9. The First Gift
Claire stood in the bathroom and studied at her face in the mirror. Something was different, she thought, touching her cheeks, her lips. She just could not name it. She was positively glowing, her skin radiant even in the soft light of the candle.
It was the middle of the night. Sirius was fast asleep in her bed, and she had no idea why she had awoken at this hour. She was not ill - at the contrary, she had never felt so … good … so strong before. So aware of her body and of the whole world around her. It must be Sirius who had that effect on her, she decided. They were married for almost eight weeks now and where there had been awkwardness at first, was now something that resembled a friendship. At least from Sirius' part, thought Claire. He might be her friend - while she loved him. She'd never tell him of course, not after he had all but forbidden her to feel anything for him. But as long as she kept her love in her heart, it would live, and when Sirius was gone and she was alone again, it would still warm her.
Meanwhile she'd make sure that Sirius was happy or as happy as possible for a wizard with his past. Coming clean about the attacks had made him calmer, more balanced. He told her stories almost every evening, and once or twice she had had to force him back into the real world, away from the voices. But he learned to keep control step by step.
After the first night, Claire had found the semi-magic quill in the morning, reduced to a stump, on top of a stack of writings, spent to exhaustion. At first she'd assumed the parchment her own letters until she had read the top sheet.
The quill had duly written down every word of Sirius' stories - and just by reading them again, Claire relived all the emotions of the previous night. She cried. She laughed helplessly.
And then, before Sirius awoke on the couch, she locked the parchments away in her desk.
Eight weeks. She stuck out her tongue at the image in the mirror. Only eight weeks and she fussed about him like his wife of eight years.
Eight weeks. She froze. Her hand trailed gingerly down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach and settled down beyond her navel. Or course it was ridiculous … Or was it? Could it be possible?
She felt dizzy all of a sudden, her head light with joy.
The signs … all the signs had been there and she had ignored them, had blamed them on the excitement of her changed life. She was thirty-two and had given up the hope for a child many years ago, when it seemed clear she'd never be married. Who should have given her a child when she was locked away in this house? The desire had waned but never died. And now there would be a baby …
Sirius' baby …
She could not tell him. As strong as the impulse was to run into the bedroom and wake him, tell him, she knew she must never do that. If their mission was successful, Voldemort might be defeated before the baby was born. Sirius would leave, would be free, free to do all the things the fates had withheld from him until now. See the world. Write books. Find love ….
Sighing she extinguished the candle. She loved him and so she would not tie him to her life by means of a baby. Because one thing she knew for sure - Sirius would never leave his child. But she did not want him to stay out of responsibility and honour. So she'd not tell him.
When she slipped back under the duvet and Sirius reached for her in his sleep and drew her in his arms, she settled into his embrace, again marvelling how well their bodies fit to each other's. She let him hold her and lay still, content to listen to his heartbeat.
A baby.
Would it be a boy or a girl? How would she ever be able to raise a kid all alone? Claire smiled and gently kissed Sirius' arm. She was not alone anymore. Sirius had opened the world to her. And when she had a child, she'd never be alone again. The elves would help her, and she supposed she could always ask Poppy about the details of pregnancy. Although it would remain her secret as long as possible. What a gift, what an incredible precious gift!
Rubbing her cheek against Sirius' warm skin, she whispered very softly: "Thank you."
Sirius muttered something in his sleep and sighed when she kissed his ear..
Claire smiled. She'd find a way to thank him, to make him as happy as she was now. The three things she knew he wanted - she'd make sure he'd get them.
* * *
Three days later Claire stood in Snape's quarters in front of the cold fireplace and clasped her hands in silent uneasiness. She'd come to speak to Laurel, but had only found the Potions master who seemed to be in a vile mood and had offered her neither seat nor refreshment while she waited. He kept rummaging around, mumbling something about "fools in love" and ignored her otherwise.
When Laurel eventually entered, Claire let out a long breath of relief.
"Claire," Laurel smiled at her. "How nice of you to visit. I am sorry for the chaos, but we are packing."
"You'll go on holidays?" Claire winced. Right now, when she desperately needed Laurel's help!
"Next week!" Laurel beamed. "We'll visit my parents, and since we plan to stay for a few weeks, there are a lot of preparations necessary." Winking at Snape, who scowled back, she whispered, "Two cauldrons! And a mortar and pestle. Of course we can't go on holidays without that."
Claire chuckled at the expression of mild exasperation on her friend's face. She knew quite well that Laurel had seen her family only once since she'd been abducted by the Ministry and been sent to Hogwarts to learn how to deal with the magical talent she possessed. No wonder she was excited. "How did you convince Severus?" she asked.
"An eye for an eye. One week with my parents. One week hunting rare plants in the mountains." Laurel shrugged. "Thank God for the blue-spotted what- ever that only grows in the Austrian Alps!"
