The nightmare was suffocating.

Miriam was submerged in the numbing terror of it. The green smoke caged her even as she fled, desperate to find sanctuary from the neighborhood that now lay destroyed in ruins, desperate to escape the fresh, ripe stench of death. Miriam knew she was being chased, but the air was too thick for speed, too cold for breath. The houses with their broken windows and debris were nothing more than a blur, for her eyes were beginning to water and sting.

The helpless infant in her arms wailed in misery, and Miriam could feel her heart breaking in response. There was nothing she could do. Nausea, slick and greasy, rolled in her belly, and the smoke began to snake up her legs so she stumbled. Miriam cried out in surprise, but sheer adrenaline kept her afoot. She reached down for the blanket embracing the child, intending to shield its face from the smells and poison…but Miriam’s arms were empty.

Panic came as a blistering slap against the frigid air. Miriam looked this way, then that, but the child had vanished. This isn’t right! Her mind screamed. It’s not supposed to happen like this! That knowledge was somehow more terrifying than the chaos surrounding her; the not knowing of what came next. She could rummage through the smoke, she knew, but die in the process. However, in that moment, Miriam didn’t care. Children did not simply disappear. They just didn’t.

It was hardly a minute before Miriam recognized her surroundings, and she faced the wall in front of her with a groan. A dead end. Another moment, and her lungs seemed to freeze over, turning brittle and frail. Dread swamping every fiber in her being, Miriam turned around.

The dementor approached slowly, patiently. Taunting her as she stood trapped by her own dream, powerless against the walls of her own mind. A hand, grotesque and decaying, emerged from the tattered cloak of the monster, clutching a jagged knife. Miriam was frozen stiff, and the tears fighting to drip from her eyes froze painfully to her lids. So she watched, helplessly, as the dementor raised his decrepit hand, casting the knife up to glint evilly in the moonlight. Watched as he reared it back, and then plunged it mercilessly into the center of her belly. Miriam could actually feel herself dying, a sickening realization. No longer frozen, Miriam screamed and screamed.

Miriam awoke drenched in a cold sweat. At first she thought she was still trapped in the dream, pinned down by some force, and she bucked wildly. But slowly her mind registered the man lying asleep next to her, and the arm he had draped protectively over her, essentially pinning her to the mattress. Miriam pressed a clammy hand to her mouth, her forehead. She could actually feel the dull, steady pulse of the headache hammering against her temple. She shook all over, trembled in her own chilled sweat. Pain still radiated throughout her core, encouraging the nausea that churned more and more with each breath. Not wanting to wake Sirius, she choked back the sob that swelled in her throat, threw back the covers, and dashed into the adjoining bathroom where she was violently ill.

When at last she was completely empty, Miriam simply curled herself on top of the cool tiles. Sirius found her there, as pale as death, whimpering miserably. He could feel his heart aching for her, battling against the temper he fought to suppress. Kneeling down, he gently eased her up into his arms. She felt as fragile as glass.

“Go away,” she murmured weakly.

“Not a chance,” he said, pressing his lips to her damp brow.

“Sick.”

“I know, darling. I know.”

Sirius eased her gently on the bed, and strode back into the washroom for a damp cloth. Curling into herself, Miriam bit her lip, hard. She had never felt so weak in her life, and not just physically. She felt sick and afraid, ashamed and furious. But in a moment, all she felt was a cloth, blessedly cool, gently dabbing at her sweaty forehead. Neither of them spoke, and Miriam found she didn’t want to look at his face, tense with concern, anger, and she thought, a hint of fear. She didn’t think that on top of everything else, she could handle the guilt. So she closed her eyes and let him bathe her face, her neck. In a moment, Miriam felt his hand slide under her neck to lift her head, bringing a glass to her lips. She struggled to turn her face away.

“No. Not that. I need �“” she broke off, reaching for the blue vile atop her dresser.

“You’ll drink what I give you,” he said, sharply, “if I have to pour it down your throat. Your system has been through enough for tonight.”

She drank, and the water seemed to wash away the worst of the nausea. But he didn’t set her back down against the pillows. Instead he cupped her face so that their eyes met.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve had nightmares like this,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Miriam shook her head. “But this was…different. Its never been that bad before,” she admitted, and shuddered involuntarily. “Not like that.”

