Summary: Theresa McGonagall returns from twelve years of self-imposed exile to find that nothing has changed: the Ministry still suspects her, Minerva still blames her, and Severus still wants more than she’s willing to give. Then Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban, and even the Boy Who Lived may not be able to rescue her from the mistakes of her past.
This is the story of Prisoner of Azkaban with only one character added. Packed with action, drama, and a touch of humor, this story is for fans of Sirius Black and Severus Snape.
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Sexual Situations
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 10
Completed: No
Word count: 27461
Read: 29920
Published: 01/29/07
Updated: 12/10/08
1. Chapter 1 -- Unforgivable by ThessalyRose
2. Chapter 2 -- Fugitives by ThessalyRose
3. Chapter 3 -- Lost Dog by ThessalyRose
4. Chapter 4 -- Theresa Black by ThessalyRose
5. Chapter 5 -- Inhalus by ThessalyRose
6. Chapter 6 -- Help is Always Given by ThessalyRose
7. Chapter 7 -- Guilty Conscience by ThessalyRose
8. Chapter 8 -- Absolutely Bloody Insane by ThessalyRose
9. Chapter 9 -- The Prisoner of Hogwarts by ThessalyRose
10. Chapter 10 -- Inappropriate by ThessalyRose
Chapter 1 -- Unforgivable by ThessalyRose
Author's Notes:
Many thanks to JK Rowling for letting us play in her fictional back yard!
Paddy worked the docks in Bristol, and lived in a rather rough neighborhood, so it was with some surprise that he opened the door and found a lovely young woman answering his notice.
“Er...I’m afraid it doesn’t run,” he said, as she lifted the bonnet of the car in question and leaned into the engine, sweeping her long, golden-blonde braid over her shoulder.
“Is it terribly rusty underneath?” she asked, closing the bonnet. She dropped to one knee and looked under the car.
“Well, not a lot. Kept it pretty clean, we did.”
The woman straightened and looked under the bonnet again.
“It doesn't run, you know,” Paddy said.
“What about the seats?” The woman closed the bonnet and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Have they been reupholstered?”
“No,” Paddy said, “I guess they could be. Just a lot of electrical tape holding them together now.”
“Mm.” She looked around at the interior of the car. “And the tires?”
“Pretty new, actually. Almost worth the price of the car.” He frowned at her. “Since it doesn’t run, and all.”
The woman sat in the seat and twisted to lean way under the dashboard. “What about the wipers? Still in working order?”
“I suppose. Haven’t used them lately.” The woman sat up again. “As the car doesn’t run.”
He’d given her the key at the start. She turned it now, and, with a groan, the engine turned over and started to purr gently. “Doesn’t it?” the woman asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Paddy blinked several times.
“Is cash all right?” the woman asked, suppressing a smile.
*•••••*•••••*
Two days later, the same woman stood in the doorway of a large Gringotts vault with a baffled look on her face. “Are you sure this is the right vault?” she asked the goblin standing next to her.
“This is your key, isn’t it?” he asked dangerously.
“Yes.”
“Then this is the right vault.”
“Oh.” She looked around her. Since the last time she had been here, the vault had been crammed with so much gold that the goblins had been forced to physically enlarge it. She walked a few steps down the narrow path through the stacks of golden Galleons. Way in the back stood a wobbly pile of cardboard boxes, which had been what primarily had filled the vault when she had left. They were what she had actually come for, so she prodded a couple of them with her wand, and they took to the air, following behind her obediently as she turned around.
She lifted a couple of coins from the nearest stack and waited nervously, afraid she’d set off some kind of alarm. When nothing happened, she dropped them into her pocket, opened her money bag and shoved a double fistful of Galleons into it. Then she turned back to the goblin and said, “Can I get a, er, list of deposits?”
The goblin nodded and stood aside as she and her cardboard boxes climbed back into the mining cart.
*•••••*•••••*
The next day, she stood looking up apprehensively at a gate surmounted by two ornately-carved winged boars. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside.
The school grounds hadn’t changed much, in all the years since she’d last been here. Every part of it seemed to remind her of her fond years here, sadly the best of her life. The walk from front gate to castle door wasn’t really that long, but between her twitching stomach and her brain jumping from one memory to another, it seemed to take forever. When she finally reached the foot of the stairs, she hesitated. “Too late to turn back now,” she muttered to herself, and put her foot on the first step.
Suddenly, something very large came around the side of the castle, completely distracting her. It appeared to be a haystack the size of her Muggle car, walking unsteadily on legs as big around as tree trunks. There was something familiar about its gait, though. “Hagrid?” she called out tentatively.
The haystack swung sideways, allowing a large, bearded face to look at her over his own shoulder. “Whozzat? Can I help yeh?”
“It’s me “ I’m “ Theresa McGonagall.” It wasn’t surprising, really, that he’d forgotten her, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “I used to be a student here.”
“Theresa -- ! Blimey!” The haystack crashed to the ground, and Hagrid came out from behind it with a dinnerplate-sized hand extended. “Didn’t even recognize yeh! How long’s it been? Your sister’s been trying to have you declared dead!”
Theresa didn’t take his hand. “She “ what?”
The corners of his beard sank as his grin faded. “Er”I mean, well “ she’s about given up hope “ you know. It’s been years and years.”
Theresa shook her head. “Yes, yes, it has been. I suppose I can’t blame her. Twelve years is a long time.”
“Where’ve yeh been, anyway?”
“Where haven’t I been is a better question.” She spread her arms expansively. “Twenty-two countries and four continents.”
“That’s quite a journey!” He looked genuinely impressed. “Bet yeh saw some interestin’ things!”
She vividly remembered how the big gamekeeper defined “interesting.” “Yes, even by your standards.”
“So what brings yeh back here?”
“I came to see Minerva. Thought I’d let her know I’m back. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
“Oh.” Hagrid’s face fell. “Well, er”sorry ter be the one ter tell yeh, but she’s not here.”
“She’s not? She wasn’t at home, so I assumed--.”
“She’s on holiday in Greenland. Won’t be back until the start of term.”
“Oh.” Theresa felt deflated. She’d spent so much time working herself up to this, and now… “Three weeks?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
She sighed. “Guess I should have come during the school year. Well, it was good to see you, Hagrid.” She turned back toward the castle gates.
“Hang on. Why don’ yeh come in for a cuppa? Yeh can tell me abou’ yer trip.”
She hesitated. She wasn’t really in the mood to be around people at the moment. But on the other hand, she couldn’t be sure anyone else in Britain would be this friendly to her. She turned back to him. “Thank you, I think I will.”
Hagrid grinned and hoisted his haystack back into the air. “Great, I’ll jus’ deliver this firs’, if yeh don’ mind. Yeh can come along, if yeh like.”
“It must have quite an appetite, whatever you’re feeding,” she commented, trotting alongside him.
“S’not food,” he grunted. “It’s bedding. Wait’ll I show yeh. I’ve got a great surprise fer th’ kids this year.”
Theresa actually smiled as she followed him into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.
*•••••*•••••*
That evening, Reverend Walter Edgepole stepped out of his church to find a woman he had never seen before standing at one of the graves in the yard with her head bowed. It was unusual for strangers to turn up in his sleepy little village to mourn people who’d been dead for years, so Reverend Edgepole gave in to curiosity and waited for her to look up.
“Oh, hello,” she said when she saw him. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“No, of course not. Did you know Eglantine Prince?”
“Yes. A little. Just in passing, really. Sorry to know she’s gone, though. She was always good to me.”
“It’s been a few years. I’m sorry if you just found out.”
“I’ve been out of touch.” She bit her lip, then plunged on. “Her nephew and I were very good friends. Does he still live around here?”
“Her nephew? I’m sorry, I never knew the family. She was one of my first funerals after I came here.”
“Oh. Well, thanks anyway.” She turned back to the gravestone sadly.
Something occurred to the reverend. “Unless you mean that “ erm “ unusual fellow who comes around and visits her?”
She looked up at him hopefully. “Dark hair, dresses in black? Bit lacking in social graces?”
“Yes, yes, that’s him.” What a wonderfully polite way of putting it, he thought. “He comes around every six months or so.”
“Oh. So he doesn’t live here, then?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t see him around.”
She heaved a sigh. “When was he here last?”
“About a month ago.”
She laughed ruefully. “Of course. Well, it’s nice to know he’s still alive.” She turned away from the grave and offered something to the reverend. “Thanks for the information. Drop this in the collection box for me, will you?”
She turned and walked down the path toward the churchyard gate. Reverend Edgepole looked at the bill she’d pressed into his hand. It was a 100-pound note.
*•••••*•••••*
Remus Lupin stretched stiffly, yawning, though it was nearly lunchtime. He’d awakened later than he would have liked, but it was the morning after a full moon and that was to be expected. He picked up a cardboard box and flicked on the Wizarding Wireless. Smiling to himself as one of his favorite tracks came on, he carried the box across the room, tapping his fingers in time with the music. His shabby bookcase leaned dangerously to the left, held up by magic as much as nails anymore. But it was his and so were the books which he started to load into the box, wincing as he bent over a little too far.
Remus was used to moving; on average, he changed addresses every two years or so. But this time was different. For once, he was going somewhere bigger and better. For once, he had enough notice to pack properly. For once, his landlady seemed sorry to see him go. He almost hadn’t known how to tell her; it was the first time he’d ever been the one to break the lease.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. Ignoring his complaining joints, he jigged over to the door and opened it.
And froze in place.
The woman at the door was tall and very pretty, though there was a hardness about her eyes and body that was more than muscle. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled back in a braid that dangled past her waist. She was dressed like a Muggle, but Remus knew she was not.
“Theresa,” he said, stupidly.
“Remus.” A nervous smile, and she dropped her arms from where she’d been hugging herself. “I came to tell you I’m back.”
“Evidently.”
She hesitated, trying, perhaps, to read something in his eyes that wasn’t there, then plunged on. “I want to apologize ” I know we didn’t part on very good terms. I’ve always regretted losing my temper with you.”
“Why?” Slowly regaining his composure, Remus leaned on the doorknob, deliberately suggesting he might slam the door at any moment. “Why are you back? What do you want?”
She lowered her eyes and said softly, “Forgiveness.”
Remus hadn’t expected that. Shaking his head slowly, he said, “Some things are unforgivable.”
“I know. But I haven’t done any of those things.”
“Tell that to James and Lily.” He made to shut the door.
“Wait ” Remus!”
He paused.
“Tell me what to do. I came back here to make things right.”
“You can’t bring James and Lily back.”
“But that wasn’t my fault!” She stamped her foot, then stopped, took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, she’d eliminated the bitter edge to her voice. “I’m ready to denounce him. Will that make you reconsider?”
Remus was already reconsidering. The woman he’d known twelve years ago could not have suppressed her anger so easily. “You’ve changed.”
She seemed surprised. “Haven’t you? It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, that’s true.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Theresa. I’ve long since put all that behind me.”
“That’s all I’m trying to do.”
Remus looked away uncomfortably. A tense silence spread between them. Then he asked the question he’d been wanting to ask her for twelve years. “How could you not have known he’d gone over? There had to be signs.”
Her lips pressed together into a straight line, reminding him vividly of her sister. In spite of himself, his heart fell.
“You still think he’s innocent.”
A violent struggle played across her face. Finally, she said through clenched teeth, “He loved them.”
Remus’ eyes narrowed. “So tell me then ” after all these years, what’s really changed?”
She glared at him mutinously, and did not answer.
Remus shut the door.
Feeling like he’d just run a mile, he turned to his kitchenette ” a hotplate and a tiny sink ” and began to make some tea. On the table lay a copy of the Daily Prophet, which he’d received from the delivery owl that morning without really waking up. Now he flipped it open and glanced over the headline. He gasped, his eyes widening. Hurriedly, he summoned his wand from the bedstand and sealed the front door with the strongest charm he knew. Only then did he risk a glance through the peephole.
Theresa was gone. Remus breathed a sigh of relief.
*•••••*•••••*
Theresa drove to Scotland the next day with the idea of visiting her parents’ graves, but the closer she drew to the family graveyard outside of Aberdeen, the more she came to realize that she couldn’t face them without making some kind of peace with Minerva. So she turned back and took a room in a fancy hotel in Edinburgh. Since the unexpected contents of her Gringotts’ vault seemed to be the only good thing that had happened to her since her return to Britain, she figured she might as well make the most of it. She spent several days shopping and visiting museums. It was a fitting metaphor for her life, she thought. A tourist in her own country.
But then, what had she been hoping for? To come back after twelve years and find everyone right where she’d left them, only more sympathetic to her? They’d have moved on with their lives, everyone would have, except her.
And one other.
She sat on the roof of her car on the top of a hill overlooking the sea at dusk. There was an island out there, in the far distance, its impenetrable towers barely visible in the lowering light. She should do it. She should go to him and tell him she was going to divorce him. Served him right, for putting her in this position. For causing her to be associated with James and Lily in the first place. For her parents’ deaths … but he’d had nothing to do with that … nevertheless, she shivered, thinking of that awful day. She’d been in the back garden with her dad, and they’d heard Mum answer the door. She only had time to scream out before they killed her. Instantly, Theresa’s father had turned his wand on Theresa and transfigured her into a tree. He’d saved her life, but she had been forced to stand there, helpless, while they murdered him. She had listened to his cries over and over again in her head for hours, until the Ministry had contacted Minerva and she found Theresa and changed her back.
Theresa sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. She thought she had done crying over that years ago. She shivered again, though the night had been warm only moments before. Suddenly she looked around. A dark, cloaked figure lingered in the shadows of the trees a few yards away from her. In the still night, she could hear its faint death rattle. Clutching her wand, she scrambled down from her perch and climbed into the driver’s seat of the car. If twelve years of adventuring for a living had taught her one thing, it was that there was a time to fight and a time to make a hasty retreat. Her tires crunched on the gravel road as she sped away into the night.
There was one other person, she remembered that night as she slept fitfully in her hotel room, who might not have moved on with his life. The next morning, she checked out of the hotel, tapped her car’s steering wheel with her wand and said, “Little Whinging, Surrey.”
Chapter 2 -- Fugitives by ThessalyRose
(a/n: the first two paragraphs here are taken from PoA)
“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.
Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he stumbled, flinging an arm out to steady himself.
“Harry! Harry Potter!”
Startled, Harry rounded on the source of the voice and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”
There was a sound of ringing metal, and Harry's eyes widened. Before him stood a woman with long, blond hair dressed in jeans and a red shirt. A Muggle. He'd just used magic on a complete stranger, a Muggle woman. But ” was she really a Muggle? She watched him warily, her hands raised as though he were holding her at gunpoint. She obviously knew what a wand was for. Of course, he’d just used it on her. But then ” there was another thing ”.
“How do you know my name?” he asked her suspiciously.
Her expression softened, and she very nearly smiled. “I’d have known you even if I weren’t looking for you, Harry. You look just like your father.”
“You ” you knew my dad?”
“We were at school together. Do you mind if I pick up my keys?”
She glanced at the metal key ring lying in the grass at her feet, the result of Harry’s spell. He lowered his wand. “Of course. I’m sorry ” I was just ”.” He suddenly remembered why he had been spooked, and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and the fence. It was empty.
When he turned back, the woman had pocketed her keys and was watching him strangely.
Harry frowned. “Why were you looking for me?”
“I was at Hogwarts last week,” she said, “And Rubeus Hagrid asked me to look in on you when I got back. Make sure the Muggles were treating you right.”
“You’re not with the Ministry of Magic, then?”
She gave a short laugh. “It'll be a dark day before the Ministry starts admitting the likes of me.”
Harry relaxed a little. If she had known his dad, and she was a friend of Hagrid’s, she must be all right. It still seemed odd that she was dressed as a Muggle, though. Perhaps she was a Squib.
“I saw the Ministry was at your house,” she said, looking at him speculatively. “Are you a fugitive, then?”
Harry bit his lip. “I don't know yet.”
“Well, I certainly haven’t got anything against fugitives.” She folded her arms, looking around the deserted street. “But I might point out that, one way or the other, the Ministry will be looking for you any minute now.”
“I need to get to London. To Gringotts, so I can get some money.”
“And then ”?”
“I ” don't know,” he confessed. “My best friends are abroad with their families. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Well.” She frowned, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “You’d better come with me, then.”
