girl, Miriam, though the image was fuzzier than ever before. Instead, he replayed the description his friends had given him, over and over again in his mind. A challenge, Lupin had said.

Sirius Black was always ready for a challenge.

Sirius groaned and squeezed his eyes even tighter together. Though they were already closed, the flood of light entering the hospital wing as curtains rattled open caused a dull throb to hammer in his temple. He let out another grunt as he felt a new weight shift the mattress as it settled down beside him.

“Good morning.”

Sirius’ eyes flew open at the voice, and almost like magic, there she was. Relief washed over him. It had been almost three days since he had been admitted to the hospital wing, and Sirius had yet to be tended by her again. He was beginning to think that the girl he had caught barely a glimpse of had been nothing more than a hallucination. But there she was.

“Do you remember me?” she asked, her eyes instinctively scanning over him to check wounds and bandages, completely unaware that she was under observation herself.

Lily was right, Sirius thought, amused at her quiet hums of approval and clicks of the tongue. She wasn’t beautiful. He now realized the aura of light surrounding her now as it had before, giving her an angelic resemblance, had been nothing more than the sunlight draping the whole infirmary. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun that revealed rather ordinary brown eyes and unremarkable features. Her face was clean and unpainted and her nails were short and practically shaped. Her pale skin appeared washed out against the whiteness of her training robes.

Not beautiful, he thought again, but there was…something.

“I’m not surprised,” she continued, lifting one of his bandaged arms and settling it into her lap. Slowly she began to meticulously unwrap the thin cloth. Careful, Sirius thought, so as not to cause him any more discomfort than necessary.

”You’ve had a rough couple of days, no doubt. Madame Pompfrey’s had me working mostly night shifts, so you’ve been asleep most of the time I’ve come to check on you. I’m �“”

”Miriam,” Sirius said. A smile spread across her face, and there it was. A rosy tint bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes twinkled, as if smiling all on their own. Suddenly her eyes didn’t seem as ordinary, her face so unremarkable. No, thought Sirius, amazed that for a moment he had thought her to be plain. Smiling down at him, Miriam looked utterly bewitching. Sirius had the unsettling idea that he would do anything to make her smile again. Slightly disconcerted, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

“That’s right,” Miriam said, pleased. But something twitched in her stomach as she realized he was looking at her rather intently. His eyes, dark and intense, never wavered from her face and stared, unabashedly. She couldn’t explain it, but she had the strangest sensation of being exposed and vulnerable. Heat rose to color her cheeks and she cursed her disloyal pale skin. Probably so used to making girls go weak with a look, she thought defiantly.

Ridiculously uncomfortable, Miriam sought to relax herself by doing what she did best: heal. His arm lying limply across her legs, she picked up a bottle and poured a drop of almond-smelling oil into her hand. Rubbing her palms together, she gently lifted his arm and began to massage her hands back and forth his arm, adding just the slightest amount of pressure, expertly kneading the sensitive skin.

“I wasn’t sure you knew who I was,” she said, he eyes concentrating on the scarred flesh.

“Of course I know who you are,” Sirius said. Rather than numbing, a subtle heat spread throughout his arm with each stroke, her fingers slick and smooth with the warm oil. “We’ve had dozens of classes together,” he said, not missing a beat. By God, her hands felt glorious against his tender skin. “You’re Lily’s friend. We have, ah, Divination together this term. ”

Miriam made a noncommittal humming noise in her throat. She turned the arm over and began to rub slow circles around his palm with her thumbs, concentrating on keeping the pressure light yet firm.

“At least you haven’t been lonely up here,” Miriam said. She glanced up from her lap to the arrangement of flowers, cards, and candies that had collected on the night tables surrounding the bed. “You seem to have quite a fan club. Madame Pompfrey said she had to shoo out gaggles of admirers each night.” She kept her voice light and teasing, and fluttered her eyes lashes exaggeratedly so he laughed. “What were you doing all the way out there, anyway?”

Distracted, Sirius clenched his free hand. It itched to brush away the rebellious tendril of hair that had fallen astray from her ruthless twist. In fact, it itched to free the whole bunch of it altogether and have it tumbling down into his hand.

“Are you alright?”

Annoyed with himself, Sirius wrenched his attention away from the stray lock.

“I just thought it was about time someone showed that bloody tree who’s boss, that’s all,” he said, shrugging.

“Mission accomplished,” Miriam agreed. “I’m sure that good for nothing tree learned a valuable lesson: Never mess with a rebel schoolboy unless you want to suffer the infuriated glares of indignant teenage girls.”

“You should be thanking me, you know,” Sirius said haughtily. Miriam’s jaw dropped. “If it weren’t for my bravery �“ (Miriam snorted) �“ you never would have had the opportunity to practice your magic on such a salacious subject.”

“Corpse is more like it,” said Miriam. Something clenched in her stomach as she remembered the lifeless mess that was wheeled into her care. Remembered the way her stomach had dropped when she had wiped away enough blood to recognize the mangled face. The shock of tears as they swelled in the back of her throat. How a massive weight she hadn’t even realized was there lifted when he had awoken and looked at her for the first time.

Miriam was aware the praise Madame Pompfrey was doling out about her to whoever would listen, and she wasn’t fool enough to believe that she didn’t deserve it; but nor was she hesitant to admit for a moment, at least to herself, that she hadn’t been positively terrified before, during, and after the operations. Miriam had never considered herself particularly brave, and she accepted that. However, despite the panic racing through her mind, the horrible churning her belly, her inability to breathe properly, Miriam’s hands as they repaired her schoolmate had remained steady as a rock.

Sirius frowned at the way the pinkness seemed to drain rapidly from her cheeks. As she massaged her way down again to his fingers, he curled them over one of her hands and held it there. The gesture was meant to comfort, but rather it surprised her enough to have her eyes jerk back to his.

“However,” he said, keeping his voice light, “I’m under the impression that it’s I who should be thanking you.”

“Your welcome.” Miriam found she very much wanted her hand back.

“And I want to make it up to you.”

“You really don’t have to �“”

“So,” he continued on, as though he hadn’t heard a word of her protest, “I’ve decided to take you to the Halloween ball with me as a way of showing my gratitude.” Sirius smiled grandly.

Miriam blinked. There was a gleam in her eye that Sirius couldn’t quite place before she cast them downwards to their joined hands. Probably rendered her speechless, he thought, and grinned even broader.

“Well,” she said finally, looking back to him, her eyes slightly narrowed, her smile slightly wicked. “I must admit, that is quite an offer. But I’m afraid I’ll have to say no.”

“Great,” said Sirius. “So I’ll pick you up at - wait, what? No?”

Miriam had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The wide-eyed, blank expression on his face was almost to good to be true. As casually as possible she stood, freed her hand out of his weak grip, and moved to straighten some of the flower arrangements.

“That’s right. No thank you. You should get some rest now, there’s �“”

“Hold on just a second,” he said, unable to keep the stunned disbelief from his voice. He couldn’t think of a time when he had ever been so completely taken aback. “Why no? Why not?”

“Oh, please, “ she laughed, amused at the color rising to his face. “We both know I’m not your type. I’m sure you’d much rather be going to the ball with…” she lifted the tag from one of the more elaborate bouquets and read, “Margaret Hanson. She seems to be very fond of you, and she’s rather pretty. Why don’t you ask her?”

“I asked you,” growled Sirius, temper hinging at the edges.

“No,” said Miriam, her own temper rising. Sirius had only a moment to be fascinated by the way her eyes could so seamlessly shift from vacant and dull to twinkling amusement to something darker and stormy.

“No, you did not ask me. You told me. You told me that you would be taking me to the dance. So, why not? Well, I’ll give you three reasons why not. First of all, I’m not one of your blond fan club darlings who would swoon at the chance to be acknowledged by the dreamy Sirius Black. Others might take that as gratitude, but I don’t. Second of all, I don’t dance. And third,” she said, her eyebrows raising in what could be interpreted as a taunt, “neither do you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sirius demanded, gritting his teeth in a futile attempt to keep his voice even. Despite her own anger, the Healer in Miriam was pleased to see the healthy color return to his disposition.

“If you think you’ll be in any condition to dance come Saturday,” she said, fussing casually with the flowers once more, “I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken. Not even Madame Pompfrey’s good enough to have that leg supporting you by then.”

Now Sirius smiled.

“Is that a challenge?” He was beginning to like the direction this conversation was going.

“No. It’s a fact.”

Sirius considered for about half of a second.

“How about a bet, then? A friendly little wager, if you will.”

Miriam lifted an eyebrow suspiciously.

“What kind of a bet?”

“Simple,” he said. “If I can walk by Saturday night, you have to come to the dance with me. If I can’t, then you don’t. You can remain nice and cozy tucked away in your empty dormitory.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

Miriam considered. It was absolutely impossible, she thought, that he would be crawling by Sunday even. Impossible. But just to be sure, she glanced back down at his leg. When she looked back up, her smile was just as smug and confident as his.

“Alright. Deal.”

She lifted the bottle of oil from his night table and began to walk towards the hospital office.

“Charms,” she called out behind her.

Sirius sat up, his brow furrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“Charms,” she said again. “We’ve never had a Divination class together.”

Satisfied, she walked cheerfully out of the infirmary to get a start on the mountain of paperwork awaiting her.

For the next few days, Miriam kept herself busy setting up her clinic in the basement of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. She was certainly enjoying herself more than she would have thought possible, given the present circumstances. If there was a place where Miriam felt more at home than with anything else, even medicine, it was wherever children happened to be. It was one of the main reasons she had decided to become a Healer; children seemed to trust her, perhaps because Miriam herself seemed so comfortable in their presence. Unfortunately, Miriam had been unable to care for children in a very long time.

Perhaps it was because of the long hiatus that Miriam was so delighted by the presence of Harry and his friends, who often came down to visit her in the clinic several times a day. Ginny would come scrambling down the stairs at least three times a day with a question about either love potions or cures to obscure jinxes, mostly the former.

Ron came down once with a Doxy hanging on for dear life to his finger by sharp fangs, and once detached, became so fascinated by the various instruments Miriam (who was also an well-trained in Muggle medicine) used to cut people open, he too made regular visits to examine each and every one.

Hermione enjoyed discussing certain experimental theories regarding the use of restricted potions and herbs, and Miriam was never to busy to set down whatever she was doing and brainstorm with Fred and George about remedies and counter-curses to some of their more experimental products for their joke shop. Her drawers and shelves were also stocked with so many treats, sweets, and candies, that they could have rivaled Honeyduke’s Sweet Shop. Despite Mrs. Weasley’s objections to sweets before dinner, Miriam would swear backwards and forwards that they were an indulgence necessary for the upkeep of one’s general well being. Once or twice, Ron and Harry even caught Mrs. Weasley stuffing something chocolate-looking into her mouth before making quite a show over stirring a pot of stew only minutes before supper.

It was the visits form Harry, however, that Miriam most looked forward to. He would come down frequently with Ron and Hermione, and they would help her arrange the basement, setting up two folding beds, a work desk, shelves of jars, liquids, talismans and colorful plants, and a bookcase so tall it reached the ceiling. They hung whatever posters or pictures they could come up with, wherever they could find space for it.

“No one wants to be sick in a depressing room,” she had told them. “You’re already miserable when you come in, so what’s the point of that?”

Ron had put up a few posters of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chuddley Cannons, and they would fly around the walls, passing Quaffles from poster to poster; Harry brought in one of a golden snitch with its wings flapping ferociously, and another chart with pictures of every brand, make, and model of broomsticks in the market. Ginny and Hermione, on the other hand, favored pictures of animals, especially cats, which caused Ron to roll his eyes and gag each time a new one appeared.

Even the adults were getting into it. Mr. Weasley hung a poster involving a muggle school bus, which he found insanely funny looking, and Moody tacked up a long scroll of parchment that read: 50 Ways to be Constantly Vigilant. There was no signature at the bottom, but Miriam and Harry both were pretty sure of the author’s identity. Miriam herself was fond of places, and stuck postcards of all the exotic locations she had traveled to randomly throughout the room. Having spent three of the fourteen years since she became a professional Healer studying muggle medicine amongst actual muggles, many of the postcards did not move. Ron, not realizing this of course, spent ten minutes one day standing in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, expecting it to come crashing down at any second.

Harry himself usually came down in the evenings, after everyone else had gone to bed. Miriam didn’t sleep much these days, and Harry could always find her in the basement, mixing ingredients in a large cauldron, or scribbling away at her desk. They had developed somewhat of a routine, in fact, and Miriam was becoming rather fond of it. Miriam could almost always expect Harry to come tip-toeing down the steps, careful to avoid the twelfth one for it made a rather obnoxious creak, and would then sit on one of the enormous, plush pillows Miriam provided for visitors, meditation, or whatever else one would need to sit on a pillow for. Miriam would make a small cauldron full of hot cocoa, and she would sit on another of the pillows by Harry, sipping the warm beverage, and they would talk.

Miriam and Harry found they could talk about almost anything, and Harry was eager to know everything; what Hogwarts was like back when Miriam and his parents were in school, how Miriam and his mother became friends, how Lily and James had met. Harry was particularly interested in anything to do with his parents, and though it often became very difficult for Miriam to talk about, Miriam would try her best to answer any question he had. She felt like it was the least she could do for him, and though Harry was unaware, Miriam owed him very much.

“When Lily told James that she was pregnant with you,” Miriam was telling Harry one night. “your father simply ran out in the middle of the street and threw the most extravagant fireworks display I have ever seen. I could have been mistaken, but personally I think he was a bit disappointed with the news,” she said with a wink.

“You, however, were the most well behaved child I ever saw,” Miriam said, her eyes twinkling. “Never cried, just looked around curiously at everybody with these huge green eyes. Your mother’s eyes. Lily always said you seemed to have this look about you, like you knew something nobody else did. James said it was a look of mischief.”

Harry grinned.

Finally, one night, Harry mustered up the nerve to ask about Miriam and Sirius. Miriam knew that Harry had the basic information; that they had had a romance, and became engaged. But Harry had always been too polite to probe any deeper, and when he would ask Sirius anything, Harry could tell that it made him very sad to think about.

“Why won’t you ever talk to him?” Harry blurted one night, afraid Miriam would become upset at him for being too nosy. But Miriam only frowned, and looked at Harry thoughtfully.

“I mean, you constantly avoid him,” Harry went on anxiously. “That’s why you almost never come to meals, isn’t it? And whenever he tries to pull you aside, you always say you’re busy or something, and…” Harry realized he was babbling, and was immediately ashamed at his forwardness.

“I was waiting for you to say something about that,” she said, and Harry was relieved to see that she wasn’t angry. “You’re very perceptive, Harry. Yes, that is why I rarely come up to meals. It’s…complicated.”

Harry nodded, accepting that Miriam was not going to discuss the topic further, but was surprised when she continued.

“Sirius and I have a history, and it’s hard…it hurts to go back. You have to understand, coming back and seeing him again after so many years, after thinking for so long that he had...” she broke off, her eyes beginning to glisten with the first sign of tears.

No matter how much she tried to deny it from herself, somewhere inside she had always known Sirius would come back. Sometimes she would try to foolishly convince herself that he had died, and she was nearly successful in willing herself to believe that he had gone mad. But that same little voice that told her Sirius would return was the same one that insisted when he did, he would be very sane indeed. Evil or not, Miriam knew Sirius inside and out, knew the way his mind worked, and was not stupid enough to think that even a place like Azkaban would keep him locked inside when he had other plans in mind.

“It’s complicated, is all,” she finished. She set her full mug down on the floor and forced a smile. “It’s getting a bit late, Harry. You should probably get up to bed now.”

Nodding, Harry stood. For the first time in Miriam’s presence, he felt awkward. A bit unsure of himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned towards the stairs. Miriam rose as well.

“Hey.”

Harry turned back around and found himself enfolded in a hug. And strangely, though new territory it was, he no longer felt awkward. Miriam’s arms held him gently against her in a maternal fashion. Harry hugged her back, and felt a tightening in the back of his throat he discovered he didn’t find completely unpleasant.

She leaned back and brushed the hair from his forehead.

“Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams.”

Alone once again in the basement, Miriam shuffled over to her desk and plopped unceremoniously down in the oversized beanbag. She dropped her throbbing head into her hands.

Though it was late, Miriam didn’t feel the least bit tired. Thoughts were buzzing around energetically inside of her head like annoying flies she couldn’t catch up with to swat dead. How the heck was she supposed to get any rest when she couldn’t even quiet her own mind? She had the comforting idea of dragging herself upstairs and gulping down another vile of the blue potion she seemed to have an endless supply of before falling face-first into her pillows. In fact, the idea was so appealing, she would be shocked to awaken later at her desk, only to find she had fallen fast asleep right there without having moved an inch.

Indeed, rather than trudging up he stairs, Miriam found herself running down a long, narrow street. The scenery surrounding her was ugly and disturbing; houses, broken and destroyed, encircled her on both sides. Clouds of green smoke rose from the wreckage and debris to twist around her evilly and snake down her throat. Miriam’s heart was beating at a rapid pace so she could feel her unsteady pulse throb painfully in her throat, her temples, her chest. Sheer panic kept her running at a furious pace though each time she inhaled, all she could breathe was the green smoke that made her choke and caused nausea to roll ominously in her belly.

Footsteps, strong and booming echoed in her ears. Though they kept a slow, steady pace, Miriam could tell that her pursuer was gaining with each step despite her desperate sprint.

“Don’t run away from me, Miriam.”

Sirius’ voice rang in her ears. Miriam suddenly realized that she was carrying a small bundle in her arms. A baby. Looking down at it, she never saw the street ending, the dead end approaching her. Only when the numbing cold surrounded her, filled her lungs so they burned and became brittle did she stop running.

It was too cold, she thought, much too cold. Miriam held the baby closer to her heaving chest. She could reach for her wand, she thought desperately, but risk losing her clutch on the child that was squirming miserably in her arms. Trapped, she turned to face and fend off Sirius as best she could, only then realizing that there was no longer the cautionary sound of footsteps. Blind terror crawled along her skin, joining the cold to make her shiver helplessly.

The dementor floated towards her patiently. It knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She opened her mouth to scream.

Miriam jerked awake violently. Panting for breath, she lowered her head from her hands to lie it against the cool surface of her desk. She was soaked to the bone with cold sweat. Her pulse was still jittery, and her stomach was still rolling. The chilly wood did nothing to alleviate the vicious pounding that had spread to both temples, ice picks chipping gleefully away to a determined drum. She was shaking fiercely.

Miriam forced herself to gulp down air into her aching lungs, forced her pulse to even out. Pushing away from the desk, she wrapped her arms around her drenched robes and stood on legs that were wobbly still.

It was only a dream, she told herself. A dream, Miriam thought, and found that she was not only furious, but utterly disgusted with herself. She should have known better. She did know better. She hadn’t even been tired, after all! How could she let herself fall asleep?

Clenching her teeth against the powerful urge to be ill, she somehow stumbled her way towards the stairs, berating herself still. She couldn’t seem to stop her teeth from chattering. Miriam found comfort in the ironic sense of familiarity and knowledge that soon, it would stop. Never soon enough, but it would stop.

She’d had the dream so many times before, and still it managed to affect her like this. After the night’s conversation, she should have known it was coming. After the “incident”, as Miriam chose to call it, she’d had the dream almost every night; at least the ones when she had allowed herself sleep at all.

She knew the steps, the smells, the taste of the green smoke as it curled in her system. She knew it so well, Miriam thought, and yet she couldn’t shake the nearly paralyzing sensations it brought upon her each and every time.

One question itched in the back of her mind. In the past, Miriam had always assumed the baby in her arms had been Harry. But not once had she looked down and seen a scar shaped like lightening on his forehead, or the bright green eyes of his mother. Miriam supposed it was because before now she had only seen Harry number of times, and only once since he acquired the scar. But one would think that now, after she had spent more time with him…

“It was only a dream,” she said aloud, and was furious to find that her voice was still shaking. Resigned to the idea of another sleepless night, Miriam dragged herself up the stairs and into the kitchen.

As if waiting for her to emerge, Sirius leaned against the stove, his arms folded at his chest. Miriam held back a sigh. It seemed, at least for tonight, that Sirius was her fate. Thinking it would be beyond rude to leave the kitchen without a word when it was so obvious she had noticed him, Miriam stepped closer, careful to keep the dining table between them.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” Sirius noticed she was very pale, and her hair and robes were damp.

Miriam wanted very much to shuffle her feet. She had made every effort to ensure that she and Sirius were never made to be alone in the same room together despite obvious attempts from some of the others. Now, it seemed she would just have to put on a brave face and get it over with as painlessly as possible.

“You’re up late,” she said, trying to make casual conversation.

“As are you. I couldn’t seem to sleep �“ ”

“Lucky,” Miriam muttered beneath her breath.

“- so I thought I’d make myself some tea. Care for some?”

“No thank you �“ ” but Sirius was already pulling down two mugs from the cupboard. She sighed, and allowed herself to collapse into a chair.

Sirius frowned, looking down at the stove. She didn’t look well, he mused. And she was obviously upset enough to neglect putting up the careful wall she constructed around her expressions each time he was in her presence. Sirius could count the times that Miriam had ever been sick on one hand. Now, looking as fragile as glass, concern washed over him. He knew asking would be futile though, and as soon as she realized he had noticed her condition the wall would be back to keep him away. So, without a bit of guilt, he decided to take advantage of her vulnerable state. They would talk at last, he thought. He resisted the urge to draw her into his arms to comfort her, to soothe her, and instead poured tea.

Miriam watched him at the stove. Since coming to Number Twelve, she couldn’t help but notice certain changes in Sirius despite herself. He was different, she thought, and not only physically. He brooded more. He was quieter. Darker somehow. Only around Harry did he ever really seem happy. Twelve years in Azkaban would do that to a person, she supposed. For once she didn’t have the strength to fight back the pity that stirred within her each time she allowed herself to look at him.

He set down the mug in front of her and she eagerly wrapped her icy hands around the warmth of it. Taking a sip, she nearly moaned as the burning liquid trickled down her throat, warming her insides and soothing the sickness.

“You’ll have to excuse me for a second, this is a private moment.”

He chuckled at the way her eyes fluttered closed in obvious ecstasy.

Finally, with reluctance she lowered the cup from her lips. He sat across from her, watching. For the first time she didn’t need to fight the urge to squirm.

“I miss you Miriam.”

Her cup dropped to the table with a clatter. But before she could say anything, he went on, changing tactics fast as lightening.

“I hear congratulations are in order. The greatest Healer in all of Europe, they’re saying. That’s quite an accomplishment. It seems your dreams have come true after all.”

“Yes,” she said, fighting to catch up with him. Slick as spit, Miriam thought. Some things, it seemed, don’t change at all. “It’s very exciting. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“It’s very exciting,” she said again. “I love my work.”

Sirius decided to leave it at that for now. He asked her a few more questions about her career, leading her into her own comfort zone, so soon she was smiling and talking animatedly with him, caught up in conversation. Miriam hadn’t even realized she had finished the entire mug of tea before he stood to put another pot on the stove.

“What did you mean when you said I was the first thing they took from you?” She blushed, suddenly embarrassed at her forwardness.

Sirius smiled to himself. He had been waiting for her to ask. Hoping that she would.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“In Azkaban,” he said, startling her. “the dementors, they suck out everything that’s good and happy inside of you.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I know.”

“Well, after the attack, you were it. You were all that was left, the only thing happy inside of me. So, you were all that they could take from me. Not all at once though. It seemed that you were just everywhere, buried into the deepest crevices. So it took them a while to erase you completely. But once they did, I suppose, you were gone. It took such power to get rid of you, it took seeing you again for me to remember.”

Miriam was silent. Sirius fought the urge to turn and look at her.

“I met Harry coming up from the basement as I was coming down,” he said, changing the subject abruptly once again. “You two seem to be getting on well.”

“Yes,” she said, blinking. “He’s wonderful.” Her ears were buzzing.

“That he is,” Sirius agreed.

“He also seems to be very fond of you,” she smiled. “He, ah, talks about you all the time. You’ve seemed to become something of a hero to him. I suppose it’s good for him �“”

“Suppose?” Sirius said dangerously. He was surprised at the sudden anger brewing inside of him.

Miriam blinked, unnerved by the sudden harshness of his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“You suppose it’s good for him,” Sirius said, his breath rushing out through clenched teeth, “that he should be spending time with a convicted murderer like myself?”

“Hold on just a second,” she said, rising. “That’s not what I �“”

“Heaven forbid that anyone should be able to accept the fact that I didn’t kill James and Lily! That Harry should be able to accept the truth about me so readily without feeling the need to hate me as well.”

He could imagine the blood draining out of her face even with his back to her. But he no longer seemed to care. Frustration was fighting to explode out of him. With an effort he lifted the pot to pour the boiling water, but startled them both when instead he just slammed it back down on the stove with an echoing crash.

“Goddamn it, Miriam,” he said, whirling around to face her. “Where were you?”

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t keep up with him. Her breath was choking out of her lungs.

“What. What?”

She couldn’t move. She was paralyzed. That was the only explanation for why she didn’t fight when he strode around the table to grab her by the arms and give her a hard shake.

“Harry needed you! He needed you, and you weren’t there for him. How could you leave him with his wretched aunt and uncle for all those years? They didn’t love him! You should have loved him!”

“Me?” she asked incredulously. “Me?”

“It was your responsibility.”

“Responsibility? Look who’s talking about responsibility! What about you? I don’t recall you being in the picture very much, either.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“You made your choice!” she shouted. Her vision was becoming blurrier by the second, but she didn’t care. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her eyes, and startled him with the tears she let fell so freely in front of him. “I told you not to leave! I said not to go, but you didn’t listen to me!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Forget it,” she said, and tried to free herself from the fingertips digging painfully into her arms. “Let me go.”

“How am I supposed to understand anything if you won’t talk to me?” he asked, giving her another shake. “How are you supposed to understand if you won’t listen to me?”

“I don’t care! I don’t care. Let me go,” she said again.

“No. By Christ, you’ll answer me this: why weren’t you there for him?”

“I tried!” she cried. “Don’t you think I tried? Dumbledore wouldn’t let me, he insisted that he stay with-”

“Fine,” Sirius interrupted. “Is that why he hadn’t even met you until you marched into that courtroom fifteen years later? Or is it because the silly patients that you run around all over the bloody world to care for are more important to you than he is? More important than Harry getting to know his own godmother!”

CRACK.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Miriam’s hand had freed itself from his grip and flew across Sirius’ face with a sharp smack. But she didn’t care. For the first time in her life, she wanted to cause another human being pain. To hurt, she thought, as he had hurt her.

“How dare you?” she whispered. “How dare you! You weren’t there, you have no idea what it was like.”

“So tell me,” he said and released her at last. “How am I supposed to know if you won’t talk to me?”

Miriam was suddenly exhausted. The headache was worse than ever.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” she said quietly. Without another look at him, she started up the stairs.

“This isn’t over,” he called up after her. “You can’t keep walking away from this. From us.”

Her legs felt heavy as stone as she somehow made her way down the hallway. Eyes cast downward, she didn’t even realize Lupin was standing outside of his own room until he caught her arm.

He looked at her, pity filling his eyes. She hated herself for wanting crumble from it.

“Miriam,” Lupin said gently. “He has a right to know.”

“Leave me alone,” she said and with the strength of an infant wrenched her arm away and slammed the door to her own quarters.

Alone in the dark bedroom, Miriam went to her wardrobe and lifted a stone-like basin from the top shelf; a pensieve. It emitted a soft, silvery light that glowed bright against the bare walls. Placing it on the table next to her bed, she extracted her wand and touched it lightly to her pounding temple, closing her eyes and concentrating. The next moment she withdrew the wand and pointed it into the basin, a silvery, undulating strand flowing from head to wand, wand to pensieve. She did this twice more, then stripped off her robes and at last, collapsed into her still-made bed.