“What is it that haunts you, Miriam?”

But she didn’t respond. Instead, Miriam turned into him, seeking comfort and his strength. With a sigh that conveyed both frustration and weariness, Sirius gathered her close, stroking her hair, her arms, her back, soothing the tension out of both of them. Another time, he told himself once again, and this time he wouldn’t wait for her to answer. Within minutes, Sirius heard her breathing deepen, lengthen. He pressed a kiss to her brow.

“I love you,” he whispered.

With a voice that was both heavy with sleep and as softly innocent as a child’s, Miriam stirred slightly and murmured, “Don’t go away again, okay?”

Come morning, she would not remember saying anything at all; but the last, threadbare strings finally snapped, and with a weary acceptance, Sirius felt his heart break.

Miriam awoke the next morning warm and wrapped firmly in Sirius’ arms, guarding her, she knew, from the nightmares. She blinked a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes and gazed up at Sirius’ face; his features were tensed, even in sleep, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a frown. Miriam felt a twinge of guilt flicker in her stomach and she reached a hand to gently smooth away the crease between his eyes.

She began to pull her hand away, then paused, allowing it to linger at his cheek, her fingertips to brush his lips. He would worry about her now, more so than ever before. Miriam chewed her lip, thinking of his previous attempts to unlock the secrets of her �“ their -past. He wouldn’t stop now, she thought, until he had answers. His concern, his love for her wouldn’t allow it.

Miriam could not let that happen.

It doesn’t have to be like this, she thought. She could make it all go away, once and for all. To do what she’d never had the courage to do before. Miriam could forget. The idea caused a painful lump to gather in her throat.

But then Miriam looked again at Sirius, at the distress for her on his face, concentrated on the feel of his arms holding her close.

It could be like this forever, she told herself. She could put the past behind her, erase it completely from her existence. She would no longer be plagued by nightmares, by heartbreak �“ by memory. She and Sirius could start anew, fresh from where they had left off…minus a few details. They would finally be able to move on from the past and begin a new life. Perhaps build that life together.

Miriam could be happy again.

Ignoring the ache that now spread to her chest, Miriam detangled herself from Sirius and rolled out of bed. It was simply apprehension, she told herself. After all, it wasn’t everyday she removed unpleasant memories from her life. She glanced back once more towards the bed.

“It’s going to be okay now,” she said softly to the man lying stiffly there. “We’re going to be okay.”

Miriam walked quietly over to her dresser and lifted the small stone basin resting there. She still felt a bit hung-over from earlier the nightmare, and winced at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Then she tiptoed into the adjoining bathroom and set down the pensieve by the sink.

Miriam stole a quick peek back at Sirius to make sure he was still asleep. It was ridiculous to feel guilty about this, she told herself. It was all for the best. And if that meant that she had to sneak around, even lie to get it done, then so be it.

Picking up her wand, Miriam took a deep breath and, bracing herself, touched the tip of her wand to the spot right above her brow. Suddenly, she had the unsettling sensation of being irresistibly jerked forward, rather like traveling by portkey, however her body stayed perfectly in tact; this was solely her mind.

Like a film reel, images flew by before her eyes, and only brief shadows of sensation struck her body, seeming to be sucked away by some outside force; green smoke, derelict houses, icy coldness, a child, then suddenly gone, a knife…

Miriam heard herself cry out, but it sounded very far away. A moment later it was over, and Miriam opened her eyes to see a silvery strand of liquidy-light clinging to the tip of her wand. With a deep breath, she added the nightmare into the pensieve.

“What are you doing?”

Miriam gave such a start that she dropped her wand with a great clatter against the ancient tiles. The echo seemed only to emphasize the guilty silence that plagued her.

Sirius bent to pick up her wand and held it at both tips, as though giving it great consideration. Miriam held out her hand for it. Sirius simply raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she muttered. Frustrated with the guilt now churning relentlessly in her stomach, Miriam lifted her chin righteously. “It’s none of your business.”

She knew instantly she had given the wrong answer. Sirius’ eyes darkened coldly and his grip tightened on her wand. Now the guilt had claws.