“Are you going to London?”
“I have a room there.”
“How close can you bring me to Diagon Alley?”
Suddenly, she smiled. “For James and Lily Potter’s son, I can go as far as the Leaky Cauldron.” She pulled her keys from her pocket. “You don’t mind traveling by Muggle car, do you?”
When Harry saw her car, he suddenly wondered if he wouldn’t be better off on his broomstick. It was so old that it no longer seemed to have any paint on it. A corner of the back had been smashed in, and the radio aerial had been snapped off. The woman opened a back door confidently and heaved Harry’s trunk inside, though, and then opened and held the front door for Harry. Inside, the upholstery seemed to have been stitched up in several places, and even the steering wheel was covered with black electrical tape. Harry glanced sidelong at the woman as she took her place in the driver’s seat. “Er ... you didn’t tell me your name.”
“Theresa McGonagall,” she said, starting the car with a wand.
So she wasn’t a Squib ” but she drove a Muggle car, which, judging by the smooth hum of the engine, she’d probably modified with magic. “This car doesn’t fly, does it?” he asked nervously.
Theresa laughed, pulling into the street smoothly. “No, it’s just a regular car.”
Harry seriously doubted that. There was a large pothole at the end of the street ” Uncle Vernon had been complaining about it all summer ”, but although she didn’t slow down, he hardly felt the bump at all. Harry looked at her curiously. “Did you say your name was McGonagall?”
“Yes. I think my sister Minerva is your Transfigurations professor.”
“I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“Well, we’re not very close.” She glanced at him, taking her hands from the steering wheel, and the car rounded a corner without benefit of her direction. “She’s a lot older than I am, for one thing.”
“Oh. I didn’t think she’d been at school with my parents.”
“She was, in a way ” she was already teaching by then. Used to drive her crazy, your dad and his gang. I was two years younger, you see, and I didn’t really start hanging around with them until after they left school.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “Not that I was a little angel myself, mind you.”
“Wow.” About a million questions Harry wanted to ask flew through his brain, but she spoke before he could put any of them into words.
“Do you mind if I ask why the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad was retrieving a woman from your dining room ceiling?”
“My Aunt Marge,” Harry said darkly.
Theresa frowned. “I thought your aunt was called Petunia.”
So Harry found himself telling her about his Aunt Marge and the lie Uncle Vernon had made him perpetuate, and what Aunt Marge had said about his parents. Theresa seemed appalled in all the right places, and when he told her how Aunt Marge had swelled up like a hot air balloon, Theresa smiled wickedly and said, “Well, good for you. Times like these, I think the Ministry is too quick to tamper with Muggles’ memories.”
“You said it was the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad? Not the Office of Magical Law Enforcement?”
“Yes. You know, if they arrested every teenager who did what you did, there wouldn’t be any students left at Hogwarts.”
“But last summer I got a warning, and it said I’d be expelled if there was any more magic.”
“Of course they say that sort of thing. It’s the only way to get some people to toe the line.”
“Well, it’s not my fault I keep getting in trouble.”
She grinned at him. “You sound just like your dad. I used to think it was his fault.” She reached over and tousled Harry’s hair. “But then, I used to think his hair stood up like that because he never brushed it, and I see now it was a genetic problem. If I see Lily in the next world, I think I’m going to have to apologize for teasing her about keeping him properly groomed.”
“You must have known my mum pretty well, then,” Harry suggested.
“Oh, yes. Our husbands were always running off to have adventures and leaving us together. We got to be pretty good friends.”
“Would you ” tell me about her?” Harry asked quickly. “Everyone always tells me about my dad.”
She made a thoughtful face. “Oh, Lily was wonderful. Brilliant, of course, but really compassionate, too.” Theresa smiled wistfully. “She had a sense of humor that would always catch you off-guard. You didn’t expect such a quiet, gentle person to say such funny things.” She went on, pretending to drive as she spoke, casting a smile in Harry’s direction every so often. She told him things no one had ever told him before about his parents’ courtship and their wedding. She had a warm laugh and seemed to genuinely enjoy talking about his parents. Harry couldn't help but like her.
They had entered London and were approaching Diagon Alley when Harry said, “I’d like to meet your husband. Do the two of you live in London?”
Theresa’s smile faded, and she hesitated before answering. “I ... lost my husband a long time ago,” she said quietly. “Just after your parents died.”
“I’m sorry. Was it Voldemort’s followers?”
“Yes ... in a way ... but it was mostly his own fault. He was always ... rash.”
Harry had a sudden image of a heroic wizard being destroyed by a blaze of spells from Voldemort’s supporters. Theresa seemed uncomfortable with the subject, though, so Harry let it drop.
A moment later, Theresa had parked her car across from the Leaky Cauldron. It was late, and the street was deserted. She looked at Harry and grimaced. “It’s been lovely talking to you, Harry, but I feel like I should try to convince you to let me take you home.”
Harry set his jaw stubbornly. “I’m not going back there.”
She sighed and looked out the window. “And none of your friends are available?”
“No. I told you, they’re abroad.”
“Hm.” Theresa leaned on the dash, thinking. “You’d be welcome at my place, of course, but you’d have to sleep on the floor.”
“I don’t mind,” Harry said, his heart leaping.
“Are you sure? It’s really quite a dump.” She searched his face. “But I can’t go off and leave you with nowhere to go. All right, then.” She started the car again and pulled away from the Leaky Cauldron.
It was by now quite late, and Harry found himself drowsing against the car window. When the car stopped, Theresa got out and opened the back door. She tapped his trunk with her wand, and it floated out of the car, hovering about a foot off the ground. Harry got out, blinking sleepily, and followed her across a parking lot toward an outdoor staircase, his trunk moving obediently ahead of her. Theresa had just put her foot on the first step when there was a strange popping noise all around them. She turned abruptly. “Harry, look out!”
Harry jerked his wand out of his pocket, looking around at a dozen wizards who had Apparated around them. Someone shouted, “Stupefy!” and a jet of red sparks hit Theresa full in the chest. She dropped to her knees with a grunt, and then fell face-down on the pavement.
Harry looked around wildly. The wizards surrounding them were all wearing robes of the same shade of dark blue, and they advanced slowly, wands at the ready. A footstep crunched on the gravel at Harry’s elbow and he whirled, shouting the first hex that came to mind. “Petrificus totalus!”
The wizard looked quite startled as his arms clamped tightly to his sides and his legs sprang together. He tottered for a moment before falling to the ground. Harry turned back to the other wizards.
“Now, Harry,” one of them said reasonably. He had curly brown hair and a scrubby beard. He held his hands up placatingly. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re with the Office of Magical Law Enforcement.”
“What did you do to Theresa?” Harry demanded.
“She’s just Stunned,” the bearded wizard said. “She’ll be fine when we wake her up.”
“Do it now!”
“Harry”.”
“She didn’t have anything to do with it!” he shouted. “She didn’t know what I did to my aunt! Wake her up now!”
Some of the wizards glanced at each other; Harry heard one of them mutter, “Confunded.” But the bearded one said, “You’re not in trouble, Harry. She’s the one we want.”
“I don’t care! Wake her up!”
The bearded wizard glanced at his comrades and pointed his wand at Theresa. “Enervate,” he muttered, and she came to with a gasp. She rolled over and sat up, shaking her head groggily. Then she jumped to her feet. “What’s going on?”
“You’re under arrest, Theresa,” the bearded wizard said.
“Diggory.” Theresa=s eyes narrowed, focusing on him. “I should have known. Has your wandwork improved, or were you aiming at Harry?”
“It’s you we want. And don’t try to Disapparate, it’ll only make things worse for you.”
“I told you, she didn’t do anything!” Harry cried.
“Hush, Harry,” Theresa said gently. “What are the charges, Diggory?”
“Kidnapping. Conspiracy to commit murder. Aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“What fugitive?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you really think we’re that stupid, Theresa? You’re in the country for no more than a week, and Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban.”
Theresa stared at him. “What?”
“Sirius Black?” Harry said blankly. “That man on the Muggle news?”
Diggory ignored him, grinning at Theresa wickedly. “There are a lot of people who want to talk to you, you know. No one’s ever gotten out of Azkaban before.”
Theresa turned to Harry abruptly. “We’re going to have to go with them, dear.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry said.
“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. They’ll probably just ask you some questions and send you home. I know that’s not where you want to go, but there’s no help for it.” She turned and offered her wand to Diggory. “I suppose you’ll want this.”
Looking disappointed that she hadn’t put up more of a fight, Diggory snatched the wand and waved his at her. Ropes flew out of the end of it and bound her arms together from wrist to elbow. She winced at the tightness of the ropes, and turned back to Harry with a sigh. “Please don’t believe everything they’re going to tell you about me,” she said, and two of the wizards seized her by the elbows while a third took her hands. One of the wizards counted to three, and then all four of them disappeared with a loud pop.
Diggory came to Harry. “That was a close one, lad, but don’t worry, you’ll be just fine.”
“She wasn’t doing anything wrong!” Harry said angrily. “She was just trying to help me!”
“Er ... right ... well, don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted out.” Behind them, another wizard was performing a counter-curse on the wizard Harry had hexed. “We’ll just get over to the Ministry, then,” Diggory said, and took Harry’s arm.
Suddenly, Harry thought he was going to faint. A roar of rushing blood filled his ears, and his vision was crowded out by stars. Then there was a popping noise, and just as suddenly the stars receded. When Harry could see again, he was in an entirely different place.
They were in a square, cement-floored room with one side opened to another, larger room, and blazing fireplaces all around. The three wizards were already pulling Theresa into the other room, and other people were stepping out of the fireplaces or Apparating all around them. Diggory guided Harry after Theresa.
Even though it was now late at night, the room before them bustled with activity. A harrassed-looking clerk sat at a desk by the front door while dozens of owls soared in and out through a small window near the ceiling. Several witches and wizards in the same blue robes were striding here and there across the room, or sitting at other desks writing on parchments or talking to seedy-looking people. On the other side of the office was a series of small rooms, each having a large glass panel in the door. Theresa was being led into one of these rooms.
Diggory led Harry to a chair and pushed him down in it. Harry turned, craning his neck to watch Theresa. He could just see her being pushed into a chair at a table ... the ropes around her arms disappeared ... and then he heard her voice ring clearly across the room ” “I told you, I want to see Albus Dumbledore! I’m not answering any questions until I’ve spoken to Albus Dumble”!” Her voice was cut off as one of the wizards pulled the door shut behind him.
Diggory handed Harry a cup of hot cocoa, but it cooled in Harry’s hands as he watched the wizards arguing with Theresa behind the glass panel in the door. She seemed to be holding her ground, her arms folded across her chest. Then Harry heard a familiar voice right beside him.
“Harry!”
He looked up, and almost spilled his cocoa getting to his feet. “Mr. Weasley! I thought you were in Egypt!”
Mr. Weasley sank into a chair next to Harry. “We just came back this morning. And a good thing, too ” are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but they’re arresting Theresa for kidnapping me, and I’m trying to tell them I asked her to take me to London, and they won’t listen!”
Mr. Weasley frowned and looked over his shoulder. “Amos, did you use the hat on him yet?”
Diggory came closer. “Er ” no, not yet. Paperwork, you know.”
“He’s a young boy and it’s late at night,” Mr. Weasley said firmly. “Use the hat so you can take your statement and he can go to bed. The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll have the press here, you know.”
Diggory turned away, and Harry said, “What hat? Why would the press care?”
“Because it’s you, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said seriously. “Now listen to me. You should know better than to accept rides from strangers. That woman could have hurt you.”
Harry stared at him, appalled. Mr. Weasley didn’t believe him either. “She’s a friend of Hagrid’s! She knew my parents!”
“Did she give you any proof or did you just take her word for it?”
“Well ” I ” but how else would she know how to find me?”
“Muggles have a list of addresses ... it’s called a fellytone book. This woman has been living as a Muggle for a long time; she knows all their tricks.”
Diggory returned with what looked like an old-fashioned bobby hat in the same shade of blue as his uniform. Mr. Weasley took it from Diggory and turned back to Harry. “This is a Confundus Hat, Harry,” he said. “We’re going to put it on your head, and it’s going to tell us if you’ve had a Confundus charm put on you in the last couple of days, all right?”
“She didn’t put a charm on me,” Harry insisted. “She didn’t do anything like that.”
“Harry, you wouldn’t know if she did. And if she didn’t, well, this will tell us for sure, won’t it?”
Harry frowned, but decided that Mr. Weasley was right. He let him put the hat on his head. He felt an odd sort of vibration, as though the hat were buzzing, which slowly faded away. Then a gravelly voice above his head said, “Nothing, chief. Straight as an arrow.”
Mr. Weasley and Officer Diggory looked at each other.
“It’s never failed before,” Diggory said.
“Some people don’t need magic to trick you,” Mr. Weasley said wearily, pulling the hat off Harry's head.
“She didn't trick me! Look, I left my uncle and aunt’s house, and ”!”
“Steady on, now,” Diggory said, fumbling in one of his desk drawers. He withdrew a parchment and a small black quill. “August Fifth,” he said, licking the end of it, “Amos Diggory, officer in charge. Testimony of Harry Potter, witnessed by Arthur Weasley.” He set the quill, point down, on the parchment, and it balanced there for a moment. Then it began to glide across the page by itself, writing what Diggory had said. “Now, go on, Harry,” Diggory urged. “You left your uncle and aunt’s house, and then...?”
Harry told them the whole story, the quill flying across the parchment, getting every word. When he was finished, Diggory frowned. “You didn’t feel threatened by her at any point, Harry? She didn’t ask any odd questions?”
“Not unless you consider being interested in my opinion to be odd,” Harry said coldly.
Diggory put away the quill, and Mr. Weasley got to his feet. Harry stood up too, looking over his shoulder at Theresa, who was still sitting in the tiny room behind them, glaring at an officer who seemed to have given up trying to interrogate her.
“Well, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, “That business with your aunt has been sorted out, but ... well ... the Dursleys didn’t seem too interested in your coming home, so I offered to have you stay with us for the rest of the summer. If that’s all right with you.”
For the first time since his arrival, Harry felt a surge of relief. “That would be great.”
“His trunk is over there,” Diggory said, jerking a thumb. “We may have to call him in again for more questions, Arthur.”
“You know where to find me,” Mr. Weasley said, crossing the room to get Harry’s trunk. Harry followed him as he magicked the trunk the same way Theresa had. “Can’t I say goodbye to Theresa?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Harry.”
Harry scowled, following Mr. Weasley to the entrance of the room where Harry and Officer Diggory had arrived. He stopped to look over his shoulder one last time, and someone coming out of the cement-floored room knocked into him.
“Look where you’re going,” he muttered rudely, pushing past Harry.
Harry stared after the black-robed wizard as he approached the clerk. It was Professor Snape, Harry's least favorite teacher from Hogwarts. As Harry watched, wide-eyed, the clerk pointed out Officer Diggory. Snape drew some papers from the folds of his robes, but when Diggory approached him, Snape looked up and saw Theresa from across the room. He brushed Diggory aside and strode purposefully toward her.
Snape had just reached for the doorknob when Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, Harry, it’s late.”
* * *
Theresa was rubbing her forehead, which she was sure was still imprinted with the texture of a gravel parking lot, when the door across from her opened. “Back for more, are you?” she said. Then she looked up and sat back in her chair, shocked. “Severus?”
Severus looked at her sternly, but then the door opened behind him and Diggory took him by the arm. “Look here, this woman is under arrest. You can’t just barge in here and ”.”
Severus shoved a parcel into his hands. “You will find here a letter from Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts, stating that this woman was with him when the breakout occurred. You will also find a letter from Albus Dumbledore vouching for Hagrid.”
Diggory turned the letters over in his hands. “Yes ... well ... there’s still the matter of the boy, and a restraining order...”
“... Which expired eight years ago,” Severus said coldly. “You have no cause to hold this woman.”
“Er ... right. Um. I’ll just go and make sure these are in order.” Diggory left the room.
Severus turned back to Theresa. “I’m a charitable person,” he said silkily, “and so I’m willing to assume that there was a pressing reason why you came all the way to Hogwarts last week and didn’t bother to see me.”
“You were at Hogwarts?” Theresa said blankly. “What were you doing there?”
