Miriam was shaking like a leaf, yet her hands had never been steadier.
She worked fast and efficiently. Beads of sweat pearled on her forehead and threatened to drip into her eyes, but Miriam didn’t dare break her concentration by wiping them away. With one hand she had to hold back the thick gray fur, sticky and matted with blood; with the other she expertly flicked and swirled her wand, mending the torn muscles and flesh. All three animals were now leaning in close to the werewolf (except Peter, who was still scurrying and twitching about with nerves), assumingly keeping its attention on them, and as far away from Miriam as possible. Though from the neck down he was more or less immobile, Miriam had a feeling those jaws would work just fine if the creature felt so inclined.
Miriam knew that many considered wizard medicine somewhat of a hoax. Just a wave of the wand and you’re good to go, was the common perception. But in fact, healing required a great deal more; it wasn’t just mixing potions and reciting spells. One had to be trained in the various and complex ways of handling a wand. Miriam often compared it to knitting; each unique stitch required a different grip, handle, and twist. Unlike most spells, which simply called for adequate aim, there were a countless number of choreographic motions that had to be executed to the slightest inch; one centimeter too far, or a wave in the wrong direction could end in disaster, for both patient and Healer.
“Peter,” she snapped suddenly, “if you can’t hold still, Merlin help me, I’m going to curse you into the next millennia.”
The rat stopped scampering immediately, and instead gnawed nervously at the giant antlers he was caged in.
“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m really going to need you boys right here.” She could feel the glowing yellow eyes of the dog fix on her, but she would not meet them. “Don’t worry about me, focus on him.” Picking up a cloth from the emergency kit Sirius had stolen from the hospital wing, she dipped it in a urine-colored potion. “Ready? Now!” and she pressed the rag to the wound.
The werewolf’s body convulsed as if shocked, and he began to howl like a banshee. The stag pressed his nose to the beast’s head, and the dog placed his front paws on the werewolf’s torso in comfort and, she knew, in restraint. Miriam’s entire body jerked violently, a result of fighting the desperate urge to flee, but her hands never faltered. They remained steady and firm, applying continuous pressure to the wound. The werewolf continued to howl and writhe in pain and, she thought, fear.
Miriam had to make a split-second decision; she hadn’t wanted to resort to this, but now it seemed to be the merciful thing to do. Reaching back for the kit, she extracted a large syringe. It was filled with a shock-blue fluid, and ended in a thin, hair-like needle. Miriam wiped the blood from her hands on her slacks, and with a stab of pity, twisted off the tiny needle and replaced it with a sickeningly thick one, nearly as wide around as Miriam’s index finger. The silver tip had been sharpened to such a treacherous point it looked as though it could slice right through diamond.
The dog gave one sharp bark, and the stag stared curiously at Miriam.
“His skin is too thick,” she explained. “The smaller one won’t go through.” Which made his grotesque injury all the more puzzling, she thought. “It’s just an anesthetic, for the pain. And a sedative for, well…me. If I’m going to finish, he’s got to stop squirming.” She cast a sympathetic glance to the werewolf’s hideous face “Lupin’s face - and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then she lifted the syringe, and, grimacing, pressed the needle into the tough flesh.
The werewolf howled one last time and jerked as the needle pierced through. Then he seemed to sag down, relaxing his head and limbs on the dusty floor, and went still. Miriam dabbed at the fresh blood that leaked through the area she had punctured.
“Shhh,” she whispered gently. “That’s it. You’re going to be okay when you wake up.” Her throat tightened up and her vision went unexpectedly blurry. “You’re going to be okay.”
But Miriam now knew that Remus Lupin would never truly be okay.
She swallowed the tears and continued the operation. There wasn’t much left, and in a few minutes she was taping a gauze-like material over wound.
“It’s spider silk,” she said wearily to the others. “It won’t budge if he moves, and it should hold through his transformation at sunrise.” Now she wiped the sweat at her brow with the back of her hand, smearing more blood along her face; but at that moment, Miriam couldn’t have cared less. She was exhausted. Every muscle in her body felt fatigued and on the verge of collapse. However, she was more concerned about the geyser bubbling inside her chest that threatened to explode at any moment. So with the last bit of her strength, she pushed herself up to her feet.