“I was just releasing the dream into it, that’s all,” she said quickly, her tone much meeker. “I have a load of work to get done today, and I can’t have that running through my head all day.”

Sirius frowned, and giving it a final twirl, held out the wand to Miriam.

“Can’t have what running through your head?”

Miriam shook her head and reached out for her wand. Sirius caught the outstretched hand and held it tight.

“Miriam. You can tell me. Then perhaps you wouldn’t have to resort to that,” he said, nodding towards the pensieve.

“I’m not resorting to anything,” Miriam said defensively, he bottom lip thrust forwards in a pout. “I’m just…clearing my head. Sirius,” she began, using the grip he had on her hand to pull him close, “I don’t want to get into this right now. Not with you. It’s over now and we shouldn’t have to focus on the past.”

“On the past?” Sirius asked, suspiciously.

“On the dream,” Miriam corrected. “I’d like to have a nice, peaceful breakfast with you before I get to work. Please.” She gazed up at him through her eyelashes in what she hoped was a femininely coy expression while feeling like absolute scum.

Sirius sighed. Pulling her into his arms, he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Alright. Let’s go have breakfast.” They would dine together, he thought. But afterwards, Sirius planned on conducting some solo work himself.

Alone in the basement of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, a choking Miriam stumbled away from her stinking brew. It sizzled and hissed ominously, billows of steam rising steadily from the scalding, urine-colored potion. Heat from the cauldron filled the basement place so that sweat pearled on her forehead and dampened her robes. It was almost time.

Soon the potion would reach its peak, and Miriam would go upstairs to retrieve her pensieve. From there it was almost too easy. She could see herself carrying the stone basin downstairs to her basement, over toward the cauldron. Miriam watched in her minds eye as she slowly tipped the contents into the hisses and bubbles, watched as her memories fizzled away into nothing more than putrid steam…

A bit unsteady, Miriam let the cauldron sit for a moment and sat behind her desk, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples. She felt as though she were going mad; voices had been plaguing her all day, scolding her…scaring her. Even now when she was so close to finishing, so close to having what she’d always wanted.

And yet Miriam hadn’t felt so sad in nearly fifteen years.

You cannot simply erase your past! It’s who you are.

NO!

A half sob, half growl escaped Miriam’s throat. She shoved violently away from the desk, knocking her chair over, and began to pace. Miriam was disgusted with herself, but whether it was for the task she planned to carry out, or for the terrifying realization that perhaps she did not want to forget…this she could not decide. Only one thing was clear in Miriam’s mind: Sirius. She wanted to be with Sirius.

She would be with Sirius.

With that thought playing over and over in her head, Miriam strode purposefully back to the cauldron. Only one hour left…

Sirius had been patient long enough.

Pressing his ear to the basement door, Sirius listened for movement within. Sure enough, within moments he heard a crash, a growl of frustration, and the unmistakable sounds of pacing. Everyone else in the house had left that morning, and aside from the house elf Krecher, Sirius and Miriam were quite alone. Satisfied, he turned and headed for the stairs.

He had waited, had given her every opportunity in the world, and still she refused to let him in. Never one to wait for an invitation, Sirius decided it was high time he took matters into his own hands. She would open up, he determined, even if he had to force his way through.

He slipped quiet as a mouse into her bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind him. Miriam wouldn’t be out of the basement for at least another few hours still, and yet…Sirius smiled despite himself. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts. The only difference was, Sirius had never before felt guilty when breaking the rules.

It’s for the best, he chided himself. I’m doing this for her- for us. It’s all for the best.

Sirius walked into the washroom where Miriam had left her pensieve earlier that morning, and brought it out to sit on the dresser. It emitted an eerie silver glow that seemed to swim along the walls. Leaning closer, a picture began to form along the misty surface, and Sirius could only just make out a white room of some sort containing a single blurry figure. Soon the image became clearer, and he was able to recognize the younger Miriam as she fiddled around a room filled with shelves and shelves of vials, bottles, and jars. His heart gave one great lurch.

She’ll forgive you, Sirius told himself. Eventually.

Peering so close into the pensieve that the tip of his nose just barely skimmed the surface, Sirius felt his world tilt.