“I live there.” He sat across from her at the table. “Hagrid didn’t tell you?”
“I suppose he forgot we were friends. And I didn’t think to ask him about you ” what are you doing at Hogwarts? You’re not teaching?”
Severus drew himself up a little. “I’m the Potions Master.”
“Really? Wow. I never would have imagined you as a teacher.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I mean ” I’m sure you’re very good at it.” She smiled sheepishly. “Look, I tried to get in touch with you. I went by your old place, but the people there had never heard of you. Then I went to your Aunt Eglantine’s house, thinking she’d know where you were, but she was dead and buried. I’ve only been in the country for a week and a half. I just hadn’t tracked you down yet.”
Severus’ glare cooled just a bit. He glanced at his fingernails. “It’s starting to be a habit, bailing you out like this.”
“I don’t think twice in twelve years is a habit,” Theresa said primly.
“Three times. I’m going to have to start charging you for my services.”
She leaned her chin on her hands. “Is there a frequency discount?”
Severus gave her a rare smile. Theresa sighed in relief. At least one person in Britain was glad to see her.
Chapter 3 -- Lost Dog by ThessalyRose
Severus Snape sat in a secluded booth in the Three Broomsticks holding a small photograph in an ebony frame. The teenaged girl in the picture brushed her shaggy blond hair back, smiling impishly, and threw her arms around her companion’s shoulders, kissing his neck exuberantly. The gangly youth in the photo, looking like he might topple under the girl’s onslaught, smiled faintly from under a mop of greasy black hair, managing to look embarrassed and pleased at the same time, and slipped a hand around her waist. Just a year later, Severus remembered, they had both promised their futures to other people, with disastrous consequences. He slid the photo back into an inner pocket, rubbing his forearm unconsciously, and looked up to see the adult Tess McGonagall approaching.
“Hello, Severus,” she said, smiling a bit wanly.
“Good afternoon.” He rose until she had seated herself across from him. Rosmerta came over and, casting a suspicious glance at Tess, took their drink orders. After her high heels tapped away from them, Severus found himself staring at the woman across the table from him, trying to put his finger on the subtle changes in her appearance. She’d grown her hair out, of course, and tamed it into a long braid which today was wrapped around her head like a crown. She was more muscular than she had been twelve years ago, and she carried herself differently. She was wearing jeans and what seemed to be a sleeveless vest of black leather, which were precisely what he would have expected of her, but over that she wore a billowy robe that seemed to be made of sari silk. Most intriguingly, something about her eyes was different. More guarded. He wondered if she’d learned Occlumency, and what could have happened to her to require such a skill.
She settled herself gracefully in her seat and said, abruptly, “So, I’ll give you three minutes to tell me everything that has happened to you in the last twelve years.” She looked at her watch. “Starting … now.”
Perhaps not so much changed, he thought, catching the hint of challenge in her eyes. Severus made her wait, as though he were considering an appropriate answer, before finally declaring, “Absolutely nothing worth mentioning.”
Tess grinned. “Oh good. You can’t have missed me, then.”
“Of course I have. My life is incredibly dull without you around to complicate it.”
Rosmerta brought their drinks. This time, Tess caught the unfriendly glare. Her eyes followed the innkeeper back to the bar while her smile faded. She heaved a sigh. “Mine has been much too complicated.”
She turned her attention to her Gillywater and didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, so Severus offered, “Hagrid told me you’ve traveled around the world.”
“More or less. I never got to China.”
“Why not?”
She leaned back and took a deep breath. “By the time I got to Indonesia, I was tired of wandering. Some … unfortunate things happened to me there, and I decided to leave, and that’s when I heard about a place in Australia where you could go and never see another human being for years and years. It sounded like a good place. Peaceful. So I went there, and I lived in the desert for six months. I did a lot of thinking there. And I realized I had to come home.”
“Why?” Severus asked softly, not daring to hope.
She met his eyes, smiling sadly. “Unfinished business. There were too many people here I cared about, and who might still care about me. Or so I thought. Experience seems to be proving me wrong.”
“There are still those who care about you, Tess.”
She looked down at her hands and said, “I would prefer that you call me Theresa.”
Inexplicably, Severus felt as if the air had rushed out of his lungs. When he could breathe again, he said lightly, “Of course. Theresa.”
An awkward silence spread between them. Finally, Theresa looked around and said, “Well, this place hasn’t changed at all in twelve years, has it?”
“No,” Severus replied bitterly, “It would seem not.”
* * *
Late that night, Theresa sat forlornly on a bench in the Hogsmeade train station, staring into empty space. Twelve years ago, after an even more disastrous interview with Severus, she had gotten on a train here and never returned. She had believed there was nothing left for her here. Now she was back, and so far, she had found that Remus wouldn’t talk to her, Mad-Eye Moody ” whom she had grown up calling “Uncle”” had tried to blow her head off, Dumbledore had helped her avoid prison but hadn’t tried to contact her afterwards, Severus still wanted more than she was willing to give him, and the authorities were still determined to keep her away from Harry.
Minerva hadn’t returned from Greenland yet, but Theresa had heard from her solicitor, who had confirmed that Minerva was trying to have her declared legally dead, “for the sake of closure.” He was sure Minerva would be glad to hear from Theresa, he’d written, but Theresa was sure she wouldn’t be. Theresa technically owned the house Minerva lived in when she wasn’t at Hogwarts. Their parents had left it in her name, and it was only with her permission that Minerva lived there. Theresa had never grudged it to her ” after all, Theresa had lived in London with Sirius since she was eighteen ” but apparently Minerva wanted to make the arrangement more permanent. They had never been close, and the year Theresa had lived with her after their parents’ deaths had badly damaged what minimal relationship they’d had, but it was still a bitter blow to find herself nothing more than a legal complication to the only relative she had left.
Perhaps, she thought, drawing her knees up to her chin, she’d been right to leave. Perhaps she should get on the train when it arrived in the morning, and keep going until she got to China. No one would miss her here.
With a sigh, she stood up and paced the length of the platform. Even if no one here would miss her, she had to admit that she missed them. She had always told herself that she would find somewhere nice, or someone nice, and settle down to lead the peaceful, domestic life that was all she’d ever wanted. But no matter where she went, no matter who she met, it was never right. It wasn’t home. Now she’d been wandering for so long, seen so much action, she didn’t know if she was even capable of settling down. But she wasn’t happy wandering “ her stay in Australia had taught her that. So where did that leave her?
Thus far, she had been able to avoid looking at the wanted poster stuck to a pillar across the platform from her, but now she approached it and looked Sirius Black in the eye for the first time in twelve years. Azkaban had been cruel to him. His face was gaunt as a skeleton, his handsome smile dead and gone, and his eyes were hollow and haunted. Overcome by a sudden wave of longing, she leaned her head against the pillar and sobbed. She had been so angry with him when he went away. Just like her father. How could she love another man when such horrible things happened to the men she loved?
She stood there crying, her head bowed against the pillar, until she could feel the cold concrete pressing into her forehead. Then, suddenly coming to a decision, she stepped back, tore down the poster and rolled it into a tube. Then she turned on her heel and marched out of the train station without looking back.
* * *
Theresa had visited twenty-two countries in twelve years, and in none of them had wizards been as segregated from Muggles as in Britain. She had wanted to take lodgings in a wizard inn, just because it would be more respectable, but thanks to the awful picture of her that had run right on the front page of the Daily Prophet ” her hair all awry and a disgusted look on her face as she Disapparated to get away from the mob of reporters who had charged her on the Ministry steps ” she couldn't find an inn that would have her. She'd changed most of her cash to Muggle money anyway, so she had taken a room in a Muggle place and used her Muggle car to get around. It was probably better to avoid notice in any case.
The afternoon after her meeting with Severus, Theresa stood on a rocky Scottish shore, not far from where she had sat on her car reminiscing about her parents, looking out at the deadly-looking rock barely visible between the sky and the sea. Was it possible for anyone to swim that far?
As possible as it is to escape in the first place, she thought, looking down at the photocopied bill in her hand, with the large heading, “Lost Dog,” sprawling across it in her best formal, Hogwarts-trained handwriting. Living in a Muggle place had its advantages, she reflected. Muggle places had telephones. Turning to face inland, she scanned the coast. If you'd just landed here, and you were cold and wet and probably hungry, which way would you go first?
Chapter 4 -- Theresa Black by ThessalyRose
Author's Notes:
Sorry for the long delay, folks. This chapter got rejected the first time, but I think it's okay now.
The events of Harry's trip on the Hogwarts Express had driven all thought of Theresa from his mind until he was in the corridor outside Professor McGonagall's office, waiting for her to finish with Hermione so they could go down to the feast. When Hermione emerged from McGonagall's office looking very happy about something, he immediately said, "Professor?"
"Yes?"
"I met your sister this summer, and I was wondering if you would give her a message for me the next time you see her?"
Professor McGonagall didn't look at him as they started down the marble staircase. She pressed her lips together and said stiffly, "I haven't seen my sister in twelve years, Potter, and I don't expect to see her for another twelve."
Stunned, Harry stopped short and stared at her. "But ” she said she came here to see you this summer!"
"I spent the summer with friends in Greenland." Professor McGonagall stopped and turned back to him. She said gently, "My sister was blessed with a charming nature, Potter. She has fooled wizards much less trusting than you are. It's how she gets along in the world."
Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically. Professor McGonagall smoothed her robes and turned back toward the Great Hall. "Come along, then. We'll have missed the sorting by now."
* * *
The next day at lunch, Harry told Ron what McGonagall had said. "There has to be some explanation." He shook his head. "I know she wasn't trying to hurt me. I just know it."
"I dunno, Harry," Ron said between mouthfuls of mashed potato. "The way Mum and Dad talked about her, you'd think she was the bride of You-Know-Who."
"I know you were hoping you'd met someone who knew about your parents, Harry," Hermione said gently, "But don't you think she could have been making up all the stuff she told you?"
Scowling, Harry stood up and hefted his bag.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked with dismay, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth.
"We have Care of Magical Creatures next," Harry said. "I'm going to go early and ask Hagrid about Theresa." He turned and left them both at the table.
Trudging down to Hagrid's hut, he struggled between his annoyance at Ron and Hermione and the cheering effects of the bright sunshine. Hagrid was anxiously pacing the length of the small dooryard of his cottage while Fang trotted behind him on his leash. When he saw Harry coming, he stopped and grinned widely. "Harry!" he called cheerfully. "Lookin' forward to our firs' class, I see! Knew I could coun' on yeh."
Ignoring this, Harry asked, "Hagrid, did Theresa McGonagall come to see you this summer?"
Hagrid frowned and reached down to pat Fang's head absently. "Er, no, not exactly."
Harry felt his face fall.
"I mean," Hagrid continued, "Really she came ter see Professor McGonagall, didn' she? She looked so disappointed tha' she wasn' here, I invited her in for a cuppa."
"So you did see her?" Harry said eagerly. "She told me she had come here, but then Professor McGonagall said she hadn't seen her."
"Sad business, tha' is." Hagrid nodded."When fam'ly don' get along. Brave of Theresa to turn up in the firs' place, if yeh ask me."
"Why don't they get along?" Harry asked.
"Yeh'll have to ask them about tha', Harry. Ain' none of my business." He looked over Harry's head toward the school, then resumed pacing.
Harry said, "But, you did ask her to look in on me when she got back to London, didn't you?"
Hagrid glanced at him sideways. "No, I wouldn'a done tha'. I knew she'd get inter trouble if she wen' to see yeh."
"Why? Why does everyone think she was trying to hurt me?" Harry demanded.
Hagrid shook his head, frowning. "Look, it ain' my place ter be tellin' yeh tha'. Theresa don' mean yeh no harm, tha's what Dumbledore says, and tha's good enough fer me."
"But they arrested her, Hagrid!"
"Tha's her own fault. She should know better'n ter get mixed up with yeh again."
"Again? What do you mean, 'again?'"
Before Hagrid could answer, a bell rang somewhere in the castle, and students started coming out of the front doors and strolling down the sloping lawns toward them. Hagrid made himself busy pulling on his moleskin overcoat. Harry would have to wait for more answers.
That night, Harry awoke in the dark and jumped out of bed, his mind lit by an idea so simple, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. He opened his trunk and felt around in the bottom of it until he found the photo album Hagrid had given him two years earlier. Climbing back into bed, Harry flipped through the album by wand light, scanning each photo of his parents until he found the one he wanted.
His mum sat up in a bed, looking tired but triumphant, holding a tiny, newborn Harry in her arms. Leaning in from either side were Harry's dad, waving and adjusting his glasses with a big grin, and Theresa, who seemed to be laughing at a joke as she turned away from the camera to make eyes at the baby. Thirteen years hadn't changed her face very much, but there was a difference about the eyes ... Harry had to think for a moment before he could place it. The woman he had met that summer had a bit of a muted look to her eyes, as though even when she was smiling she was still a little bit sad. The woman in the picture had nothing but happiness in her eyes. Harry realized her husband must have been taking the picture, and that of the five people in that room, Harry and Theresa were the only ones still alive. Still clutching the photo album, Harry drifted back to sleep and dreamed about a huge, flying motorcycle.
* * *
Deep in the Forbidden Forest, Theresa crouched on a tree branch, wrapping her Chameleon Cloak around her carefully. Ten feet below her, a juvenile Acromantula scuttled into view and paused to look around. Theresa raised the cloak to cover her face. James Potter himself had put the permanent Disillusionment charm on it, many years ago, and it had served Theresa well during her years of exile. The four-foot spider would hardly be a challenge to her ” there was a village in Indonesia where she would always be remembered as "the Spider Slayer" ” but becoming an enemy to the local Acromantula tribe could make her task here more difficult.
When Theresa looked again, the animal was moving on. She found North with her wand and swung down from the tree, keeping well away from the spider. It had taken her weeks to track Sirius to the Forest, but she was certain he was hiding here somewhere. Now she was following one game trail after another, searching for any sign of him. Coming to a spot where the trail turned into soft earth, she crouched and shined a blue light from her wand over the dirt, illuminating one footprint after another. Acromantula ... something hoofed, probably a deer ... rabbit ... a huge goat ... no, that must be a unicorn ... tire tracks ”?
Suddenly, a deer spooked out of the bushes just ahead and bolted up the path straight at her. Theresa dove out of its way and rolled to her feet, looking around wildly. Deer didn't just bolt for no good reason.
The forest was silent. Too silent; the birds and locusts knew something was wrong too. She fought an instinct to climb a tree ” many things could climb better than she could, and anything big enough to hunt a deer was big enough to hunt Theresa. Holding her breath, she strained her ears to hear any sign of movement.
She whirled an instant before the attack came. An Acromantula that was taller than she was grabbed her with the sharp hooks on the ends of its feet and jerked her towards its dripping jaws. "Impedimenta!" Theresa cried, and the spider lurched backwards, dropping her. She scrambled to her feet and turned to run, but the spider leapt on top of her, its awful weight bearing her to the ground. Theresa tried to roll out from under it and collided hard with three of its legs. The spider collapsed, its exoskeleton missing her by inches. Before it could regain its balance, she got free and came to her feet. "Oculus Acies!" she shouted, throwing as much power behind the spell as she could. The Acromantula screeched, flailing its legs as her Conjunctivitis Curse seared its many eyes.
Theresa turned and hared away. Acromantulas hated that curse; it would be furious when it recovered. Fortunately, they weren't good trackers, so if she could just get far enough away from the beast ”.
Before she'd gotten thirty feet, though, a second Acromantula sprang out of the undergrowth, narrowly missing Theresa's head. She skidded to a stop ” the monster changed direction and sprang at her again ” she waved her wand clumsily and shouted "Contego!" The spider bounced off the invisible barrier she'd conjured between them. Backing away, Theresa saw that the first Acromantula had recovered and was scuttling towards them. She cried, "Locomotor Mortis!" at the nearer spider before turning and bolting as fast as she could. Behind her, she heard a squeal of displeasure and knew her Leg-Locker Curse had hit home.