---

Harry couldn’t sleep. He lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic snoring emitting from Ron’s bed. For some reason he was wide awake. He felt unsettled somehow, as though there was business he had left unfinished. He willed himself to sleep, but to no avail.

After about an hour, Harry had had enough. Deciding to go downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water, he threw back the covers and climbed nimbly out of bed. It was only when his fingertips touched the cool doorknob did he hear the voices coming from downstairs. They were muffled, so he couldn’t make out the words, but the emotions behind them were clear enough. Something hitched unpleasantly in his stomach. Pressing his ear to the door, he could make out one male, one female. Sirius and Miriam, he thought. Mixed feelings swirled throughout him. They were talking, that was good. Not talking, shouting, he corrected. That was not so good.

Harry had only been listening for a minute when the voices stopped, and he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. There were more voices, closer now, and then silence until the unexpected sharp slam of a door had Harry jumping away from his own, startled.

Willing his heartbeat to slow down, he listened for another minute or two, but there was only silence. As quietly as he could manage, he slipped out of his room, wincing when the ancient door creaked as he shut it again. Harry tiptoed down the hallway, pausing at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the attic, where Sirius typically kept himself closed away these days.

Harry instantly felt very foolish. What exactly was he going to say when he reached Sirius’ quarters? Would he try to comfort his godfather? Would Sirius even want to talk to him?

I just wanted to make sure everything was okay, I heard you and Miriam have a row with each other as I was spying on you from my bedroom.

Resigned, Harry walked slowly up the stairs. He would just make sure everything was alright, that’s all. Maybe Sirius wanted to talk to someone about it, and Harry would be doing him a favor, visiting in the wee hours of the morning.

Feeling more awkward than ever, Harry knocked softly on the door leading to the attic, and listened. No answer. He knocked again, a bit louder this time. Still nothing. Taking a deep breath, Harry gently pushed the door open and peeked inside.

”Hello? Sirius, it me.”

It became very apparent to Harry that his godfather was nowhere in the room. He knew he should have left it at that and gone back to bed, but something pulled at him. Surrendering to curiosity he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The attic was as ordinary as could be; dark, musty, and cold. The walls were completely bare except for the occasional spider web attaching itself to the ceiling. A rocking chair sat motionless in the corner, and an unmade bed in the center. Harry thought the room probably looked as desolate as it had before anybody moved into it.

Harry couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. It seemed he wasn’t going to find out anything about the secret life of Miriam and Sirius that people seemed so keen to hide from him after all.

Harry didn’t even notice the mess of papers tossed together in the center of the floor until he very nearly stepped on them. Not papers, he realized, kneeling down to examine them more closely. Photographs.

He picked one up. A young Miriam sat by the lake Harry recognized from the Hogwarts campus smiling shyly at him. He picked up another one. Miriam again but older, dressed in her Healer’s robes and accepting a rolled up scroll of parchment from a reverent-looking wizard. They were all of Miriam, Harry realized. And they all belonged to Sirius. He looked at one more.

This one was of both Sirius and Miriam. She was dressed in wispy robes of a vivid red that clung to every curve and dip. Her hair was down and flowed around her bare shoulders, and her eyes were darker, her lips painted. Her arms were wrapped around the neck of a very well-groomed Sirius, who held Miriam close to him by the waist. They swayed slowly back and forth to music that Harry couldn’t hear, and gazed dreamily into each other’s eyes, obviously unaware of being photographed. Harry watched as Sirius lowered his brow to hers then tilted her head back until their lips were only a whisper away…

Suddenly very embarrassed, Harry blushed and turned the picture over. There was a distinctly female scrawl on the back that read: Miriam and Sirius, Halloween Ball, sixth year. The beginning of our eternal dance together. I love you. Miriam.

Chapter Six

The noise level in the Hufflepuff common room had reached a thunderous level. It seemed as though the entire school had been crammed into the cozy space, when actually it was nothing more than the excited chatter of the fourth, fifth, and sixth year Hufflepuffs. Saturday night had finally arrived, and everybody was preparing themselves for the Halloween ball. The girls fussed and flounced around in their finest robes, touching up makeup and hair, straightening skirts, and spritzing perfume so that the room smelled like an overripe rose garden. The boys strutted about like peacocks in their best garb, discussing Quidditch sophisticatedly with one another while waiting for their dates.

After barely five minutes of being emerged in the chaos, Miriam excused herself and escaped into the peaceful confines of her own dormitory. Even all the way up there she could still hear the racket down below.

Miriam didn’t mind the noise; she was used to the clutter and business that was part of life at Hogwarts. And she enjoyed seeing her peers giddy and excited, all dressed up and anxiously awaiting for their dates. But the fact of the matter was that Miriam was not all dressed up, nor was she anxiously awaiting a date. And despite her contentment in that decision, she couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place amongst the crowd in her ancient pullover and trousers. Her friends had tried to persuade her to go with them, but she had politely declined. She appreciated the offer, but truthfully, Miriam was looking forward to having the dormitory all to herself for once.

Alone in the empty dorm, Miriam lay down flat on her four-poster bed and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized just how exhausted she was until finally off of her feet. Still, it was much too early for bed, and she didn’t want to waste the rarity of the night with sleep. She looked at the half-finished novel on her dresser, considering. Not a school book, she thought decadently, but a novel. The idea of reading for pleasure for once was immensely appealing, and she reached for the book, eager to curl up in bed and fill her head with nonsense and fantasy.

Just as her fingertips brushed the book, there was a knock at the door. Miriam sighed heavily. She knew it was too good to be true.

“Who is it?” she called out, knowing that one of her roommates wouldn’t feel the need to knock.

“Your fairy godmother.”

Miriam rolled her eyes good-naturedly and pushed herself to her elbows.

“Come on in.”

Lily Evans, looking even more beautiful than Miriam had ever seen her (and that was saying a lot), stepped inside carrying a large red bundle and what looked like a very tiny suitcase. Miriam couldn’t help but gape as she stared at her best friend. Shiny robes of the deepest green draped Lily, hugging a figure Miriam couldn’t help but be envious of. They matched her friend’s vivid green eyes perfectly, and made her siren red hair seem even brighter.

“Wow. Has James seen you yet? Wow.”

Lily flipped her hair and struck a mock pose with her lips pursed like a duck and her bottom sticking out so Miriam laughed.

“I take it the ensemble works then?”

“Wow.”

Lily laughed, and dropped her bundle on the bed next to Miriam. Then she stood in front of her, hands on hips, watching Miriam with a suspicious gleam in her eye. She picked up the book lying face down on the dresser.

“Well, you look…cozy.”

Miriam snatched at the book, pouting.

And you look like you should be upstairs helping James stuff his eyes back into his sockets.”

“Lovely image,” Lily said, wincing. “But that can wait. I have something for you.”

She reached across the bed to the red bundle she had been carrying, and shook it out. It unfolded into the most beautiful gown Miriam had ever seen. Sheer and soft, the material just touched the floor with the seductive whisper of silk brushing against itself. It had a low collar that skimmed just below the shoulders and long, bell-shaped sleeves. Miriam gasped and clutched her hands to her heart, as if afraid to stain the delicate material with her fingerprints.

“Come to the ball,” said Lily.

Miriam stared at the dress for a moment, then tore her eyes away to look at Lily.

“But…I-I don’t have anything to wear,” she said stupidly.

Lily rolled her eyes.

“If that thing fits you, it’s not going to fit me.”

Lily sighed and sat down on the bed next to Miriam. She gathered Miriam’s hands away from her chest and held them between both of hers.

“Miriam, listen to me…”

“No,” said Miriam, shaking her head to clear the image of herself in the elegant red robes from her imagination. “Lily, I appreciate this, really I do. But, I’m just not cut out for this kind of thing.”

The two girls stared at each other in a battle of wills, Miriam pleadingly, Lily skeptically. Over the past two years they had grown extremely close. A bond had formed between that involved trust and a deeper kind of caring. However, neither were blind to the unordinary circumstances of their friendship; it was unusual for members of different houses to be so attached, and though an unspoken taboo, the practice was typically discouraged. But they didn’t care.

“Besides,” said Miriam, smiling. “James would never speak to me again. I’d be a third wheel.”

“James doesn’t care about that.”

“Yes, he does. He wants you all to himself, and I don’t blame him. I imagine I’d annoy myself after a while.”

“Lupin �“”

“Has his eye on the Ravenclaw prefect, and he doesn’t need me spoiling his chances. The fact is, Lily, that I don’t have a date. And that’s all there is to it.”

“That was your choice,” Lily said, shifting her eyes to the window.

“What do you mean it was my…” Miriam’s eyes widened as she recognized the innocent-as-a-newborn look on Lily’s face. “How did you know about that? Who told you?”

Lily rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“Look, James just happened to mention �“ ”

“Of course,” said Miriam, throwing her hands up in disgust. "And Sirius just happened to mention it to James. Unbelievable.” She pushed herself up from the bed in a huff and began to pace.

Lily watched, amused, as Miriam walked back and forth in circles, muttering to herself.

“Oh, come on. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” Miriam said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “is that it’s, well, embarrassing. That’s all. ”

“What could possibly be so embarrassing about Sirius Black asking you to go with him to the Halloween ball?” Lily asked, clearly not following.

Miriam stopped pacing and sighed miserably.

“Oh Lily, you wouldn’t understand. You’ve never been asked out on a pity date before. I don’t particularly fancy the idea of the whole school knowing that Sirius asked me to go with him because he felt sorry for me.”

Lily nearly laughed until she saw how upset Miriam truly was.

“You think Sirius asked you out because he felt sorry for you?”

“Or he felt like he owed me or something,” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. “The point is that I’m not going to be the object of anyone’s sympathy.”

“If he only felt sorry for you, why didn’t he let it go at no, then? Why wasn’t he relieved you turned him down, why did he make the bet with you?”

Miriam had completely forgotten about the bet.

“Pride,” she said, shrugging, although she knew her voice wasn’t nearly as convincing. “Typical, egotistical, adolescent male pride. Lily, Sirius and I live in two, completely different worlds. He’s rebellious and spontaneous, and I like rules and structure. He rides around on that bloody motorbike all day, while I can barely balance on a broomstick. Sirius has had more dates in a single semester than I probably will in my entire lifetime. I mean, let’s be realistic here.”

“For someone who’s so disinterested,” Lily said, examining her fingernails, “you sure seem to know a lot about what’s he’s like.”

Miriam buried her hands into the sides of her hair and yanked.

“Miriam,” Lily said gently, taking pity on her friend’s situation, “what makes you think that you’re not good enough for a guy like Sirius? You the most special person I know. You’re so kind and patient with everybody, that’s not easy.”

“Yeah, well,” muttered Miriam, shrugging, “I’m not very kind and patient with him. I get, I don’t know… snappy around Sirius, and I don’t like it.”

“He makes you nervous!” Lily said gleefully in a sing-song voice.

Before Miriam could even open her mouth to protest, there was an explosion of noise from downstairs. Squeals and shouts and whoops of excitement floated up the stairs, and Miriam and Lily looked at each other curiously.

Just then, the door flew open and Olivia, a perky girl who slept in the bunk above Miriam burst into the room, her face flushed and chattering breathlessly. She grabbed Miriam’s arm and began to drag her to the door.

“Whoa, hold on just a second,” Miriam said, digging her heels into the floor. “Where are we going?” She couldn’t understand a word Olivia was saying; she was talking so fast and high-pitched it sounded to Miriam like one extended stretch of squeaky gibberish.

“Downstairs,” Olivia said, exasperated. “Hurry, there’s something you have to see!”

Though she was no longer protesting, Miriam found herself being hauled the entire way through the corridor and down the stairs. She twisted her head around to see Lily following after them, trotting carefully over the steps in her lifted shoes.

Olivia came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the steps, causing Miriam to crash gracelessly into her, following by Lily who sent them all sprawling.

There were a few laughs, but still everybody seemed to distracted by whatever was causing such a fuss to give them much notice. Feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her, Miriam pushed herself up blowing hair out of her eyes, and then reached a hand down to Lily, who needed more help in her heels. Grunting, Lily smoothed out her pretty dress and raised her eyebrows at Miriam, who shook her head and shrugged in utter bewilderment.

“Okay, Olivia, what exactly is this all �“ oh, for goodness sakes!”

Miriam threw her hands up in annoyance as Olivia dashed away into the crowd huddled together in the middle of the room. Bouncing up and down in her fluffy blue dress, she cupped her hand around ear after ear, whispering hurriedly to girl after girl. All eyes turned to Miriam, and there were smiles and muffled giggles. Miriam began to get the feeling that she was the odd one out of a very public joke.

But to her utter astonishment, the crowd slowly began to disperse, one by one. Miriam was reminded of a flower blooming in fast-forward. Everyone stood back, watching Miriam expectantly. Miriam hadn’t a clue what they were waiting for her to do, until the last few people stepped back. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes bugged out. Her stomach gave one mighty attempt to jump out of her throat.

Sirius stood (yes stood) in the center of the dormitory staring directly at her. He looked both dashing and just a bit dangerous in his black dress robes. His long black hair had been combed back neatly. Even the dark smudge of a bruise slashed across his cheek seemed to make him appear even more like some sort of gorgeous story-book pirate than usual. Some people, Miriam thought, had no shame.

For a moment they just stared at each other in silence, Miriam in horrified disbelief, Sirius smiling smugly. Then taking his eyes down the length of her, Sirius gave Miriam a pained look.

“Darling. You’re not dressed.”

Miriam wouldn’t have been surprised if steam started to whistle out of her ears. Murder in her eyes, she strode across the room furiously toward Sirius, who waited for her as serenely as he would a butterfly floating along his path.

Interesting, he thought to himself. His angel appeared to have a bit of fire in her as well.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry?”

Miriam stopped inches away from Sirius and stared for almost a minute, stunned speechless. When at last she found her voice, all she could manage was an aggravated, “Have you lost your mind?!”

Sirius considered for a moment.

“Possibly. Here,” he said, offering the long stemmed rose in his hand.

Miriam stared at him for another minute, then down at the flower as if it, too, had lost its mind.

“Oh no,” she said, backing away slowly as if afraid the rose would attack at any moment. “No, no, no, absolutely not. This is ridiculous. You are going straight back to the hospital wing if I have to carry you there myself.”

“I don’t think so,” said Sirius, his voice low and just a tad dangerous. Miriam watched transfixed as he took one step, then another towards her. Because she seemed too stunned to move, he took and chance and trailed a finger down her flushed cheek. “We had a deal.”

Miriam felt as though his touch had suddenly drained all of the anger out of her, leaving her confused and exhausted. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, she would wake up and this would all be a dream. But when she opened her eyes, all she saw was Sirius, his face bruised and slightly paler than usual. She noticed that he was favoring his right leg.

Miriam sighed and instinctively brushed at the beads of sweat along his brow, thinking how uncomfortable it must have been for him to trek all the way down to her and not realizing just how tender her touch was.

“Sirius,” she said heavily. “You’re not well.” The weariness in her voice moved something in him.

“All the more reason I should have someone like you accompanying me. You can keep on eye on me, make sure I don’t faint or pass out or anything from the unrelenting agony.”

He laughed as the alarmed concern washed into her eyes.

“Listen,” Sirius said, and pulled her close so that their bodies bumped together, amused when he felt her shudder, then stiffen like a pole. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. He imagined that to onlookers it would seem like a very intimate gesture. “We can do one of two things. We can duke it out here in front of everybody, make a scene, and I can drag you to the ball. Or, you can keep your end of the bargain, go get dressed, and I promise you, after the evening’s over, I’ll go straight back up to Madame Pompfrey.” He leaned back and dropped his hands from her waist. “The choice is yours.”

Miriam knew he was lying, of course. He might have made it down here unassisted, but there was no chance that he could actually drag her there in his condition. At least she didn’t think so. Still, she had no doubt that he’d find a way to con her into it one way or another. And after all, they had made a deal. Looking around, she suddenly remembered the crowd of people that were still gathered there, watching them intently.

Miriam took a deep, bracing breath.

“Give me five minutes to get ready.”

“Ahem.”

Everybody turned now to look at Lily, whom Miriam had completely forgotten about. Walking towards them, she took Miriam by the arm and flashed Sirius a dazzling smile.

“Make that twenty.”

---

For once, Sirius didn’t mind waiting; it gave him a much-needed chance to sit down. The truth was that he really was in no shape to be up and about. But he had begged and argued and charmed his way into convincing Madame Pompfrey to take pity on him. Remembering what she had said before about too much magic concentrated into one body, he had her use the magic already working to fix up the rest of him and transport it all into his bad leg on the condition that he be back in his hospital bed by midnight.

So now as he sat waiting in the Hufflepuff dormitory, his head throbbed painfully, his whole face was sore, and his untended limbs screamed and protested with each movement. He’d had a few dizzy spells on his way down, and once tasted blood in his mouth. But he could walk. And seeing the look on Miriam’s face as she first lay eyes on him had made it all worth it.

Sirius smiled and absently twirled the rose she had seemed so terrified of. His Miriam seemed a complicated sort. He wondered if she was aware of just how transparently her face reflected her emotions. It was unlikely, and he thought it best not to mention it; she would probably never look at him again.

He’d said something of the sort earlier that evening to James, who had been painstakingly helping him into his robes.

“So what,” James had asked, struggling to fit Sirius’ arm into a sleeve, “it’s not like you’re stuck on her or anything. You don’t get stuck on girls.”

When Sirius said nothing, only grunted in pain as his swollen arm was being bent in all directions, James gaped.

“Oh, bugger it. You’re stuck on her, aren’t you?”

Sirius had hotly denied it, and now to himself as the memory occurred to him. But he didn’t give it too much thought, one way or the other. Sirius wasn’t the type to dwell on problems, especially when he didn’t see where the problem was in the first place. He wasn’t stuck on Miriam he was simply…intrigued. And if he were stuck on her, well then, he would just think about that later.

He was more or less alone now in the Hufflepuff dormitory; most everybody had finally left for the Great Hall. He glanced at his watch, wincing from the pain of having to twist his wrist. The next moment he heard the sharp click of heels rushing down the staircase. Lily emerged, flushed and grinning.

“Okay,” she said, brushing the loose hair out of her eyes. She took a deep breath. “Sirius, may I present to you your date for the evening. The lovely, charming, drum roll please…Miriam Daniels!”

Sirius pushed himself out of the chair and stood, his blood pounding in anticipation. His blood pounded for nearly a minute. Lily’s smile faltered.

“Miriam Daniels!” she cried again, with a dramatic sweep of her arms. Nothing. Sirius looked at her curiously. Lily huffed out a breath and fisted her hands on her hips. “Miriam Daniels, get your fancy butt in here this minute before I drag you out by your newly coiffed hairdo!”

At last, Sirius heard the second pair of footsteps coming from the corridor. He watched as Miriam emerged slowly. His breath caught in his throat.

Draped in red and lace and silk, she was a vixen with her pale skin and dark hair. Her eyes were smoky, her lips painted a deep red. Miriam’s hair flowed down past smooth, bare shoulders to skim a low, teasing neckline. Sirius caught a whiff of something that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and went straight to his head. He felt his mouth begin to water. She looked both fierce and unsure of herself, and by the sheer embarrassment on her features, had absolutely no idea how appealing she looked, which of course, was dangerously attractive in itself.

“Hi.”

Sirius didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not trusting them either, and began to walk towards them.

“Like?” asked Lily, beaming with pride. “I did it all by myself.”

Sirius looked Miriam up and down, his tongue tucked into his cheek as if appraising an antique. If possible, she felt even more like an idiot now than when she had been stuffed into the dress. She couldn’t walk, she could barely breathe, and she smelled like a cupcake. Miriam was expecting some sarcastic comment about how ridiculous she looked, and glared at him as if daring him to laugh. But all he said was, “Something’s missing.”

Startled, she watched as he snapped off the long stem of the rose she had neglected to take earlier. His eyes never wavering from her face, Sirius tucked the velvety bloom behind her ear and stood back.

“There,” he said. “Now she’s perfect.”

---

Miriam had not been expecting this. She’d gone into the evening with a determined mindset, to get it over with and get Sirius back into the hospital. She’d been prepared to make small-talk with her schoolmates, to smile through Dumbledore’s untrustworthy taste in musical entertainment. She’d resigned herself to the idea of having to stay within a close proximity to a conscious Sirius for an entire evening (which she predicted would be very different from an unconscious Sirius, a situation she was more than capable of handling). Miriam had even been anticipating a trick or two, seeing as though it was Halloween and all. But never in a million years would she have expected to have fun.

Nor could she have possibly conceived that by the end of the night, she would find herself falling foolishly and uncharacterisitcally head over heels for Sirius Black.

Chapter Seven

Miriam was uncharacteristically lonely.

It was rare in her line of work to be alone for extended stretches of time. There was always someone to tend to, someone to guide. It was part of what she loved about healing, the social aspect that contributed to the comfort of the patient. And, she had begun to realize, her own sanity.

Harry and his friends had left for school weeks ago, leaving her alone in the house with Sirius, whom she had shared an icily polite and rare rapport with since that brutal conversation, and Kreacher, the crass and tactless house elf, who seemed to despise her even more than his reluctant master. The end result was that she had far too much time on her hands, which amounted to far too much time to think. Miriam knew things were getting out of hand when she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel bad for wishing for some sort of terrible injury to fall into her lap.

Every now and then her wish came true. Members of the order would routinely come in for minor scratches or burns, a few broken bones, the usual and unusual hex, or simply for the bi-monthly routine examination that Dumbledore insisted upon. This, Miriam alone knew, was of utmost importance. Very few people knew how to identify an imperious curse without the use of legilimency, which was far too simple to detect, particularly amongst the aurors in the Order, who were well-trained and skilled in occlumency; she knew this because Dumbledore, the only other person she knew of who could perform this magic, had taught her himself more than fifteen years ago, in another time of crisis such as this. It had been the first, and last time she had been required to do such intricate and complex magic, and was another palpable reminder of the reason she had been asked here in the first place.

Even with the comfortable pace of her work, Miriam’s supplies were low; particularly her chocolate supply, she noticed with a twinge of guilt. And it was time to start getting her ingredients in order for the coming full moon. Lupin was counting on her. Whatever the reason, she was glad for an excuse to get out. She jogged briskly up the stairs out of the basement and to the front door, nearly tripping over Kreacher in her enthusiasm.

“Oh, sorry Kreacher. I didn’t see you there.”

The elderly house elf with sagging skin and an ancient loincloth tied around his waist looked up at Miriam and then immediately back down to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing as if blinded by a brilliant light.

“The mudblood is talking to Kreacher. Oh, if Mistress only knew the one who tainted her own flesh and blood were back, oh what she would say to poor old Kreacher…”

Miriam knew the tirade almost by heart.

“Just ignore him,” said a voice from the doorway. Miriam turned and saw Sirius leaning casually against the doorjamb. Her heart gave one hard thud.

Traitor, she thought.

“I always have,” she replied, smiling sardonically.

“Back together again, oh if Mistress were only here to see, her blood-traitor excuse for a son and his whore mudblood �“”

“Shut up, Kreacher!” shouted Sirius, suddenly incensed, and he hoisted Kreacher up by the sagging skin at the back of his neck to eye level, baring his teeth.

“Sirius,” Miriam said, placing a soothing hand on his arm, “Don’t, it’s not worth it! Remember? Just ignore�””

“Don’t you ever call her that! Don’t you dare utter that filth in this house again, do you understand me?” he demanded, giving Kreacher one violent shake.

Kreacher, loathing etched in every wrinkle of his face, swallowed abruptly, his cheeks puffing out as though holding his breath. Miriam didn’t doubt he was struggling quite admirably to hold back the next onslaught of insults.

“Hey Kreacher,” said Miriam amicably, “if you’re really nice to me, I’ll let you keep me company down in the basement every once in a while. You can help me mix up things to save the lives of all the blood traitors that march in and out of here all the time. What do you think about that?”

Kreacher’s eyes rolled up to the back of his head, and he promptly passed out.

“Do you think that’s a ‘yes’?”

Laughing heartily, Sirius dropped Kreacher unceremoniously down to the floor and shook his head.

“I didn’t know you to be so merciless, Miriam.”

A smile tugged reluctantly at her lips.

“Well. He does make it rather painless though, doesn’t he?”

And standing there, grinning at each other over the foul-tempered house elf, Miriam felt much of the tension between them, the social awkwardness and discomfort that consistently embraced her in his presence slip from her shoulders, so easily she couldn’t even find reason to question it. The demons buried deeper inside that haunted her dreams would not vanish quite as easily, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to find a legitimate excuse to dig any of it up at the moment. For right now, at least, it was just the two of them, housemates, standing over a pathetically unconscious and regretfully amusing house elf.

But still, something poked at her.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Sirius blinked at her, confused. Miriam sighed, wringing her hands. So much for awkwardness, she thought, and trudged on.

“For the other night. I was cranky - not sleeping very well, you see - and there was no excuse for my behavior, and…well, come to think of it you started it, really. Well you did. But anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, I feel just terrible at some of the things that were said, and it’s been nagging at me and…well, actually, you said most of it, to be quite honest. But, anyway, I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. Considered. “I’m not sorry for hitting you though. That you deserved. Completely.”

Sirius, speechless, stared at her for a full minute. Then, throwing his head back, he roared with laughter. Miriam, feeling that persistent poke cease, found herself grinning.

“Darling Miriam,” murmured Sirius, when at last he had caught his breath. He caught one of the loose strands from her ruthless bun and twirled it casually around his finger. “Is it any wonder why I ever adored you?”

Miriam could feel herself blushing furiously, and jerkily tucked the loose hair behind her ear.

“I meant what I said, though,” he continued. “We will talk. Eventually.”

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “I, ah…I should, uh…need to get, well. Hm,” seemed to be the best she could do, and gestured vaguely at the coat rack.

Amused that he could still fluster her, Sirius reached back and plucked up her worn, shapeless leather jacket.

“You know, one would think that the best healer in Europe could afford a decent leather jacket. But then again you never were all too concerned with the latest fashions, were you?”

Miriam eyed him narrowly as he walked around to help her into the coat.

“Pardon me if I don’t consider the need for warmth an excuse to make a fashion statement,” she said tartly, slipping her arms into the jacket. Sirius, raising a haughty eyebrow, replied simply by fingering an ever-expanding hole in the back shoulder area.

“Oh, bugger it, it keeps getting bigger!”

Miriam spun around like a puppy chasing its tail, trying to catch a glimpse at the enormous gap in the leather, muttering curses pertaining to cheap cows and leather-hungry closet mites.

Sirius, somehow managing to turn a laugh into a choking cough, knew when to leave a discussion at that, and asked as offhandedly as possible, “Where to?”

Miriam stopped twirling about immediately, and felt a fresh wave of guilt crash into her that had nothing to do with mysteriously disappearing chocolate. Could she really be so insensitive? Here she was, ready to rush out the door by her own free will, out of the confines of the gloomy, nearly derelict house with only a snarling and presently unconscious house elf, a hippogriff, and perhaps a few remaining doxies for company; and there was Sirius, trapped once again like a prisoner in a house he swore never to step foot in again. Miriam knew the fervor with which he had made himself that promise.

However, Miriam had done her best to ignore that piece of knowledge up until the last few minutes when, she realized not without a little self-disgust at her deliberate insensitivity, she had actually begun to consider Sirius a human being once more.

Sirius watched with interest the battle warring across her features. It seemed, for the moment at least, her defenses were lowered, and he was able to see the emotions swirling inside her as blatantly and obviously as a children’s picture book �“ and was touched by what he saw.

“Miriam,” he said gently, “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

“I’m not,” she barely managed to sputter. “I’m just…thinking.”

“Obviously.”

