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.