“He’ll be fine for now. I’m going to stay until sunrise just to make sure…but he should be fine,” she said to the animals, unsure of who she was trying to convince. “If you’ll just excuse me for a few minutes, I need to, ah…” She gestured broadly at the door. “Excuse me.”
Dashing out of the room, Miriam turned into the first doorway down the hall, and shut the door behind her. She felt very cold. Wrapping her arms around herself, she leaned back against the wall. With a wrenching sob, Miriam’s body finally gave out, and she slid to the floor. Remus, she thought helplessly. Certainly, she’d be able to heal the injury he had suffered tonight. But no medicine would ever cure the curse that had doomed him to a life of secrecy and pain and segregation. It simply broke her heart. Miriam gathered her knees to her chest, lay down her head, and grieved.
Hardly a minute passed before Miriam heard the creaking of the door, and footsteps entering the derelict bedroom. She looked up as Sirius walked in.
She was certainly a sight. Miriam was as pale as a ghost, nearly transparent, and looked close to death with her red, puffy eyes and cheeks smeared with blood and tears. Her hair, which she had twisted into the severe bun, typical whenever she needed to concentrate, was also matted down with blood, a few stringy hairs escaping and sticking to her damp face. But it was her eyes that caught him; glistening and wide, he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so tragic, so heartbreakingly honest in his entire life. They were so sad. Sirius could feel his heart being wrenched viciously from his chest.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, unable to resist.
Miriam was rendered speechless. No one, not even her parents, had ever accused her of beauty. And now, sitting curled up in a dusty room, covered with blood and too tired to even move, the young man she thought would never speak to her again was calling her beautiful. It was just all too much.
“That’s not funny,” she finally choked out.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he said coolly, and knelt down to her, touching a fingertip to the dent in her chin. “You know, for such a toughie, you care about people far too much.” He brushed away a tear dribbling down her face. “Don’t let this rip you apart.”
Miriam found she wanted to curl up into the hand cupping her cheek and not move for the rest of her life.
“But I don’t understand,” she sputtered. “How… when...?”
Sirius stood now, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, frowning.
“It was before we came to Hogwarts. I remember Lupin telling us once that he wasn’t even planning on attending, didn’t think they would accept someone…well, someone like him. But Dumbledore insisted. Said they’d find a way to keep the students, and him, safe.”
“The Whomping Willow,” Miriam whispered.
“Exactly,” Sirius nodded. “Why else would they plant a skull-crushing tree on school grounds? Luckily, many people already think that Dumbledore is running short a few circuits, so no one ever seriously questioned it. Just blamed it on the eccentricity of an old man.”
It was all beginning to make sense. Sirius’ injury towards the beginning of the school year, Lupin’s countless absences, the legendary shrieking of the Shrieking Shack…
“And tonight?” she asked.
“Not sure,” Sirius said, “but we think it was another werewolf. We heard howling that couldn’t have been entirely Lupin.”
“It makes sense,” Miriam said, nodding. “I remember reading that the only creature who can cause serious harm to a werewolf is another werewolf. Their teeth are made of one of the only substances that can break through their skin. That, and a silver bullet, of course,” she said in a feeble attempt to make light of the situation.
Sirius smiled slightly.
“Thank you for doing this.”
“You’re welcome.”
An awkward silence followed. Sirius began to pace, and Miriam became very interested in rubbing some of the blood off of her wrist. Every now and then, Sirius would pause and open his mouth to speak, but then, as though he had thought better of it, he would shake his head slightly, and continue pacing. Finally, Sirius came to an abrupt halt, and turned to her.
“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he said, stuffing his hands out of frustration into his trouser pockets.
Miriam stopped the useless rubbing and took a deep breath. Now, she supposed, was as good a time as any.
“That’s fine. Because I have a thing or two to get off my chest.” Pushing herself to her feet so they were eye-level, Miriam jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! Are you all insane? You have some nerve, bringing me out here in the middle of the night, scaring me half to death, risking my life more than once, breaking about fifty school rules…Oh! And let’s talk about rules for a moment, shall we?”
Miriam was finding her stride. Sirius looked completely shocked, and she was pleased to see that she had been able to catch him off guard, for once.