“Hogsmeade!” she blurted. “That’s where I’m going. Hogsmeade. To get stuff. Restock, that is. Restock. Ah, full moon and all. Do you…would you…ah, hm.” He hands fluttered about indistinctly. “Need anything?” she managed with what she hoped was an easy smile and whatever trace of dignity she had left.

It was mortifying, it was, that she could stand and speak as fluently and eloquently as a royal in front of crowds consisting of hundreds of the worlds most prominent leaders, politicians, etc., but her tongue (and complexion) refused to cooperate with her in front of Sirius Black. Mortifying.

“Buckbeak could use some fresh meat,” he said, bringing Miriam out of her self-flagellating trance.

“Okay,” she said, digging a list out of her back trouser pocket. “Anything for you? You know, like a book or something? A film?”

She looked up from her list when he didn’t respond and felt the need to squirm under in the intensity of his gaze.

“What?”

“Concerned about me, Miriam?” he asked, a touch of amusement in his voice, and he reached out to toy once more with the disobedient hair that had slipped out from behind her ear again.

Miriam was somehow able to choke out a very unconvincing, “Ha!” She squirmed again when he only continued to stare. “No,” she said stubbornly, shaking her head as if amused by the very thought. Finally, she squirmed again, stared down at her feet, and mumbled a barely audible, but distinctly grouchy, “Yes.”

Sirius grinned victoriously and shifted his hand to the nape of her neck and began to massage gently. He remembered this was where she kept most of her tension stored up, and was satisfied to see her eyelids flutter dreamily and to feel her pulse scramble.

“Be careful out there,” he murmured, and tilted her chin up to face him.

All Miriam could handle was a jerky nod. Sirius was standing very close. Her tongue was suddenly very, very heavy, and she felt as though she had just swallowed a rather large spoonful of exceptionally sticky peanut butter. She could feel her heart hammering erratically against her ribcage, and was positive that if she looked down, she would actually be able to see a large bump pounding rhythmically against her chest.

A soft groan from the awakening Kreacher snapped Miriam’s wits almost painfully back into her muddy brain.

“Right then,” she said, her voice seeming to her an octave higher than normal. “I shouldn’t be gone too long.” She turned towards the door and with a wave of her wand, the locks snapped open and the door creaked slightly ajar.

“Right,” she said again, turning to face Sirius once more. They both looked at each other for a moment. Then Miriam said, “Bye!” and hastily trotted out the door.

Miriam heard the click of the door closing behind her, and buried her face in her hands for a moment, pressing her fingertips firmly against her eyes. Her blood was still pounding fast and hard, and there was a strangely familiar, not altogether unpleasant clutch in her stomach.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she said forcefully to herself. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.” Then she sighed in defeat, rolled her shoulders bracingly, and turned back to tell Sirius…

But Number 12, Grimmauld Place had already vanished.

---

Miriam shifted the weight of the bags and packages she could just barely carry, and reached out to yank open the door to the Three Broomsticks, emitting a very unlady-like “Oof!” Somehow squeezing into the narrow entranceway, she was immediately engulfed in the welcoming warmth and friendly chatter that was customary for the popular pub.

Miriam walked over to the counter, plopped down the bags, and then herself, onto one of the empty stools and looked around. It was extremely crowded, but in a friendly sort of way, and Miriam was glad to be off her feet and able to partake in one of her favorite pastimes: Wizard-watching. Her foot tapped distractedly against one of the packages from Dervish and Banges, where she had been able to collect the majority of her supplies and ingredients to replenish her dwindling stock.

Before she could settle into her imagination as she stared at a very old, rather-eccentric looking witch with a large, stuffed vulture balancing miraculously onto a noticeably narrower perch of a hat, she was interrupted by the pretty and enviously curvy Madam Rosmerta.

“It can’t be!” she exclaimed, her large eyes twinkling in a pretty face. “For heaven’s sake, it can’t be Miriam Daniels, can it?”

Miriam refocused her attention to the barmaid and smiled wide.

“Hello, Madam Rosmerta. You look as lovely as ever.”

Madame Rosmerta simply reached across the bar, yanked Miriam forward by the back of her head, and planted a smacking and somehow motherly kiss against her check.

“Look at you,” she cooed, rubbing her thumb against the bright red smear of lipstick along Miriam’s check. “I haven’t seen you since you were nearly a baby, and now, here you are! I heard you were back in the area, I did, and I said to right to ‘ol Ponds here, ‘I know she wouldn’t dare come back to Hogsmeade without paying respects to Rosmerta,’ din’ I Ponds? And here you are! Oh, bless me, were all so proud of you here, dear girl. So proud.”

Miriam suddenly found herself feeling oddly sentimental, and had to blink a few times.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Madam Rosmerta.”

Rosmerta let out a “Phschaw” sound and said, “I won’t have any of this ‘Madam’ nonsense, you’re not a child anymore, are you? Of course not, you’re a grown woman if I ever saw one. Now, let me see if my memory serves me correctly. You’ll be having your usual, I presume?”

Miriam felt yet again another twinge of guilt.

“Oh, well, you see…I’m trying to watch my…bugger it. The usual would be splendid.”

She stared at Rosmerta’s retreating back, and tried to reason with herself that even grown women were entitled to a double hot fudge chocolate sundae with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top. She felt her mouth water, and thought that if only the extra whipped cream went to her curves as it obviously did for Rosmerta, she’d be a happy woman.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar, and sighed. Miriam was not a vain woman, as she always reminded herself, simply realistic. And the reality was that Miriam considered herself to be very plain. This image, she knew, came in handy for her career; it helped patients feel comfortable around her and not be intimidated by the standard white robe. But every now and then she wondered what it would be like to be able to transform her appearance, like Tonks, at the blink of an eye.

“Here you go, my dear. It’s on the house.”

Miriam greedily spooned up a mouthful of the gooey mixture of hot-and-cold chocolate goodness, and imagined what she would look like with shock-pink hair.

She smiled at a memory of Sirius once reassuringly and desperately explaining that her hair reminded him of the finest, richest, European dark chocolates. Miriam had appreciated the sentiment, but felt it was a very romantic way of confirming that her hair was the color of mud.

As Sirius popped into her mind, she remembered the bag of toffees she had picked up for him during the visit to Honeyduke’s Sweet Shop, knowing he had a soft spot for the chewy squares. Then she frowned, thoughtfully. It was beginning to occur to Miriam that despite her best efforts, Sirius was somehow managing to burrow a soft spot in her as well.

But before she could put any more thought into the matter, a plump, middle-aged woman with a furry maroon coat and flushed cherub-cheeks hurried excitedly through the door into the pub, and straight towards Miriam.

“Excuse me,” she panted, “but are you Miriam Daniels?”

Miriam couldn’t help but find the question amusing as the beaming woman was already shaking her hand rather enthusiastically.

“Yes,” Miriam said, always uncomfortable when being regarded as a celebrity. “Can I do something for �“”

“I knew it!” the woman exclaimed ecstatically. “I wasn’t sure at first, you see. I could have sworn I spotted you through the window, but you look so different in person than in the pictures.”

Miriam, unsure of how to take this comment, plastered what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face.

“It’s such an honor,” said the woman, trudging on, “I’m such a fan, you see. I have all of your books. Household Cures for the Common Hex, Befriend the Unfriendly Jinx, and of course, my personal favorite, How to Cure the Curious. I don’t know what I would have done without that one. I have three teenagers, you see, and all I ever get is, ‘I dunno.’ Never know what I’m dealing with.”

“Thank you very much,” said Miriam. She glanced longingly at her half-eaten sundae. Miriam hated to be rude, but the truth was, she was not a social person by any means. Patients, she had come to figure out, were entirely different. They counted on you for care and support, and genuinely appreciated conversation and company. People, if you asked her, just talked significantly too much.

But she focused her attention back at the woman who was still rambling on about the time her eldest son came home with purple appendages and, naturally, had no idea how it had happened. But then she said, “Oh, gracious me, I’ve been rattling along forever. Nearly forgot why I came in here in the first place. As I was saying, I wasn’t sure it was you in the window at first, but then I found this! Here,” she said, and clearly considering Miriam by this point a close and personal friend, she reached out, grabbed her by the wrist, and pressed what felt to Miriam like a thick, leather bracelet into her hand.

But before Miriam could even ask, the woman, beaming as brightly as ever, proudly announced, “I have found your dog!”

“My…what?” asked Miriam, profoundly flustered by the brazen statement.

“Enormous mongrel, if you don’t mind me saying,” chattered the woman. “Just huge. But there he was, bounding up to me as happy as could be, tongue hanging out, tail wagging, just delighted to be out and about, I tell you. Giant black, furry thing �“”

“I’m terribly sorry,” interrupted Miriam, frowning. “but I don’t have a…” Suddenly, her skin blanched to near transparency and her eyes widened in sheer and complete disbelief.

“Are you alright dear?” asked the woman, placing a hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “You look a little peaky. Maybe you should �“ ”

“I beg your pardon,” interrupted Miriam again, “But did you say, giant, black…”

“Oh yes, indeed,” said the woman, nodding cheerfully. “Rather ugly, if I might say, but black as midnight and…”

But Miriam was no longer listening. As if in a daze, she stared down at what was apparently a shiny, gold-painted leather dog collar in her hand. Turning the collar slowly to make out the inscription, she read, “Snuffles the Dog. Property of Miriam Daniels.”

And sure enough, when she reluctantly lifted her head to look outside the window, she saw a great, black dog, leash tied around a lamppost, tail thumping merrily back and forth in bliss as a pair of pre-pubescent boys scratched and petted him adoringly.

Miriam was certain that the fudge in her stomach had suddenly transformed into clay.

All of the blood that had rushed out of her head now surged back with such a force that it had her jumping from the barstool, scooping up her purchases, and marching in a blood-red haze straight through the bar and out the door, deafening her to the woman’s indignant, “Well, she could at least have had the manners to say ‘Thank you.’”

The crystal-clear murder in her eyes as she approached the dog had the two unwitting boys backing nervously away and then running as if for their lives. The thump-thump-thump of a tail came to an abrupt halt.

She simply stood there, staring down at the beast, fuming, no, seething with temper. Her breath hissed out menacingly through clenched teeth and was able to communicate admirably more efficiently than any words she could have produced.

And suddenly, as if inspired, she reached down into one of the bags and fiercely yanked out a clear plastic sack containing several fat, honey-colored squares. Then she dumped all the other bags and boxes unceremoniously to the ground and held out the toffee perilously close to the dog’s considerable snout.

“See this?” she asked, swinging the bag back and forth in front of the dog’s hungry eyes. “Huh? See this?”

Then the turned on her heel, strode over to the nearest rubbish bin, and dropped the toffees with a loud, satisfying clump.

“Those,” she said, dusting off her hands and smiling viciously, “were for you.” Then she crouched down to her haunches, brought her face very close to the animal’s, and half-whispered, half-screamed, “Have you completely lost your mind?”

The giant dog responded by wiping a wet, foul-smelling tongue along the length of her face.

“Ugh!” She wiped her dripping face with the hopeless leather jacket. But she held her ground. “Do you realize the danger you’re putting yourself in right now? Anyone could have seen you coming here, and figured out where you came from! Could you really be so reckless?!”

The dog, looking quite pleased with itself, let out a rather cheerful bark.

“That was a rhetorical question. Yeah, that’s right, look all righteous about it now, but don’t come whimpering to me when Dumbledore gets a load of this.”

She pushed herself back up to pace and mutter. When she turned back to look at Snuffles, she could feel her resolve crumbling. He sat there, panting rapidly, looking at her with, dare she think it, puppy dog eyes. She could sense his hopefulness, and, she thought with a sense of pity, desperation. The woman’s ramblings came back to her, “…just delighted to be out and about, I tell you…”

Finally, she crouched back down, and began to untie the leash from the lamppost.

“Alright,” she said, as sternly as she could manage. “ Since you’re out, you’re out, and there’s nothing I can do about that now. And damn it all, I still have some errands to run. But you have to behave yourself, understand me? Because I’m not coming to your defense if this whole thing turns out disastrous, which it undoubtedly will.”

Snuffles let out a happy bark and jumped on her, tongue licking ferociously, the strength of his forepaws pushing Miriam firmly back onto her butt with a nice, graceful thud.

---

"Did I mention you make a hideous dog?”

“Twice,” answered Sirius happily, swinging his human-legs from the desk in Miriam’s basement office. “Although I think the words ‘ugly’ and ‘obnoxious’ may have been substituted. Luckily, I make up for those reprehensible flaws by being a charming and delightful human being the majority of the time.” He flashed a dazzling smile at Miriam, who snorted loudly.

Miriam was presently bowed over a counter balancing a colorful array of beakers and vials, and one medium-sized, smoking cauldron. Lifting a small green bottle, she bent low and squinted, all of her concentration intensely focused on releasing just the exact amount into the cauldron.

“Can I help?”

“Shhh!” Miriam scolded, not taking her eyes off the bottle for a second, but swatting at Sirius like she would a fly with her free hand. He grinned.

“There,” she said, and corked the bottle. She stirred once, twice.

“Did Lupin mention it was Snape who made the potion for him during his teaching stint at Hogwarts?”

“No, he didn’t,” Miriam said, frowning. “Huh. Of all people. Interesting, isn’t it, how things change?”

Sirius watched her features closely.

“You could say that Lupin’s circumstances changed a lot for us, as well.”

Miriam made a low humming noise, and returned to staring fixedly into the now bubbling cauldron, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yes, you could. It certainly wasn’t what one would consider the customary approach to mending a relationship, but still…” she said quietly, and now looked up. “Whatever works, I suppose.” Then she flushed, cleared her throat, and looked so deeply into the cauldron it was as though she could fall in at any moment.

“Just one more thing…” Miriam picked up a tiny vial containing a dark, ominous liquid, and gave it a few shakes before uncorking it. She shot Sirius an apprehensive look and took a deep breath.

“Here goes,” she said, and dumped the entire contents into the cauldron. There was a minor explosion that had Miriam stumbling back into Sirius’s lap, and filled the entire basement with billowing, brown smoke.

Coughing fiercely, Miriam clapped her hands together and squealed, “It worked!”

“What the bloody hell was that?” Sirius demanded, trying desperately to wave away the cloudy fumes.

“The chocolate flavoring.” Miriam pushed herself awkwardly out of Sirius’ lap and walked over to peer cautiously into the cauldron. “Now all it has to do is sit for a while, and it’ll be all ready by the time Lupin arrives.” Then she stretched back, yawning hugely.

It was, Sirius thought, a pleasure to watch her. But he said, “You should take a nap before then. You’re exhausted.”

Miriam shrugged, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eye-sockets.

“I suppose,” she said, and lowered her hands. She blinked once, twice. Swiveled around the room, frowning. Sirius had disappeared.

Miriam narrowed her eyes suspiciously. But the next yawn emptied her of doubt, and, thinking only of sleep, she headed for her second-story bedroom.

And there he was. Lying as innocently as a docile, household pet, he was sprawled out on top of her bed covers, an enormous, black and furry lump.

“Oh, no. No! Off, now.” She fisted her hands on her hips and strode purposely over to the lazy-looking beast occupying half her bed space. “Bad dog! Off. Oh, for Merlin’s sake. This is not going to work on me again, if nothing else but for the fact that you’re huge, and more importantly, you’re on my side!”

The dog obligingly rolled over, and flashed as much of a grin as she would think possible for a dog.

Miriam blew out a large breath.

“Fine,” she said, and tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. “But only because I’m too tired right now to shove you off.” Slowly, she lowered herself into a very stiff, very straight horizontal position on her back. She closed her eyes. A moment later, the wind was knocked out of her with an, “Oof!” and Snuffles plopped himself down, as content as could be, right over her stomach.

Miriam opened her eyes and lifted her head, speechless (and breathless). She stared, opened mouth, at the dog that was lying peacefully over her belly, pinning her to the mattress. Then, in a gesture of pure defeat, she threw her head back onto the pillows and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“All I’m going to say is you had better still be a dog when I wake up.”

But she lay a hand on his shaggy head anyway, and fell asleep, absently scratching and petting. She dreamt of full moons and an incriminating secret.

Miriam Daniels had, only moments ago, been fast asleep and snoring lightly in her comfortably small, second-story bedroom.

But now, after being jerked suddenly awake, Miriam sat straight up and blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She was very still, anxiously waiting for the misty haze of sleep to fade and for her senses to rouse. Something, a noise, had awoken her; she was sure of it.

Miriam considered herself far to practical to be the paranoid sort. Normally, she would reason with herself that it was nothing more than a cat in the bushes, or an owl hunting for it’s nighttime snack, and plunge blissfully back into her slumber. But her foggy memory of the sound and the uncomfortable clench in her stomach warned her that whatever had made that noise was not alive.

So she listened. Trying to ignore the heavy drum of her own pulse in her ears, Miriam’s attention snagged as she listened to a subtle humming sound that was growing progressively louder each moment.

Grabbing her wand from the small table next to the bed, Miriam threw back the covers and climbed out and towards the window. Home for the holidays, she knew very well that Hogwarts students were forbidden to use magic outside of school; however, she also knew there were exceptions to the rule, particularly in the face of danger. Miriam’s mother, a witch, had died during childbirth, and she knew that her father, a muggle, would be hopelessly defenseless against any threat from the wizarding world. Now the hum was more like a growl, vicious and formidable, still growing louder and louder. Bracing herself, she flung back the shutters and watched the baffling scene unveiling before her.

The light from the full moon flooded into her bedroom, and had her raising a hand to shade her eyes. After a moment, Miriam realized that it was not just the moon illuminating the humble room; there was a curious figure silhouetted against the perfectly circular orb, growing, like the noise, larger each second, and shining a bright beam of light directly into her window. For a moment, Miriam was reminded of the pictures in her children’s books of witches, with their pointed hats and warted noses, flying against the full, round moon. But one glance and Miriam was sure that this was no witch, and whatever the creature was riding on was no broomstick, for now she was positive that there was both a passenger and a vehicle of some sort speeding rapidly towards her bedroom.

And finally, she was able to recognize the roar as the sound of an engine. The silhouette against the moonlight was just distinguishable as a man with broad shoulders and a slim frame. There was a pile of boxes she made out to be suitcases strapped to the back of the bike.

Miriam’s heart lifted, and a giddy, completely out of character grin spread wide across her face. The pulse pounding in her eardrums and chest was no longer due to nerves. She felt something inside of her go all mushy and soft; it was a sensation she had reluctantly grown accustomed to over the months, yet still managed to baffle and catch her completely off guard at the most random moments.

The sharp-looking motorcycle suddenly dropped out of the air into a nosedive, and with only inches to spare, pulled out just in time to glide smoothly onto the grassy back yard. But as it approached the house, the bike did not stop. Rather, it simply drove straight up the wall to right beneath her bedroom window, as if it were as flat as the ground, causing her walls to shake in response to the powerful vehicle.

Miriam cast a fretful glance to the door behind her. Miriam’s father, a wonderfully warm and humble man, was very knowledgeable about the world of magic, and had married her mother gladly, knowing full well of her differences. However, as understanding and accepting as he was, he was still a father, and Miriam didn’t much think that he would appreciate walking in to find his sixteen-year-old daughter alone in her bedroom with a teenage male wizard in the middle of the night.

And then that teenage male wizard hauled himself through her window, and Miriam was suddenly unconcerned, her worries vanishing out just as Sirius Black climbed in.

It was mortifying the way that, after almost six months together, he could still make her go weak in the knees, still take her breath away. Like some dangerously handsome fallen angel, he was dressed in all black, including the helmet Miriam had bought him for Christmas in the vain hope that he would wear it, at least once in a while. Even now, she knew that he had probably slipped it on just as he was approaching her neighborhood; still, she appreciated the sentiment.

Miriam didn’t say anything. She could feel her body aching to jump at him, to take one huge bite from that mouth of a doomed poet. But she simply stood back, very still, and watched as he pulled off the helmet and shook out his long, black hair. When he grinned at her, she felt her knees wobble.

And for a minute that was it. They simply stood there, staring across the room at each other, Sirius beaming, Miriam a mess of thoughts and feelings. Then finally, shaking his head as if in defeat, Sirius sighed deeply and said, “Kiss me, Miriam.”

It was all she needed. She leapt at him, circling her arms tightly around his neck, her legs clamped around his waist. She reared back to crush her mouth against his, and felt her insides gloriously begin to sizzle and hiss.

Finally, she drew back and buried her face against his neck, sniffing and nuzzling like a puppy. Sirius stroked a hand against her hair and pressed a kiss to her brow.

“What in God’s name are you doing here?” Miriam demanded, her voice muffled against his skin. Sirius smiled.

“I‘ve missed you, too,” he said.

She sighed, happily. Then, like a flash of lightening, her face transformed into a mask of anger and frustration; she jumped down from his arms and gave him one, hard shove in the chest that had him blowing out a sharp breath.

“You’ve had me worried half to death,” she accused in a half-whisper, half-scream. “What was the big idea with that note? I nearly wore out a hole in my floor, I was pacing so much!”

Sirius opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Miriam plowed on.

“And why are there suitcases on your bike? The Easter holidays aren’t over for nearly a week still. Are you going somewhere? When are you coming back? And why-”

Sirius grabbed her chin and pressed a firm kiss to her racing lips to stop her tirade. Pulling away, he saw that she was still considerably huffed up, and resisted the urge to chuckle. So instead, he took the hand that had shoved him, and led her over to the bed.

Miriam had to bite her tongue to keep from breaking into another string of questions. Just days before, she had received a letter to her window from an unfamiliar owl. Seeing Sirius’ scrawl on the envelope, she ripped it open to find a cryptic and unnerving note tucked inside:

Darling Miriam,

Something’s happened, we need to talk. I’ll explain everything soon.

Love,

Sirius

Miriam had done nothing but worry and fret since. She had bitten her nails into nubbins, and indeed, there was a definite imprint in her carpet showing the obvious track of her constant pacing. So now, she mustered all the calm she could and managed to keep the shake out of her voice.

“You said you’d explain everything. So…”

Sitting on her bed, Sirius reached out to touch just the tips of her hair, and then dropped his hand to hers, and began to toy absently with her fingertips. Whenever they were together, Sirius always managed some way to touch her, whether it was in an embrace, or simply a brush of fingers against her hair. Miriam wasn’t even sure that he was always aware of it; yet it was one of those things Miriam had been forced to get used to when they began dating, and had become one of those things she now missed when they were apart. Sometimes it frightened her just how much she missed the little things like that. How much she had come to depend on them.

“I’ve decided to leave my family and move out of my house.”

“Move out?” Miriam knew that Sirius did not get along particularly well with his family. However, he was not yet an adult, and the idea seemed very drastic. “But, why? What happened? Where will you go? What will �“”

“You could say there was a…disagreement. A very substantial disagreement. My mother and I didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on a particular issue, so I left.” Seeing her wide-eyed expression, Sirius laughed. “It’s really not that big of a deal. James and his family offered to let me stay with them for the rest of vacation, and after the school year for however long it takes me to find my own place. I’ll be of age then, and I’ll finally be able to have a place of my own,” he said, and smiled reassuringly.

Miriam frowned. He made it sound so simple, so casual, that Miriam found it hard to take issue with any of it. But still, something nagged at the back of her mind.

“I was thinking somewhere in London,” Sirius continued, oblivious to the concern on Miriam’s face. “It’s close to Diagon Alley, and a lot of other wizard neighborhoods. And it’s much closer to you than where I was living before, so we’ll be able to see each other more often. So, it’s really for the best, you see.”

Miriam nodded vaguely, and staring straight into his eyes, asked, “What did you disagree about?”

Sirius’ smile flickered, just for an instant. Then he shrugged indifferently. “Does that really matter?”

“It matters enough to have you moving out of your house.” Something was beginning to churn uncomfortably in Miriam’s stomach, and a dark sort of knowledge crept up sinuously from behind her. “Sirius, what did you and your mother have a disagreement about?”

Sirius pushed himself up from the bed and began to pace the same worn path Miriam had been following for the past few days. He pressed a hand to his forehead in a mixture of impatience, frustration, and reluctance. But Miriam held her ground.

“Listen,” he began, refusing to look at her. “You’ve never met my family. You don’t know what they’re like. They’ve got this whole…pure-blood arrogance about them, it’s ridiculous. They’re convinced that the name ‘Black’ makes you as good as royal.”

“I know all of this,” Miriam said, reaching out to take his hand in a gesture of comfort. “You’ve already explained it to me.”

“Yeah, well,” muttered Sirius, his jaw visibly clenching and unclenching his jaw in temper at the memory. “I’ve never explained you to them. I knew what would happen if they ever found out I was in love with…with a…y’know. A half-blood.”

And at the word “love,” all of the blood drained out of Miriam’s face, gushing into her stomach where it undulated around into knots and loops. She suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. But Sirius, who had begun pacing again, hadn’t noticed.

“My idiot brother, Regulus, ratted me out. He’s apparently been spying on us since the Halloween ball and was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to prove what a loyal and devoted son he is, and what a blood-traitor I am.” Sirius found he wanted very badly to kick something. “Stupid git. They were all so worried when I got sorted into Gryffindor, thought he might end up with the same abominable fate,” he said, laughing sardonically. “I could have told them they had nothing to worry about.”

Now as he turned back to face her, he noticed for the first time the blanched skin, the wide, unseeing eyes.

“Hey,” he said, and dropped to his knees in front of her, taking her face firmly in both hands. “Don’t,” he ordered harshly, forcing her to focus on him. “Don’t you ever for a moment think that I’m ashamed of you. Understand? Bloody hell, Miriam, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Miriam felt something burning in the back of her throat. She shook her head.

“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just…Sirius, you can’t do this. Think about it. You’re upset and your head is all muddled up. You’re not looking at the big picture. You have to try to look past us, there are more important things �“”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” he bit off, dangerously. Miriam could hear the temper bubbling beneath the surface. She took a bracing breath.

“I’m trying to say that…I….I think you should go back to your mother and apologize, and ask her to take you back in.”

Miriam felt another twinge in her stomach as something angry and dangerous flashed in Sirius’ eyes. He released her and strode to the window, leaning with his back faced to her.

“I’m never stepping foot inside that house again for as long as I live. Damn it Miriam, I thought you of all people would understand.”

Miriam felt that twinge sharpen into a stinging prick.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said? They’re trying to use my family heritage to break us apart. My mother, my family, is never going to accept us, and you want me to go crawling back begging for forgiveness?”

She could hear the barely controlled fury in his voice, but she gritted her teeth against something she couldn’t quite identify that was threatening to surge up and overwhelm. Her throat suddenly felt very sore.

“I’m trying to be realistic here,” she managed.

“Then tell me Miriam,” Sirius barked, swirling around to face her. “Just what is this reality that I’m so obviously blinded to?”

“The reality is,” she said, rising along with her temper, “That this…us,” she said, motioning between them with her hands, “is not going to last forever! We’re still kids, for goodness’ sake. What will you do when this is over, and you’ve completely severed all ties with your family? When this thing between us ends, they will still be your family, and you can’t just �“”

“Planning on ending things, are you?” interrupted Sirius, giving Miriam a look that made her feel very, very small.

“I didn’t say that,” Miriam said carefully. “That’s not what I said.”

“Well then, this certainly explains a lot. You’re absolutely right, how could I have been so blind? I should have seen this coming from a mile off.”

“Stop,” she said, beginning to feel a trickle of panic down her throat. “You’re twisting my words around. You’re thinking with your heart, with your emotions, not reason --”

“In that case, excuse me for not having a heart carved from solid ice, unlike yourself.”

The prick turned into a knife. She gaped at him.

“That’s not true,” she said very quietly, shaking her head from side to side in a detached, dreamy sort of way. Breathing was becoming a very difficult labor. “That’s not true.”