A fallen log barred her path, and she vaulted over it, hoping to find another game trail. The heavy undergrowth impeded her more than the leggy Acromantula, which she could now hear crashing through the bushes behind her. Her mind was racing as fast as her legs ” briars and nettles wouldn't get through its bony armor ... it could climb trees faster than she could ... she didn't think it could swim, but no body of water presented itself ... she could run longer than it could, if only she had bought herself enough of a head start ” she must be nearing the school now; surely it wouldn't chase her within range of Hagrid's crossbow ” but she could hear it getting closer ... it was nearly within springing distance ”.
Suddenly, the ground dropped out from under her. She rolled down a steep slope and scrambled to her feet. She tried to keep running, but she'd twisted her ankle. She swore, but looking up, she saw a split-rail fence ahead of her. Surely that meant Hagrid was nearby! Gritting her teeth against the pain, she struggled to the fence and scrambled over it. She started to dash forwards, then stopped abruptly.
Seven pairs of yellow eyes turned to peer at her suspiciously. She was surrounded by an entire herd of Hippogriffs. She ducked her head into a bow so fast she nearly toppled over and waited, panting, her eyes darting from one regal beast to another. Getting no response ” it was a bad idea to try this with seven Hippogriffs at once ” she started to back away from them. Before she reached the fence, the gray one and the black one squawked indignantly, reared up and hurled themselves at her with wings spread wide. Theresa turned to run ” and found herself face-to-face with the Acromantula. It reared back, ready to strike ” Theresa shrieked and flung herself out of the way ” the two Hippogriffs shot over her head and tore into the Acromantula.
Staring at the titanic battle before her, Theresa backed into one of the other Hippogriffs. She turned and bowed quickly, but it gave her a dismissive nod and turned back to the fight. The two Hippogriffs made short work of the spider, and it soon retreated, leaving one of its legs behind. Pressing a hand to her chest and trying to catch her breath, Theresa bowed to the gray and the black in turn, trying to remember what Hagrid had called them when he'd introduced them to her this summer. They bowed regally, and then she flung her arms around the gray one's neck, hugging it in gratitude.
After hugging the black Hippogriff and then the roan one, which hadn't fought the spider but seemed to want a hug anyway, she limped out of their pen and started toward Hagrid's hut to ask him to wrap her ankle. At least she knew which part of the Forest Sirius probably wasn't hiding in.
* * *
The commotion following the discovery of Sirius Black's attempt to break into Gryffindor Tower had long since died down, and Harry was near to drifting off in his sleeping bag in the Great Hall when he heard the tread of two people passing near his head.
*"Headmaster?" It was Snape, followed by Professor McGonagall. Harry kept quite still, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."
"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"
"All searched," Professor McGonagall said.
"Very well," Professor Dumbledore sighed. "I didn't really expect Black to linger."
"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Snape.
Harry raised his head very slightly off his arms to free his other ear.
"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."
Harry opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's and McGonagall's profiles. Snape looked angry, McGonagall very worried.
"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before ” ah ” the start of term?" said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation.
"I do, Severus," said Dumbledore, and there was something like a warning in his voice.
"It seems ” almost impossible ” that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed ...."
"If anyone helped him," McGonagall interrupted, whispering hotly, "I think it is obvious who that would be, Severus."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Theresa has not been here today."
"But Hagrid saw her in the Forest last week. She's taken a room in Hogsmeade, hasn't she?"
"No one in Hogsmeade will rent to her," Snape hissed through clenched teeth. "She's living in the Muggle village on the other side of the mountain, because of close-minded people like ...."
"I do not believe a single person inside this castle ” or Theresa Black ” would have helped Black enter it," said Dumbledore, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that no one replied. Dumbledore turned and walked away, followed doggedly by Percy. McGonagall cast a spurious glare at Snape and moved off. Snape stood for a moment, watching the others with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.
Harry glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Both of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.
"Theresa Black?" Ron mouthed.
*This passage borrows heavily from Prisoner of Azkaban, Chapter Nine, Pages 165-166, American hardback edition.
Chapter 5 --
Inhalus by ThessalyRose
Chapter Five
Inhalus
A/N: A couple of the details here were taken from the movie and not the books, and I’m aware that’s not considered to be strictly canon, but they don’t conflict with canon events and I like ‘em, so they’re staying.
Theresa felt a bit like a salmon heading upstream as she edged through the crowd of students bolting from the great hall toward the Quidditch pitch through the driving rain. Inside, Severus left off pacing and came to her with with his usual scowl. “You’re late.”
“Afraid you’d have to bail me out again tonight?” Theresa asked cheerfully, wringing water out of her braid.
“Of course not.” He opened an umbrella and, holding it over the both of them, ushered her back into the storm outside. “I’d have waited until morning.”
The old Quidditch pitch, hardly changed since her own school days, brought back fond memories of games long gone, of James Potter and Sirius Black showing off on their brooms, and of sneaking under the stands with her boyfriends. But her most compelling reason to come walked onto the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor team a few moments after she sat down next to Severus. Barely visible in the driving rain, Harry Potter kicked off from the ground when the whistle blew and glanced apprehensively at the unrelenting sky.
It was a wild game. Besides blinding the players and blowing quaffles and bludgers off-course, the storm made the team's broomsticks slippery, so that one of the Chasers came out of a spin and whirled an extra time around her broom after it had stopped. Undeterred, the crowd roared and screamed as the players swooped around the pitch. Caught up in the enthusiasm when Harry made a particularly stunning dive, Theresa sprang to her feet and shouted “Go, Harry!” before she remembered she was sitting in the Slytherin stands. “Sorry,” she muttered to Severus, bowing her head to avoid the dirty looks from all sides.
“Don’t expect me to defend you if you get mobbed,” he sneered.
She grinned at him, her eyes drawn immediately back to Harry’s scarlet robes as he streaked back down the pitch.
Suddenly, a chill blast of air washed over her. The crowd seemed to have gotten quieter. Someone in the stands below them screamed. “Dementors!” Severus hissed, standing up.
Theresa came to her feet too. The ground thirty feet below them was filled with Dementors, hundreds of them. “Dumbledore will be furious,” Severus said.
“Oh, no! Look up there!” someone shouted. Theresa jerked her head up and gasped in horror. A hundred feet in the air, a scarlet shape plummeted toward the ground. Theresa didn't have to read the number on his back to know who it was.
Without thinking, she fought her way to the aisle and ran to the bottom row, clasping the soggy railing. There was nothing she could do ” he wouldn't be in range of her wand until it was too late. Then Dumbledore’s voice rang out from the other side of the pitch. “Arresto Momentum!” Harry’s body slowed abruptly before slamming into the ground. Theresa threw her legs over the guardrail in front of her. She heard Severus cry her name just before she jumped.
She didn’t blame him for being startled; slowing one’s own fall was difficult magic, but Theresa had gotten plenty of practice during six months chasing Yeti around the Himalayas. Even so, she landed a bit hard on one foot and stumbled, but quickly righted herself and ran toward the crowd of Dementors now circling around Harry’s still form. She summoned her Patronus at a dead run; the huge white lionness loped ahead of her and cleared a path. She could hear Dumbledore shouting. She reached Harry and flung herself to her knees over him.
He looked so small, lying there with his robes spread around him. He wasn’t breathing. Theresa tapped his chest with her wand. “Inhalus!” He drew in a deep breath, held it for an interminable instant, then came to in a fit of coughing. Theresa slid an arm under his shoulders, shielding his face from the pounding rain with her cloak, but he sank back again, unconscious. Theresa whirled her cloak off, put a Warming Charm on it, and wrapped him in it.
Running feet approached her. “What on earth do you think you’re doing??” It was Minerva.
“He’s breathing now,” Theresa said. “I think he’ll be all right.”
“Get away from him!” She pointed her wand at Theresa’s face. “You have no right!”
“He wasn’t breathing!” Theresa shouted. “Should I let him die because I don’t have your permission to help him?!”
“Ladies, you will kindly allow me to remove Harry to the hospital wing before you start hexing each other,” Dumbledore said brusquely, stepping between them to kneel over Harry.
Guiltily, Theresa realized she was pointing her wand at Minerva. She lowered it and turned to Harry. “He wasn’t breathing, Professor, but I gave him a little Inhalus Charm, and he started right up again.”
“Hopefully he just had his breath knocked out of him.” Dumbledore conjured a stretcher and lifted Harry onto it. He levitated it to waist height. Minerva started to remove Theresa’s cloak.
“Leave it,” Dumbledore said, a little sharply. Startled, Minerva put it back the way it was. “Theresa, will you please find his glasses and then join us in the hospital wing?” Dumbledore said.
“Yes, of course.” She glanced around, spied his glasses and Summoned them to her. Then she dashed after Dumbledore and Minerva.
* * *
Theresa remained in the hospital wing with Harry for nearly an hour. Slowly, his friends and teammates assembled, until his bed was surrounded by dripping, mud-spattered teenagers, who stood around him whispering and casting furtive glances at her.
Meanwhile, muffled inside Madame Pomfrey’s office, Minerva was shouting at Dumbledore. Theresa could only make out bits of it, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t exactly how Theresa had pictured their first meeting in fourteen years.
“... and poor Harry helpless ...could have done who knows what!”
“She’s McGonagall’s sister? Really?” one of the Quidditch players hissed. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“... Keeping the Dementors out, then letting a Death Eater waltz in here ...!”
“If you had a sister like that,” another student answered, “would you talk about her?”
“... Need I remind you that she was a murderer before she ever got involved with Black!”
“Why did Dumbledore let her stay? If Professor McGonagall doesn’t even want her around, you’d think ”.”
“Children,” Theresa said irritably, “if you’re going to gossip about me while I’m in the same room, I must insist you do so more quietly.”
They flinched, as though expecting her to hex them, and fell silent. The nurse’s office fell silent too; perhaps Minerva had realized she could hear her. After a pause, Theresa heard Dumbledore speak quietly. She hoped he was telling Minerva off.
Just then, Harry's eyes opened and he sat up suddenly. “What happened?”
There was a clamor of voices as his friends tried to explain it all at once. Theresa sighed, smiling wanly. She heard a footstep beside her and turned to see Severus approaching from down the ward, looking sulky.
“I take it Potter has survived?” he said.
“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder at the assembled kids. Despite Harry's disappointment at learning that Gryffindor had lost the Quidditch match, his voice sounded like music to Theresa.
“Then I expect you'll still want to have dinner with me?” Severus asked.
“Yes.” She pushed herself upright. “Yes, I do.” She smiled at him. “It'd take more than a personal tragedy to dissuade me from your cooking.”
Looking mollified, he started to lead her toward the door. Theresa cast a last glance over her shoulder at Harry, thinking that he probably didn't want anything to do with her anyway, but to her surprise, he peered around someone's waist and said, “Theresa? are you leaving?”
Leaving Severus with a disapproving frown on his face, she went to Harry's bedside. “I'm not going far, Harry. I'll come back and see you when you aren't so swamped.”
He looked unconvinced. “I didn't know you were going to be here.”
“I just came to watch you play Quidditch. You have all your friends here now. I'll come back when we can chat. I promise.”
Harry sighed. “All right, then.”
Theresa squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll come back tomorrow sometime.”
“Yes, please,” he said, looking past her to return Severus' scowl. Theresa gave Harry an amused smile and allowed Severus to lead her out of the hospital wing.
* * *
The rain stopped, mercifully, before the lake overflowed and the merpeople invaded Hogwarts, and the morning after the Quidditch match dawned clear and chilly. Around noon, Theresa entered the Forbidden Forest to take the shortcut between the Muggle village where she was staying and Hogwarts.
She had nearly given up searching for Sirius in the forest, but nevertheless she pointed her wand at the path ahead of her and said, “Indago.” A thin blue light shot out of her wand, illuminating the jumble of footprints in the dust of the game trail ahead of her. She prowled forward, halfheartedly scanning the tracks while also keeping an eye out for danger. Wrapped in her Chameleon Cloak, she knew she’d be hard to see, and for added protection she cast a Look-the-Other-Way spell, a handy little charm that didn’t make you invisible, per se, but encouraged people “ and beasts “ to fail to notice you.
As much as she wanted to see Harry again, she couldn’t muster much speed along the forest trail. She was not looking forward to explaining the awful things he’d undoubtedly been told about her. Though he had seemed to be anxious to see her again; that was definitely a good sign. She hoped Minerva hadn’t noticed that; she didn’t fancy the idea of a glowering chaperone.
Abruptly, Theresa stopped. She ran her wand across the trail ahead of her again. There, shining blue under the leaf litter, were huge paw marks. She looked up the path, her heart suddenly pounding. No, it couldn’t be. It was a werewolf; there had been a full moon last night. She knelt to examine the tracks. It wasn’t a werewolf, werewolves were bigger than that. She focused her tracking spell, now that she had an actual trail to follow, and shined her wand up the path. Faint blue paw prints appeared, fading into the distance. She scrambled to her feet and hurried after them, afraid they’d vanish if she delayed.
An hour later, she was staring at the muddy bank of a stream that had been nothing more than a deep rill before the rain started. The mud here had been churned up by dozens of animals that had paused here for a sip of water. Despite the mess, however, one single footprint stood out to her: a man’s footprint. She heaved a disbelieving laugh. He had paused here to bathe and needed fingers to wash himself with. The paw prints returned to the path and continued on their way. She followed them.
After some time, the tracks left the trail and became harder to follow. They were approaching Hogwarts, but on the other side of the lake from Hagrid’s hut and the Hippogriff pen. She had been to this part of the forest before, and never found anything. This part of the forest was relatively uninhabited; the Centaurs lived nearby and kept most of the dangerous stuff out.
She was so intent on following the trail that she didn’t notice when her Look-the-Other-Way spell wore off, or even when the sun began to set. She prowled forward, head down, watching the tracks grow fresher and more distinct, until finally, a movement ahead brought her to a halt.
She lit her wand and raised it above her head. She could hear something breathing in the shadows ahead of her. Something big. She took a step forward. “Sirius?”
Her eyes had just found the outlines of a huge black dog when it turned and bolted. Theresa ran after him, calling, “Wait! Sirius! It’s me!”
She chased him through scrub and bushes, over rocks, through dense thickets. He was trying to lose her, but she had been searching for him for too long to give up now. They were approaching the edge of the forest. He must have gotten lost; they were almost on the school grounds now.
He disappeared behind the biggest yew tree Theresa had ever seen. When she came around it after him, he exploded out of the darkness at her, his paws landing on her chest and throwing her to the ground. Instinctively, she punched the beast in the neck. He yelped and sprang off her. She rolled to her feet, but she’d dropped her wand into the leaf litter of the darkening forest. “Accio!”
It jumped into the air and hurtled toward her, but the dog leapt up and caught it between his teeth. “No!” Theresa twisted and kicked the dog in the mouth. Sirius dropped the wand, but stepped between it and Theresa. He snarled at her, ears back, crouching as if to spring.
Despite what he might assume, Theresa wasn’t helpless without her wand. She dropped into a ready position, fists clenched at waist level, elbows tucked in, weight balanced on the balls of her feet. He hesitated, perhaps puzzled by this change in her.
“Sirius…,” she began, but the dog sprang. She dodged sideways. “Accio wand!” Sirius landed, pivoted, and sprang again … Theresa whirled and pointed her wand at him, but his jaws closed on her wrist with a sickening crunch. She shrieked and tried to shake him off, but he held firm. She managed an Impediment Jinx. He was thrown backwards, but the wand tumbled from her slackening fingers.
Theresa staggered back, clutching her mangled arm to her stomach. Sirius turned to face her. Their eyes met. They both glanced down at the wand lying between them. As one, they hurled themselves at it. Sirius transformed in midair. Cold, gray, clawlike hands scrabbled over her own. They both clasped the wand at the same time.
A spell hit her in the chest like the kick of a horse, toppling her backwards. Sirius plunged into her field of view, the wand aimed between her eyes. She cringed, raising her arms over her face. “I’m not going back to Azkaban alive, do you understand me?” he bellowed. “Get up! Get up!” He jerked her broken arm, trying to raise her to her feet. She cried out in pain. The night constricted around her. She fainted.
When she came to with the bloody tang of magic in her mouth, he was hauling her to her feet. He pulled her good arm across his shoulders and half-carried, half-dragged her through the forest, growling under his breath. “Stupid woman … serve you right if I left you there … what the hell is the matter with you, anyway? Don’t you read the papers? ‘Sirius Black is a highly dangerous madman … only highly trained hit wizards from the Ministry of Magic stand a chance’ … now I’ll have to find a new place to live … mind the tree root there … you’re not an Auror, are you?” He stopped abruptly and shined a light from her wand in her face.