“Not only could you three get yourselves expelled from Hogwarts, but thrown into Azkaban as well! I know for a fact that you are not registered with the Ministry of Magic to be an Animagus, you’re far too young. You’re breaking a serious law, and people have been tossed in Azkaban for far less.” Miriam knew that she was on the verge of shouting.
Sirius looked furious; but she couldn’t stop. Not now. She’d get it all out, every last word if it killed her. “So, let’s put this all together, shall we? Here you are, sneaking out three-times a month from school, transforming yourselves into illegal Animagi, and frolicking around with a werewolf, a creature who’s sole purpose in life is to maim and kill, keeping him company so he won’t be causing havoc all by himself.”
Then, in a gesture that left her completely open and exposed, she let her arms fall to her sides, palms open wide. For the first time in her life, Miriam was knowingly making herself vulnerable to hurt.
“And here I am,” she began, her voice beginning to shake, “the idiot who let you go.”
A vicious, snarling temper had been brewing inside of Sirius, threatening to boil over as soon as Miriam had begun her tirade. Yet in an instant, it vanished, leaving him at a complete loss. His heart began to pound as her words sunk in.
“Miriam,” he murmured, and reached for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head.
“No. I have to finish this. I need…” What she needed, she wasn’t exactly sure, but Miriam did know that no matter what the outcome, no matter how humiliating, she had to be the one to bring this all to an end.
“I didn’t want to believe that you were capable of truly caring for a person. And I had myself convinced that you could never really love someone…someone like me. No, don’t say anything yet,” she said at the frustrated look on Sirius’s face. “I didn’t think that you would ever really develop true feelings for me, so that made it easier for me to believe that what we had was just a casual fling, just a game really. That way I could keep myself at a distance. And if I never really felt anything for you, if I never opened up or put myself out there, it wouldn’t hurt so badly when you finally realized that you had made a horrible mistake and wanted out.”
Miriam’s throat had tightened up so painfully close that breathing became a labor. Her voice was unusually high-pitched, and was beginning to hitch uncomfortably. She couldn’t for the life of her read the look on Sirius’ face, and that caused her stomach to twitter frantically, like Pettigrew’s rat scurrying back and forth between James’ antlers. But she sniffed loudly, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and continued.
“Obviously, I was wrong about many things. It did hurt,” she said wetly, her tears making blurry stripes in the blood smeared along her cheeks. “It hurt so badly I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and nothing would ever be able to put it back. And I was a fool to believe that you were incapable of love. Tonight, more than anything, proved me wrong.” Miriam was crying freely now, speaking through sobs that tore through her, but she didn’t care. “You do this for him, you risk your education, your freedom, to keep a friend from feeling lonely and afraid. You know what he is, and accept him for that, and make him feel like he belongs.” She took a long, slow breath. Miriam wanted to make sure he heard every word, because she didn’t think she’d be able to repeat it.
“I would have fallen in love with you tonight,” she began, “if I hadn’t already a long time ago. I’m only sorry it’s taken me so long to realize it.” Miriam tried a smile. “Margaret’s a very lucky girl.”
For what seemed to Miriam like an eternity, neither of them spoke. Sirius made no move to respond, only watched her, the same unreadable expression on his face. Miriam shifted her feet awkwardly, scratched her arm, and swallowed hard. She couldn’t stay still; standing there was simply torture. She knew that by now she had to be as red as a tomato, and wondered if she had just made a terrible mistake.
Then, like a dream moving in slow motion, Sirius took two strides forward until they were toe-to-toe, lifted her face in both hands, and kissed her.
Miriam had no idea how long they stood embraced there, but in that time she could feel her entire world tilt. It was like watching a sunrise after being trapped, held prisoner in the bleak dungeon of her own mind. She felt a familiar, glorious sliding feeling in her stomach, akin to taking a nose-dive on a broomstick, scary and exciting at the same time. Her heart soared and beat erratically against Sirius’s own. When they finally broke apart, Sirius gathered her tightly against him, burying his face in her hair. He sighed, and Miriam thought it sounded like relief.
“Bloody hell, Miriam,” he murmured, his face muffled against her neck. “What took you so damn long? I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it.”