“Oh excuse me, I forgot,” he sneered. “The hospital, the patients. You’re not afraid to care for them, are you? No, that’s easy, and you know why? Because you can care for them without ever having to offer up anything of yourself. Never have to open up, to risk, heaven forbid, having to expose any bit of yourself you might not want people to see.”

Miriam went very stiff.

“You’re out of line, Sirius.”

“You’re a coward, Miriam.”

Miriam felt as if she had been slapped in the face. He knees gave out and she sank to the bed, stunned. She doubted if any physical blow, curse, or hex could have possibly had a greater effect, could have somehow been more painful.

She thought she caught something like remorse glint in his eyes, but a moment later it was gone and replaced with the icy fury she would have gladly traded for blazing temper. Temper, at least, she could match. But she was defenseless against this controlled, bitingly cold anger that made her want to shrink back and melt into the walls.

“I’m sick of this,” he said, walking to the window once more. “I’m tired of having to justify my feelings to you, of embarrassing myself, only to have it all tossed back in my face. God, what an idiot I’ve been. Do you realize, Miriam, that you have never once been the first to approach me? Not once have you ever been the one to initiate any sort of intimacy, conversation, anything. My God, we wouldn’t even speak to each other if it were left up to you. No. No, you just like to sit back and let someone else do all the work, let someone else take all the risks, all the chances. Heaven forbid you actually having to put yourself out there and be the vulnerable one for once in your life. Well, I’m tired of being played for a fool. I’m not going to throw myself at you anymore like a trained dog. I don’t need this, and I certainly don’t need you.”

Sirius began to climb out of the window, but he paused and looked at her one last time, a pained expression on his face.

“I mean it, Miriam. I’m not going to come to you anymore. If you want to talk, then, that’s fine. But God knows I’m not going to be holding my breath.”

---

Miriam had no idea how long she had been sitting, stiff as a board, on her mattress. She vaguely remembered hearing the faint roar of an engine speeding off, but it had all seemed very far away. Miriam couldn’t be totally sure of anything, really. Some while ago, her entire body had grown utterly and wholly numb. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and it seemed as though she had forgotten how to breathe.

She sensed pain, but that too seemed very distant. It was as if she were floating in midair, unable to feel the carpet at her feet, the soft sheets beneath her legs. She was shivering, but would never feel the icy cold sweat beaded at her forehead, trickling down her back. Miriam would never notice the copious tears that dripped gracefully down her colorless, deadened cheeks.

Chapter Nine

Miriam had finally reached a rational conclusion.

She had died and gone straight to hell.

It was, as she had convinced herself, the only logical explanation for the sheer, unrelenting misery she had been wallowing in for the past month. Death, she reasoned, would certainly account for the numb, dreamlike state she presently existed in. Nothing felt real anymore. Ironically enough, Miriam had been confident that anything had to be better than the agony she had felt the first week following the breakup. Yet somehow, the hollow emptiness presently consuming her managed to be much, much worse.

This particular morning, Lily had somehow dragged Miriam out of her bed and into the Great Hall, where they now sat, eating breakfast at the Hufflepuff table. At least, Lily ate her breakfast. Miriam, on the other hand, was slumped in her seat, lazily spooning up oatmeal and watching it “plop, plop, plop” back into her bowl.

Finally, Lily snatched the spoon out of Miriam’s grasp, plunged it into the bowl, and held a heaping spoonful out right in front of Miriam’s face.

“Eat,” she demanded. “You’re not a child.”

Obligingly, Miriam swallowed the tasteless glop. She doubted that even the sweetest of cauldron cakes would have any more flavor.

“Miriam,” Lily said, gently. “It’s been almost a month. You have got to get a grip on yourself. And stop pouting. Do you want him to see how unhappy you are?”

Miriam looked up from her bowl of oatmeal, the slightest glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“D’you think he’d notice? Really?”

Lily sighed heavily, and glanced over at the Gryffindor table.

“The bastard,” Miriam grumbled, pouting more than ever. “You’d think he would at least have the decency to look miserable.”

Lily chewed her lip and said nothing. It was true, she had to admit, that Sirius did appear to be getting along just fine. Presently he was talking animatedly to two pretty, fifth year Gryffindor girls. He apparently was saying something funny, because the next moment the two girls were laughing and giggling hysterically. When he spoke they would gaze at him dreamily. Sirius, looking smug as ever, was grinning in his typical devilish manner and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Miriam, Sirius himself said that all you had to do was…I mean, can’t you just -”

“No,” Miriam said simply. “I can’t.”

After about a minute or so, the jolly threesome picked themselves up and walked, arm-in-arm out of the great hall. As they passed the Hufflepuff table one of the girls began to shriek once more with delighted laughter. Miriam felt a new cloud of gloom form over her head as she recognized the unfairly pretty girl to be Margaret Hanson, one of his many admirers who had sent Sirius a daily bouquet after his run-in with the Whomping Willow.

Naturally, thought Miriam, she was blond. It was like pouring salt on an open wound.

“Now that,” Lily said, scowling, “was completely uncalled for. Could have taken any other route out, just wait till I get back to the common room, I’m going to give him such a piece of my mind he’ll be sorry �“”

“It’s not worth it, Lily,” Miriam said glumly, forcing a smile. “Although I appreciate the loyalty. Look, this has just…caught me a little off guard. That’s all. I mean, I knew this was coming. Didn’t I tell myself right from the start that Sirius just wasn’t the committed type?” And that, she thought, just made the pain all the more baffling. “It was just a phase he was going through, something he had to get out of his system.”

Lily looked thoroughly unconvinced.

“Well. From what he said to you that night, it sure didn’t sound like you were just a phase he was glad to be over.”

“No. Maybe not then, but I’m sure he’s glad now. Now he can be himself again, he doesn’t have to worry about someone tying him down, holding him back. He’s not committed to anything…anyone. And neither am I. I have nothing to distract me anymore, so I can focus on what’s really important. We can both move on now with our lives now.”

Miriam leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Wow,” she exhaled. “When you look at it like that, this all seems like it’s really for the best.”

Lily, who was often referred to as the brightest Gryffindor of her year, was not only gifted in reading books.

“Miriam,” she began, looking searchingly into her friend’s eyes. “Do you truly believe that?”

For the first time in a month, Miriam’s eyes were clear and focused and determined.

“I have to.”

---

“Settle down, everyone, settle down,” said Professor Flitwick in his high-pitched squeaky voice later that day in Charms.

Miriam, dejected as ever, slumped back in a seat towards the rear of the classroom next to Lily, who was not particularly pleased about having to abandon her usual front-row position. Miriam’s studies were certainly suffering due to her depressed state; in fact, she had either been assigned extra homework or practice in nearly every class.

“Now,” Professor Flitwick began, perched on his usual stack of books, “we are going to begin trying to conjure a Patronus charm. Can anyone tell me what the purpose of a Patronus is?”

A boy near the front from Gryffindor raised his hand.

“It’s a shield,” he said. “It protects you from dementors, like the ones they have guarding Azkaban prison.”

“Correct!” squeaked Professor Flitwick. “Ten points to Gryffindor!”

The Hufflepuff’s in the room all looked a bit crestfallen.

“The Patronus acts like a force field consisting of positive energy, guarding you from the dementor. It can only be conjured by a specific incantation, which I will teach you in a moment. Be aware that the Patronus charm is advanced magic, very advanced indeed. Conjuring a Patronus requires intense and absolute concentration on an extremely happy memory.”

At these words, Miriam felt a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Now,” continued Professor Flitwick, “repeat after me: Expecto Patronum!”

“Expecto Patronum!”

“Very good!” cried Professor Flitwick. “Wands at the ready! Remember, each Patronus is unique to the wizard that conjures it. Now, everybody think of a happy memory. Concentrate, now. And, Expecto Patronum!”

A moment later the class had erupted into frustrated shouts and bellows of the incantation. Sirius sat towards the front of the room, sending Margaret Hanson into “oohs” and “aahs” at the silvery smoke he managed to conjure. James, also fairly successful in the exercise, sat next to him, and kept glancing back in Miriam’s direction to see if Lily was watching him. He caught Miriam’s eye once and gave her a reassuring smile. Remus had been absent from all of his classes for the past two days, but Peter Pettigrew, a lumpy boy whom Miriam had never particularly favored, fawned over James and Sirius almost as enthusiastically as Margaret. Miriam, feeling the exercise was pointless, remained in her hunched position and absently blew silvery mist that had drifted over from her classmate’s wands out of her face. Soon she became completely absorbed in her own thoughts, none of them particularly happy.

She had no idea how much time had passed until Professor Flitwick squeakily exclaimed, “Excellent, James! Everyone, look at Mr. Potter over here; he has managed to produce an almost perfect corporeal Patronus! Twenty points to Gryffindor!”

Miriam emerged slowly from her daze and roused herself just in time to see a shadowy, horse-like animal with great antlers prance about before it faded into a silvery mist and disappeared into James’ wand.

Looking rather pleased with himself, he flashed a smug grin over in Miriam and Lily’s direction. Lily rolled her eyes, yet failed to look completely unimpressed.

Now as the class resumed it’s attempts at the charm, Professor Flitwick began roaming the classroom, occasionally offering up tidbits if advice or guidance. Miriam noticed that he was headed in her direction. She quickly straightened her posture, and lifted her wand for the first time all class.

“Expected Patro �“no, that’s not right. Expecto Patronum!”

She waited. Nothing.

Miriam cleared her throat and concentrated.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Exactly two, sad looking sparks of silvery light escaped from Miriam’s wand, floating for a moment or two before blinking out with a pathetic fizzling sound.

“Oh dear,” said Professor Flitwick. “Perhaps a bit of extra practice for homework, Miss Daniels?”

---

The hospital wing was very quiet that night. Aside from a fourth-year boy from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team who had been knocked off his broom by a well-aimed bludger during practice, thereby earning himself a few broken bones and an overnight stay, Miriam was quite alone.

The moon, full and perfect, had majestically replaced the sun hours ago, yet Miriam was restless. Feeling almost ridiculously antisocial the past few weeks, she had been requesting the night shift from Madam Pompfrey lately, who was only too happy to oblige; it seemed Miriam’s attempts at subtlety regarding her disheartened state were going about as well as her attempts at a Patronus. In all fairness, Miriam really was genuinely curious to discover the shape of her Patronus. However, the fear that it would resemble something like a rather large slug at this stage was certainly contributing to her poor luck with the subject.

So now she sat on the window ledge of the infirmary with the shutters open to let the cool breeze blow against her face and dry the tears that had dripped onto her cheeks during a sudden crying spell. Her breathing had slowed down, and her heartbeat had steadied. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, Miriam stared intensely at the enormous full harvest moon as if the answer to her problems was etched somewhere in the glowing face.

Waves of self-disgust crashed down against her, receding to leave her wallowing in a pool of self-pity. When, she wondered, had she grown so pathetic? The answer, of course, was obvious. Right around the time she had fallen for Sirius Black. Miriam had always silently laughed at her schoolmates who engaged themselves in the melodrama of romance, and was furious that she had allowed herself to walk, eyes wide open, into that trap. She searched her memory and tried to pinpoint the exact moment she had slipped, and was surprised to find that she couldn’t. Apparently, she thought, her pathetic-ness had been a progressive transformation.

But that’s not true! argued a voice in her head. You did not become pathetic when you started dating Sirius. You smiled more. You laughed easier. You only became pathetic when you started feeling sorry for yourself.

Miriam blinked, startled by the dramatic shift in her thoughts. She realized, however, that it was true; she didn’t need Sirius function, to carry out her daily activities, not even to be a great Healer. She had been content with her life before him, so she obviously didn’t need him for happiness. Being with Sirius simply made Miriam feel fuller. Whole, somehow.

And now she was empty again, only it hurt more this time because she knew what it was like to have that void filled. She’d had herself so convinced that she could have let go at any time, it was brutal to realize that she had not been at all prepared to say goodbye. But, she thought, taking a steadying breath, it seemed that was something she would just have to learn to live with.

Miriam closed her eyes and made a promise to herself. No more tears, she resolved. You’ve grieved, and now its time to move on.

Yet she couldn’t help but wish that she’d had the courage to talk to him one last time.

Miriam opened her eyes and let out a startled yelp, nearly falling backwards off the windowsill. Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she leaned forward and peered out the window again, certain her imagination had been playing tricks on her. But it was no trick. Directly below the window where she sat stood a great, black, shaggy dog.

Miriam frowned. The fact was, she had never seen an animal so…ordinary on school grounds before. Not that there was anything ordinary about this dog; it was as black as midnight, and huge, with deathly fangs and yellow, glowing eyes. But it was still a dog, and for Hogwarts, that was considerably ho-hum.

And yet, Miriam felt an ominous shiver race up her spine that had nothing to do with the wind. The dog’s eyes, bright and menacing, were staring fixedly up towards her. Beckoning her, she thought, and then laughed at her foolishness. Dogs don’t beckon, she told herself, and reached forward to close the shutters.

Then he began to howl. Miriam’s heart began to pound painfully fast in her chest, and she found she couldn’t take her eyes away from the creature that was now calling with a haunting cry.

As if satisfied that he had captured her full attention, the dog began to act in the most curious manner. He turned away and began to run in the direction of the school’s entrance. But then he circled back around, paused, and eyes on Miriam, bounded back towards the window. The dog did this again and again, each time running a bit nearer towards the entrance before sprinting back.

Miriam’s brow furrowed, her mind racing. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn that the gigantic beast staring anxiously wanted her to follow him! As if reading her mind, the dog barked enthusiastically, jumping up to his hind legs. Feeling ridiculously self-conscious, Miriam checked behind her to make sure that the Ravenclaw boy was still sleeping. She then raised a finger and pointed to herself, sending the dog into a leaping frenzy while he barked and wagged his tail excitedly. Miriam’s jaw fell open and her eyes widened. This was insane. The dog was nearly as tall as she, and looked like he could swallow her in two bites. He was evil looking and mean and if Miriam had an ounce of sanity, she told herself, she would close the window promptly and return to her dormitory.

Miriam sighed, and, accepting the fact that she had indeed gone insane, went to search for her cloak.

Chapter Ten

Miriam was amazed at herself.

Whether she was amazed at her foolish brazenness, or simply her foolishness in general, she didn’t know. But she had successfully escaped out of the castle through one of the underground secret passageways Sirius had showed her during a midnight stroll once, avoiding both Peeves and Filch on the way, and emerged safely inside the shed next to Hagrid’s hut. Miriam could see through one of the cracks in the wood that there was a fire burning inside, and felt relieved. If anything, she could always send out the red emergency sparks from her wand, and pray that Hagrid might notice and come running to her rescue. That was, of course, if she had time to even reach for her wand before being dragged off and mauled to death.

As quietly as possible, Miriam creaked open the rusty shed door, intending on doubling back to the castle and finding the dog. She slid out of the narrow space she had made for herself, and edged the door shut, wincing at each squeak and groan. Blowing out a sigh of relief, Miriam leaned her forehead against the cool metal…and a second later nearly froze with terror. The sound of heavy panting was right behind her. She turned around very slowly and held her breath. The enormous, jet-black dog sat back on his haunches barely a foot away from her, as if he had been waiting patiently for her arrival. Miriam had barely a second to wonder how he had known where she would emerge from, when the dog turned, and ran away from her into the darkness.

But Miriam stayed put. Right before the dog disappeared from sight, he stopped and faced her, and barked once as if to say, “Are you coming?” But Miriam was still very frightened and unconvinced. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she slowly raised her right hand out in front of her �“ her wand hand. It meant that Miriam was defenseless, unable to attack, and was for her a sign of trust. The dog seemed to be considering her, and then, understanding, walked calmly back towards where she stood. Miriam’s hand began to shake, but she held it out determinedly. Every instinct in her body told her to run, that one leap was all that was necessary to have him ripping her hand off. And then, at the last moment, the dog gently touched the very edge of his cold snout to the very tips of Miriam’s trembling fingertips. His bright, intense eyes seemed to be willing her to trust him. When he ran off into the darkness this time, Miriam followed.

They had not been running long before Miriam lost sight of the dog in the overwhelming darkness. She lit the tip of her wand (“Lumos!”) but still he was nowhere to be seen. So she listened. In no time she heard the unmistakable sound of large paws pounding against the ground, the crunch and snap of branches and sticks, and she took off, sprinting in that direction.

With each step, Miriam’s curiosity grew and grew; she had no idea where the dog was leading her, or why he seemed so determined to fetch her. She became so absorbed in her thoughts and the sound of her own breath panting in her ears that she didn’t realize the guiding footsteps had come to halt. Her wand caught the shadow of the gigantic and unmoving dog, but it was too late. She came skidding directly into the brute, tumbling backwards straight onto her bottom. Gasping for breath, Miriam hastily pushed her disheveled hair out of her eyes and stared anxiously at the dog, nervous that her clumsiness had angered him.

To the contrary, the dog, who hadn’t seemed to budge at all by the force of the crash, was breathing very rapidly, in loud pants that reminded Miriam absurdly of laughter. Grumbling to herself, she stood up and, clutching a stitch in her side, gazed around at their surroundings. They hadn’t traveled all that far, and it soon became obvious that they were still on Hogwarts grounds, She lifted her wand to give the light a greater stretch…and froze, her mouth wide open in a silent scream.

He’s trying to kill me!

she thought anxiously. She wanted to holler and curse and scream bloody murder at the traitorous dog, but didn’t dare. Miriam knew trees didn’t have ears, but this was Hogwarts after all, and she had seen first hand the damage a Whomping Willow could do; particularly the Whomping Willow that was planted only feet away from where she stood.

Despite her best attempts to remain completely still, Miriam felt a sickly ball of dread gather in her belly as the Willow lifted a fist-like branch as high as it could reach and brought it hurtling down with a massive force right to the spot where Miriam stood. Now she screamed, and braced herself to leap out of the way �“ but in those few seconds, the dog sprang forward and sprinted towards the trunk. Now the tree focused its blows on him, but the animal was too quick; it leapt nimbly, almost gracefully over the battering branches and, rearing back to his hind legs, placed a gargantuan paw on a lumpy knot on the trunk.

Immediately, the Willow became as peaceful as any other. Shaking with both panic and relief, Miriam gaped at the dog.

He barked once, and disappeared into a large gap Miriam had never noticed (not that she had ever gotten close enough to get a good look) right at the roots of the trunk. He then reappeared, and barked impatiently at her to follow.

“What do I look like to you, a groundhog?” Miriam demanded. The dog barked again, and dashed once more into the gap. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she muttered, and begrudgingly followed, casting a wary glance at the fist-like branch that now hung serenely in the air. She somehow folded herself into the awkward opening, and slid down a pebble-ridden slope, landing with a thud in what appeared to be an underground tunnel.

The dog was waiting for her at the bottom, and, sensing he was about to dash off again, she stamped a frustrated foot to the ground.

“Now hang on just a second,” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the tunnel. “I’m going to say something, because God help me, I think you can understand me.” Miriam threw back the hood of her cloak in a desperate attempt to show the dog that she meant business, though it had the effect of making her feel very exposed and vulnerable. “Not only was I interrupted tonight right in the middle of a very satisfying self-pity-party, but in the last forty-five minutes I have snuck out of school after hours, made use of an off-limits secret passageway, followed a very mean-looking dog to a killer tree, and now I’m in some underground tunnel without the slightest clue of where I’m going or why I’ve been brought here.” Miriam looked at the dog’s blank expression and struggled to find any last traces of dignity.

“And I’m sure you never would have guessed,” she began quietly, “but I’m not usually this spontaneous. So, I think I deserve some sort of explanation.” Miriam stared timidly down at her feet. “Please.”

Miriam wasn’t really sure what kind of response she had been expecting. The dog walked slowly towards her, and once again lightly touched his nose to her fingertips. He then sidled up next to her, almost like a cat rubbing itself against her legs. And whether it was out of exhaustion, relief, or just all of the inner-turmoil she had been experiencing gushing up towards to surface, Miriam found herself blinking tears out of her eyes.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

This time as they ran down the long tunnel, the dog stayed by her side, nudging her forward when she would stop to catch her breath. The tunnel was long and dark and spooky, and Miriam was grateful for the companionship. At last, when it began to seem like they had been running forever, Miriam could see a light ahead, shining through what appeared to be a hole in the roof of the tunnel.

Without hesitation, the dog leapt agilely up into the opening. Miriam followed, hoisting herself up, her heart pounding in anticipation.

She looked around, frowning. It seemed that she were in some sort of house…a shack, more like it. Furniture lay broken and covered with dust, and the windows were all boarded up. The air was musty and cold. A chill ran down her spine, and Miriam tightened her grip on her wand. Her eyes scanned the room for the dog, but she was interrupted by a sudden noise; a howl so agonizing and mournful, that she would have sworn the blood in her veins froze into pure ice. Realization hit like a bludger to the head.

“The Shrieking Shack,” she whispered. Miriam had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as something moved in the corner of her vision, then saw that it was the dog, bounding up the decrepit staircase. Miriam followed stiffly, muttering useless reassurances to herself.

“It’s just a ghost, ghosts can’t hurt you. That’s right, Hogwarts has lots of ghosts, and they’re all harmless �“ mostly. Maybe he knows Nearly Headless Nick, I’ll bet they go way back. Or the Bloody Baron…that probably wouldn’t be too pleasant…”

They reached the top of the landing where the howling, to Miriam’s great distress, only grew louder and nearer. A door was slightly ajar, and the dog pushed his way through. Miriam took a deep breath, and walked inside. The first thing she noticed was a thin, red stream that seemed to be inching towards her feet. It was a stark contrast to the dusty-gray wood floor, and her eyes followed the stripe to its origin.

The scene before her sent Miriam’s body, pulse, brain, screaming into overdrive and then seeming to short-circuit at the last second, freezing her into a sickening state of paralysis. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think; fear was so numbing a force that her fight-or-flight instinct seemed to have vanished, leaving her with an eleven-inch Rosewood wand powered by a pregnant-unicorn’s hair, and a brain too petrified to remember how to use it.

So she simply stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the hideous and monstrous werewolf that lay before her. He was twice the size of the bear-like dog, with clawed paws as large as Miriam’s head. The werewolf lay on his side facing away from Miriam, twitching and shuddering. He was whimpering pitifully, but she gave no thought to that; instead, she tore her eyes away from the monster to stare at the dog, and felt a baffling sense of betrayal.

“I trusted you,” she whispered.

But the dog merely walked over to the werewolf and leaned close to its snout, and for the first time, Miriam realized that they were not alone; she had been so alarmed by the werewolf’s presence that she hadn’t even noticed the others. A deer-like creature with large antlers was also leaning very close to the werewolf’s head, and though Miriam couldn’t see its face, from the look of the stag she could tell that their eyes were locked in an unblinking stare. They’re communicating with each other, she realized, completely astounded.

Miriam would never have even noticed the rat if not for his constant twitching and nervous scattering back and forth between the stag’s antlers. He seemed to be shaking about the same, if not more, than Miriam herself. Obviously, the only one with any brains, she thought.

Miriam could have laughed at the bizarre menagerie she found herself in, but she didn’t want to alert the werewolf to her presence. However, he didn’t appear in any condition to move, and she realized that the red stream now inching past her feet was blood �“ his blood.

He’s injured! she thought almost giddily, and instinctively turned towards the door to make her escape. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, trembling with the consuming desire to yank it open and run for dear life. What’s one less werewolf in the world!? screamed a panicky voice in her head. Don’t be a fool!

Wouldn’t be the first time tonight, Miriam thought drearily, and resignedly turned back toward the strange collection of creatures. She knew that her chance to escape was slipping through her fingertips. The animals seemed to be focusing their concentration on the werewolf, who had begun to howl in agony. All she had to do was run.

You’re a coward, Miriam, said a familiar voice in her head.

Bloody right, she thought. But damn if she wasn’t a Healer at her core. She took one step, and then another, towards the werewolf.

Miriam wanted to cry, to scream, to run away as fast as she could. But she gritted her teeth and straightened her shoulders and continued to approach the animals. With a deep breath, she bent her knees and lowered herself down to where the werewolf lay, her shoes making squishing noises in the pool of blood she was now crouched in. She spared a glance at the stag, who still had the werewolf’s attention.

“You had better make sure those jaws stay firmly shut together,” she whispered anxiously. Leaning forward, she peered over the matted, gray shoulder to where the blood seemed to be coming from. She felt a surprising sense of pity stir in her belly as she examined the wound; the side of the werewolf’s neck had been brutally gashed open, just barely missing vital arteries and, she thought, the only reason he was still alive. From the amount of blood though, Miriam could tell that it went deep, and from the hideous groans and whimpers, she knew that it was painful.

When she looked up again, Miriam saw that the stag was no longer staring at the werewolf, but meaningfully at her. A spark of recognition ignited in her brain. Where had she seen that animal before? Certainly not in Care of Magical Creatures, she would have remembered that. Something tugged at her memory, and Miriam had a sudden image of silver shadows misting about a classroom, a painfully bright, shimmering horse-like creature…a Patronus!

James!

The realization knocked all of the wind out of her like a blow to the center. Miriam felt weak and dizzy. It was impossible, it should have been impossible…but something told Miriam that it was in fact very probable.

But that would mean… Miriam now stared at the beast-like dog, thinking of the pitch-black fur, the humanlike, almost arrogant behavior…the secret passageway.

Sirius!

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

It was absurd, absolutely ridiculous, and yet seemed to make complete sense. That obviously would mean that the twitchy, nervous rat was Pettigrew, which only left…

But wait a second, she thought. Lupin can’t be here, he’s been out sick for the past two days…

At that thought, Miriam felt a consuming horror unlike anything else that she had ever experienced. Out sick…tomorrow would be the third day…three nights…the full moon…

Miriam felt a tear leak miserably out of her eye.

“Oh, Remus,” she whispered sadly.

Miriam shut her eyes tightly, squeezing out more tears, and pushed everything out of her mind except for the somehow pitiful creature who lay bleeding before her. Suddenly, her purpose was very clear. When she opened her eyes, they were unmistakable and fierce. She looked intensely at the great black dog. Though she was still trembling, shaking violently from head-to-toe, when she spoke her voice was strong and purposeful.

“I’m going to need some tools,” she said.

Chapter Eleven

Miriam was shaking like a leaf, yet her hands had never been steadier.

She worked fast and efficiently. Beads of sweat pearled on her forehead and threatened to drip into her eyes, but Miriam didn’t dare break her concentration by wiping them away. With one hand she had to hold back the thick gray fur, sticky and matted with blood; with the other she expertly flicked and swirled her wand, mending the torn muscles and flesh. All three animals were now leaning in close to the werewolf (except Peter, who was still scurrying and twitching about with nerves), assumingly keeping its attention on them, and as far away from Miriam as possible. Though from the neck down he was more or less immobile, Miriam had a feeling those jaws would work just fine if the creature felt so inclined.

Miriam knew that many considered wizard medicine somewhat of a hoax. Just a wave of the wand and you’re good to go, was the common perception. But in fact, healing required a great deal more; it wasn’t just mixing potions and reciting spells. One had to be trained in the various and complex ways of handling a wand. Miriam often compared it to knitting; each unique stitch required a different grip, handle, and twist. Unlike most spells, which simply called for adequate aim, there were a countless number of choreographic motions that had to be executed to the slightest inch; one centimeter too far, or a wave in the wrong direction could end in disaster, for both patient and Healer.

“Peter,” she snapped suddenly, “if you can’t hold still, Merlin help me, I’m going to curse you into the next millennia.”

The rat stopped scampering immediately, and instead gnawed nervously at the giant antlers he was caged in.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m really going to need you boys right here.” She could feel the glowing yellow eyes of the dog fix on her, but she would not meet them. “Don’t worry about me, focus on him.” Picking up a cloth from the emergency kit Sirius had stolen from the hospital wing, she dipped it in a urine-colored potion. “Ready? Now!” and she pressed the rag to the wound.