She squinted at him, blinking. “You “ you don’t know me?”
“Why should I know you? You a celebrity, or something? We don’t get the wireless in Azkaban.” He resumed dragging her through the woods. Branches clawed at her clothing, but she was too stunned by his response to care.
“Didn’t mean to hurt you,” he muttered, “Padfoot gets the better of me sometimes, comes from being a dog too long. But honestly ” chasing me through the woods like that ” how did you know it was me, anyway?”
“I’d know you anywhere … but you wouldn’t hurt me … you couldn’t …”
“Could, and did.” The trees were growing thinner. Hogwarts’ towers loomed in the distance. “Know me anywhere? You do look a little familiar. Are you an old girlfriend, maybe?”
“You could say that,” she said faintly.
They came to the edge of the Forest. Sirius looked around furtively. “I’d best not go any further.” He set her on her feet and turned her to face him. “Don’t come looking for me again. I won’t pull my punches next time.” He turned her back towards Hogwarts and shoved her out of the trees. She stumbled for a few steps and collapsed to the ground.
“Hang on,” he said. She sat on the grass and looked up at him, blinking tears out of her eyes. He hurried over to her and yanked the Chameleon Cloak from her shoulders. She cried out as the movement jarred her injured arm. “Sorry, love, but I need it more than you do.” He turned to go, wrapping the cloak around him and sniffing it experimentally.
She watched him disappear into the woods. Then she turned and began to drag herself, painfully, across the grass.
Chapter 6 -- Help is Always Given by ThessalyRose
Theresa was looking at herself in a mirror, and she was wearing a beautiful wedding dress. Lily Potter was there, looking lovely in her bridesmaid's gown. Theresa walked up the aisle alone, but her mum and dad were among the guests, and so were Severus and Dumbledore, and the ancient wizard Ptolemy, for some reason.
Sirius was waiting for her, smiling. He was so handsome, so happy. He said his vows and then he leaned in and kissed her gently. When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and his hair was snarled. He put his hands on her throat and his face turned into a big, black, hairy dog. Its jaws closed on her face, and she woke up.
She was sitting up, gasping for breath, pressing her hand to her chest. She was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. "What am I ? How did I get here?"
"Professor Sprout found you in a greenhouse this morning." A woman who must be the school nurse was bustling toward her. She pushed Theresa down into the bed and straightened her blankets. "You were lucky she popped in to check on things before the fanged geraniums found you."
The nurse busied herself with some jars of medicine at Theresa's bedside. On her other side, she saw movement, and someone took her hand. Theresa turned. "Severus?"
He looked as grim as always, but his face was white as a sheet. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"
Theresa smiled weakly. "You can add it to my bill." Her smile faded. "Oh, dear. I can't feel my arm." She lifted her free arm, which from the elbow down was wrapped in bandages so thick it was impossible to tell if there was still an arm in there.
"I've numbed it," the nurse said. "Otherwise you'd be in a great deal of pain. Up you get." She lifted Theresa's head and arranged the pillows so she could sit up a little. "You lost a lot of blood. Drink this up."
Theresa took the cup she offered with her good hand. It tasted terrible, like someone had boiled cabbage with a load of smelly socks, but Theresa drank it all.
"And this one," the nurse said, handing her another. It was purple, and it tasted like very salty bitter apples. The third one was indescribable, but fortunately there was only a drop of it. She handed Theresa a fourth glass.
"I suppose you brewed all of this, Severus?" Theresa asked plaintively, noting that it was filled to the top with a colorless liquid.
"Most of it," he said.
"That one's water," the nurse said. "Drink it all up, you're quite dehydrated."
"Oh." Theresa obeyed.
The nurse bustled away, and Severus pulled his chair closer. He regarded her with his usual, slightly disapproving expression. "I suppose it's pointless to ask what you were doing on Hogwarts grounds in the middle of the night."
"Yes, I suppose it is."
"What I would like to know," said a soft voice from the direction of the door, "is how you broke into a locked greenhouse without a wand." Professor Dumbledore appeared in Theresa's field of view and pulled up a chair beside Severus.
"I don't remember," Theresa said. She frowned, thinking hard. "I thought I could break the glass, but it wouldn't shatter."
"Because there's an Unbreakable charm on it," Dumbledore offered.
"Right, I realized that at the last, but I was starting to pass out. And I think I was becoming delirious or something, because I remember calling out for help, though I knew no one could hear me. I fell down, and then I leaned on the door, and it just swung open. Like it had been unlatched all along. Perhaps I was delirious from the start."
"No, I don't think so." Dumbledore was nodding thoughtfully. "I think the school itself responded to your cries. Help is always given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
"But only to those with pure intentions," Severus added softly, as if it proved a point.
"That is true," Dumbledore allowed. He turned to Theresa seriously. "Now will you please tell us what happened to your hand?"
"I was attacked by a dog," Theresa said simply.
"A dog? Not a wolf?"
"No, it was a dog. It must have been a stray from the Muggle village."
Severus sighed and appeared to relax. Theresa remembered with chagrin that it had been a full moon last night.
"And where is your wand?"
"I ... er ... don't remember what happened to it. I must have lost it after I was bitten."
"So, even though you had your wand, a Muggle dog was able to attack and nearly kill you?" Dumbledore stared at her intently. She did not meet his gaze. She was a very good liar, but he was an equally good Legilimens.
"I never saw it coming," she said, "It was enormous."
"I see. " Dumbledore sighed. "I'd like to believe you, Theresa."
"It's all right," she said wearily. "I'm used to being doubted."
"The direction from which you approached the castle suggests you were in the Forbidden Forest. You were looking for Black, weren't you? Did he do this to you?"
She felt Severus's hand tighten over hers. "Surely," she said stubbornly, "you can tell from the wounds that it was an animal."
"I was hoping you would tell us how he did it."
"I think you underestimate my husband. If he had tried to kill me, I'd be dead."
"Why do you continue to protect him?"
"Why should I continue to talk to you if you won't believe anything I say?" she flared.
Dumbledore sighed. "I'm only interested in justice, Theresa."
"Oh, justice. Is that what you call it?" Theresa said savagely, struggling to sit up. "Is it justice to send a man to Azkaban for life without even a trial?"
"I was against that decision."
"But you didn't do anything about it, did you?" she demanded, pushing Severus away when he tried to calm her. "You could have gotten him a trial if you'd demanded it. But you didn't care. You thought he was guilty, too."
"No one has offered a scenario in which he is innocent that makes any sense."
"Because no one ever asked him!" she shouted. "You never even heard his side of the story! Is that justice? Who made you the one to decide who's innocent and who's guilty? How is that any different from Voldemort?"
"Tess!" Severus hissed, trying to push her back down in bed.
"Don't call me that!" she snarled at him, jerking her arm out of his grasp.
Dumbledore got to his feet. "I am sorry, Theresa. I did not mean to upset you."
"Of course not." She leaned her head on her hand. Her energy had run out. "You never do anything wrong, do you?"
"I make mistakes, like everyone else, Theresa," he said. "And I have regrets."
"Well, at least you have justice." It was vicious, she knew it, but she didn't care anymore.
Dumbledore gazed at her, his face expressionless, for an instant. Then he said quietly, "Good night, Theresa," and left them.
"You used to trust him," Severus said when he was gone.
Theresa lay down again, trying to smooth the covers with her bandaged hand. "That was a long time ago," she said shortly.
Severus stroked her hair gently as she sank back into sleep.
* * *
She awoke in the dark. It must have been very late at night, because even Severus had gone. Her head was spinning with everything that had happened. Why had Sirius hurt
her? She had been sure he wouldn't harm her. But he hadn't seemed to recognize her. Something was wrong. Was he mad, as everyone thought? He could have killed her if he'd wanted to. She'd probably be dead now if he'd simply walked away from her. But instead he'd taken her to safety. And he had taken her cloak, and her wand. The wand weighed on her mind. If he was mad, she'd just armed him. And what would Dumbledore do? How long would he allow her to lie to him? She was certain he could force the truth out of her if he wanted to. She had to get her wand back. She'd found him once, and she could do it again.
She sat up and slid out of bed, feeling very wobbly on her feet. She found her clothes neatly folded on the bedstand and dressed clumsily. She had to tear the sleeve of her blouse to get her bandaged arm through it, the noise sounding unnaturally loud in the silent ward. Last of all were her boots, which proved nearly impossible to tie with only one hand. Sitting on the floor, she managed to get one Tying Charm to work without her wand, but the second boot's laces lay defiantly limp and motionless until Theresa was so frustrated that she swore out loud.
"Theresa? Are you okay?" Blankets rustled across the ward, and Harry Potter appeared around the screens isolating her bed. Barefoot and dressed in pajamas, he carried his wand in one hand and trailed a blanket from the other.
Blushing furiously, she said, "You didn't just hear me say that."
He smiled. "Hear you say what?"
"Och, I barely know you, and already I'm corrupting you." She sighed and struggled to get up. Harry took her good arm and helped her sit back on her bed. "Maybe it's true, what they say about me."
"Doubt it," Harry said, sitting on the foot of the bed. "But then, I don't seem to know you as well as I thought I did."
Theresa winced. "I deserve that. Would you mind?" She pulled her leg onto the bed and offered him her untied boot.
"Were you leaving?" Harry asked, eyeing her clothes.
"Yes. I don't think I'm quite wanted here."
For a split second, she saw in his eyes that she was wanted, after all, and her heart nearly broke. Then he turned his attention to her boot."Snape wants you."
She sighed. "Yes, well, he's used to wanting things he can't have."
He pulled her bootlace tight and tied it off. "You said you were friends with my dad."
"I was."
"But you're friends with Snape, and he hated my dad."
"I wasn't part of your dad's crowd in school, Harry. I was too young, and I wasn't cool enough."
"So you were friends with Snape instead?"
"Severus and I grew up together. One of my earliest memories is of him trying to teach me to play chess when I was four."
Harry seemed to struggle with that thought ” perhaps it had never occurred to him that Severus had been a child once. "But he's so ... "
She smiled fondly. "I've already gathered that you and he share a ... special relationship." She leaned back against her pillows. "He's like a brother to me, Harry. I may not always agree with him, but I care about him anyway."
Harry didn't look pleased with that answer. "What about Sirius Black? I suppose you grew up with him, too?"
"No, I met him at school."
"You didn't even tell me your proper name when we met before. I heard Professor Dumbledore call you Theresa Black."
Theresa sighed. "I prefer McGonagall-Black, actually, but nobody likes to pronounce it."
"So you are married to him?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me that?"
"If I'd said to you, Hello, I'm Theresa Black; you might be familiar with my mass-murderer husband, Sirius,' would you have gotten in my car with me?"
"Probably not."
"I wanted you to get to know me before you started making judgements."
"Is that why you lied about Hagrid sending you?"
"You really have been checking up on me, haven't you? All right, yes, that's why I fibbed about Hagrid. But we did have tea, and we did talk about you."
"Why does everyone think you were trying to kidnap me? Just because you were married to Sirius Black?"
"No." She wrung her hands once, took a deep breath and plunged on. "It's because I did kidnap you once."
"You what?" He gawped at her.
Now it was Theresa's turn to stare at her boots. "Your parents never wanted you to go to the Dursleys', Harry. They couldn't stand those people. I wanted to bring you up myself; I told Dumbledore that's why James and Lily gave you godparents "
"Godparents?" Harry interrupted. "I have godparents?"
"Your parents knew they were in danger, Harry; it would have been foolish for them not to make arrangements." She sighed again. "But Dumbledore didn't think you'd be safe with me. The right thing to do would have been to bide my time. Perhaps I could have won him over eventually. But I was too impatient. I took matters into my own hands."
"You wanted to raise me yourself," Harry breathed.
Theresa smiled and reached forward to squeeze his hand. "It was easy enough to take you from the Dursleys; they hardly paid you any mind at all. I had it all planned out: I disguised us as Muggles and used forged papers to buy tickets on a boat for Aruba. But the Ministry caught up with me before we got on board. Dumbledore and Severus intervened to get me out of jail, but I was forbidden to see you again." She looked into his face searchingly.
"You mean," Harry said, sounding sick to his stomach, "I could have grown up on a sunny island, with a proper mother, instead of in a broom cupboard?"
Theresa chuckled. "I don't know about a proper' mother, but Dumbledore may have been right; it was very dangerous. It was a stupid thing to do either way. I'm still paying for it."
"Why didn't Professor Dumbledore trust you? You didn't know Black was going to murder those people!"
Theresa shifted her weight. "How much do you know about that?"
"They say he killed twelve Muggles and a wizard with one curse. And that he was a big supporter of Voldemort."
"He was no Death Eater!" Theresa said fiercely. "I knew him better than anybody! I lived with him! I would have known if he was hanging around with that sort of people. And I don't believe he meant to kill anyone."
"Then what really happened?"
Theresa pretended to wipe her eyes as she chose her next words carefully. "I believe that the wizard who died attacked him, and that he was defending himself."
"But what about the Muggles?"
"Sometimes, when you've had a shock, a spell can get away from you. It was only the day after James and Lily died. I don't think he meant to hurt anyone."
A brief silence passed between them. Then, Harry jerked his chin at her bandaged arm. "Did he do that to you?"
Theresa hesitated. No more fibs, she decided. "He didn't recognize me," she said softly.
"What if you're wrong about him? They say wizards go mad in Azkaban."
"I have to find out." She glanced up at him. "Even if he's mad, I won't let him hurt you. If he's mad, he's going back to Azkaban."
"What if you can't stop him? He could kill you next time."
Theresa swung her legs out of bed and stood up. "Then I reckon my troubles will be over." She pulled her bag onto her shoulder. "I'd better go, Harry. It's getting late."
Harry watched her step past him and start down the ward. "Theresa?" he said, when she was about halfway down.
She stopped, but didn't turn back. "Yes?"
"Be careful."
Theresa closed her eyes briefly. "I will, Harry."
Chapter 7 -- Guilty Conscience by ThessalyRose
Theresa awoke groggily when the door of her Muggle hotel room swung open. A dark shape loomed toward her. Still half-asleep, she tried to spring out of bed, but her feet tangled in the blankets and she fell to the floor, jarring her injured arm. Searing pain shot through her nerves; she doubled over with a cry.
“Theresa? Don’t panic, it’s me.” Severus came around the bed and lifted her back into it. “Your potions have worn off.”
He sat down beside her and opened his black leather case. Filling a glass with water from his wand, he added two drops of purple liquid from a phial. “Drink this.”
He helped her sit up so she could drink. The pain immediately lessened, and she leaned back with a cozy warm feeling in her head.
“I suppose you have a good reason for leaving the hospital wing so soon?” he asked briskly as he prepared another potion.
“Dumbledore didn’t want me there,” she murmured.
“You’re wrong. He was very disappointed when he heard you’d gone.” He gave her another potion to drink.
“Only because he wasn’t through interrogating me.” She took a deep breath and held it as she swallowed the foul-tasting medicine.
“You shouldn’t have lied to him.”
“He should mind his own business.”
“Sirius Black is his business.” Severus started unwrapping her bandages. “He takes the Potter boy’s security very seriously.”
Theresa sighed, wincing as the cold air met her injuries. “Sirius wouldn’t hurt Harry.”
“You didn’t think he’d hurt you, either.”
“He didn’t know it was me.” She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said that.
Severus paused in the act of applying ointment to her wounds. “Then whose hand did he mean to rip off?”
She didn’t answer him. He finished applying the ointment and started to wrap a new bandage around her hand. “You really shouldn’t be out of the hospital wing. After I’ve finished this, let me take you back.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, you’ve done a grand job of it so far. You’re living in a Muggle rat hole, you’ve bled through your bandages, and you’ve gone nearly a full day without eating.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“I’d nearly forgotten how stubborn you are.” He tied off her bandage and turned back to his bag.
“I’d nearly forgotten how well you take care of me,” Theresa murmured.
He didn’t respond, but his face softened. He poured some soup from a jar into a bowl and put a spoon in her good hand. “Eat.”