“I wasn’t sure that you’d still want to,” she said tearfully, fisting her hands at his back. Sirius smiled wryly, and leaned back to look at her, cupping her face in his hands.
“If you hadn’t said anything tonight, I was sure as hell ready to get down on my knees and beg you to take me back.”
Miriam sniffled not unhappily, and forced herself to ask, “But what about Margaret?”
Sirius threw his head back and barked with laughter, then saw that she was completely serious and cleared his throat. “Darling Miriam. Isn’t it obvious? I was trying to make you jealous.” Now he grinned, wickedly. “Did it work?”
Miriam’s jaw fell open in indignation.
“You wicked little prat! I should have let you beg.”
“I’m very glad that you didn’t,” he said soberly. “I needed to hear this from you. Also,” Sirius began, lifting one of Miriam’s hands in both of his, “I believe an apology is in order.”
“What else do I have to be sorry for?” Miriam demanded in an exasperated tone, pouting. Sirius chuckled and brought her hand to his lips.
“What I meant to say is that I owe you an apology. I never should have called you a coward,” he said, soberly. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to,” Miriam said, shrugging glumly. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly “”
“What you did tonight was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen. If you hadn’t risked your life, Lupin would be lying in there, having probably bled to death.”
Miriam flushed a brilliant scarlet and stared at her shoes.
“It’s not like I really had much of a choice. After all, I did eventually figure out what was going on, that you all had…changed…and if I had even tried to leave, we both know very well that you would have chased me down and dragged me back with that enormous snout of yours.”
“But I didn’t have to do that, did I?” asked Sirius, once more tilting her chin forward to meet his eyes. “And I wasn’t counting on you figuring out our identities, that was just a stroke of luck. What I was counting on is the fact that I knew you wouldn’t leave. I knew that if I could just get you to see him, you would never let him suffer, no matter what the danger. You might not be the most…daring person I’ve ever met,” he said, earning a derisive snort from her, “but you’re sturdy when it matters most. I didn’t hesitate to bring you here, Miriam. You were the only person I thought of.” Miriam smiled, her eyes lighting up with happiness, and Sirius was reminded of their first true interaction in the hospital wing. He could have fallen in love with her all over again.
“So,” she said hesitantly, “does this mean that we’re…?”
“You tell me.”
Understanding perfectly, Miriam grinned and pulled Sirius forward to crush his mouth against hers.
“Darling Miriam,” Sirius murmured, sighing pleasantly. He gathered her close and rested his cheek against the top of her hair. “You need a bath.”
It had been quite a long time since Miriam had administered the sedative, and a peaceful aura of quiet had befallen the Shack. Lupin, a werewolf for at least another few hours, was sleeping calmly in another corner of the room where Miriam had found him, snoring rather loudly. She didn’t want him to have to lie in the sticky mat of blood that now lay plastered to the floor, so she magically moved him to a more sterile area across the room. Thinking of Remus’ modesty when he arose that morning to find her tending to him, Miriam had draped the werewolf in the now-tattered cloak she had been wearing. Peter had completely worn himself out from his frantic worrying, and was sound asleep in James’ impressive antlers. The stag dozed lightly nearby, ready to move if Lupin were to stir.
Miriam and Sirius had planted themselves right outside the room in the hallway. Leaning against the wall, they sat curled up together beneath a patchy-green blanket they found in an antiquated chest. Sirius had fallen asleep almost instantly and was presently snoring very lightly, a heavy arm draped around Miriam to hold her close.
Miriam, on the other hand, remained wide-awake. It seemed her thoughts were in overdrive, absorbing information, digesting it, doing victory leaps across her brain. She leaned cozily against Sirius’ chest, rising and falling along with each breath, and listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart against her ear.
He looked almost innocent, she mused. She gazed over his serene expression, smiling to herself. Without the dark, shrewd eyes open and gleaming with mischief, there was a simple, almost childlike quality to his face. Yet somehow he was no less striking to behold, handsome as ever. And, she thought in amazement, he was hers.
“I love you,” Miriam whispered, reaching to place a feather-light hand on his cheek. “I think I always have…even though sometimes I don’t show it.”
To Miriam’s complete surprise, Sirius grinned and snaked his other arm around her, pulling her close to lay his cheek against her head. “I know,” he said, sleepily. “I always have.”