The werewolf’s body convulsed as if shocked, and he began to howl like a banshee. The stag pressed his nose to the beast’s head, and the dog placed his front paws on the werewolf’s torso in comfort and, she knew, in restraint. Miriam’s entire body jerked violently, a result of fighting the desperate urge to flee, but her hands never faltered. They remained steady and firm, applying continuous pressure to the wound. The werewolf continued to howl and writhe in pain and, she thought, fear.

Miriam had to make a split-second decision; she hadn’t wanted to resort to this, but now it seemed to be the merciful thing to do. Reaching back for the kit, she extracted a large syringe. It was filled with a shock-blue fluid, and ended in a thin, hair-like needle. Miriam wiped the blood from her hands on her slacks, and with a stab of pity, twisted off the tiny needle and replaced it with a sickeningly thick one, nearly as wide around as Miriam’s index finger. The silver tip had been sharpened to such a treacherous point it looked as though it could slice right through diamond.

The dog gave one sharp bark, and the stag stared curiously at Miriam.

“His skin is too thick,” she explained. “The smaller one won’t go through.” Which made his grotesque injury all the more puzzling, she thought. “It’s just an anesthetic, for the pain. And a sedative for, well…me. If I’m going to finish, he’s got to stop squirming.” She cast a sympathetic glance to the werewolf’s hideous face �“Lupin’s face - and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then she lifted the syringe, and, grimacing, pressed the needle into the tough flesh.

The werewolf howled one last time and jerked as the needle pierced through. Then he seemed to sag down, relaxing his head and limbs on the dusty floor, and went still. Miriam dabbed at the fresh blood that leaked through the area she had punctured.

“Shhh,” she whispered gently. “That’s it. You’re going to be okay when you wake up.” Her throat tightened up and her vision went unexpectedly blurry. “You’re going to be okay.”

But Miriam now knew that Remus Lupin would never truly be okay.

She swallowed the tears and continued the operation. There wasn’t much left, and in a few minutes she was taping a gauze-like material over wound.

“It’s spider silk,” she said wearily to the others. “It won’t budge if he moves, and it should hold through his transformation at sunrise.” Now she wiped the sweat at her brow with the back of her hand, smearing more blood along her face; but at that moment, Miriam couldn’t have cared less. She was exhausted. Every muscle in her body felt fatigued and on the verge of collapse. However, she was more concerned about the geyser bubbling inside her chest that threatened to explode at any moment. So with the last bit of her strength, she pushed herself up to her feet.

“He’ll be fine for now. I’m going to stay until sunrise just to make sure…but he should be fine,” she said to the animals, unsure of who she was trying to convince. “If you’ll just excuse me for a few minutes, I need to, ah…” She gestured broadly at the door. “Excuse me.”

Dashing out of the room, Miriam turned into the first doorway down the hall, and shut the door behind her. She felt very cold. Wrapping her arms around herself, she leaned back against the wall. With a wrenching sob, Miriam’s body finally gave out, and she slid to the floor. Remus, she thought helplessly. Certainly, she’d be able to heal the injury he had suffered tonight. But no medicine would ever cure the curse that had doomed him to a life of secrecy and pain and segregation. It simply broke her heart. Miriam gathered her knees to her chest, lay down her head, and grieved.

Hardly a minute passed before Miriam heard the creaking of the door, and footsteps entering the derelict bedroom. She looked up as Sirius walked in.

She was certainly a sight. Miriam was as pale as a ghost, nearly transparent, and looked close to death with her red, puffy eyes and cheeks smeared with blood and tears. Her hair, which she had twisted into the severe bun, typical whenever she needed to concentrate, was also matted down with blood, a few stringy hairs escaping and sticking to her damp face. But it was her eyes that caught him; glistening and wide, he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so tragic, so heartbreakingly honest in his entire life. They were so sad. Sirius could feel his heart being wrenched viciously from his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, unable to resist.

Miriam was rendered speechless. No one, not even her parents, had ever accused her of beauty. And now, sitting curled up in a dusty room, covered with blood and too tired to even move, the young man she thought would never speak to her again was calling her beautiful. It was just all too much.

“That’s not funny,” she finally choked out.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” he said coolly, and knelt down to her, touching a fingertip to the dent in her chin. “You know, for such a toughie, you care about people far too much.” He brushed away a tear dribbling down her face. “Don’t let this rip you apart.”

Miriam found she wanted to curl up into the hand cupping her cheek and not move for the rest of her life.

“But I don’t understand,” she sputtered. “How… when...?”

Sirius stood now, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, frowning.

“It was before we came to Hogwarts. I remember Lupin telling us once that he wasn’t even planning on attending, didn’t think they would accept someone…well, someone like him. But Dumbledore insisted. Said they’d find a way to keep the students, and him, safe.”

“The Whomping Willow,” Miriam whispered.

“Exactly,” Sirius nodded. “Why else would they plant a skull-crushing tree on school grounds? Luckily, many people already think that Dumbledore is running short a few circuits, so no one ever seriously questioned it. Just blamed it on the eccentricity of an old man.”

It was all beginning to make sense. Sirius’ injury towards the beginning of the school year, Lupin’s countless absences, the legendary shrieking of the Shrieking Shack…

“And tonight?” she asked.

“Not sure,” Sirius said, “but we think it was another werewolf. We heard howling that couldn’t have been entirely Lupin.”

“It makes sense,” Miriam said, nodding. “I remember reading that the only creature who can cause serious harm to a werewolf is another werewolf. Their teeth are made of one of the only substances that can break through their skin. That, and a silver bullet, of course,” she said in a feeble attempt to make light of the situation.

Sirius smiled slightly.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome.”

An awkward silence followed. Sirius began to pace, and Miriam became very interested in rubbing some of the blood off of her wrist. Every now and then, Sirius would pause and open his mouth to speak, but then, as though he had thought better of it, he would shake his head slightly, and continue pacing. Finally, Sirius came to an abrupt halt, and turned to her.

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he said, stuffing his hands out of frustration into his trouser pockets.

Miriam stopped the useless rubbing and took a deep breath. Now, she supposed, was as good a time as any.

“That’s fine. Because I have a thing or two to get off my chest.” Pushing herself to her feet so they were eye-level, Miriam jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! Are you all insane? You have some nerve, bringing me out here in the middle of the night, scaring me half to death, risking my life more than once, breaking about fifty school rules…Oh! And let’s talk about rules for a moment, shall we?”

Miriam was finding her stride. Sirius looked completely shocked, and she was pleased to see that she had been able to catch him off guard, for once.

“Not only could you three get yourselves expelled from Hogwarts, but thrown into Azkaban as well! I know for a fact that you are not registered with the Ministry of Magic to be an Animagus, you’re far too young. You’re breaking a serious law, and people have been tossed in Azkaban for far less.” Miriam knew that she was on the verge of shouting.

Sirius looked furious; but she couldn’t stop. Not now. She’d get it all out, every last word if it killed her. “So, let’s put this all together, shall we? Here you are, sneaking out three-times a month from school, transforming yourselves into illegal Animagi, and frolicking around with a werewolf, a creature who’s sole purpose in life is to maim and kill, keeping him company so he won’t be causing havoc all by himself.”

Then, in a gesture that left her completely open and exposed, she let her arms fall to her sides, palms open wide. For the first time in her life, Miriam was knowingly making herself vulnerable to hurt.

“And here I am,” she began, her voice beginning to shake, “the idiot who let you go.”

A vicious, snarling temper had been brewing inside of Sirius, threatening to boil over as soon as Miriam had begun her tirade. Yet in an instant, it vanished, leaving him at a complete loss. His heart began to pound as her words sunk in.

“Miriam,” he murmured, and reached for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“No. I have to finish this. I need…” What she needed, she wasn’t exactly sure, but Miriam did know that no matter what the outcome, no matter how humiliating, she had to be the one to bring this all to an end.

“I didn’t want to believe that you were capable of truly caring for a person. And I had myself convinced that you could never really love someone…someone like me. No, don’t say anything yet,” she said at the frustrated look on Sirius’s face. “I didn’t think that you would ever really develop true feelings for me, so that made it easier for me to believe that what we had was just a casual fling, just a game really. That way I could keep myself at a distance. And if I never really felt anything for you, if I never opened up or put myself out there, it wouldn’t hurt so badly when you finally realized that you had made a horrible mistake and wanted out.”

Miriam’s throat had tightened up so painfully close that breathing became a labor. Her voice was unusually high-pitched, and was beginning to hitch uncomfortably. She couldn’t for the life of her read the look on Sirius’ face, and that caused her stomach to twitter frantically, like Pettigrew’s rat scurrying back and forth between James’ antlers. But she sniffed loudly, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and continued.

“Obviously, I was wrong about many things. It did hurt,” she said wetly, her tears making blurry stripes in the blood smeared along her cheeks. “It hurt so badly I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and nothing would ever be able to put it back. And I was a fool to believe that you were incapable of love. Tonight, more than anything, proved me wrong.” Miriam was crying freely now, speaking through sobs that tore through her, but she didn’t care. “You do this for him, you risk your education, your freedom, to keep a friend from feeling lonely and afraid. You know what he is, and accept him for that, and make him feel like he belongs.” She took a long, slow breath. Miriam wanted to make sure he heard every word, because she didn’t think she’d be able to repeat it.

“I would have fallen in love with you tonight,” she began, “if I hadn’t already a long time ago. I’m only sorry it’s taken me so long to realize it.” Miriam tried a smile. “Margaret’s a very lucky girl.”

For what seemed to Miriam like an eternity, neither of them spoke. Sirius made no move to respond, only watched her, the same unreadable expression on his face. Miriam shifted her feet awkwardly, scratched her arm, and swallowed hard. She couldn’t stay still; standing there was simply torture. She knew that by now she had to be as red as a tomato, and wondered if she had just made a terrible mistake.

Then, like a dream moving in slow motion, Sirius took two strides forward until they were toe-to-toe, lifted her face in both hands, and kissed her.

Miriam had no idea how long they stood embraced there, but in that time she could feel her entire world tilt. It was like watching a sunrise after being trapped, held prisoner in the bleak dungeon of her own mind. She felt a familiar, glorious sliding feeling in her stomach, akin to taking a nose-dive on a broomstick, scary and exciting at the same time. Her heart soared and beat erratically against Sirius’s own. When they finally broke apart, Sirius gathered her tightly against him, burying his face in her hair. He sighed, and Miriam thought it sounded like relief.

“Bloody hell, Miriam,” he murmured, his face muffled against her neck. “What took you so damn long? I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it.”

“I wasn’t sure that you’d still want to,” she said tearfully, fisting her hands at his back. Sirius smiled wryly, and leaned back to look at her, cupping her face in his hands.

“If you hadn’t said anything tonight, I was sure as hell ready to get down on my knees and beg you to take me back.”

Miriam sniffled not unhappily, and forced herself to ask, “But what about Margaret?”

Sirius threw his head back and barked with laughter, then saw that she was completely serious and cleared his throat. “Darling Miriam. Isn’t it obvious? I was trying to make you jealous.” Now he grinned, wickedly. “Did it work?”

Miriam’s jaw fell open in indignation.

“You wicked little prat! I should have let you beg.”

“I’m very glad that you didn’t,” he said soberly. “I needed to hear this from you. Also,” Sirius began, lifting one of Miriam’s hands in both of his, “I believe an apology is in order.”

“What else do I have to be sorry for?” Miriam demanded in an exasperated tone, pouting. Sirius chuckled and brought her hand to his lips.

“What I meant to say is that I owe you an apology. I never should have called you a coward,” he said, soberly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to,” Miriam said, shrugging glumly. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly �“”

“What you did tonight was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen. If you hadn’t risked your life, Lupin would be lying in there, having probably bled to death.”

Miriam flushed a brilliant scarlet and stared at her shoes.

“It’s not like I really had much of a choice. After all, I did eventually figure out what was going on, that you all had…changed…and if I had even tried to leave, we both know very well that you would have chased me down and dragged me back with that enormous snout of yours.”

“But I didn’t have to do that, did I?” asked Sirius, once more tilting her chin forward to meet his eyes. “And I wasn’t counting on you figuring out our identities, that was just a stroke of luck. What I was counting on is the fact that I knew you wouldn’t leave. I knew that if I could just get you to see him, you would never let him suffer, no matter what the danger. You might not be the most…daring person I’ve ever met,” he said, earning a derisive snort from her, “but you’re sturdy when it matters most. I didn’t hesitate to bring you here, Miriam. You were the only person I thought of.” Miriam smiled, her eyes lighting up with happiness, and Sirius was reminded of their first true interaction in the hospital wing. He could have fallen in love with her all over again.

“So,” she said hesitantly, “does this mean that we’re…?”

“You tell me.”

Understanding perfectly, Miriam grinned and pulled Sirius forward to crush his mouth against hers.

“Darling Miriam,” Sirius murmured, sighing pleasantly. He gathered her close and rested his cheek against the top of her hair. “You need a bath.”

---

It had been quite a long time since Miriam had administered the sedative, and a peaceful aura of quiet had befallen the Shack. Lupin, a werewolf for at least another few hours, was sleeping calmly in another corner of the room where Miriam had found him, snoring rather loudly. She didn’t want him to have to lie in the sticky mat of blood that now lay plastered to the floor, so she magically moved him to a more sterile area across the room. Thinking of Remus’ modesty when he arose that morning to find her tending to him, Miriam had draped the werewolf in the now-tattered cloak she had been wearing. Peter had completely worn himself out from his frantic worrying, and was sound asleep in James’ impressive antlers. The stag dozed lightly nearby, ready to move if Lupin were to stir.

Miriam and Sirius had planted themselves right outside the room in the hallway. Leaning against the wall, they sat curled up together beneath a patchy-green blanket they found in an antiquated chest. Sirius had fallen asleep almost instantly and was presently snoring very lightly, a heavy arm draped around Miriam to hold her close.

Miriam, on the other hand, remained wide-awake. It seemed her thoughts were in overdrive, absorbing information, digesting it, doing victory leaps across her brain. She leaned cozily against Sirius’ chest, rising and falling along with each breath, and listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart against her ear.

He looked almost innocent, she mused. She gazed over his serene expression, smiling to herself. Without the dark, shrewd eyes open and gleaming with mischief, there was a simple, almost childlike quality to his face. Yet somehow he was no less striking to behold, handsome as ever. And, she thought in amazement, he was hers.

“I love you,” Miriam whispered, reaching to place a feather-light hand on his cheek. “I think I always have…even though sometimes I don’t show it.”

To Miriam’s complete surprise, Sirius grinned and snaked his other arm around her, pulling her close to lay his cheek against her head. “I know,” he said, sleepily. “I always have.”

A/N: Contains sexual content. Reader discretion is advised (I've always wanted to say that).

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

The smell of roasted chestnuts and fresh pine drifted throughout the house and replaced the usual musty, slightly stale odor. Shiny garlands of holly hung from every corner while heaping piles of snow formed a powdery carpet over the floors. A continual fire burned in the parlor, radiating warmth, and a grandly decorated tree stood proudly in the center. Though most everyone had retired to their bedrooms, the house still echoed of lively conversation and cheer. Harry and Hermione, along with the Weasley’s, had all returned from Hogwarts about a week earlier, and though Miriam was delighted to have them back, she sincerely wished the circumstances regarding their return weren’t quite so ominous. An incident involving Harry, Mr. Weasley, and a giant snake in the Department of Mysteries had landed Mr. Weasley in the hospital, and left Harry a bit traumatized, in Miriam’s opinion. However, he seemed to be coping well with the help of his friends, and Sirius’ pleasure in having the house full once again was enough to lift even the lowest of spirits. More than once, Miriam had caught herself humming along to his deafening renditions of Herbert the Holiday House Elf.

Much to Miriam’s satisfaction, Sirius was looking better than she had yet to see him. He had gained weight, and was beginning to look healthy, the gaunt look in his face seeming to fade more with each passing day. Miriam, despite being enormously skilled in mixing potions and boiling tonics could never quite master the art of cooking; yet Sirius, like he always had, downed whatever atrocity she managed to conjure without complaint and never failed to ask for seconds, though Miriam knew that each swallow took a mighty effort.

However, this did not come without some retribution. Whenever he could manage it, Sirius would somehow back Miriam into a corner, hallway, or closet, where a conveniently placed mistletoe just happened to hang. From Miriam’s perspective, this threatened the relatively comfortable friendship they had begun to reignite, yet she would feel foolish to protest; the incidents were made to seem brief and somehow casual. A kiss on the cheek, perhaps on her hand, her forehead. Nothing more, and to the casual onlooker, as harmless as a pat on the back, but for Miriam began to stir feelings and needs without the deepest pit of her belly that she had long thought dead. And he knew it too, she thought, oh how he knew it. It was infuriating, both the fact that she was aware of, yet couldn’t resist being the pawn in his ingenious and torturously slow game, and how her anger seemed the please him all the more. They were both conscious of the fact that sometime soon it would not be her hand or her cheek, and the idea both terrified and thrilled her. The question was, where would they go from there?

In spite of the troubles plaguing everyone’s minds, Christmas Eve had turned out to be a joyous, festive occasion. Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself with a feast so extraordinary, seconds, and then thirds were devoured in no time. Miriam then played a game of wizard chess against Ron, losing so miserably that her own queen actually began to wave her scepter threateningly in Miriam’s direction. Everyone roasted marshmallows in the blazing fireplace, and went up to bed with hot chocolate warming pleasantly in their stomachs. Miriam however, was did not feel the least bit sleepy. She sat on the floor in the sitting room, leaning against the cushy sofa and staring into the fireplace. Soon Miriam was lost in her thoughts, and she stared fixedly into the fire as though hypnotized. Sirius found her there. The room was dark but for the glow emitting from the flames, painting her face with a golden sheen and dancing bewitchingly her eyes.

Her gazed at her for just a moment, etching the scene into his memory. Without a word, Sirius took the floor next to her, their shoulders bumping companionably against each other. When he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned her into him, she didn’t resist.

They sat together in silence, until the ancient grandfather clock struck midnight. Miriam sighed peacefully, her head resting comfortably on Sirius’ shoulder. At least for the moment, it was as though the fire had seemed to burn something away in her, something terribly sad and secret. For now, she was content.

“Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

Sirius was quiet for a moment, his only response to trail a hand lazily up and down her arm. He then got to his feet, pulling Miriam up with him.

“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand and entwining their fingers so they fit together like a puzzle. “I have something for you.”

Miriam frowned, but followed him up the darkened stairs lit only by candlelight. Entering his attic bedroom, Sirius let go of her hand and strode over to the poorly-made bed, where an even more poorly-wrapped gift in shiny red with a green bow sat. Miriam, however, gazed curiously around the bare room. She had yet to see where he slept, and feeling ridiculously awkward, felt a warm flush rise to her cheeks. Miriam, thankful for the dim light, walked over to an old dresser where a single photograph framed in wood sat propped up. In the photograph, a younger and somehow noticeably more innocent Miriam stood in a bright kitchen, grinning delightedly. In her arms was a small infant with bright green eyes, smiling and reaching up to grab at her hair. Sirius stood with his arm around Miriam, gazing down at the baby Harry, and then back up at the Miriam who held the photograph.

Miriam suddenly felt her throat tighten up and her eyes begin to sting. She remembered everything about that scene; Lily and James had brought Harry back from the hospital that same day, and Lily had excitedly insisted on taking the picture.

“You’re his godparents, after all!” she had exclaimed while passing a gurgling Harry into Miriam’s arms. “You’re family.”

“Miriam?”

Startled, Miriam set the picture back down on the dresser a bit too hard, knocking it over. Struggling for casualty, she cleared her throat, set the picture back up, and turned to face Sirius with a horribly fake smile plastered on her face.

“Ah...” she sputtered, terribly flustered, “I was just looking. It’s…”

“A nice memory, isn’t it?” Sirius finished for her. “I have more, if you’d like to view them sometime.” She looked troubled for a moment but recovered quickly. However, before she could respond, he held out the present to her. “Here. I think you’ll find this…necessary.”

Miriam gave a puzzled smile, but walked with the gift to sit on the bed. She flashed him a quick grin, and then tore at the wrapping like an eager child, making him laugh.

“Oh,” she said at first, very quietly like a sigh. Then, she stood up and held the long, dark coat out in front of her, her voice growing louder and rising in pitch. “Oh. Oh wow. Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow!”

Sirius grinned and watched delightedly as Miriam rushed over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, slipping on the elegant coat and twirling around to admire her reflection.

“It suits you,” he said, placing his hands into his pockets and strolling over to her.

“You bet your ass it does!” Miriam exclaimed, sparing him a glance before returning her gaze to the mirror.

“If it’s not your size, I can always take it back �“”

“Don’t you dare!” she growled, and he chuckled amusedly. “Mine.”

Miriam ran a hand greedily down the buttery black leather. The coat fit to her perfectly, skimming just below her knees. It was like standing in a hug made of pure luxury. Almost regrettably, she turned away from the mirror to him.

“Thank you,” she said, truly touched. “It’s perfect.” A thought suddenly occurred to her, and Miriam narrowed her eyes and stared shrewdly at Sirius.

“I really don’t want to know how you got this into the house, do I?”

When he only responded with a smug smile, Miriam sighed, defeated.

“I figured as much. It’s just lovely, really it is. I don’t know how to thank you.”

An odd gleam in his eye, Sirius stepped towards her and cupped a hand at the nape of her neck, squeezing lightly. Miriam found her eyelids wanting to flutter closed, and held up a hand between them, landing it on the spot where she could feel the steady heartbeat bump. Her fingers itched to curl around the fabric of his shirt and yank him towards her. For just a second, Miriam wondered when and where her mind had suddenly decided to take a holiday vacation.

“Wait,” she said, forcing herself to speak. “I have something for you, too.”

Miriam saw the hint of frustration and impatience in his eyes, and couldn’t resist the giddy flutter in her stomach. Only with Sirius had Miriam ever known the pleasure and thrill of being wanted just that much by another. She took his hand, and led him down the stairs to her second-story bedroom, quietly as so not to disturb any of the others. Closing the door behind them with a quiet click, Miriam reached beneath her bed and extracted two shiny packages, one a box, the other a lumpy sack of some kind.

“Open this one first,” she said with a smile, holding out the small bag to him.

Touched that she had even thought to get him a gift, Sirius flashed her a mischievous grin, and pulled the ribbon at the neck of the back, peering inside. Sirius stared into the bag for a moment and then threw his head back, laughing heartily. Miriam felt the color rise to her cheeks, and she shifted, slightly embarrassed.

“I felt bad,” admitted Miriam, smiling sheepishly.

Sirius plucked out one of the honey-colored toffees and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed in an almost dreamy manner.

“Delicious,” he said thickly, the sticky candy making it difficult to speak clearly. “Thanks.”

“And this,” said Miriam, picking up the boxy gift and handing it to him. “I think you’ll like this, I…I’ve had it for a while now, but I thought you’d �“ well, you’ll see.”

Sirius tore open the neat wrapping to reveal a plain, white shoebox, and lifted the cover. A moment later, he lifted what appeared to be a pair of miniature binoculars, and shot Miriam a curious glance.

“They’re from France,” she explained. “Go ahead, look into them. Tell me what you see.”

Interested, Sirius peered into the eyeholes.

“It’s the Eiffel Tower,” he said, amazed. “I’ve never seen it like this before…only in photographs. It’s like I’m staring straight at it. And there are people, strolling along, holding hands…” Sirius shifted slightly, and the view shifted with him. Turning slowly, he saw little cafes, pigeons scavenging the crumbs. He lowered the binoculars and looked at Miriam. “Is all of this happening right now? Am I looking into Paris at the present moment?”

Miriam nodded.

“They’re called Window-Scopes. It shows Paris, or whatever other city you purchased them in, exactly as you would see it if you were looking through a window right now. I thought you might enjoy them since, well, you don’t really get out much. And even if you did look out a window, this neighborhood isn’t exactly…y’know. Scenic. Do you like them?”

Suddenly overcome by emotion, Sirius found he couldn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was rougher than usual.

“They’re perfect,” he said, walking towards her. “And so are you.”

“No. I’m not,” she said, and feeling both flustered and jumpy, walked over to the door, placing a hand on the knob. “And it’s late. We should both…you should probably leave, before �“”

“Before what, exactly?” Sirius asked, undiscouraged. He was so close their toes bumped together, and he plastered his hands against the wall on either side of her waist, trapping her where she stood. With a self-satisfied glint in his eyes, he leaned down to nibble at her jaw line, pleased to hear her sharp intake of breath.

Miriam heard a dull buzz in her ears, and she felt a rush of heat flood her system, her brain, making it cloudy and difficult to concentrate. Focus, she told herself, but the voice sounded very meek and feeble.

“Before we do something we’ll both regret,” she managed, pressing her weight against the wall and off of her wobbly knees.

“You’re right,” said Sirius. “I guess that means I’m not leaving just yet.” And before she could respond, Sirius lowered his head and captured her mouth in one fell swoop, swallowing her thin squeak of protest.

It was like being swallowed whole, sip by torturously slow sip. She clung to him, hanging on for dear life as passion fused with need, pushing them towards a dangerous cliff. Miriam could feel his restraint, the near violence of it as they edged that slippery slope, yet she was already falling, plunging into a darkness she couldn’t navigate, couldn’t control.

Sirius could feel his own control slipping away from him. He had meant to be slow, patient, but her immediate surrender had his blood up, and he dove his fingers into her hair, releasing the prim bun and filling his hands with her. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. But here she was, all lax and soft in his arms, molding to him in a perfect fit. He knew he could have her now, knew she would not resist. But she wouldn’t be his. With great reluctance, he dragged her head back and gazed over her face. Miriam’s eyes were glazed over and she looked disorientated, as though she had just been awoken from a dream. Her mouth was swollen, her breathing short and erratic. It was a moment before either of them spoke.

“What are we doing here?” Miriam asked, her voice unsteady.

Sirius thought for a moment. “Well,” he said casually, “I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to make you fall in love with me again.”

For once, Miriam wasn’t flustered or unsure. Suddenly, she felt very calm. Boldness, it always seemed, managed to strike her at the oddest of times.

“You’re wasting your time then,” she said matter-of-factly, and pushed open the door, gesturing him outside. Seeing his angry expression, anticipating the protest, Miriam surprised them both with her easy laugh.

“Come on, Sirius. Let’s be realistic here. Do you honestly think I could have possibly hated you as ferociously as I have, for fifteen years, if I had ever stopped loving you?”

And with that, Miriam shut the door smartly in his face, forcing between them what seemed to be the only wall she had left.

---

Miriam couldn’t sleep. Her sheets, tangled and twisted around her splayed form, were a testament to the restlessness she felt. Even now, her nerves sizzled with the memory of that kiss.

Miriam knew that it was inevitable, had accepted the fact that sooner or later things between she and Sirius would escalate to a higher level. But the punch, the sheer power of that kiss had shaken her. Miriam had expected to feel something like a release, perhaps even pleasure. Pleasure indeed, though it had been of a darker nature, but release? To the contrary, the pressure now building inside of her was thicker than ever before. It was unnerving to think that after fifteen years, Sirius still held that kind of influence over her. How was it possible that after fifteen years, passion could still be as mighty of a force?

Miriam rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow. Unable to breathe, she shifted to lie on her back, then her side, bent her knees, lowered them, rolled her head left, and then right. At last, she resigned herself to another sleepless night and threw back the covers with the intent of tiptoeing down to the kitchen and fixing herself some tea. As soon as she set her hand on the doorknob there was a knock, startling Miriam enough to have her yelp and leap backwards. Annoyed at her jumpiness, Miriam composed herself, running a hand through her hair and pushing back her shoulders. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

Sirius stood there, waiting on the other side. Miriam had known it’d be him, had braced herself, but seeing him there, watching her with eyes dark and intense, her heart still gave one, fast leap. An aching heat spread right to her center. Sirius watched the acceptance seep into her eyes.