It was hot chicken soup from Hogwarts, and she was starving, so she guzzled the soup as fast as her injury would allow. He refilled it, and she drained the bowl again. “Thank you, Severus,” she sighed.
He put the dishes back into his case. “I didn’t make it.”
“Thanks for bringing it.”
He snapped his case shut. “I’ll be back in the morning. If you decide to flee in the middle of the night again, will you at least send me an owl?”
Theresa smiled. “Don’t be silly. If I decide to flee again, it’ll be you I’m fleeing from.”
He cast her a dark look and stepped out the door. On the other side, he tried the knob to make sure it had locked. When he was gone, she struggled out of bed and changed into her night clothes. She got back under the covers and realized he’d put a Warming Charm on them. Warm and safe and comfortable, she drifted back to sleep.
* * *
There were two restaurants in the Muggle village of Dufftown: one pub and one Chinese. Mrs. Black, according to her file, lived above the pub but preferred the Chinese. For this reason, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt chose to wait for her on the bench outside the Chinese restaurant. He wasn’t disappointed. Right at lunchtime, Theresa Black arrived and stepped into the restaurant. When she returned a few minutes later, carrying a bag of food, she glanced at him and stopped short.
Kingsley got to his feet. “Mrs. Black.”
“It’s McGonagall-Black, if you please,” she snapped. “And no need to introduce yourself. You’re either an Auror or a bill collector, and I make a point of not owing money.”
Kingsley’s smile deepened. He enjoyed a challenge. “I’m Auror Shacklebolt. I wonder if I could accompany you back to your hotel?”
She sniffed and started down the pavement without responding to him. Grinning, Kingsley caught up to her and fell into step. “I understand you were injured last week, but we don’t have any records that you sought medical attention. I hope everything’s all right.”
“I’m fine now.” She waved a lightly-bandaged hand at him.
“Rumor has it, Sirius Black did that to you.”
Mrs. Black stopped short. “Whose rumor? No, never mind. It’s Minerva, isn’t it? Of course.” She started walking again. “I presume you already spoke with Professor Dumbledore?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Kingsley patted his cloak pocket, where he kept the notebook with his notes from that meeting.
“Then I have nothing to say to you that I haven’t said to him already.”
“I just wondered,” Kingsley said nonchalantly, “what you were doing in the Forbidden Forest that night?”
“There’s a shortcut from here to Hogwarts. I was on my way to see my godson.”
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night?”
“It wasn’t the middle of the night when I set out.”
“Can’t be much of a shortcut, then.”
She huffed at him, but did not reply. That’s one-nothing to me, Kingsley thought. “Have you had any contact with your husband since he escaped from Azkaban?”
“I haven’t had any contact with him since you people put him away twelve years ago,” she snapped, quickening her pace.
Being several inches taller than Mrs. Black, Kingsley kept up with her easily. “Why are you living here, then, in a town with no wizards in it? You’re a woman of means, Mrs. Black. You could live anywhere.”
“I can’t live anywhere if no-one will let to me! Thanks to the Daily Prophet, I can’t get a room in a wizarding place. And it’s McGonagall-Black.”
“Right. McGonagall-Black.” Kingsley shook his head. “Surely there are places that would have you, though; they’re just not in Hogsmeade. Why must you live near Hogwarts?”
“Because that’s where my godson lives,” she said impatiently. “And my sister, and my friend Severus.”
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that Sirius Black has been seen in the area?”
She stopped and shouted at him, “I already told you I haven’t seen him! I haven’t heard from him! I don’t know where to find him!”
“But you’re still married to him. That’s what I don’t understand. He was never supposed to get out of Azkaban. Why stay married to him?”
“Because I still love him! I’ve told this to you people a hundred times already! Don’t you read each others’ notes?”
“We do,” Kingsley said casually. “But sometimes we like to cross-reference.”
Mrs. Black made a noise of frustration and strode past him. He followed her in silence for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you read romance novels, Mrs. McGonagall-Black?”
“Not really,” she said over her shoulder. “I prefer action stories.”
“I like a good romance novel now and then. Love conquers all, star-crossed lovers, all that.”
“Mmm,” Mrs. Black said noncommittally.
They had reached the parking lot of her hotel. She turned around, and Kingsley looked her square in the eyes. “But I don’t believe that kind of nonsense really happens. No one waits twelve years for a lover who’s never supposed to get out. Not unless they think they can change things. How long did you plan his escape, Mrs. Black?”
She blinked at him. Her mouth opened, then shut. Two-nothing to me, Kingsley noted.
Mrs. Black glanced across the parking lot at a dark figure waiting at the foot of the stairs to her room. Then she turned back to Kingsley and drew herself up to her full height. “Fine, you want to hear the truth? Here it is. You know that I’m a ‘woman of means,’ as you so quaintly put it. Well, I didn’t inherit anything from my parents“that’s his mother’s money. If I’d divorced him when he went to Azkaban, I wouldn’t have gotten a penny of it.”
Kingsley felt his eyebrows rise. “His mother died five years ago. Why didn’t you divorce him then?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “If I divorce him, I get half his fortune. If I stay married, I get all of it. As long as he was in prison, I had everything I wanted. I had my fortune, my godson and a new boyfriend.” She gestured in the direction of the dark figure, who started to approach them. “Now, thanks to the Ministry’s incompetence, everyone I love is in danger. So, you see, I have no reason to want to see Sirius. In fact, the sooner you nincompoops get him back into Azkaban, the better!”
Her voice had dropped to a fierce whisper. The dark-clothed man arrived and said, “Tess? Who is this?”
Kingsley recognized Professor Severus Snape from the mug shot that was pasted into Mrs. Black’s file. “Auror Shacklebolt,” Kingsley said. “We were just finishing up.”
“I can corroborate her story,” Snape said.
The Black woman gaped at him. “You can?”
Kingsley drew a quill and a small pad of paper from his pocket. “By all means.”
“There is a stray dog in this village. It’s very large and black, and quite vicious.”
Kingsley noted that down. “You’ve seen this dog?”
“Yes. It followed me halfway back to Hogwarts last night. I saw Theresa’s injuries, and I have no doubt this is the dog that bit her.”
“Oh, Severus!” Mrs. Black cried. “Are you all right? Did it hurt you?”
“No. It only growled at me.” He turned his glower on Kingsley. “If you want to do a public service, find that dog and put it down. It’s clearly a dangerous animal.”
Kingsley put his quill away. “Vicious dogs don’t fall under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic. Perhaps you should lodge a complaint with the Muggle dog-catcher.”
“I will. If you’re finished?” He took the Chinese food from Mrs. Black, put his arm around her and started walking her across the parking lot before Kingsley could respond.
Kingsley watched them climb the stairs and disappear into Mrs. Black’s room. He was certain she was lying about wanting Black’s money; every instinct he had told him so. But where did that leave him? Game to Mrs. Black, Kingsley decided. With a sigh, he stowed his notebook in his pocket and Disapparated.
* * *
When Severus left her that evening, Theresa sat in the rickety wooden chair by her hotel window for hours, remembering the last time she’d seen Sirius and Severus in the same room together. It had been her last birthday before the wedding, and Severus had brought her a gift, thinking to find her alone in her apartment. But Sirius had been there, and before she could stop them, their wands were out and she was trying to pull them off each other. Severus had used some kind of spell she’d never seen before, a spell so violent that when Sirius dove out of the way, it shredded her vinyl sofa. In that moment, she knew Severus had fallen in with his old friends again. He had met her eyes, seen what she knew, and walked out the door, breaking off their friendship for more than a year.
What would Sirius do to him, if he caught Severus by surprise? If she warned Severus about the dog’s identity, he would certainly turn Sirius in. Severus would never allow her to accompany him through the forest every night without an explanation “ and even if he would, she had no wand and would be worse than useless. There was only one way she could protect them both. She had to remove Severus’ reason for coming to the Muggle town, and she had to catch Sirius again so she could talk to him. For that, she would need a wand.
Before going to bed, she packed her carpet bag with everything she’d need for a trip to London. She’d tell Severus when he came in the morning that she was going away for a couple of days, and take her Muggle car to Diagon Alley for a new wand. Her old one was chipped and scorched in several places anyway.
The next morning, she woke early and showered, so she’d be ready to go when Severus arrived. As she was putting on her earrings, the outer door of her room opened and shut quickly. Theresa whirled around. It was Sirius.
She had not seen him clearly before, in full light as he was now, and her heart nearly broke. He was filthy and gaunt ” she’d never seen him so thin ” and though he’d always worn his hair long, it hadn’t been like this. It had been clean and neatly trimmed, not hanging in mats and tangles well past his waist. His equally filthy beard had grown halfway down his chest, nearly obscuring the tattoos stretched tightly over his ribs and revealed by his half-open robes. What frightened her the most, however, was the manic gleam in his eye, and the fixed, mirthless grin on his lips.
“Hello, love,” he said, tossing a spell over his shoulder to lock the door. “Weren’t expecting to see me, were you?”
She had been so stunned by his appearance that she hadn’t noticed her wand clutched in his clawlike hand. “No. No, I wasn’t.”
He edged over to the window, not taking his eyes from her. He closed the curtains with a flick of her wand. “Can’t stop thinking about you. Ever since our little … meeting.”
“Guilty conscience?” she asked bitterly, flexing her newly-healed fingers.
He was still edging around the room. “I said I was sorry. What did you want me to do? You wouldn’t stop following me.”
“I wanted you to talk to me.”
“Talking is dangerous.” He reached the door to the toilet and looked in quickly. Satisfied that no one lurked there, he shut the door.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“This cloak I took from you. It used to be mine.”
“Yes.”
“How did you get it?”
“You left it behind when you went to prison. I kept it because --.” She dropped her eyes. “Because it smelled like you.”
He frowned at her. He left his secure position against the wall and came toward her. “You say you’re an old girlfriend. Why don’t I remember you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have missed me a lot, to risk your neck coming here.” He was holding the wand loosely, negligently pointing it at her.
Just a step closer, she prayed. Just one more step. “I did. I still do.”
“I had lots of girlfriends,” he said, grinning again. “I remember all of them. You, I don’t remember.”
“I don’t know why that is.”
“Tell me who you--!”
He’d stepped within range, and Theresa struck. She kicked his hand as hard as she could, throwing the wand across the room. Stunned, he took a step backwards. She Summoned the wand into her hand “ a handy bit of wandless magic she’d learned in her travels “ but he’d already recovered his balance. With a roar like a lion, he sprang at her, knocking her down on the bed. She struggled under his weight, but he had her wrist, pressing it down into the bed, until she couldn’t hold the wand anymore. He released her other hand to get the wand. She jammed a finger into his eye. Shouting in pain, he loosened his grip for an instant and she rolled out from under him. They came to their feet in the same moment. Theresa ran for the door, but it was locked. He vaulted over the bed, grabbed her, turned her round to face him and pushed her back against the door. She froze, the tip of the wand pressed painfully into the soft flesh under her chin.
“Give me one good reason not to kill you right now,” he growled.
“Because,” she gasped, “you would be murdering the only person who doesn’t think you’re a murderer.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to kill her anyway. Then the pressure on the wand eased slightly. “I’m not a murderer,” he said petulantly.
“I know.”
“Why do you have so much faith in me, then?” He searched her face, their noses inches apart.
She was trembling. “Because I know you better than anyone else. I know you didn’t kill James.”
He moved in close, brushing her cheek with his lips. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You didn’t? Then what“?” He was kissing her neck. She found she couldn’t speak.
He lifted his head, sighing into her ear. “Were we good together?”
Theresa closed her eyes and breathed, “It’s all I’ve dreamed of, these long years.”
He dropped the wand on the floor and kissed her mouth deeply. She had missed him for so long, she didn’t care that he’d just threatened her life. She didn’t care that he was a fugitive, or that he smelled of sweat and decaying meat, or that he couldn’t remember her name. She wrapped her arms around his neck and forgot everything but the fact that she was touching her husband again.
Chapter 8 -- Absolutely Bloody Insane by ThessalyRose
Sirius Black was distantly aware that he’d done something foolish, but it had felt so good, he didn’t care. Quite aside from physical satisfaction, it was the first time in years that he had felt the contentment of lying in bed and holding a woman in his arms, breathing the faintly gingery smell of her hair. It had been months since he’d even lain down in a bed, and then it had been what passed for a bed in Azkaban. For an instant, he was willing to trade the heat of his revenge for this new peace, even though he didn’t understand it. Why was he so drawn to this woman? She was beautiful, yes, but he had observed beautiful women since his escape and forgotten them quickly. No matter how he searched his memory, he could find no trace of her, yet every curve of her body and even her faint Scottish accent were familiar to him.
She stirred gently in his arms. Sirius absently ran a finger across the tattoo that encircled her navel and scrolled elegantly upwards to her breastbone, the runes in it making a love spell. The same love spell was inked into his own body, in the same place and with the same script. He couldn't remember how that tattoo had come to be there. Furthermore, she had known he was an Animagus, and as far as he knew, there had only ever been four other people who knew that. It hardly seemed possible that she had learned it from one of them “ James and Lily were dead, Peter was a rat, and Remus … Remus hadn’t betrayed him, for whatever reason, or they’d have watched him more closely in Azkaban.
Sirius sighed, his mind continuing to gnaw on the problem as he drifted to sleep. In his dreams he saw a scrappy-looking girl with shaggy blond hair. He crept up behind her in the library at Hogwarts and tapped her shoulder. When she looked round at him with big eyes, he grabbed her and kissed her lips. She shoved him away from her, squealing, as he laughed. Then she drew back her fist -- he tried to duck, but too late -- and punched him in the jaw.
“Still, you can’t fault her aim,” a sixteen-year-old James commented drily, leaning on the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room as Remus applied salve to Sirius’ bruise. “She’d make a good Chaser if she wasn’t quite so runty.”
“Runt or not, I’d say her methods are rather … er … effective,” Remus said, as his patient winced under his rough ministrations.
“I think she’d be a liability,” Sirius growled, “going around sucker-punching people for no good reason.”
“Did you not kiss her?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows. “I’d say that was a good reason to punch you.”
Peter sat up from the floor, where he’d fallen down during Sirius’ reluctant explanation of what had happened, wiped a tear from his eye and stifled his laughter long enough to choke out, “I’d definitely punch him if he tried to kiss me.”
“Did you say sucker-punch?” James asked. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have sucked quite so hard.”
Peter fell down again and rolled around on the floor, clutching his belly and laughing.
Sirius turned around and leaned on the handlebars of his flying motorcycle in an alley in Hogsmeade. The girl with the shaggy blonde hair was taller, more womanly, though she still wore a Hogwarts uniform. “I don’t know,” she said, examining her fingernails in a disinterested sort of way. “I’ve already got a couple of boyfriends.”
“Well, all right, McGonagall,” Sirius said, feigning reluctance. “If a schoolboy is enough for you … .”
She let a moment go by in silence. Then, when he didn’t repeat his offer, she said, “How high did you say?”
He leaned in close, to whisper in her ear. “High enough to see the ocean.”
Her gaze ventured up toward the clouds above them. “All right, then,” she breathed. “But just once.”
Sirius grinned and lifted her onto the seat. He knew full well that it wouldn’t be just once.
The next moment, he was pacing irritably in the flat he shared with James and Remus. “Absolutely bloody insane, Prongs!” he was shouting. “Yesterday it’s ‘I can’t live without you,’ and today it’s ‘You’re wasting my life and I don’t want to see you anymore!’ What the hell’s the matter with her?!”
James had shrugged negligently without looking up from the latest issue of Holidays on Broomstick. “Sounds like a perfectly normal woman to me, Padfoot.”
“She’s not a normal woman!” Sirius said indignantly. “She’s Tess. How can she say I’m wasting her life?”
“Well, it’s fairly obvious that you are.”
“What?”
“Wasting her life.” He looked up seriously, ignoring Sirius’ stunned expression. “Look, she wants to get married. If you’re not going to marry her, you’re wasting her time.”
“I -- but -- I --,” Sirius spluttered. “I’m too young to get married,” he said, in a very small voice, and sank into the bean bag opposite James.
“Don’t be stupid.” James put his magazine down and folded his long legs under him on the couch, his face lighted in a way that could only mean one thing -- .
“You have a plan?”
“Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll take them out on a date. We’ll do all the stuff they like to do that we don’t.”
