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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter is dead!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You took it off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry nodded in agreement.

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

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

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

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

Harry and Ron’s jaws dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too, girls. Ron.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about you?” asked Harry, hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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