They dove for each other.

Miriam wrapped her legs around his waist, fusing her mouth to his. She would have dragged him to the floor right there, but he stumbled backwards, somehow managing to kick the door closed in his hurry before tumbling with her down onto the bed. Need, the sheer force of it pummeled them both, burning them in a delicious form of torment. For the first time in years, it seemed, Miriam felt alive.

Sirius filled his hands, his mouth with her. With one hand, her pinned her arms above her head by the wrists. He pulled back to look at her, and watched as her eyes clouded with desire. With his free hand, he trailed his knuckles lovingly down her cheek and lowered his brow to hers, murmuring her name.

The heat, Miriam could handle. She could match the blinding lust, the smoldering blaze of longing. She had expected it, anticipated the fast, hot flood of sensation. But the sudden tenderness simply overwhelmed her with emotion. The hand on her cheek, the voice quietly saying her name was like a key, unlocking the most secret parts of her. Sirius was here, wanting her…loving her. She could have him again. He was not the monster she had painted in her mind, but the man she had fallen utterly and completely in love with. She had hated the monster. But Miriam had never stopped loving the man. And she had missed him all too much.

“I can’t,” she said suddenly, mortified at the tears that escaped from her burning eyes. ‘Let me go, I can’t.”

Sirius had sensed the change in her before she even spoke. Her body had tensed, her arms straining against their captivity. Temper now mixed with passion, a dangerous combination. But he didn’t release her.

“Can’t what? Damn it, Miriam, just tell me. Can’t what?” She was silent. He found that he badly wanted to shake her, but brushed the tears away instead. “Why can’t you just let me in?”

Still, she didn’t speak. Instead, she strained up against him, reaching for him, pressing heat to heat. With a groan, he crushed his mouth against hers, cursing her even as he loved her. Once again the passion ignited instantly, drowning them both in its power. Surrendering to it, they sank into each other.

---

Miriam lay in the bed quietly, her body still vibrating. With the very last ounce of strength she had left, she managed to roll from her current position, head resting atop of Sirius’ chest. She didn’t hear his sigh of frustration as she turned away from him, squeezing her eyes shut. Within minutes, she was asleep, yet even now the dreams chased her.

Chapter Thirteen

The nightmare was suffocating.

Miriam was submerged in the numbing terror of it. The green smoke caged her even as she fled, desperate to find sanctuary from the neighborhood that now lay destroyed in ruins, desperate to escape the fresh, ripe stench of death. Miriam knew she was being chased, but the air was too thick for speed, too cold for breath. The houses with their broken windows and debris were nothing more than a blur, for her eyes were beginning to water and sting.

The helpless infant in her arms wailed in misery, and Miriam could feel her heart breaking in response. There was nothing she could do. Nausea, slick and greasy, rolled in her belly, and the smoke began to snake up her legs so she stumbled. Miriam cried out in surprise, but sheer adrenaline kept her afoot. She reached down for the blanket embracing the child, intending to shield its face from the smells and poison…but Miriam’s arms were empty.

Panic came as a blistering slap against the frigid air. Miriam looked this way, then that, but the child had vanished. This isn’t right! Her mind screamed. It’s not supposed to happen like this! That knowledge was somehow more terrifying than the chaos surrounding her; the not knowing of what came next. She could rummage through the smoke, she knew, but die in the process. However, in that moment, Miriam didn’t care. Children did not simply disappear. They just didn’t.

It was hardly a minute before Miriam recognized her surroundings, and she faced the wall in front of her with a groan. A dead end. Another moment, and her lungs seemed to freeze over, turning brittle and frail. Dread swamping every fiber in her being, Miriam turned around.

The dementor approached slowly, patiently. Taunting her as she stood trapped by her own dream, powerless against the walls of her own mind. A hand, grotesque and decaying, emerged from the tattered cloak of the monster, clutching a jagged knife. Miriam was frozen stiff, and the tears fighting to drip from her eyes froze painfully to her lids. So she watched, helplessly, as the dementor raised his decrepit hand, casting the knife up to glint evilly in the moonlight. Watched as he reared it back, and then plunged it mercilessly into the center of her belly. Miriam could actually feel herself dying, a sickening realization. No longer frozen, Miriam screamed and screamed.

---

Miriam awoke drenched in a cold sweat. At first she thought she was still trapped in the dream, pinned down by some force, and she bucked wildly. But slowly her mind registered the man lying asleep next to her, and the arm he had draped protectively over her, essentially pinning her to the mattress. Miriam pressed a clammy hand to her mouth, her forehead. She could actually feel the dull, steady pulse of the headache hammering against her temple. She shook all over, trembled in her own chilled sweat. Pain still radiated throughout her core, encouraging the nausea that churned more and more with each breath. Not wanting to wake Sirius, she choked back the sob that swelled in her throat, threw back the covers, and dashed into the adjoining bathroom where she was violently ill.

When at last she was completely empty, Miriam simply curled herself on top of the cool tiles. Sirius found her there, as pale as death, whimpering miserably. He could feel his heart aching for her, battling against the temper he fought to suppress. Kneeling down, he gently eased her up into his arms. She felt as fragile as glass.

“Go away,” she murmured weakly.

“Not a chance,” he said, pressing his lips to her damp brow.

“Sick.”

“I know, darling. I know.”

Sirius eased her gently on the bed, and strode back into the washroom for a damp cloth. Curling into herself, Miriam bit her lip, hard. She had never felt so weak in her life, and not just physically. She felt sick and afraid, ashamed and furious. But in a moment, all she felt was a cloth, blessedly cool, gently dabbing at her sweaty forehead. Neither of them spoke, and Miriam found she didn’t want to look at his face, tense with concern, anger, and she thought, a hint of fear. She didn’t think that on top of everything else, she could handle the guilt. So she closed her eyes and let him bathe her face, her neck. In a moment, Miriam felt his hand slide under her neck to lift her head, bringing a glass to her lips. She struggled to turn her face away.

“No. Not that. I need �“” she broke off, reaching for the blue vile atop her dresser.

“You’ll drink what I give you,” he said, sharply, “if I have to pour it down your throat. Your system has been through enough for tonight.”

She drank, and the water seemed to wash away the worst of the nausea. But he didn’t set her back down against the pillows. Instead he cupped her face so that their eyes met.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve had nightmares like this,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Miriam shook her head. “But this was…different. Its never been that bad before,” she admitted, and shuddered involuntarily. “Not like that.”

“What is it that haunts you, Miriam?”

But she didn’t respond. Instead, Miriam turned into him, seeking comfort and his strength. With a sigh that conveyed both frustration and weariness, Sirius gathered her close, stroking her hair, her arms, her back, soothing the tension out of both of them. Another time, he told himself once again, and this time he wouldn’t wait for her to answer. Within minutes, Sirius heard her breathing deepen, lengthen. He pressed a kiss to her brow.

“I love you,” he whispered.

With a voice that was both heavy with sleep and as softly innocent as a child’s, Miriam stirred slightly and murmured, “Don’t go away again, okay?”

Come morning, she would not remember saying anything at all; but the last, threadbare strings finally snapped, and with a weary acceptance, Sirius felt his heart break.

---

Miriam awoke the next morning warm and wrapped firmly in Sirius’ arms, guarding her, she knew, from the nightmares. She blinked a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes and gazed up at Sirius’ face; his features were tensed, even in sleep, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a frown. Miriam felt a twinge of guilt flicker in her stomach and she reached a hand to gently smooth away the crease between his eyes.

She began to pull her hand away, then paused, allowing it to linger at his cheek, her fingertips to brush his lips. He would worry about her now, more so than ever before. Miriam chewed her lip, thinking of his previous attempts to unlock the secrets of her �“ their -past. He wouldn’t stop now, she thought, until he had answers. His concern, his love for her wouldn’t allow it.

Miriam could not let that happen.

It doesn’t have to be like this, she thought. She could make it all go away, once and for all. To do what she’d never had the courage to do before. Miriam could forget. The idea caused a painful lump to gather in her throat.

But then Miriam looked again at Sirius, at the distress for her on his face, concentrated on the feel of his arms holding her close.

It could be like this forever, she told herself. She could put the past behind her, erase it completely from her existence. She would no longer be plagued by nightmares, by heartbreak �“ by memory. She and Sirius could start anew, fresh from where they had left off…minus a few details. They would finally be able to move on from the past and begin a new life. Perhaps build that life together.

Miriam could be happy again.

Ignoring the ache that now spread to her chest, Miriam detangled herself from Sirius and rolled out of bed. It was simply apprehension, she told herself. After all, it wasn’t everyday she removed unpleasant memories from her life. She glanced back once more towards the bed.

“It’s going to be okay now,” she said softly to the man lying stiffly there. “We’re going to be okay.”

Miriam walked quietly over to her dresser and lifted the small stone basin resting there. She still felt a bit hung-over from earlier the nightmare, and winced at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Then she tiptoed into the adjoining bathroom and set down the pensieve by the sink.

Miriam stole a quick peek back at Sirius to make sure he was still asleep. It was ridiculous to feel guilty about this, she told herself. It was all for the best. And if that meant that she had to sneak around, even lie to get it done, then so be it.

Picking up her wand, Miriam took a deep breath and, bracing herself, touched the tip of her wand to the spot right above her brow. Suddenly, she had the unsettling sensation of being irresistibly jerked forward, rather like traveling by portkey, however her body stayed perfectly in tact; this was solely her mind.

Like a film reel, images flew by before her eyes, and only brief shadows of sensation struck her body, seeming to be sucked away by some outside force; green smoke, derelict houses, icy coldness, a child, then suddenly gone, a knife…

Miriam heard herself cry out, but it sounded very far away. A moment later it was over, and Miriam opened her eyes to see a silvery strand of liquidy-light clinging to the tip of her wand. With a deep breath, she added the nightmare into the pensieve.

“What are you doing?”

Miriam gave such a start that she dropped her wand with a great clatter against the ancient tiles. The echo seemed only to emphasize the guilty silence that plagued her.

Sirius bent to pick up her wand and held it at both tips, as though giving it great consideration. Miriam held out her hand for it. Sirius simply raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she muttered. Frustrated with the guilt now churning relentlessly in her stomach, Miriam lifted her chin righteously. “It’s none of your business.”

She knew instantly she had given the wrong answer. Sirius’ eyes darkened coldly and his grip tightened on her wand. Now the guilt had claws.

“I was just releasing the dream into it, that’s all,” she said quickly, her tone much meeker. “I have a load of work to get done today, and I can’t have that running through my head all day.”

Sirius frowned, and giving it a final twirl, held out the wand to Miriam.

“Can’t have what running through your head?”

Miriam shook her head and reached out for her wand. Sirius caught the outstretched hand and held it tight.

“Miriam. You can tell me. Then perhaps you wouldn’t have to resort to that,” he said, nodding towards the pensieve.

“I’m not resorting to anything,” Miriam said defensively, he bottom lip thrust forwards in a pout. “I’m just…clearing my head. Sirius,” she began, using the grip he had on her hand to pull him close, “I don’t want to get into this right now. Not with you. It’s over now and we shouldn’t have to focus on the past.”

“On the past?” Sirius asked, suspiciously.

“On the dream,” Miriam corrected. “I’d like to have a nice, peaceful breakfast with you before I get to work. Please.” She gazed up at him through her eyelashes in what she hoped was a femininely coy expression while feeling like absolute scum.

Sirius sighed. Pulling her into his arms, he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Alright. Let’s go have breakfast.” They would dine together, he thought. But afterwards, Sirius planned on conducting some solo work himself.

---

Alone in the basement of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, a choking Miriam stumbled away from her stinking brew. It sizzled and hissed ominously, billows of steam rising steadily from the scalding, urine-colored potion. Heat from the cauldron filled the basement place so that sweat pearled on her forehead and dampened her robes. It was almost time.

Soon the potion would reach its peak, and Miriam would go upstairs to retrieve her pensieve. From there it was almost too easy. She could see herself carrying the stone basin downstairs to her basement, over toward the cauldron. Miriam watched in her minds eye as she slowly tipped the contents into the hisses and bubbles, watched as her memories fizzled away into nothing more than putrid steam…

A bit unsteady, Miriam let the cauldron sit for a moment and sat behind her desk, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples. She felt as though she were going mad; voices had been plaguing her all day, scolding her…scaring her. Even now when she was so close to finishing, so close to having what she’d always wanted.

And yet Miriam hadn’t felt so sad in nearly fifteen years.

You cannot simply erase your past! It’s who you are.

But that’s not who I want to be anymore.

Sirius will never know.

That’s right.

You are a coward.

I am trying to be brave!

Think of Harry!

I am!

Think of James and Lily!

No.

Think of your -

NO!

A half sob, half growl escaped Miriam’s throat. She shoved violently away from the desk, knocking her chair over, and began to pace. Miriam was disgusted with herself, but whether it was for the task she planned to carry out, or for the terrifying realization that perhaps she did not want to forget…this she could not decide. Only one thing was clear in Miriam’s mind: Sirius. She wanted to be with Sirius.

She would be with Sirius.

With that thought playing over and over in her head, Miriam strode purposefully back to the cauldron. Only one hour left…

---

Sirius had been patient long enough.

Pressing his ear to the basement door, Sirius listened for movement within. Sure enough, within moments he heard a crash, a growl of frustration, and the unmistakable sounds of pacing. Everyone else in the house had left that morning, and aside from the house elf Krecher, Sirius and Miriam were quite alone. Satisfied, he turned and headed for the stairs.

He had waited, had given her every opportunity in the world, and still she refused to let him in. Never one to wait for an invitation, Sirius decided it was high time he took matters into his own hands. She would open up, he determined, even if he had to force his way through.

He slipped quiet as a mouse into her bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind him. Miriam wouldn’t be out of the basement for at least another few hours still, and yet…Sirius smiled despite himself. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts. The only difference was, Sirius had never before felt guilty when breaking the rules.

It’s for the best, he chided himself. I’m doing this for her- for us. It’s all for the best.

Sirius walked into the washroom where Miriam had left her pensieve earlier that morning, and brought it out to sit on the dresser. It emitted an eerie silver glow that seemed to swim along the walls. Leaning closer, a picture began to form along the misty surface, and Sirius could only just make out a white room of some sort containing a single blurry figure. Soon the image became clearer, and he was able to recognize the younger Miriam as she fiddled around a room filled with shelves and shelves of vials, bottles, and jars. His heart gave one great lurch.

She’ll forgive you, Sirius told himself. Eventually.

Peering so close into the pensieve that the tip of his nose just barely skimmed the surface, Sirius felt his world tilt.

Chapter Fourteen

Miriam had been both grateful and relieved when Dumbledore asked her to remain in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries as an assistant Healer while working for the Order of the Phoenix. He thought she would be of more use there, able to help those who had been attacked by dark wizards, and to keep an ear out for information. Dumbledore had spent many hours teaching her personally how to inspect a witch or wizard for the Imperius curse without using Legillimency, which would be expected by most of those under Voldemort’s control. He’d put his trust in her to help, to heal.

This particular evening, Miriam had been stationed in the Spell Damage ward, and was putting herself to use by alphabetizing a cabinet full of remedial potions. It had been an unusually slow day for a Saturday, and Miriam had spent most of the day in the children’s ward; it was her favorite place to work in the entire hospital, yet she hadn’t been able to spend much time there since she started working for the Order and began requesting wards where she would most likely be useful to them. But for now, all Miriam wanted was for the end of her shift to finally arrive so she could go home; she had been feeling a bit green for the past few days, struck by sudden spells of dizziness and nausea. Once she had passed out in a dead faint, and had been forced by Sirius to stay home in bed all day long…and then she thought of Sirius. Yes, Miriam did want to go home; home had a new meaning for her these days.

For a moment she became lost in thought, gazing dreamily at the pearl now adorning her left ring finger, an uncharacteristically goofy smile plastered on her face. Other stones, like diamonds, were flashy and glamorous and would not have suited Miriam at all. On the other hand, the pearl was modest and small, smooth and perfectly rounded so as not to catch on anything while she worked. It was perfect, as Sirius knew it would be.

Miriam lifted a glass bottle of crushed four-leaf clovers, scanning her eyes over the C’s for it’s proper position when -

CRACK!

CRASH!

A woman had apparated directly behind Miriam, startling her so badly she dropped the bottle so it smashed and tiny green leaves lay splattered all over the pristine white floor.

Instinctively, Miriam extracted her wand from within her robes, but before she could so much as point it, the woman had flung herself forward, her hands grasping the lapels. Miriam stumbled back against the shelves, sending more jars to the floor in a great clatter. The woman yanked down and Miriam was forced to bend slightly so that they were eye-level, her attacker’s eyes wide and desperate. She was shaking very badly.

“M-Miriam Daniels,” she sputtered, “I n-need Miriam Daniels!”

She had yet to recover from her shock when two large wizards Miriam recognized as hospital security strode in purposefully and promptly detached the crazed looking woman from Miriam’s robes.

“Madame, you’ll need to come with us please,” said the taller guard, as he struggled to control the increasingly hysterical intruder.

“Please!” she shrieked. “Oh dear, oh dear, please! I need help, I NEED MIRIAM DANIELS!”

“It’s against the law to apparate inside of a hospital, you know,” piped in the stouter of the two guards, as if the woman whom was now resorting to biting and scratching the arms pulling her back had said nothing.

Miriam’s heart was racing as she struggled to absorb the scene playing out in front of her. What was going on? Confusion clouded Miriam’s mind and she struggled to find a coherent train of thought. It wasn’t until the besieged threesome reached the doorway of the supply room that Miriam was able to get a decent look at the intruder.

The woman wore a long, lace trimmed green dress adorned by a fox-fur scarf that had come undone during the scuffle. Grayish-purple hair was twisted into a severe bun that had also come loose, and though Miriam had the distinct impression that she had never seen this woman in her life, she had the strange yet unmistakable feeling that something was missing…a red handbag…a large hat….a stuffed vulture…

“Get your hands off me, you scoundrel!” reproached the woman, her voice somehow taking on a regal air despite the excitement. “You have no idea who you are dealing with, I tell you!”

That voice…

“Alright Madame, let’s go,” spoke the first guard, “We’ll need a look at that wand of yours, and then �“ ”

“Wait!” shouted Miriam suddenly. The guards, already out into the hallway stopped abruptly, surprised, and Miriam caught the glimmer of hope and gratitude in the old woman’s eyes. “Wait. I know this woman!”

The two security guards gave each other a look, but stopped trying to drag the woman out of the supply room, though each kept a firm grip on one arm. The woman stared fiercely into Miriam’s face.

“Are you Miriam Daniels?”

“Mrs. Longbottom,” said Miriam tentatively. She did not want to send the poor woman into hysterics again, so she talked very softly and slowly, as if she were addressing a scared animal. “We’ve met once before, but only briefly. I didn’t recognize you without that, er…distinctive hat of yours. I know your son, Frank and his wife, Alice �“ ”

“‘Get Miriam,’” said Mrs. Longbottom shrilly. “That’s what they said! ‘She’ll know what to do! Get Miriam!’”

“Frank and Alice?” asked Miriam, her voice rising a bit. “What’s happened? Are they alright? What �“ ”

With a great heave, Mrs. Longbottom wrenched her one arm free and flung it out. It landed heavily with a slap at the sensitive curvature between Miriam’s neck and shoulder.

“Ouch! Oh no �“ wait!”

And then Miriam’s world went black. She had the familiar sensation of being pressed in tightly from all directions; her ears popped from the pressure, she couldn’t breathe, and then �“

Miriam found herself standing inside of a very pretty kitchen with a tall ceiling, pale yellow walls and rows of violet orchids decorating the corners and windows. Miriam thought she hard voices, and she turned left to see an opening that looked to be an entranceway into a sitting area of some sort. She felt her heart pounding in her ears. Despite the cheery atmosphere of the little house, Miriam felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up; something dark was in this house, or had been very recently - she was sure of it.

Miriam had nearly forgotten about the woman who had practically kidnapped her until she flew past her with an anguished wail out the opening and into the adjoining room. Miriam followed, her wand at the ready, blood pounding, heart racing…

The sight before Miriam nearly brought her to her knees.

Frank and Alice Longbottom lay on the floor face up, mouths slack; Alice’s eyes were wide with shock, Frank’s closed shut. Blood trickled out of Alice’s ears onto the pale blue carpet creating a purple stain. Her usual pink, cherub-like cheeks were ghastly white, and the sparkling eyes Miriam once knew were bloodshot and empty. Her husband was in no better condition; he too had the same lax expression, and there was a wide, bloody gash running from his shoulder down to his hip. Mrs. Longbottom’s hiccupping sobs were the only sound in the entire house. Miriam knelt down close, her lips trembling. Oh please, please, don’t let them be dead.

“They said to get you, that you’d know what to do,” said Mrs. Longbottom, her voice shaking so badly that Miriam could barely make out the words. “‘Get Miriam.’ That was the last thing they said to me before I apparated.”

Miriam tremulously pressed two fingertips gently to Alice’s neck. A faint, barely detectable heartbeat throbbed beneath them. Air whooshed out of Miriam’s lungs �“ she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it �“ and her heart filled with relief. Weak as it was, there was no mistaking the feeble heartbeat; Alice was not dead.

Miriam turned now to Frank. The wound on his chest went deep, and would need to be dealt with immediately…or it would, thought Miriam, so long as he too was still alive. Feeling the prickles of apprehension dancing along her spine, Miriam held out her fingers and lightly touched the skin at his neck.

It was though a switch had suddenly been flicked on; Frank’s eyes flew open and he began to scream; it was a desperate, blood-curdling sound. Miriam let out a startled cry and fell back, though not in time to miss the arm that was flung out wildly, connecting smartly with her cheekbone.

Miriam scrambled to her feet and stared, horrified. Frank screamed and screamed. His hands flew up to yank and pull on his hair. His legs began to kick out violently, once hitting Alice, though she seemed not to notice.

Alice too, had been stirred into movement, and though it was much less subdued, Miriam found it no less terrifying. She began to roll on the floor, back and forth, moaning a haunting tune. Drool trickled out of the side of her lips. Then she rolled over once more to her side and was dreadfully sick.

Miriam stared down at her friends and felt as though she, too, might be ill. At a loss for what to do, she turned to Mrs. Longbottom imploringly.

“What happened?”

Mrs. Longbottom appeared to have calmed considerably, though fresh tears still continued to spill down her cheeks.

“It was them,” said Mrs. Longbottom in a quiet voice. “Those followers of You-Know-Who….the Death Eaters? I was watching Neville �“ my grandson - while they were at work and came to drop him off….I - I heard shouting. And screams. I came in and….there were two! I couldn’t make them both out �“ they were hooded and masked �“ but one had dark hair and…Oh, what’s wrong with them!?”

The desperate, hysterical edge was back in Mrs. Longbottom’s voice, as Frank started pounding at the floor now with his fists, now positively howling with agony. Miriam couldn’t seem to find her voice to answer; how could she answer? How could she possibly tell a mother that her child, if her suspicions were correct, had been �“ but she couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. Next moment, yet another voice combined with Frank’s, wailing miserably, this one higher pitched and further away.

“That would be Neville,” said Mrs. Longbottom in a dazed voice, as though she had just awaken from a dream. “He’ll be wanting…wanting his parents now…what should I…I don’t know �“ ”

“Go to him,” said Miriam, her voice surprisingly brusque. “Go to his room and stay there, do not come out until I call for you. No matter what, no matter what you hear, do not come out of that room.”

Mrs. Longbottom seemed deeply troubled by these orders.

“But �“ ”

“Mrs. Longbottom,” said Miriam, gentler now. “I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you. But I need you to help me, and the only way to do that is to stay out of the way. I cannot have any distractions, the slightest mistake could mean…” Miriam broke off, and sighed. How could she explain to her that she couldn’t stay for what could be the last few minutes of Frank and Alice’s lives?

There was more wailing from upstairs, more urgent now. Mrs. Longbottom glanced in that direction, then stared back at Miriam, her expression unreadable. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke. Her voice was remarkably calm and steady.

“The last coherent thing they said to me was, ‘Get Miriam. Miriam will know what to do.’ My son and his wife obviously trusted you very much, young lady. And so shall I.”

Mrs. Longbottom disappeared up the stairs without another look back. Miriam felt a single tear leak out of her eye, and didn’t brush it away. With a deep breath, she drew her wand and prepared to prove them right.

---

Nearly two and a half hours later, Miriam watched from the doorway of the Longbottom’s master bedroom. She swayed back and forth on her feet, her wobbling legs threatening to give in at any moment. Something was drumming a violent tattoo inside of her head; her stomach rolled with slick, greasy nausea. Her face was clammy and had a greenish-gray tint. Miriam was fully drained, unable to so much as lift her wand. Yet despite her ailments she felt numb and strangely detached from her surroundings. She had emptied her reserves completely, had used every ounce of magic, every spell, every possibly relevant potion and charm she’d ever known. She’d utilized her some of her own life force in a dangerous spell that had knocked her out for nearly a full ten minutes. Miriam had never before been despairing enough to resort to dark magic to heal, and she’d nearly lost herself in the attempt. In short, Miriam had done everything that magic, talent, and even desperation could do.

The last thing Frank and Alice had said was, “Get Miriam.” They’d had faith in her.

And she had failed them.

Now, she forced herself to watch as Mrs. Longbottom sobbed over the still forms of her son and daughter-in-law. They were not dead; Miriam had saved them from that, at least. Her last bit of magic had put them under a powerful sleeping spell in which they would remain until they could be properly transported to St. Mungo’s.

But when they awoke, they would no longer be Frank and Alice.

Miriam didn’t think she could bear to remain for that. At last she spoke, though to no one in particular, “Someone needs to tell Dumbledore. I’ll do it.” Her voice was raspy and very unlike her own.

With a final look, Miriam turned from the Longbottoms and shut the door behind her.

---

As Sirius watched the scene before him, a thick white mist filled the hallway, obscuring his vision. Miriam seemed completely unaware of this strange phenomenon surrounding her as she stumbled down the stairs. Soon the house faded away, and Sirius found himself standing inside of a dark, gritty-looking room. A round, wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by people who were becoming clearer by the second. With a great shock, Sirius recognized himself, his hair short, his body young and strong. He was staring at Miriam concernedly, who refused to meet his eyes. A red bruise slashed along her cheek.

I remember this, he thought. Sirius gazed around at the others surrounding the table, and felt his throat tighten as he came upon James and Lily, looking as whole and alive as ever, though perhaps a bit paler than usual. James, his hair a mess and jaw tight, and Lily, silent tears streaming down her delicate cheeks. He could have reached out and touched them, they were so close, so...real. But with great restraint he remained in the background, where he had a better view of the entire room. Ignoring the whirlwind of emotion swirling within his chest, Sirius watched.

A/N: Contains sexual content. Consider yourself warned.

Chapter Fifteen

The backroom of the Hog’s Head pub seemed to echo with silence.

The Order of the Phoenix sat soberly around a circular wooden table. It was a grave bunch; heads were bowed, eyes downcast. The deafening quiet was broken only by the occasional sniffle coming from Dorcas Meadows, a squat little witch with a pug nose and kind eyes that were presently red and puffy. To her right, a grimmer-than-usual Alastor Moody dug out a yellowed handkerchief from his overlarge robes and handed it to her. She gave a great blow, which had a few people looking up, startled as though awaken from a deep, hypnotic trance and realizing for the first time they were in company.

The Order was a small group tonight. Many were out on special assignments and others were otherwise…incapacitated. To the right of Moody sat Remus Lupin, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Professor McGonagall. On the other side of Dorcas, Peter Pettigrew kept shooting nervous glances over to Lily and James Potter, as though looking for clues how to act. Though completely silent, Lily’s pale cheeks were streaked with tears and she stared resolutely down at her lap. James’ eyes remained downcast as well, but he kept a reassuring arm around his wife’s shoulders. Dumbledore, center of James and Sirius, scanned the room slowly, a rare frown on his usually serene face. In a moment, he caught Miriam’s gaze next to Sirius. She determinably shifted her eyes away.