“You mean --?”
“Yes, ice skating.”
Sirius grimaced.
“There’s no help for it, mate. So we take them ice skating, and then we’ll get something to eat.”
“French, I suppose.”
“Yes.” James suppressed a shudder. “I’ll even eat frog legs if I have to. Then, when they’re all softened up, we strike.”
“We explain to them that we don’t want to get married?”
“Of course not. We pop the question.”
“Pop the question.”
“Yes.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought we were figuring a way out of this.”
“What was it you told me? True love is a woman who’ll tell you you’re an idiot rather than let you go on being one?”
“Yes, but “ “
“And doesn’t Tess tell you you’re an idiot on a regular basis?”
“So do you and Remus, but I wouldn’t want to --.” Sirius stopped. He knew that fanatical expression. It was the one James usually reserved for Quidditch strategy. Sirius’ eyes fell on Holidays on Broomstick. “You’re already planning your honeymoon, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Padfoot.”
Sirius regarded his friend solemnly for a moment. “The next time I’m a dog, Prongs, I’m going to bite you.”
“I can live with that,” James said cheerfully, and returned to his magazine.
Sirius turned around and found himself in the kitchen of his own shabby flat. “You said you were just going shopping!” he roared.
The shaggy-haired girl, a woman now, regarded him coldly with crossed arms. “I did go shopping.”
“And then you met him!”
“Bumped into him. At Flourish & Blott’s. Completely by accident.”
“Stop lying to me!” He flexed his fists, resisting the urge to shake her. “I hate it when you lie to me!”
“Honestly, Sirius.” She turned back to the dishes ruthlessly scrubbing themselves in the sink. “I wouldn’t have to lie to you if you could control your blood pressure when you heard his name.”
“I have a right to be jealous when my own wife prefers the company of another man!”
“Oh, stop with the righteous indignation!” She whirled round to face him again. “It bloody well doesn’t bother you when I have lunch with Remus!”
“That’s because I trust Remus!”
“Well, you ought to trust me!” She turned on her heel, threw her apron on the floor, and stalked out of the room. The dishes dropped with a clatter into the sink.
“Where are you going? Come back here!” He chased her into the living room, reaching the front door as the screen swung back into place. “Tess! Wait! Theresa!”
There was a knock on the door, and then something big and floppy hit him in the face. “Get up! Get up!”
Sirius sat up, disentangling himself from his dreams and the robes she’d thrown at him. “Huh?”
In her run-down Muggle hotel room, Tess was dressing frantically. “” Shouldn’t have let you go to sleep, I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it ”.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching with amusement as she tried to force her head into the sleeve of her sweater. He felt light as a feather.
Then someone pounded on the door again, and his heart dropped like a stone.
“I knew he was coming, and I shouldn’t have let you sleep and “ why aren’t you getting dressed?” She went to the door with her wand ready. “No time now “ take your robes and hide in the toilet! Hurry! Don’t forget your shoes!”
Sirius scrambled out of bed and obeyed, closing the door behind him. Outside, he heard her remove his locking spell and the creak of hinges. “Sorry, I was getting dressed.”
He put his clothes on quickly, grinning despite his situation. Theresa McGonagall ” Tess ” Theresa McGonagall-Black ” he remembered it all now, every bit of it. That was why he couldn’t stay away from her. He loved her. And she still loved him ” she’d waited for him, all these years, and when she learned he was free, she’d risked everything to come to him. He cracked the door open and peeked out.
“” Let me fix my makeup,” she was saying as she crossed the room to the mirror. Sirius watched her lasciviously. She’d been the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts. He’d pestered her to date him for three years before she’d agreed to that ride on his motorcycle. They'd gotten those tattoos on their honeymoon. She was still beautiful.
“Have you been wandering around in the forest?” the other person asked sharply. Sirius moved around to get a look at him.
“No, of course not,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Your wand. I thought you’d lost it in the forest.”
Sirius felt the hackles on the back of his neck stand up. It was him ” Snivellus, the man they’d been arguing about that day in the kitchen. He whipped his head back to look at her, his face heating. She’d known he was coming. She’d had plans with him. But she belonged to Sirius. He felt his knuckles turn white on the doorknob.
“Oh. Well, I “!”
Sirius exploded through the door and sprang over the bed before Snape had time to do more than turn to face him. Sirius relished the look of shock on the sallow, hook-nosed face as he collided with him, throwing him back against the wall. “NO!” Theresa shrieked.
Taking hold of Snape’s throat, Sirius punched him and drew back for another blow, but Theresa caught him by the elbow. He turned, allowing Snape to drop to the floor, and shoved her so hard she fell backwards. “You lied to me!” he roared. “You’re a liar, you were always a liar!”
She scrambled backwards away from him, terror written on her face. “No ” no ”.”
“How can you touch that disgusting ” slimey ” ?!” He faltered, stricken by the fear in her eyes. What was he doing? He didn’t want her to be afraid of him.
“No, Severus!” Coming to her feet, she hurled herself past him. He turned and saw Snape upright, leaning hard on the wall, pointing his wand at the two of them.
“Get out of the way!” Snape panted.
“No! Don’t hurt him!”
“He’s a murderer!”
“Look, you want to be together?” Sirius shouted, seizing Theresa from behind, “then here you are!” Lifting her bodily, he threw her into Snape. Crashing backwards into the little breakfast table, they collapsed to the ground. Sirius opened the door and bolted into the chilly afternoon, leaving them to each other.
*•••••*•••••*
Severus sat up and tried to shake the fog out of his head. Theresa was beside him clasping his shoulders, like she’d been trying to wake him. For a moment, he couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there.
“Severus? Are you all right?” she asked tearfully.
“Black!” Severus sprang to his feet and looked around, but they were alone in her hotel room.
“It’s all right ” he’s gone ”.”
He dashed out the still-swinging door. There was no one on the balcony, so he thundered down the stairs to the parking lot. No one there, either, except a bewildered-looking Muggle. “Did you see which way he went?” Severus demanded.
“Who?”
“Severus, come back inside.” Theresa stood at the top of the stairs behind him. Admitting defeat, Severus turned and followed her back up to her room.
Theresa immediately sat down on the bed, pressed her face into her hands, and began to sob. Severus massaged the back of his neck, where he could feel a nasty bruise rising, and cursed himself for a fool. He’d just had a brilliant opportunity to defend her, and what had he done? First he’d played Black’s punching bag, and then he’d nearly hexed her by accident. “Are you all right?” he asked, going to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Y-yes,” she sobbed. “I’m s-sorry, Severus!”
“Hush. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yes there is! I knew you were coming, and I didn’t get him out of here in time, and he h-hurt you and you could have killed each other!” Tears choked out her voice.
Fighting the throbbing in his head, Severus sat down beside her. “I’m sure you did all you could have done. You were his prisoner.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. Slowly, the truth began to dawn on Severus. He stood up abruptly. “You mean to tell me that this was a ” a rendezvous?”
“No! I didn’t invite him. He came to me because he couldn’t remember who I was, and it disturbed him.”
“Disturbed him? He’s a murderer!” Severus strode to the door angrily, turned and paced back. “He was using you! He probably thought you’d give him a bath and a good meal.”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. He just wanted to ” to talk.”
Severus caught the guilty note in her voice. They had done more than talk. He felt blood rising in his face. “They’ll send you to Azkaban for this.”
She looked terrified. The same way she’d looked at Black. “You’re going to turn me in?”
Severus’ mouth worked noiselessly. How could she ask this of him? It would make him an accessory ” and furthermore, he had no wish to protect Black. Quite the opposite, in fact. But as he glared at her, he realized that he could not be responsible for sending her to prison. Reluctantly, he came to a decision. “I will keep your secret ” for a price.”
She stiffened.
“You will come back to Hogwarts with me. Dumbledore will give you a room, and you will remain on the school grounds until Black is captured.”
He watched her struggle with the idea. At length, her shoulders sagged and she whispered, “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
Severus sat next to her and took her hand. Was it so painful, he wondered, for her to stay with him? “All I want,” he said quietly, “is to know that you are safe.”
She met his eyes defiantly, but seemed to think better of it and lowered her gaze. Severus grimaced, jealous beyond speech that Sirius Black could inspire such loyalty in this woman.
Chapter 9 -- The Prisoner of Hogwarts by ThessalyRose
The Prisoner of Hogwarts
In the years Albus Dumbledore had known Severus Snape, he had developed a mild affection for the younger man. Despite his various flaws, at least Severus provided Albus with an apparently limitless supply of surprises. Today, Severus had appeared in Albus’ office with one of those surprises in the form of Theresa Black, her head bowed and her hands folded like a prisoner, an enormous carpet bag slung over her shoulder.
“Hello, Theresa, Severus,” Albus said. “What can I do for you?”
Severus glanced at Theresa, who made no move to speak. “Headmaster, I have persuaded Theresa to stay with us for a while,” he said, a gleam of triumph in his eyes.
“Really?” Albus looked at Theresa. “You seemed eager to get away from here last time.”
She met his eyes sullenly, and for the first time since her sudden reappearance in August. Albus couldn’t resist a casual glance at her thoughts, but all he got was a bitter resentment of Severus. It was a primitive form of Occlumency, unhealthy for the practitioner and not proof against an aggressive attack, but sufficient to cloud her motivations for the moment. “I’ve changed my mind, Professor,” she said, her voice low but hard-edged. “If you’ll but let me use a room, I’ll earn my keep.”
Albus turned his gaze to Severus, whose smirk was reminiscent of the last time Slytherin had won the House cup. “Very well,” Albus said. He snapped his fingers, and a house-elf appeared at his elbow. “Dobby, would you please take Mrs. Black to one of the guest rooms?”
“At once, Professor Dumbledore!” Dobby bowed with a flourish and ushered Theresa to the door.
“I believe Mr. Filch will have some work you can help him with, Theresa, ” Albus said.
Theresa glanced at him, her eyes momentarily unguarded, and Albus caught a glimpse of a struggle with a dark-haired man. He turned back to Severus and noted the bruise spreading into the murky Potions Master’s eye socket. What on earth had passed between them?
Theresa followed the house-elf out. Severus watched her go and turned to Albus smugly. “Severus,” Albus sighed, coming around his desk to sit on its edge. “What do you hope to accomplish by imprisoning her?””
Severus looked startled. “Imprison her? I am keeping her safe. You saw what Black did to her!”
“You can’t keep her safe against her will, ” Albus said sadly, “and she will hate you for trying.”
“I am prepared to face that consequence.”
“Are you?” Albus remembered the first year of Severus’ tenure at Hogwarts “ weeks of stormy, self-destructive passions between weeks of frosty silences. At the time, Albus had blamed it on Lily Potter’s death, but now he was reconsidering. Severus had months to get over Lily’s death “ and years to get over her rejection of his friendship “ before he came to work at Hogwarts, but he had signed his teaching contract less than two weeks after Theresa had left the country.
Severus turned his stony face away from Albus to glare at the door. His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I would rather die than see her come to harm.”
Albus didn’t doubt that. But what would Severus do if she turned on him? “Tread carefully, Severus,” he advised. “A unicorn is beautiful in the wild, but it must run to live. Cage it, and it dies.”
Severus took that as a dismissal, muttering something about “damned riddles” under his breath. Albus returned to his chair and shook his head. Theresa Black would not be the one who lost this battle.
****
“Theresa? Is that you?”
Bent over double to peer behind a suit of armor, Theresa raised a finger behind her to quiet the young voice. Scarcely breathing, she raised her wand into the dark crevice. “Petrificus totalis!”
Her spell exploded on blank stone; in its brief glow she spotted her quarry, a snuffbox with legs that had escaped from the Transfigurations classroom, skittering away. “Dammit!” she shouted, hurling herself around the suit of armor. “Look out!”
A small clutch of students scattered as she barreled through. She chased her little quarry around a corner of the corridor, where it vanished behind a vase that was taller than Theresa. She flicked her wand at it, but instead of rolling away, the smooth black porcelain hurled her spell right back at her, knocking her backwards hard enough to do a somersault.
Theresa groaned, rolling over. Someone took her arm and helped her sit up against the wall of the corridor. Harry Potter grinned down at her. “All right, then?”
“I think so.” Theresa spread her fingers and flexed them, stretched her legs out and rotated her ankles one by one. “Yes, everything seems to be working.”
A slightly-built girl took Harry’s arm from behind. “Harry, let’s go.”
“You go on. I want to talk to Theresa.” Harry sat down beside her and drew his knees up.
The girl exchanged glances with a gangly, red-haired boy, then frowned at Theresa. An awkward moment passed, while she and the boy silently agreed not to leave Harry alone with Theresa.
Theresa sighed and said, “Introduce me to your friends, Harry?”
“Oh, right. This is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She hauled herself to her feet and returned to the vase, running her hand down its cool, matte surface.
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Harry offered, following her.
“Severus has given me a detention,” Theresa said, lowering herself to the floor to peer under the vase’s plinth.
“He set you to chase a snuffbox?” Harry lit his wand and peered behind the narrow part of the vase.
“No, he confined me to Hogwarts. Filch set me to chase the snuffbox.” In the light from Harry’s wand, she could see a jagged hole in the stone wall behind the vase, just big enough for a mouse “ or a snuffbox with legs. She sat up. “And I’m going to catch the bloody thing, too; I don’t care how many years it’s eluded the staff here.”
She stood up and gave the vase an experimental tug. Nothing terrible happened, but it didn’t budge, either.
“Professor McGonagall can turn herself into a cat,” Hermione said. “What makes you think you can catch it when she can’t?”
“Minerva,” Theresa grunted, hauling on the vase as hard as she could, “has never had to make a living hunting Norwegian Pixies.” It still didn’t move, so she released it and took a step backwards to consider. “She also never lived in the desert and ate monitor lizards for six months.” During which time Theresa had learned that if you can’t move the rock above, sometimes you can move the rock below. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
The black vase’s plinth rose ponderously into the air, carrying the vase with it. Harry danced backwards out of its way as Theresa guided it out of its niche and settled it carefully on the ground. There was no telling what the vase would do if she broke it.
Half a dozen spiders that had been living under the plinth ran for cover. Theresa crouched down to shine her wand into the hole.
“You’re an exterminator, aren’t you?” Ron said. “Cool.”
“I thought exterminators killed bugs,” Harry interjected.
“Muggle exterminators kill bugs.” Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder as though explaining something that everybody knew. “Wizard exterminators remove unwanted magical creatures from places where people live.”
“Read that in Hogwarts: A History, did you?” Ron asked archly.
“Of course not. It was in Wizarding Careers: How to Avoid Becoming a Dismal Failure. Which I gave you to read, Harry.”
“Err... right. I must not have gotten to that chapter yet,” Harry hedged. “Exterminating sounds exciting, though.”
“Not really,” Theresa said. “Not in Britain, at least. All the really dangerous creatures were run out centuries ago, or confined to places like the Forbidden Forest. You spend most of your time getting pixies out of potting sheds. But in the rest of the world....” She smiled in spite of herself. “Yes, it can be fairly exciting.”
At that moment, the snuffbox bolted out of the hole and straight past Theresa. She cried out and scrambled after it. Ron and Harry took shots at it with their wands, but missed widely.
“Harry! Ron!” Hermione cried, scandalized. “You can’t do magic in the corridors!”
The snuffbox scuttled into a hole under the wooden trim at the top of the stairs. Theresa dropped to one knee and jabbed her wand into the hole. Summoning it would be no use; most magic seemed to just slide right off the slippery little monster. Instead, she cast a spell to see how deep the hole went. “What the“?”
Harry was right behind her. “What’s wrong?”
“This hole“ it can’t possibly go that far!” She reached through the railing and felt around the back, but the wooden trim was solid. Withdrawing her wand, she reached into the hole with her fingers and yanked the trim up from the floor. Its nails released with a crack, and she flattened herself on the floor to look underneath. “Dammit.”
“Where did it go?”
There was no hole under the trim, no space at all. Theresa muttered another spell, and pink sparks dribbled out of her wand and gathered on the hole in the outside of the trim. “That’s what I was afraid of. This is a magical hole.””
“How did it get there?” Hermione asked.