Dark, greasy waves churned sickeningly throughout Miriam’s center. Though she had drained herself of tears a while back, her eyes remained swollen, her complexion a splotchy pink. A raw, throbbing bruise stained her cheekbone. This had remained essentially ignored; the grief was painful enough on its own. Yet it was her stomach full of horrible, hot guilt that made it unbearable. Below the table, Miriam had stopped wringing her hands together and was now relentlessly spinning the silver band on her left ring finger. A single pearl, round and smooth and perfect, a half-globe, adorned the piece. She ran her fingers over it, again and again, seeking comfort and stability. For the first time since Sirius had placed the ring on her finger, she found none.

“It’s a bloody shame,” grumbled Moody. “Just a bloody damn shame.”

There were a few grunts of agreement around the table. It seemed to be all most could muster up. Then Lily spoke for the first time all evening.

“They had a son,” she whispered. Miriam, though she hadn’t thought it possible, felt her eyes fill once more with tears.

“They still do,” said Dumbledore gently. “And I’m sure he’ll grow up to be very proud of them indeed.”

“Frank and Alice,” murmured Emmeline Vance. “I just can’t believe it.”

A loud honk from the front of the room made nearly everyone jump. Hagrid stood guarding the door leading into the pub, his nose buried in a handkerchief.

“Beg ‘pardon,” he mumbled wetly.

“Quite alright, Hagrid, quite alright,” said Dumbledore. For the first time, everyone looked up. Miriam stopped fiddling with her ring. Though the table was round, it was more than clear who sat at the head as Dumbledore stood. “The Longbottoms were two of our bravest, most valued fighters. Aurors both, they were not only uniquely talented wizards, but also exceptionally kind people and loving parents. They will be deeply missed as we once knew them, and greatly cared for in their present state. ”

“Here here!” said Sirius gruffly, and lifted his glass. The others all followed suit.

“Furthermore,” continued Dumbledore, “we must not blame ourselves for this tragedy.” Now he looked directly at Miriam. “The only fault lies in the hands of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Let this serve as reinforcement to our cause. Let the memory of the Longbottoms as we once knew them give us reason when all other is lost, and give us purpose when it seems as if there is none.”

Miriam knew Dumbledore’s words were supposed to be comforting; the other members of the Order were all nodding their heads and sitting up straighter in their seats. But Miriam wanted to leave more than ever. She felt as though everyone was watching her, curious, wanting information, expecting her to say something. By now they would all know who had been the first to reach the Longbottoms…and who could not �“ had not �“ saved them.

“You should know, Miriam,” began Dumbledore, and Miriam’s head snapped up in surprise at being directly addressed, “that Mrs. Longbottom sends her deepest and sincerest gratitude. She says that she has never before seen such a brave and unwavering display of determination, and that you refused to give up even after you knew that there was no hope. It is her belief that Frank and Alice would be dead if not for you.”

There were a few murmurs and nods in Miriam’s direction, and Miriam’s insides gave a guilty squirm. She would not be made a hero.

“There are some things worse than death,” she muttered darkly.

A grave silence filled the room once more. Sirius gave Miriam’s hands an affectionate squeeze under the table, his palms melting away the chill that seemed to coat her skin. Then there was a playful gurgling noise, and everyone looked to the corner of the room where a bassinet gave a gentle rock. Lily stood up hastily and went over to it, lifting a tiny infant from the cushiony interior and holding him close to her. Miriam looked at Harry, her godson, and felt a clench in the pit of her stomach; Harry’s eyes were closed and he was sucking his thumb serenely, and Miriam couldn’t help but think he had so much in common with another little boy whose parents she had just lost.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and everyone averted their attention back to the table.

“I’m sorry to announce that there are other unfortunate matters we must now address.” Miriam noticed that Lily did not return to the table �“ in fact, her back faced the room and she didn’t even seem to be listening �“ but Miriam said nothing.

“I have reason to believe that two others of our group are in very specific danger,” said Dumbledore. Miriam looked around the table and then at Sirius, questioningly; but his eyes remained fixed on Dumbledore, his jaw tight. “As we are all aware, perhaps now more than ever, Lord Voldemort will stop at nothing to fulfill his insidious deeds. We must make it a priority to ensure that James and Lily Potter do not fall into his hands.”

Miriam knew this was not the end of his speech; she could see Dumbledore’s mouth still moving, could see the looks of shock and fear on the other member’s faces. But it seemed that Miriam had gone suddenly and completely deaf to the sounds of human voices. All she could hear was a loud, rushing noise coursing through her ears, as though someone were holding up two seashells to them.

Not James and Lily, she thought, twisting her head around to look at Lily who had yet to rejoin the Order. It can’t be. She repeated this over and over to herself, until she was very nearly convinced that it had all been some terrible misunderstanding. She’d been so distracted that it wasn’t until she felt a strong hand lifting her by the elbow that she noticed the Order appeared to be filing out of the backroom.

“Come on,” whispered Sirius gruffly in her ear. “They need privacy.”

Miriam looked around and noticed that Dumbledore, James and Lily were the only ones not heading towards the exit. Disappointment filled Miriam. She had hoped, had honestly believed that maybe, just maybe…

“Wait,” called James, and Miriam and Sirius turned from the door back to the wooden table. “You two should stay.” He gave Dumbledore an odd look that Miriam couldn’t quite interpret, but Dumbledore gave a short nod.

Miriam and Sirius circled back to their seats. James sat with his hands folded tensely, his usually mischievous grin gone, replaced by a seriousness that Miriam was slightly frightened by. He held a hand out to Lily, who at last set the baby back in his carrier, and returned to the table. She appeared calm, but Miriam could see the lines of worry etched in her pretty face.

Miriam had the sudden urge to shout at Dumbledore, to criticize him for making such a tremendous blunder and causing the unhappiness echoing off of her two dearest friends. She simply would not, could not accept it. But she held her tongue with remarkable effort and resumed her place at the table.

“I must impress upon you,” Dumbledore began, indicating Miriam, “the seriousness of the situation. Lily and James have faced Lord Voldemort before and have barely escaped with their lives. If Voldemort decides to tie up loose ends, as I am quite certain he will, Lily and James will be in very grave danger.”

But Miriam was not paying attention to Dumbledore; she had stopped the moment she realized that he was saying this to her and no one else. Instead she stared, open mouthed at Sirius, who refused to meet her eyes.

“You knew?” she whispered angrily. “You knew about this and didn’t tell me?”

“You weren’t well,” said Sirius, a harsh edge to his voice. He still wouldn’t look at her.

“I’m fine!” snapped Miriam.

“You’ve been fainting, Miriam, and I didn’t want this to upset you more �“ ”

“I am not weak!”

“Enough,” said Dumbledore. His voice was soft, but Miriam and Sirius fell silent immediately. “This is not the time for petty disputes.” (Miriam scowled at this) “We have more important issues at hand. James, seeing as though Sirius is aware of your situation, I take it you and Lily have decided upon a course of action?”

Miriam looked back and forth from James, to Sirius, to Dumbledore, feeling oddly betrayed. Why hadn’t she been included in any of this? Did they really think her incapable of handling this kind of information?

“We have,” said James solemnly. “Lily and I plan to go into hiding, and soon. We think it would be wise to use the Fidelious Charm.” James paused for a moment that seemed like an eternity to Miriam. She knew what he would say next and had the terrible urge to clap her hands over her ears to as not to hear it. “We want Sirius to be our Secret Keeper.”

In that one simple sentence, Miriam felt her entire world come crashing down around her.

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, looking down at his hands. When he looked back up at them, Miriam could have sworn she saw an odd glint in Dumbledore’s eyes. But the next moment it was gone, replaced by his usual calm expression.

“Naturally, naturally,” he said. “However, I wonder if you recall that I, too, offered to undertake this position �“ ”

“Thank you Professor,” said James quickly, his eyes fixed resolutely on Sirius. “But we want Sirius to do it. There’s no one we trust more.”

“I’ll do it,” said Sirius, with a tone of finality. Sirius held out his hand across the table and James gripped it firmly. It was a solid gesture, their expressions sober, mouths set in a firm line �“ yet emotion pulsated between them.

Miriam didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. She looked at Dumbledore desperately, silently begging him to refuse this request, to insist upon being Secret Keeper, to do anything but let Sirius….

“Very well then,” said Dumbledore. “Sirius, I will need you to �“ ”

“Wait!” Everyone turned towards Lily.

Lily walked around the table to Miriam, her eyes determined. She picked up Miriam’s hands and held them in her own.

“Nobody has asked Miriam her opinion this,” said Lily quietly, her eyes gazing searchingly into her friend’s. “This affects her as well.”

Miriam was suddenly very ashamed of herself. This was not about her.

Tearing her eyes away she looked towards Sirius who too was staring at her intensely. Miriam’s heart seemed to be bursting with emotion, with love �“ with fear. How could she willingly risk the life of the man she loved to the hands of Lord Voldemort? Then Miriam looked back at Lily.

How could she not?

She herself would have agreed to it in an instant if they had asked. Miriam realized with a heavy heart that she could not ask Sirius to do otherwise.

“I don’t think you could have picked a better man for the job,” she said at last; and though it nearly killed her, Miriam had meant it.

Lily pulled Miriam into a fierce hug. Miriam saw over Lily’s shoulder the expression on Sirius’s face as he looked at her, and felt her stomach perform a full somersault that was not at all unpleasurable.

“Besides,” said Miriam, wiping a single tear from the corner of her eye, “do you really think he’d listen to me if I’d said no?”

They all laughed quietly and Lily returned to her seat. Miriam felt her color rising as Sirius continued to stare at her.

“By undertaking this task, you’ll both realize that you’ll be placing yourselves in considerable danger,” said Dumbledore, once everybody had settled back down. “The Fidelius Charm will protect Lily and James from being detected by Lord Voldemort unless their Secret Keeper chooses to divulge that sensitive information.” Miriam couldn’t help but notice that Dumbledore placed particular emphasis on this last statement and stared unblinkingly at Sirius, who stared right back into his wizened face.

“As such,” he continued, “Lord Voldemort will be undoubtedly on the lookout for you as well. It would be wise for you to go into hiding, and soon.”

Miriam hadn’t thought of this; she wouldn’t be able to work at the hospital anymore. They’d have to postpone the wedding. She might not see her friends for a very long time…

“Wait,” said Sirius sharply. “Miriam hasn’t been well. I’m not going anywhere until she’s better, I’m not going to put her health at risk.”

Any wistful or regretful feelings Miriam might’ve been feeling had suddenly vanished, replaced with a fiery, highly indignant glare directed straight at Sirius.

“What has been the matter, Miriam?” asked Dumbledore.

“Nothing,” said Miriam tartly, still shooting invisible daggers at Sirius. “Nothing. I’ve just been a bit…under the weather. A few fainting spells, that’s all. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Lily shot Miriam an odd, slightly suspicious glance. Miriam ignored this.

“Not until you’re well,” said Sirius, firmly.

“When you feel ready, then,” said Dumbledore, and once again they fell silent. “Fortunately, I think it will take some time before Lord Voldemort realizes what we have done. However, the charm should be performed �“”

“Not tonight,” said Sirius, sending a furtive look to James who stared back, his brow furrowed. Again, Miriam thought she saw something unusual flicker between Dumbledore’s eyes. “It’s been a long day for everyone, and I think we all need a good night’s sleep to mull things over. We’ll come back to this with a clear head tomorrow.”

---

“Since when have you been so sensible?”

Sirius and Miriam arrived home later that evening with an unnerving tension buzzing between them. Their small, two-story house was dark, and Sirius moved through it stealthily, lighting his way as he walked and tossing his jacket carelessly over the wooden newel post. Miriam picked up the jacket, as was routine, and hung it neatly in the hall closet. They walked together into their cozy living area, which only had room for a single, lumpy couch and a fireplace. Sirius knelt down and busied himself with the fire while Miriam stood in the entryway, arms crossed, a skeptical expression leaning towards a scowl on her face. Sirius had yet to answer her.

“You’re still not telling me something. Why didn’t you want Dumbledore to perform the Fidelius Charm tonight?”

Sirius kept his gaze fixed into the growing fire.

“I thought I made that clear in the Hogshead.” Miriam blinked, surprised. Sirius’s voice, when he spoke to her, was unusually sharp. “I’d like to wait until I’m convinced you’re well…”

“Bullocks,” said Miriam. “Don’t pretend you’re above using concern for me as an means of getting what you want, we both know you’re not.”

Despite himself, Sirius grinned devilishly.

“Why didn’t you �“”

“Darling Miriam,” said Sirius, pushing himself to his feet and going towards her. He took her face in his hands and rubbed his thumbs gently over the dark stains beneath her eyes, as if he could erase them with touch. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to the glowering mouth. “Can’t you ever let anything go? No of course not, that’s why I love you. You’ve never let me go, have you? Even when you knew it might be the easier alternative. You’ve never given up on me. So I’m asking you again, just this once more to trust me. Don’t give up on me now.”

Miriam stared up into the eyes she loved so much and felt a burning behind her own. Exhaustion beat down upon every muscle in her body and knew she couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Okay, okay, don’t get sloppy,” she muttered.

Sirius laughed and kissed her again, but this time Miriam held on, pulling him close to her, fisting her hands at his back. In a flash the tone had changed from sweet to fierce, the taste from honey to fire. Still amazed, still a bit frightened at the way she could arouse such need in him, could snap his control so effortlessly, Sirius pulled back just a bit and nuzzled his lips against his cheek. He could taste the salt of tears on them.

“Miriam…” he murmured. For once, Sirius found himself at a loss for words.

“Just hang on for a second, okay?”

“As long as you like,” said Sirius.

Miriam wept. She wept for the Alice and Frank, for Mrs. Longbottom, for their son, Neville. She wept for James and Lily, for Harry. She wept for Sirius, and at last, for herself. Images, like movies, of horrible things flashed in her mind; Alice and Frank writhing on their living room floor; Lily and James staring up at her, their eyes cold and dead; Sirius, a flash of green light…

“I should have let them die,” Miriam choked, unaware that she had even voiced these thoughts. “I shouldn’t have left them like this, I should have just let them die.”

Sirius did not know what to say to this. He didn’t know what was right or wrong. So instead he said what he knew was true.

“But you couldn’t have,” he said, running a strong hand up and down her back. “That’s not who you are. Whether you made the right decision or not, you couldn’t have given up on them and just let them die without a fight. You are a Healer, Miriam, to the core. You did nothing less than what you had to do.”

And somehow, like magic, Miriam felt just a little bit better.

“Thank you,” she said. Pulling away, Miriam swiped impatiently at her eyes, ran her hands habitually through her hair. She made a growling noise in her throat. “I have got to stop thinking about this. I cannot keep seeing them over and over, there are more important things to focus on right now.” Now Miriam had begun pacing. “I need a distraction.”

Sirius had dug his hands into his pockets and was watching her move, enjoying himself. Tongue in cheek, he said, “I think I can provide you with an efficient distraction.”

Miriam stopped pacing and rolled her eyes. But before she could get out a single word, Sirius had moved, quick as a fox, and swept Miriam up into his arms, heading towards the stairs.

“What are you doing? Are you insane? Put me down!” Miriam barked, squirming uselessly.

“As you wish,” said Sirius, and in another moment he had dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed they shared and had her arms pinned above her head. Miriam scowled.

“I’m not having sex.”

“Fine,” said Sirius, leaning his head down to nibble at her jaw line, please when he heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her pulse trip and quicken. “I’ll have sex. You can just lie there.”

Trapped, Miriam felt Sirius switch his hold on her to one hand and slide the other expertly beneath her blouse, caressing the soft skin beneath. A tight, nearly painful wave of heat balled in the pit of her belly. She knew she should be putting up more of a fight, but…God, the man could do the most amazing things with his hands.

“Nu-uh,” she managed, though it sounded more like a whoosh of breath. She couldn’t seem to grasp a clear thought. “You can’t make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Sirius asked, grinning. Then he crushed his mouth down upon hers, swallowing her feeble cry of protest. Both arms free, Miriam’s hands dove into his hair, dragging him to her, closer yet. Sirius felt a rush of satisfaction; this was one challenge he was certain to win.

SLAM!

Miriam Daniels groaned and burrowed her head deeper beneath her pillow. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed up the stairs and into the bedroom, followed by the pounding of angry footsteps. Miriam thought for a moment to sit up and make herself look halfway presentable, but in another second abandoned this notion and curled up even tighter, knees to chest. A minute later, the bedroom door flew open and Sirius Black stormed inside, eyes blazing.

“Well. Isn’t this cozy,” he said tightly. Miriam could hear the strain in his voice and felt a twinge of guilt. Reluctantly, she slid her head out from beneath her pillow and peered up into Sirius’s clenched face.

“Hi. Um, have a seat?”

Sirius did not respond, but remained standing, his arms crossed. His face was slightly red, and his breathing was loud and deep. Miriam had the distinct impression of a teapot that was about to boil over, but thought it best not to share this information.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Sirius said. “Everywhere. You weren’t at the Hogshead, we were supposed to meet with the Order today. It was important, you knew that Miriam. Lily said she hadn’t spoken to you all day. Nobody had seen you, nobody had heard from you. I went to the hospital, they said you hadn’t showed up for work. Bloody hell, Miriam, I’ve been worried sick. And here I find you lounging around in bed, apparently too comfortable to let anyone know that you decided to take the day off!”

Sirius’s voice had risen to a shout, right along with Miriam’s temper. With an effort, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and knew immediately that this had not been a wise idea.

“Well excuse me,” said Miriam acidly, meeting his blazing eyes with her own. “But I don’t see you feeling the need to let me know your whereabouts every second of the day! And I’m not the one who snuck out of the house this morning at an ungodly hour without a word. Perhaps if you’d had the inclination of informing me first, you would have known that I have not been sleeping, nor have I been lounging about!”

Sirius narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Miriam so he towered over her.

“Don’t you turn this around on me,” he growled.

“I’m not turning anything…oh, shit.”

Any remaining color drained promptly out of Miriam’s face, leaving her with a sickly green tint. With a groan, she roughly threw back her covers, dashed into the bathroom, and retched. Within seconds, Miriam felt strong yet gentle hands sweep back the hair from around her face, and rub her back soothingly up and down. When she was completely empty, the arms scooped her up smoothly, careful not to cause any more movement than was absolutely necessary, and laid her back onto the bed. Another moment, and a cool washcloth softly dabbed at her sweaty forehead. Miriam looked up at Sirius, his eyes full of concern and his mouth set tight. Not wanting to risk speaking yet, she moaned appreciatively.

“I was going to use your mirror to reach Lily,” said Miriam when she had at last mustered the confidence. “Honest, I was. But every time I opened my mouth…”

Sirius pressed a kiss to her forehead, and smiled slightly.

“No need to apologize for my being an idiot,” he said, and Miriam grinned. “If I had bothered to take a good look at you before lashing out with that whole tirade, I would have realized that you were unwell. I’m…” Sirius sighed, as though the next word was causing him great discomfort. “Sorry.”

Miriam laughed, then stopped abruptly when she felt her stomach crawl back up into her throat.

“I was worried about you,” said Sirius. “But I see my fears weren’t completely unfounded. Miriam, have you been for a checkup at the hospital yet?”

“No,” mumbled Miriam sheepishly. “I haven’t had time.” Miriam watched as concern turned into a disapproving frown on Sirius’s handsome face and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine! It’s just a bug or…something. I don’t know. It comes and goes. But I’m…”

“If you’re fine, then stand up.”

Miriam glared. Taking a deep breath she lifted her head first, then propped up on her elbows. She got as far as swinging her legs over the side of the bed before making another mad dash to the toilet. When she had once again been deposited back into bed, this time she curled herself into a ball and grumbled, her face pressed into the pillow, “I hate you.”

Sirius, sitting on the edge of the bed now and rubbing her back, gave a laugh before adopting once more a somber expression.

“I’ve got to leave again,” he said after a minute, and Miriam caught the forced casualty in his tone. A knot that had nothing to do with illness tightened in her belly, and a painful lump rose to her throat.

“Why?” she whined, hating the neediness in her voice. “Where are you going now?”

“I’ve just got to go…check up on a few things,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. I promise. Promise me, though, you’ll stay here in bed unless it’s to go to the hospital.”

Miriam made an indistinctive noise into her pillow.

“Good enough.” Sirius pressed another kiss to the back of her head. “I love you.”

Miriam made another indistinctive grumbling noise into her pillow. A second later she heard the door close softly behind her.

“I love you too.”

---

Later that afternoon, Miriam had finally plucked up the strength to trudge downstairs into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. Her mind was so overwhelmingly full, and yet her body so painfully empty, all in all it made for a very unpleasant state.

Why was she acting so pathetically? Nobody else was having such a severe reaction to the war; Lily and James weren’t falling apart at the seams when they had more reason to than anybody… So why was she, Miriam, completely losing it? Maybe I really am weak after all, she thought drearily, and felt her eyes fill with tears.

Miriam cursed, viciously.

And Merlin’s beard, why did she feel the inexplicable need to get all weepy at every inopportune moment?!

A loud whistle and Miriam lifted the boiling pot from the stove, then moved to tilt it over her own mug when �“

CRACK!

“YAAAH!”

Miriam screamed and whirled around, nearly dropping the boiling pot and spilling burning water over herself, Lily, and Harry.

“I’m sorry!” cried Lily, moving to place a hand on Miriam’s shoulder to help her regain her balance, and keeping one arm wrapped tightly around the gurgling baby. “It’s only us. I didn’t think you’d be in the kitchen!”

Miriam pressed a hand to her racing heart and stared at Lily.

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to…does James know? I thought Dumbledore made it clear that �“ ”

“Oh, stop with that,” said Lily sternly, and took the pot from Miriam’s grip, placing it back onto the stove. “Sirius stopped by a bit ago and said that you weren’t doing well at all. He’s only concerned about you,” she said patronizingly, when Miriam rolled her eyes. “And if you think I’m just going to let my best friend mope around the house all alone without so much as a visit…”

“I’m not moping,” mumbled Miriam in a whiny voice.

“And besides,” said Lily, ignoring this, “Harry wanted to see his God mum. Didn’t you Harry?”

Harry drooled.

“He’s such a charmer,” laughed Lily, and passing Harry over into Miriam’s arms, she gave her a full hug, and pressed a kiss to Miriam’s forehead.

Miriam, once more, had to staunchly ignore the annoyingly persistent urge to bawl.

“How often have you heard that he is just the spitting image of you and James?”

“I’ve lost count,” said Lily. “But you know something? It never really gets old.”

“I’m really glad you came,” said Miriam suddenly. “I miss you.” She looked down at Harry, who was sucking his thumb and staring up at Miriam with great interest, “And you.”

Lily, who had taken a seat at the small dining table, smiled. “We’ve missed you as well.”

“I hate this!” blurted out Miriam. She felt tears rising again, but this time couldn’t find the will to ignore them. “I hate this. I hate not being able to see you whenever I want. I hate having to sneak around. I hate being worried all of the time, I hate being scared. I want things to go back to how they were.” Miriam wiped a tear from her cheek before it plopped down onto Harry’s.

“Look at me,” she said viciously. “I’m a mess, I can’t even get a grip on myself and there’s no reason for it! And you, you who have every reason to just completely fall apart…you’re as strong and beautiful as ever.” Miriam looked at Lily, helplessly. “Lily…what’s wrong with me?”

Lily frowned.

“Miriam, what exactly is the matter?”

Miriam shifted her hold on Harry and swept a hand impatiently through her hair.

“I’ve been sick, I thought Sirius told �“ ”

“Be specific.”

“Okay,” Miriam said, blowing out a breath. “Well…I fainted again yesterday, for no reason. And I’ve been feeling really nauseous all the time. Which is so strange, because if I’m not nauseous, I’ve famished! I’ll eat anything in sight. It’s probably just indigestion now that I think about it. But I’ve been having the strangest cravings…chocolate-covered…things. Things that, ah, that shouldn’t be chocolate covered. Probably.”

Lily’s face remained completely impassive. “Anything else?”

“Well,” said Miriam, sheepishly. “Yes. I’ve been gaining weight. A lot of it. I know Sirius would never say anything, but I can barely fit into my Healer’s robes now and…what? What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

A clever-sort of smile had lit Lily’s face, and she was staring at Miriam with what Miriam thought was an unnerving gleam in her eyes.

“Well, Miriam, it’s just that…I mean, maybe it’s not a mental problem at all. Maybe it’s really something…physical.”

Miriam frowned. “What are you getting at?”

“Oh, Miriam,” said Lily, positively laughing now. “Are you a Healer or aren’t you?”

Beginning to feel a bit insulted, Miriam pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lily sighed, though not unpleasantly.

“Miriam, think about it. Pretend it were me, and I’m listing off my symptoms to you. Nausea, fainting, mood swings �“”

“I never said mood swings,” said Miriam, grumpily.

“…cravings for strange foods…weight gain?”

Miriam thought for a moment, then frowned.

“Well,” she said, “that would be easy. I’d say you’re…”

Then Lily watched, fascinated, as all of the color drained completely out of Miriam’s face. Then she began to sway, and Lily hastily stood and snatched Harry from Miriam’s arms.

“Well,” said Miriam at last, in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Shit.”

Lily took one glance at the sheer and total horror on Miriam’s face, and threw her head back in laughter.

“Oh, Miriam,” Lily gasped, when she had at last managed to catch her breath. “Surely the idea has crossed your mind before. Haven’t you noticed anything’s gone…missing?”

Miriam, her eyes wide and terrified, shook her head violently. “No! I mean, well…yes. But I thought it was stress!”

This sent Lily into another bout of hysterics.

“I need to sit down,” said Miriam in a dreamy sort of voice, and she slid right there onto the floor.

“Miriam,” said Lily, crouching down to where Miriam was slumped. Miriam now stared at Harry as though she had never seen him before. “This is wonderful news! You’re not sick, you’re fine! You’re just pregnant!”

Life suddenly flickered back into Miriam’s eyes.

“Just pregnant? JUST PREGNANT! Merlin’s beard, Lily, don’t you get it?! This is impossible, this is not supposed to happen! Sirius, oh my God, what is Sirius going to think?”

“He’ll think that he’s the luckiest man in the world,” said Lily sincerely.

Miriam thought about it, really thought about it, and found to her complete surprise that she couldn’t argue this.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” she said meekly instead.

“I know,” said Lily, grinning. “Isn’t it fantastic?”

For a moment, it seemed as though Miriam had been stunned speechless. And then she said again, “Shit.”

Lily kissed both of Miriam’s cheeks, then leaned back at beamed at her.

“Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.” Miriam nodded vaguely. Smiling widely, Lily pushed to her feet. “You should get yourself over to St. Mungo’s just to get everything checked out. I’d go with you, but James should be back soon and if we’re not there…well. Everything’s going to be fine, don’t you worry about a single thing. Oh, Miriam!”

Lily threw another arm around Miriam and held her close for a minute. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Miriam found she could not speak. Instead, she stared at Harry. Harry stared back at her, and burped.

---

A few hours later as Miriam waited to check out of St. Mungo’s, she could be very sure of two things: One, that she was in fact, very pregnant. Two, that a human being could not feel more than she was right now without imploding; it was just impossible.

All within the time frame of an hour, Miriam had felt inexplicable joy, mind-numbing fear, had been dumbfounded, cheerful, teary, anxious…scared. A wave of dizziness washed over her again, and Miriam gritted her teeth against it.

She should have known that Sirius’s child would not be particularly complacent.

And yet, strangely, she found herself smile, then grin, the burst out into laughter. Despite it all, beneath everything else- the nausea, the fear - was a deeper, almost painful ache that Miriam could only describe as…happiness.

She walked out of St. Mungo’s with a bounce in her step, a smile still plastered onto her face. Sirius would still be gone, and not wanting to return just yet to an empty house, Miriam wandered around aimlessly for a bit, allowing herself to entertain fantastic images in her head.

She saw herself telling Sirius the news and watched in her minds eye as he swept her off her feet, laughing joyously, kissing her, happier than perhaps she had ever seen him before. She fast-forwarded to months later, when she and Sirius stood over a tiny crib, tucking in their child for bed, saw Sirius giving him or her piggy back rides, saw herself and Lily pushing their children in strollers along Hongsmeade…

They would be a family, thought Miriam.

Unable to resist, Miriam gave a twirl as she walked. Despite everything, despite Lord Voldemort and the war, despite the fear and terror, Miriam had the glorious feeling that the next few months would be some of the best of her entire life.

The sun had begun to set, and the sky had turned into a majestic palate of violets, pinks, and gold. Miriam found herself walking in the direction of Godrick’s Hollow, the muggle village where Lily and James had made their new home since Voldemort. She would go there, Miriam determined, until it was time for Sirius to come home. And then she would tell him and they would celebrate and…

A woman Miriam did not recognize nearly walked straight into her, knocking Miriam back into reality. The woman did not say a word, but kept striding forward, ignoring Miriam completely. Miriam rubbed her arm where the woman had collided with her and kept walking. But she noticed suddenly that there was a mass of people coming towards her, some nearly running, but all going in the opposite direction as Miriam.

Miriam stopped and looked around. There were shouts now, and the expressions Miriam could catch before they dashed away from her were of perfect horror. She felt the hairs stand up at the back of her neck, and a shiver creep up her spine. There was a scream. Miriam felt as if she were a single fish trying to swim against a fierce tide. Listening hard, she struggled to make out any bit of conversation as people continued to run past her.

“Did you see it?!”

“What’s it mean?”

“Oh, God…”

“…In the sky…”

Miriam was now pushing, fighting against the crowd that was now nearly an impenetrable wall. She could feel the contagious pulse of panic vibrating throughout the air.

“Excuse me,” she panted. Miriam had to get out of there, she had to see… “Excuse me!”

More shouts echoed among the crowd, and Miriam heard the thing she had been dreading.

“…green smoke in the sky!”

Horror unlike anything Miriam had ever before known surged through her being, paralyzing her for just a moment and then, with an animalistic shriek, Miriam pushed herself forward, shoving and squeezing herself through the crowd. She ran. Miriam couldn’t stop, could hardly see where she was going. Fear pushed her forward, even while dread told her to go back. No, she repeated over and over again in her head. No, no, no, no, no, NO!

The sun had set lower now, and the sky had become a murky gray. Tears distorting her vision, Miriam spared a glance toward the sky, and groaned as she caught a misty green glow from just over the horizon. Miriam ran faster, harder now. The scenery around her was nothing more than a blue of houses and trees. The road was now deserted, everyone who lived in the village having fled. Miriam felt her lungs burning, aching with the effort to keep running. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks but did not spare the energy to wipe her eyes. She had to keep running.

This isn’t happening, said a voice in her head. This cannot be happening.

The air had turned cold and brittle, and Miriam’s lungs were now screaming, begging her to stop. Unable to take another step, she staggered to a halt. Doubled over, panting, sobbing, her hands braced on her knees, Miriam looked up at the night sky.

Glowing bright, clearer than even the moon, a colossal green skull shone brilliantly against the black curtain of the sky, as if made of hazy emerald stars. All of the other house and street lights in the village had been eerily extinguished, and the Dark Mark blazed in the darkness, hung directly over a small cottage that Miriam knew all too well.

Miriam moaned and fell to her knees. Without nothing left but sheer determination, Miriam crawled the rest of the distance to James’ and Lily’s house.

---

Down in the basement of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Miriam Daniels glanced at her watch. It was time. She looked once more into the bubbling, steaming cauldron and with a deep breath, turned and trekked up the stairs from the basement, up the stairs from the kitchen, and headed towards her bedroom where her pensieve sat.

Miriam was trapped inside of a living nightmare.

She had at last dragged herself up the front steps of the small, two-story cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Though her limbs felt like lead, her mind felt light and airy, as though in a daze. From far away she felt the greasy waves of nausea, the sharp cramps stabbing at her sides, but those too seemed unreal somehow. Once a welcoming, cozy ambience had been exuded from the house; but now it seemed desolate, cold…cursed. The windows were broken at jagged edges, and Miriam saw to her complete despair that the front door was wide open. Lily and James would never leave their front door open. But there was still a chance, still hope…they could have gotten away, they could have escaped. Left the house to look as though it had been attacked, a trick, perhaps?

Miriam pushed herself to her feet and drew her wand. “Lumos!” she whispered. The house was dark and eerily quiet. They’ve left, they’ve gone already, Miriam told herself as she spun a slow circle in the foyer. The Potters are fine.

But someone else could still be here, waiting. Watching. A cold trickle of fear slid down Miriam’s spine. Well then, she thought, they’ll have to face me, first.

“If there’s anyone in here,” called out Miriam, her voice higher than normal but steady nonetheless, “just look out!”

Miriam gripped her wand so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never been a particularly good dueler. In fact, some would call her awful. But damn if she’d run away from her friends, damn if she wouldn’t at least stand and fight, even if only for a moment before death.

“It’s no use!” she shouted now, walking through the living room towards the stairs leading to the nursery. She ignored the ruined furniture around her, the cracked picture frames and burn marks in the rugs. “They’re gone, they’ve left! And they’re not coming back! You’ve lost them!” A strange, slightly hysterical edge had slid into Miriam’s voice. “You’ve lost them and now you’ll have to answer to your Master! He won’t be pleased, oh no, you’ve lost the Potters!” And she began to laugh, a slightly mad sound. “You’ve lost the Potters and now….”

Miriam had been so focused on the nursery door ahead of her that she tripped on something rather large and fell forward, hitting her forehead on the edge of a step. Black spots swam in front of Miriam’s eyes as she lay there, pressing the heel of her hand to the throbbing spot. She felt dizzy, felt as though she would very much like to simply stay there and take a nice little nap. But she knew she had to get up, had to move. If there was someone still in the house…but what had she tripped over?

Miriam pushed herself up, propped up on her elbows…and screamed.

Miriam had tripped over, and was now half sprawled atop of the dead body of James Potter.

Fire and ice clashed in a violent duel throughout Miriam’s blood, half paralyzing her, half pushing her to move. With animalistic groan, she shifted so that she were crouching above James, drew back her hand…and slapped him, hard, across the face.

“Get up!” she screamed at the staring face. “GET UP!”

James did not get up.

Miriam fisted her hands at the front of his shirt, tears streaming down her cheeks like endless rivers. Vaguely, she could feel that beneath a clenched hand there was no movement where a beating heart should have been.

“James,” Miriam moaned. “Please…get up.”

Miriam felt her body shaking, felt the nausea rising in her throat. James Potter was dead. James had been killed. Miriam lifted a hand to his eyelids, and gently, as though he were a sleeping child, closed them. Miriam lifted her flooded eyes to the nursery door, not ten steps above her…and froze.

Everything was blurry, she couldn’t see clearly…it was a figment of her imagination. It had to be. But when Miriam blinked the stinging, blinding tears furiously from her vision, the blur of red on the floor, just peeking out from the doorway had not vanished.

“No.”

Miriam pushed herself to her feet and half ran-half crawled the rest of the way up the steps, tripping once over James’ limp arm that had been flung out. The red blur was closer now and Miriam had the very detached, dreamy thought that it looked very much like hair.

Miriam stepped into the nursery, and over the body of Lily Potter.

It was pain beyond sanity, grief beyond comprehension. Miriam sank to the floor with a moan of anguish, threw her arms around the body of her dearest friend, and wept into the pretty, soft green blouse that Lily had been so fond of.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours. Miriam had no idea. But for however long she lay there, she cried and sobbed, screamed and cursed. Miriam stroked Lily’s hair, pressed kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, and chin. She cradled Lily’s heavy head, her tears dripping down onto Lily’s pale cheeks. A face that only hours before had been so full of life, had beamed at Miriam with joy and affection. She shook her and coddled her, loved her even as she cursed her. And at last, when Miriam was dry, her sobs heavy and breathy, Miriam simply lifted a cold hand, pressed it to her lips. Then yelped.

A noise, a human voice. There was someone else in the house. Miriam scrambled to her feet and drew her wand again. Now there was no fear, no question in her mind. Within the next minute, Miriam would either kill or be killed. But she even if she died in the process, Miriam, for the first time in her life, sincerely hoped that she would take a life along with her.

The voice sounded again, indistinguishable, and, realizing that it was right behind her, spun around, wand outstretched, an unforgivable curse on her lips. But Miriam found herself facing not a Death Eater but…a crib.

Miriam’s wand dropped to the floor in a clatter. There was another sound, a wail of sorts. A gurgle. But it couldn’t be, it was impossible…

Slowly, not even daring to breathe, Miriam approached the crib and peered over it. There lay her godson, Harry, his arms outstretched and reaching for her, his face screwed up and red. If ever a miracle and tragedy could simultaneously embody a single moment in time, this was it; Harry Potter was very much alive. Miriam’s entire body trembled and she bit her bottom lip hard until she tasted blood. Though her entire body yearned to scoop him up and run, Miriam was afraid that if she moved too fast, he would prove to be just a figment of her imagination and disappear from her sight forever; Miriam didn’t think she could survive that. Ever so slowly, shaking, her arms reached down into the crib. Harry hurtled an arm up with a squeal and clasped a tiny hand around one of Miriam’s thumbs. She both sobbed and laughed from the relief of contact with his soft skin. Then she gently lifted him into her careful arms. For a moment, Miriam simply focused on breathing, focused on the weight of Harry in her arms. Love that she thought had vanished completely flooded her, and she willed it back into him, willed it to keep him warm and safe. Instinctively, she turned so Harry’s vision was obscured from the body of his mother, even though it meant that Lily’s dead form was clear in Miriam’s eyes.

“I’ll take care of him,” she said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to him. I’ll love him as if he were my own.” Miriam’s throat tightened, her voice shook. Tears dripped down her cheeks. But she would finish. “I promise you, Lily. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

Glancing back down at Harry, she suddenly noticed for the first time that a bit of blood was smeared across his forehead. Frowning, Miriam shook up the sleeve of her robe and dabbed at the jagged wound. Harry let out a wail of pain.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Miriam murmured and pressed a kiss to his head. Then she examined the cut closely, baffled. It went deep and seemed to have a zig-zag shape to it. Yet there had been very little blood for such an angry wound. “Don’t you worry, I’ll have that right in a jiffy.” Miriam’s eyes searched the floor for her wand when…

Footsteps, loud and heavy sounded from somewhere downstairs. Immediately, Miriam pressed herself against the wall, hidden behind the nursery door that still hung wide open. Her heart pounded, with fear yes, but more so with anticipation. She could not afford to be reckless anymore. Holding Harry close to her with one arm, she reached out the other and whispered, “Accio wand!”

Her wand leapt off the floor and smoothly floated into Miriam’s outstretched hand. Her fingers curled tightly around it. She would fight, would protect Harry no matter what the cost. The footsteps were closer now, nearly at the steps. Miriam silently begged Harry to remain still, her own breathing even and soundless. Her heart had begun to pound so loudly in her ears, she was sure it could be heard from feet away. Miriam was trying very hard to ignore the fact that the lifeless body of her best friend lay only feet from where she stood.

The intruder was close now, was nearly at the steps when suddenly, a howl, like that of a wounded beast. It echoed throughout the house, so agonized and pained, it ripped away at the pieces of Miriam’s already broken heart.

Sirius.

Sirius had found James.

Instantly, without thinking, Miriam flung herself out from behind the door just as Sirius stumbled in His eyes looked from the body of Lily on the floor, to Miriam, and back again to Lily where they lingered.

Miriam watched him, not knowing what to do, at a loss for words. The man standing before her was not the one that such an agonized cry had emerged from only moments before…it couldn’t be. The Sirius staring at the body of Lily stood up straight, as if his spine had been locked in place. His mouth was set tight, his brow furrowed so close together. His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing ragged and shallow. Grief did not pulse from his body, but something else, something darker and, thought Miriam, dangerous.

“Sirius.” Miriam stepped towards him and placed a hand on his arm. Sirius’s eyes flicked to her so suddenly that Miriam’s heart skipped a beat. They were dark and lifeless, and stared at Miriam as though they had never seen her before. Something like fear tickled the back of Miriam’s throat.

“Sirius,” she said again, her voice shaking. “We need to get out of here. There’s nothing you can do. We need to leave, now. He could come back any minute…”

A small cry emerged from Harry, and now Sirius’s gaze now fixed on him, as though he had only just noticed the child’s presence.

“He’s alive,” was all he said.

“Sirius,” said Miriam, now moving her hand from his arm to his cheek. She watched, oddly fascinated, as the deadened look in his eyes flickered for just an instant as she touched him, but then it was back, mixed with something so black it shook Miriam to the core. He’s in shock, she told herself.

“Harry’s ours now. He's our responsibility. We need to get him away from here. Sirius, are you listening to me?”

For a moment, Sirius made no response. Miriam stared at him, bewildered. Then he said, “Someone’s coming.”

Before Miriam could even register what was happening, Sirius had thrown out an arm, pushing Miriam and Harry behind him while he stepped forward, wand at the ready. Footsteps, louder and even heavier than his had been, echoed up the stairs. There was another beast-like cry, and then Hagrid staggered into the room, his massive form barely squeezing through the narrow doorway.

Another wail like a trumpet as Hagrid’s eyes fell upon Lily. Sirius lowered his wand and Miriam stepped from behind his guard. She loosened her grip on Harry, but just a little.

“Hagrid,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Hagrid took a deep breath, then another. It was obvious speaking was very difficult for him; tears streaked down his ruddy face and into his straggly beard, but Miriam could tell he was fighting the very same grief that threatened to overwhelm her as well.

“Dumbledore,” he managed. “Dumbledore sent me as soon as we heard the news. Aw, bloody hell. This ain’t happening it’s like a bad dream or summat. It’s true, though? Little Harry, he’s alright?”

Miriam nodded. She turned, just a bit so Hagrid could see Harry’s face, wide-eyed and alive, but found for some reason that she had not wanted to.

Sirius still had not said anything. Miriam found this all very troubling, Sirius’s stone-like silence, Hagrid’s presence…

“Hagrid, what’s the word from Dumbledore?” she asked, tentatively.

Hagrid pulled a rather large tissue from his coat pocket and blew his nose so loudly Miriam’s ears popped.

“Aw, well,” said Hagrid, stuffing the soaked tissue back into his pocket. “Yer not fit ter be liking this much. Dumbledore told me to go to the Potter’s and see…and see if it were true. Then he asked me ter take Harry and �“ ”

“How did Dumbledore know that Harry was still alive?” Miriam demanded.

Hagrid shrugged. “He told me to take Harry from the house �“ ”

“Well, I suppose you don’t have to worry about that now, do you,” said Miriam, her voice sharper than she had intended. “We’re here now, so you can go back and tell Dumbledore…tell him that we’ve got him. He’s safe, with us. So you can just…leave.”

But Hagrid did not leave. Instead he simply shook his head, sadly.

“He wants me ter take Harry to his Muggle relatives.”

“But…what?” Miriam sputtered. “But that’s ridiculous! We’re his…Lily and James wanted us to take care of him! They would want us to have him! Dumbledore knows that, why would he say such a thing?”

Miriam spun around to Sirius for support. He remained very still, and silent. Furious, she turned back to Hagrid. Why wouldn’t he just leave?

Hagrid heaved a great sigh. “Dumbledore made it clear that under no conditions �“ ”

Miriam spat at the ground by Hagrid’s feet.

“You can tell Dumbledore that’s what I think of him and his conditions!” Miriam shouted, furiously. She could see Hagrid’s fight for control, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled, as friendship battled with loyalty. But Miriam didn’t care.

“Dumbledore has no right to be setting conditions at Harry’s stake,” she exclaimed. “Harry is ours, he belongs to us now, and if you think I’m going to let you walk out of this house with him, you’re �“ ”

“Give him to Hagrid, Miriam.”

For a moment, Miriam thought she had imagined the words. She turned, her mouth hanging open in disbelief, to Sirius.

“What did you just say?”

“Give Harry to Hagrid, Miriam,” said Sirius softly.

A full minute passed in which Miriam could only stare at him. At last she whispered, “Who are you?”

Sirius, his expression completely unreadable took a step towards Miriam and gripped her shoulders, hard. He tilted his head down so their faces were only inches apart and spoke in a low voice that only she could hear.

“Trust me, Miriam. We’ll get him back. Give him to Hagrid now, and I promise you, we’ll get him back.” Miriam was shaking her head ‘No’, her cheek rubbing back and forth along the top of Harry’s head.

“I promised her,” Miriam said, and began to weep softly.

“Here now,” said Sirius, and frowning, he coaxed Harry from Miriam’s unwilling arms. She let out a moan of pain, as though he were ripping something that had been actually attached to her.

Miriam watched in heartbreaking disbelief as Sirius carried Harry, who had begun to wail miserably the moment he had been freed of Miriam’s arms, over to Hagrid. She watched as he hesitated for just a moment before Hagrid, touching a hand to Harry’s cheek and staring down into his face, but it was only for an instant. Then Harry was buried in Hagrid’s enormous arms and Miriam could see her godson no more.

“Take my bike, Hagrid,” said Sirius, his voice now tight and low, like a growl. “I won’t be needing it anymore.”

Hagrid turned to Miriam, a truly regretful expression on his face. He looked as though he was about to speak, but the look on Miriam’s face silenced him. With a great sniffle, he turned around and walked out the door, taking a howling Harry with him.

Miriam did not move. She shook from head to toe, but did not take a single step towards or away from Sirius.

“Miriam…”

“I didn’t say goodbye,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

“Miriam,” said Sirius again, as though she had not spoken. “I have to go.”

Now Miriam spun around to face him. Fury, insults, taunts dangled on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to rage at him, to curse him. But all she said was, “Why?”

“There is…something I need to take care of,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “Go to the hospital, there might have been more attacks. See what you can do to help.” Then, before she could offer any protest, her yanked her hard to him and pressed a firm kiss to Miriam’s slack mouth. He buried his hands into her hair, rubbed his thumbs along her damp cheeks to erase the tears. Miriam had the sudden compulsion to throw her arms around his waist and pull him close and never let him go…

But Sirius did let go, and abruptly began walking out the door. It took Miriam a moment to absorb what was happening before her eyes. Sirius was leaving. He was nearly halfway down the stairs before she snapped back.

“Sirius!” she called, chasing after him. “Sirius wait! Sirius, please don’t go!”

But he kept walking, his eyes fixed straight ahead, as though refusing to look back at her.

“Sirius, I have a bad feeling about this! Don’t go!”

Sirius stood in the doorway, the night air blowing in, tussling his hair. At last, he turned and faced her, his expression still impassive, but there was something in his eyes…

And suddenly, like a slap to the face, it hit Miriam. She had nearly forgotten.

“Sirius, I have something to tell you!”

CRACK!

He had vanished right before her eyes. Numb from head to toe, Miriam sank to the ground, completely alone.

Miriam Daniels did not go back to the hospital. She did not go back to help other witches and wizards who may have suffered attacks at the hands of Death Eaters. She did not report to the Order, who would surely have specific instructions for her to follow. She did not begin the process of notifying loved ones about the death of Lily and James Potter.


Instead, Miriam Daniels had gotten herself remarkably, and spectacularly, piss-faced drunk.


Miriam couldn’t recall a conscious thought compelling her to wander into the Three Broomsticks. In fact, she was almost positive her intended destination had been the hospital, as Sirius had instructed. However, upon arrival in the warm, familiar atmosphere she never once considered leaving. Any shame she might have felt for choosing such a substandard method of coping was quickly buried beneath reason and liquor.


After all, she had never claimed to be noble. She had never professed extraordinary courage or valor, beauty or grace, and she certainly did not think herself the cleverest witch in the coven. Healing aside, she had never really considered herself significantly above average in any aspect, and quite unremarkable in most.


And so, Miriam did what she imagined to be the unremarkable reaction to disabling, gut-wrenching grief, and drank herself into a numb stupor.


Upon noticing Miriam’s arrival at the bar, pale-faced, misery etched in every line, Madam Rosmerta had rushed over and taken the young woman’s face her in strong, gentle hands.


“What’s troubling you, Miriam? You can tell ol’ Rosmerta. You and Sirius have a go at each other?”


Miriam found that she could not bring herself to tell the rosy-cheeked barmaid about James and Lily. And so she said nothing, and simply allowed a lonely tear to trail gloomily down her cheek.


Madam Rosmerta, thinking the worst for the unlikely couple, had led Miriam up to her flat above the pub and sat her down on a lumpy sofa with a vibrant red and gold clover pattern. After giving Miriam a motherly pat on the head, she left the flat to arrive a few moments later with an abnormally large mug, overflowing with what appeared to be firewhiskey.


“I added a bit of potion in there, just something to protect the babe. You shouldn’t be able to taste a thing.”


This had been enough to shock Miriam out of her stupor. When she spoke, her voice sounded rough and unfamiliar, like someone who had not spoken for days on end.


“Wha…? But….how did you know? I haven’t told anybody, only Li…” But she choked on her friend’s name and hid her grief in the foamy drink.


“Witches intuition,” Madam Rosmerta said, smiling kindly as Miriam gulped. Then she left Miriam in the flat to give her some time to herself, only returning on instinct to refill Miriam’s mug when it had been drained.


Miriam didn’t know how long she had sat on the sofa, gulping down the burning liquid. It could have been hours or days even, for all she presently cared. She had also lost count of how many times Rosmerta had quietly entered the flat to refill her mug, but was almost positive that the number was somewhere between four and thirteen.


The thought made Miriam grin, a stupid, lazy affectation, and she released a rancid smelling hiccup.


Life, if someone were to ask her presently, was just dandy as far as Miriam was concerned. The liquor had spread a think, frothy layer of cheery indifference over her grief. Her body felt light, as though she would at any second float right out of her chair, and her vision had been reduced to a blurry wash of colors. Miriam gazed dumbly around the room, thinking it all rather pretty, and continued to grin foolishly.


She took another large swig from her mug and spilled half down her front. Intending to wipe her chin with her sleeve, she missed, and instead clobbered herself on the chin, knocking her limp form right off the sofa.


“Whoopsy!” she giggled.


Miriam used the assistance of the coffee table to hoist herself back to her knees (not without some difficulty) when there was a flash of blinding light that made her drop once more to the floor. Raising herself eye level to the table, Miriam could make out a pair of eyes surrounded by bright red staring curiously back at her.


There was a painful lurch in Miriam’s stomach.


“Lily?” she whispered, and flung out an arm to touch her friend, missing by about two feet. And just as suddenly as they had appeared, the eyes disappeared in another flash Miriam now recognized as fire, the heat of it forcing her to squint her eyes in defense.


“Oh yes,” Miriam said thickly to no one in particular. “Almost forgot.” She picked up her drink and glugged down the rest.


Lily is gone, Miriam reminded herself. She sighed, a glum sound, which translated fluently to those familiar of drink as, “Life is, quite frankly, rubbish. But, ah well. Cheers!”


Just then Miriam recalled an old Muggle film she and her father had been very fond of, a musical. It was highly inaccurate, as she later found out, but the sound of squeaky, cheerful voices rang in her head and she sang along gaily and off key:


“Ding-dong, the (hic) witch is dead…”


The door leading to the flat creaked open. Miriam swung her head around nearly losing her balance once again, and found herself staring at a rather flushed, frightened looking Madam Rosmerta and two Remus Lupins.


“Rosie!” Miriam cried happily, flinging her arms into the air in greeting. “An’ Remus, you’ve brough’ (hic) a friend!” Her speech was very slurred, and her tongue felt a few sizes to big for her mouth. “Rather looks a bi’ like you, Remus,” Miriam added as an afterthought. “A bi’ homlier, per’aps? Aah, Rosie, ‘ow about (hic) another round, ay?”


Lupin glanced at the spot next to him where Miriam had been gazing, and where nothing stood but thin air.


“How many drinks has she had, Rosmerta?” he asked soberly, taking long strides to stand at the coffee table across from Miriam. He gingerly picked up the feather that Fawkes had left behind after locating Miriam, and tucked it away inside of his coat.


“Quite a bit,” said Madam Rosmerta, her eyes very bright. “I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know! I only thought that she and Sirius had had a �“ ” But she broke off and began to sob into her hands.


“Aw, now! Looka whatchoo did! Whatchoo do that for?!” slurred Miriam angrily, still directing her speech to the air beside Lupin.


“Miriam, I need you to listen to me,” said Lupin, placing his palms on the table and leaning close. Miriam squinted, causing the two Lupins to blend together, and she realized for the first time the ragged state in which Remus appeared. His skin was pale and sallow, with a sickly green tint to it. His hands shook as he gripped the table and his eyes rimmed with red as though he, too, had been crying.


“You look a righ’ mess, Lupin. S’not the full moon yet, izzit?”


“No, Miriam, it is not yet the full moon. Miriam. I have to tell you something �“”


“Shh, shh! Listen, listen,” Miriam interrupted. She grabbed Lupin by the lapels and yanked him forward so that their faces were very close. “Wha’ever you do, don’ mention anything abou’ You-Know-Who and the you-know-wha…I mean you-know-what an’ the You-Know-Who…I mean…well, wha’ever you do, don’ mention it! I ‘aven’t told Rosie yet, I think it might upset ‘er…”


Madam Rosmerta began to sob even louder. Lupin, who had been able to smell Miriam from across the room, now caught the full blast of her poisonous breath. He hastily whipped out a hankercheif and, gagging, covered his nose and mouth. Miriam either didn’t seem to notice, or couldn’t have cared less.


“I’ve already informed Madam Rosmerta about…” his voice caught briefly in his throat. “About James and Lily. But Miriam, you’ve got to listen to me, there’s something I need to tell you.”


“Oh no,” Miriam said. She shook her head from side to side and stuck both index fingers determinedly into her ears. “No, no, no, no, no! I don’t wanna hear it. No more bad news. Come on Lupin, ‘ave a drink with me!”


“Miriam, please- ”


“I said NO MORE!” Miriam shouted, surprising them both, and slammed her fists down onto the table. She was upset now, she was almost sure of it, her happy buzz had been ruined. Still drunk though, to be sure, she thrust out her lower lip and pouted like a child.


A look of pity washed over Lupin’s face, and he placed a gentle hand over her fist.


“Wanna hear something hilarious, Lupin? You’re gonna laugh, it’s hilarious! I’m preggers!” she announced loudly, the stupid grin reappearing on her face. “Pregnant. In’ that hilarious?”


But Lupin did not laugh. Instead his face screwed up with misery, and he lowered his forehead to her hand.


“Dear God, Miriam…” he mumbled, his voice thick with tears.


“Hey,” said Miriam, completely baffled by this reaction. She patted Lupin clumsily on the back. “Hey. It’s funny! Don’cha think it’s funny? You’re supposed to laugh!”


Lupin took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted his head very slowly.


“Miriam. It’s about Sirius.”


“Yeah?” said Miriam, completely ignoring the grave sincerity in Lupin’s voice. She sat back against the sofa in a huff, arms folded across her chest. “Well, I’ll just bet it is. Hope ‘e got blasted to bits by a couple a’ death eaters, that’ll teach him not to boss me.”


There was a loud wail, and Madam Rosmerta fled from the room. Miriam looked to Lupin, her expression one of complete and utter bafflement.


“Was it something I said?”