“It’s something you learn in seventh-year Charms. The school is probably full of them. There’s no telling where it goes.” She put the trim back in place and tightened the nails with her wand. Then she poked her wand into the hole again, found the edges of the spell that held the hole in place, and carefully unraveled it. When she pulled her wand out of the hole, there was nothing but smooth wood trim in that spot.
“Maybe we’ll be lucky, and it came out in Antarctica,” Harry suggested.
Theresa smiled at him. “Doubt it. It wasn’t cold enough in there.”
A bell rang somewhere. Hermione gasped. “I’m late for Muggle Studies!”
“You mean Divination,” Ron corrected.
“No “ yes“ of course, you’re right “ but we have to go! Harry?”
Harry sat down next to Theresa. “You two go on. I’m skiving off.”
Hermione looked like she’d like to argue with him, but she was more worried about being late to class, so she turned and dashed up the corridor. Ron ran after her, shouting, “When do you go to Muggle Studies, anyway?”
Theresa smiled at Harry. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“Professor Trelawney drives me crazy.” He gritted his teeth.
Theresa got to her feet. “All right, then, but we should probably get out of sight. Come along, I know a good place to hide out.” She magicked the black vase back into its place, and led Harry up the stairs.
On the fifth floor landing, there was a broad, double window that looked out over the forest and the lake. In Theresa’s day, it had been a little-known fact that there was a tiny balcony outside the window, just large enough to admit two friendly teenagers. Now, she edged onto the balcony, drawing her cloak tighter against the wind, and slid her legs between the railposts to sit with her feet dangling over the edge. Harry followed her out and sat with his back to the railing and his knees drawn up to his chest, just close enough that his sneaker touched her leg. “Excellent,” he said. “How did you know this was here?”
“I used to meet Sirius up here now and then.” She refrained from elaborating on what they did together. “So, how is your year going?”
Harry shrugged, toying with his shoe laces. “Same as usual, I guess. It wouldn’t be Hogwarts if no one was trying to kill me.”
Theresa laughed. “That’s quite an education you’re getting, then.”
“You have no idea.” He glanced up at her. “So, how did Snape persuade you to come back and stay?” His voice was casual, but when he glanced at her, his eyes added: When I couldn’t.
Theresa sighed, looking out over the forest. No more fibs. “Sirius broke into my hotel room.” Harry looked alarmed, so she said, “It was all right“ he just wanted to talk. But Severus interrupted us, and those two go together about as well as fire and gasoline.”
“I heard a rumor that Snape had a black eye yesterday. Is that how he got it?”
“Yes. It’s my own fault. I used to play them against each other on purpose.” She hugged herself. “I was such a stupid girl.”
“They obviously didn’t think so.”
She smiled at Harry. “They’re biased.”
“So, is Black mad, or not?”
“In a way, perhaps. He was always a little volatile, but not like this. One minute he was threatening me, and the next he was kissing me. It was like he couldn’t control himself. But that doesn’t mean he’s wicked, or that he’s after you.”
“Why didn’t Snape turn him in?”
“Because I agreed to come back to Hogwarts.”
Harry bristled. “He’s blackmailing you? And you still think he’s such a good friend!”
“Perhaps not, but in case you haven’t noticed, good friends are in short supply for me these days.”
“Why don’t you go to Dumbledore and tell him what you know?”
“Dumbledore didn’t believe me twelve years ago; he won’t believe me now. Not unless I can get proof.”
“How are you going to get proof if you can’t leave the castle?”
“I don’t know.” She leaned back against the warm stones of the castle wall behind her. “Maybe everyone’s right; maybe I should leave him to the Aurors. I came back to Britain with the intent of divorcing him. I thought it might prove to Minerva that I’m not a follower of Voldemort.” She closed her eyes. “I love him, Harry, but I’m so tired of being alone.”
Harry reached toward her. She thought he was going to take her hand, but instead he merely shifted his weight. “You should at least stay for a couple of weeks. It’s almost Christmas.”
In the past twelve years, she had become accustomed to spending Christmas with whomever she happened to be around, even if they were Muggles or, as was the case more than once, tribesmen who had never heard of Christmas. It would be nice to spend it with people who actually cared about her, as few as they might be. She opened her eyes and smiled at Harry. “I think I’d like that. You’re staying here, I take it?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I stay every year. Ron and Hermione are staying this year, too. It’ll be great. There’s a feast, and if it snows, we have a snowball fight.”
“That sounds lovely.” It was her turn to pat his hand. “Thanks for listening to me talk, sweetheart. I feel much better now.”
Harry ducked his head suddenly, but not before she saw the color rising in his cheeks. She wondered if anyone had ever called him “sweetheart” before. Probably not that he could remember, at least. Theresa got to her feet. “Brr, it’s colder than I expected out here. Let’s go inside and see if there’s hot cocoa in the Great Hall.”
“Good idea.” Harry scrambled to his feet and led the way inside.
Chapter 10 -- Inappropriate by ThessalyRose
Chapter 10
Inappropriate
Christmas was swiftly approaching, and as the fugitive snuffbox wasn’t heard from again, Theresa found herself conscripted to help Filch and Hagrid with decorating the school. There were places to hang decorations where even Hagrid couldn’t reach, and Filch could not ride a broom, so Theresa found herself exploring “ and sweeping out “ all sorts of nooks and crannies near the ceiling of the Great Hall and other parts of the castle.
The second evening after her conversation with Harry, Theresa was returning to her room in the dungeons from one such expedition, she and her borrowed broomstick covered head to toe in dust bunnies and cobwebs, when she met Ron and Hermione on the stairs to the Entrance Hall.
“Wotcher, Theresa,” Ron said, as they started to pass her.
“Hi Ron, Hermione. Where’s Harry?”
“Quidditch practice,” Hermione tossed over her shoulder, making to keep going, but Ron slowed down to keep pace with Theresa.
“Oh.” She remembered something. “Ron, did you say your name was Weasley? I was just thinking I’ve met a Weasley somewhere.”
“I have a lot of cousins, but it’s probably my dad you’ve met,” Ron provided. “He works for the Ministry of Magic’s Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”
“Hmm. No, I haven’t heard of him, although it’s nice to know there’s one department that hasn’t tried to arrest me yet. Are there any Weasleys abroad?”
“Yeah: my brothers, Bill and Charlie.”
Theresa stabbed a finger at him. “Charlie Weasley. Works with dragons in Transylvania?”
Ron grinned as they reached the foot of the stairs. “Yeah, that’s him. How do you know Charlie?”
“I was passing through Romania, and they were having a salamander problem in the dragon pens. I was the only exterminator they could find who was brave enough to go near the dragons.”
At the foot of the stairs, Hermione started across the Entrance Hall for supper, but when Ron saw that Theresa was headed in the other direction, he hesitated.
Theresa arched a sly eyebrow at him. “So tell me, Ron... are all the Weasley men so handsome, or is it just you and Charlie?”
It was a corny line, but he was young, and she’d hit home. His face turned bright red, starting at the ears. “Oh, well, you know ... if you like redheads...,” he stammered. Behind him, Hermione tutted loudly. “Er, well, are you coming to supper?”
Smiling, Theresa indicated the broomstick in her hands and said, “Sorry, no, I’m going to put this back in the staff room and go get cleaned up.”
“Oh“ I think you look fine,” he said, and his eyes dropped away from her face. He turned an even brighter shade of red. Theresa followed his eyes and glanced back at him in alarm, pulling her robe closed over her Weird Sisters tee shirt, which was a fair bit tighter than could be considered strictly ladylike.
“Ronald!” Hermione said, her voice commanding. He gave Theresa a sheepish grin and turned to follow the girl.
Theresa stared after him for a moment, suddenly very uncomfortable in her own clothes. She had always dressed ... well... boldly, and it had never occurred to her that she was in a school, around all these young boys. Why hadn’t someone said something to her before now? She pulled her robe tighter and turned toward the staff room to drop off the broom.
There were already two teachers in the staff room, and Theresa paused in the doorway when she heard Remus Lupin’s voice. “Thank you, Sibyll, but really, I couldn’t impose“.”
“No imposition at all, dear man!” cried a misty voice. Theresa groaned inwardly. The day before, Theresa had been forced to Vanish a perfectly good cup of tea, as it seemed the only way to prevent Professor Trelawney reading her tea leaves. “In fact, this morning I had a premonition of just this moment, and so I came prepared... .” She produced a palm-sized crystal ball from the folds of her fringed shawl and held it under Remus’ nose.
Remus looked positively terrified. “Really, Sybill, I“.”
Theresa decided to take action. She let the door slam behind her. Both teachers started and looked up to see Theresa drop her broomstick near its cupboard and jog toward Remus, pretending to be out of breath. “Professor Lupin! Thank goodness!” she gasped. “There was a terrible crash in your classroom! Filius went to investigate and he thinks one of your lessons has escaped!”
“My hinkypunk!” Remus cried, and together they ran out of the staff room, leaving Trelawney staring after them with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.
Remus was quicker than Theresa would have expected of a man in his apparent state of ill health, but she kept up with him easily as they dashed up the stairs toward his classroom. As soon as they rounded a corner, he slowed to a casual stroll and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I think that’s far enough, don’t you?”
Theresa grinned at him. “Didn’t fool you, eh?”
“I keep my lessons locked up in my office, not my classroom.”
“Oh, right. I’ll remember that for next time.”
Remus sighed and shook his head at her, still strolling toward his classroom. “This must be what Minerva means by your ‘charming nature’.”
“Oh? So she’s already invited you to join her lynch mob, then?”
“My first day here.”
She glanced at him. “So what about it? Will you be carrying a pitchfork?”
“I’ll admit to being tempted by the novelty of being on the other side of the torches for once, but ultimately I decided it was best not to encourage such action.” He ushered her into his classroom, shut the door behind them and turned to her, sighing. “What am I supposed to make of you, Tess? You turn up on my doorstep the day after Sirius escapes from prison, you abduct Harry Potter, and you’ve got Aurors dogging your every move. But on the other hand, Harry defends you at every turn, Dumbledore intercedes to get you out of prison, and now you’re doing impressions of James Potter in the staff room.”
Theresa quirked a smile. “High praise.”
He frowned. “How did your arm get torn up last month?”
“I was attacked by a dog.”
“What was the dog’s name?”
She met his eyes levelly. “What makes you think I would know that?”
“Did he keep his powers somehow? Is that how he escaped from Azkaban?”
“I have no idea how he escaped.” She looked at him appraisingly. “If you’re so sure, though, why haven’t you told the Aurors he was an Animagus?”
Remus grimaced and strode past her to his desk. “Because I’d rather not lose my teaching job.”
“Oh, right,” she said skeptically.
He glanced up. “I suppose you have a different theory?”
She walked toward him slowly. “I think perhaps you’re protecting him.”
“Why would I do that?” He looked a bit apprehensive at her approach.
“Because, once upon a time, you cared about him. And I reckon, somewhere deep in your heart, you still do.”
He was silent a moment. “The man I cared about “ the one I considered a brother “ never existed.”
Theresa was just across the desk from him now. “What if you’re wrong?”
“What if you are?”
She met his eyes boldly. “If I’m wrong, then I’ve wasted half my life loving a man who didn’t deserve it. If you’re wrong, then the man you called a brother has been in prison, innocently, for twelve years, when you could have helped him.”
Remus looked away from her direct gaze. His face flushed; his breathing grew labored. Finally, he shook his head. “No. You’re wrong. Sirius deserves Azkaban. James and Lily are dead because of him.”
Theresa folded her arms and dropped her voice to the barest whisper. “How many times will you have to tell yourself that before you start believing it?”
Remus dropped the papers in his hands and gave her a stricken look. Theresa turned on her heel and stalked out of the classroom, hoping she had begun to get through to him.
**********
Severus had never been in the room Dumbledore assigned to Theresa before, having always assumed there was nothing but a broom closet behind that door. He made three short raps and waited. He could hear her moving around inside, followed by a muffled, “One moment, please.”
When she cracked the door open, she was dressed, as usual, like someone who should be smashing a guitar on a stage somewhere, or riding on the back of a motorcycle, though her hair was loose and messy. As soon as she saw Severus, her expression changed from curious to sullen. “What do you want?”
“Theresa,” he said, hoping to mollify her by using her proper name. “I’ve hardly seen you in the last three days.”
She made no move to invite him in. “Filch has been keeping me busy, as I’m sure you know.”
Severus glanced up the hall to make sure they were alone. “Won't you let me in?”
“Why should I?”
“Because certain things should not be discussed in corridors.”
She scowled at him, but then stood aside so he could enter. He glanced around the room as she shut the door. It contained a wardrobe, a standing mirror, a bed and barely enough room to walk around. “This is smaller than your Muggle hotel room.”
“Bit dour, don’t you think, dear?” the mirror said to him.
“It’s cozy.” Theresa turned to face him, her arms still crossed. “What’s so important to discuss?”
“I thought you should know that nosy Auror hasn’t given up. He just left my office.”
Theresa scowled. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing of importance. I’m a man of my word.”
“Oh yes, just ask Voldemort,” she muttered, pushing past him to the other side of the bed.
“He had a bill,” Severus said shortly, pretending he hadn’t heard. “It seemed to be your writing. Advertising a lost dog.”
She paused in the act of lifting a folded blouse from one of several piles on the bed. “Yes, I made them,” she admitted. “After that dog attacked me.”
She was lying. The bill was far too weathered to have been made that recently. Severus gave her a probing look, but she met his eyes defiantly. If he were going to use Legilimency on her, she was going to make him do it openly.
He declined her challenge. Turning away from her, his gaze fell on the clothes piled on her bed. “What’s this? You’re not packing, are you?” he asked, trying very hard to ignore the pile of lacy underwear lying between piles of tee shirts and ragged denims.
Theresa turned back to the piles. “Of course not,” she said bitterly. “I’m a woman of my word. Since I’m staying, I’ve decided to fix my clothes.”
“What was wrong with them?”
She swirled her finger in the air, and Severus obediently turned his back. He watched her distorted reflection in the doorknob as she unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing and pulled the other one on. Her reflection looked like a belly dancer, undulating in the curves of the doorknob, her arms raised over her head ....
“Inappropriate,” she said, her voice muffled by tee shirt fabric.
Severus jumped. “Pardon me?”
“My clothes,” she specified. “Most of them are inappropriate to wear around the students. You can turn around now.”
He did, and watched her examine herself in the mirror. “You’re not wearing that with those shoes, are you?” it wheezed. Theresa tugged at a torn sleeve, murmuring, “Oh, yes, this is the one I was wearing when that manticore surprised us in Aceh ....” She fished her wand out of a pocket in her trousers and repaired the sleeve. Then she waved it again, and several alarming reddish-brown splotches disappeared.
“I seem to recall that you dressed much the same when you were a student,” Severus noted.
Theresa glanced at him through the mirror. “I suppose I’m developing a maternal instinct.” She turned back to the pile of clothes on the bed and selected another top. “Besides, if I ever want to get back in Minerva’s good graces, I’d better start looking more respectable.”
“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” he said, hoping that it wouldn’t discourage her from trying on more tops in his presence. “Just button your robes up.”
She chose another shirt and waved at Severus to turn around again. “I tried that, but Filch has me climbing into the tightest little holes; I couldn’t move at all if I was wearing robes.”
They could hardly be tighter than the shirt she was squeezing into, Severus thought, staring into the doorknob as though it were a crystal ball. She frowned into the mirror (“Is that a top or a bandage, sweetest?”), then shook her head and removed the shirt, adding it to the pile of hopeless cases. “I hope some of these will do,” she said, “since I can’t exactly go shopping without leaving school grounds.”
In her reflection, he could see her bra was scarlet, with a little rosebud in the center ... damn her, the manipulative vixen. “The students are going to Hogsmeade this weekend. I suppose we could go with them.”
“Really?” she said, buttoning into her sleeveless leather vest, which was a particular favorite of Severus’. She looked into the mirror and mused, “It’d be good to do some Christmas shopping. You can turn around now.”
“Hogsmeade has some fine shops,” he agreed, glad that she seemed less angry with him. “I need some supplies as well.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a fetchingly innocent face. “But if you’re with me, how will I get your present? It’ll spoil the surprise.”
“I do not require surprises.” His eyes trailed down her front. “And that one is too low-cut.” He turned on his heel and fled the room before she could tempt any more concessions out of him.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.