"It's not spotted but striped." Snape arched one eyebrow and kept his face as austere as possible. "But trust me, before we return, you will know exactly what it looks like. And where it can be found. And how it must be harvested."
"Probably naked by the light of the full moon," Laurel joked, and Claire watched in amusement how her friend's face flushed when Severus nodded seriously. Suddenly she felt like an intruder to a very intimate moment. Still, she needed Laurel's help ...
Clearing her throat she reached for Laurel's hand and begged: "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"
They left Snape and his equipment, and wandered through the hall and out of the castle.
On the stairs they almost tripped over Serene, who sat in the sun with a spell-book in her lap.
"I really can't remember ever being as bored as I am right now," the red- haired witch sighed.
The three women settled down on the lawn in front of the castle.
"Aren't you busy enough making Remus Lupin miserable?" Claire blushed when she saw Serene frown. "Sorry, I know it is not my business."
"Exactly!" Serene snapped. "Just why is everybody thinking they have a right to interfere with my private life? Or Remus' for that matter?"
"We like him," Claire explained. "And we like you, too."
Serene stared at her with narrowed eyes. "So?"
"So we want to see you happy." Laurel interfered calmly.
Before Serene could answer, Claire felt she had to change the subject or this conversation would end in bitter argument. Whatever it was that constantly went wrong between Serene and Remus, they were both grown-ups and had to deal with it alone.
"I came to ask Laurel to accompany me to London tomorrow," she said.
"To London? Can I come, too?" Serene begged, apparently glad that Claire had stirred the conversation away from her love-life. "These walls are crushing me right now. It is so empty and calm without the students."
Claire noticed something in the beautiful witch's face that had not been there a few weeks ago, a faint trace of desperation around the eyes. Suddenly she pittyed Serene, maybe for the first time. She had envied her as long as she knew her, but now she was so happy and Serene seemed so genuinely unhappy ...
"You are not going to visit your family?" she asked gently.
"No-one to visit. At least no-one I care about," Serene shrugged. "So one day in London is the best I can get."
"If we leave early in the morning," Laurel suggested, "we can fly straight to London and back in a day."
Claire looked at her shoes. Was this the moment when she had to confess? "I'd rather go by train."
"You are not too fond of flying, are you?" Serene remembered. "Remus told me you had a problem with his broom a few days ago."
"Well, I suppose we can always Apparate." Laurel bit her lip. "Only ... Apparating is not really my favourite choice of transportation."
"I can't Apparate either," Claire admitted. Then she sighed and looked at the two witches, her face pale with anxiety. "I guess I have to tell you now."
"Tell us what?"
"I can't fly. I can't Apparate. I can't even take the damned Express, because I won't be able to leave the platform at King's Cross."
Serene and Laurel stared at her.
"I am a squib." Claire's voice died away in humiliation. "To leave or enter the platform you need magic … and I don't have any."
"Oh Claire," Laurel hugged her impulsively. "You should have told us before!"
Serene nodded silently. Then she suddenly smiled. "We'll go with you by train and drag you through that wall off the platform!"
"That's what I hoped to hear," sighed Claire. They had taken it much better than she'd expected. But then they were special each in their own way, both being stray witches who had been brought to Hogwarts as adult students.
"So what are you planing to do in London?"
Claire's mouth twitched. "You'll see in time."
* * *
In front of the Dursley's house Claire smoothed her navy blue suit jacket and checked the tight bun and half-moon glasses Serene had seen fit for a Headmistress. She looked a bit like Minerva McGonagall, she thought, when she saw herself in the small pocket mirror, and the idea made her giggle nervously.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button at the door. Laurel had provided her with an intense lecture in Muggle culture on the train ride to London, and so it was no surprise to her when a bell somewhere inside the house chimed "Rule Britannia".
A fat teenage boy opened the door, a half eaten pizza slice in his chubby hand.
"Watchawant?" he asked, chewing his food with great dedication.
"I am Professor Winterstorm," Claire raised her eyebrows and looked down at the boy with the sternest expression she could muster. "I'd like to speak to your parents."
The boy turned wordlessly and trotted back inside, not without yelling: "Mum!"
A thin brunette came down the stairs, patting the boy indulgently on the head.
"Can I help you?" she asked suspiciously, when she saw Claire at the doorstep.
"I am Professor Winterstorm," Claire repeated and stretched out her hand, as Laurel had shown her. Somewhat surprised Mrs. Dursley shook the visitor's hand.
"I am Headmistress of The Manor, a correctional institution for incurably malevolent wizards."
"Wizards?" Petunia Dursley paled. "Are you … You are …"
"Me, a witch?" Claire pursed her lips. "Good god, no! I do my best to make them see the error in their ways, but … well, you know how they are." She gave the woman a small conspicuous smile. "Stubborn and impudent."
Harry's aunt rolled her eyes. "No need to tell me," she sighed. "Please, do come in. My husband will be delighted to meet you."
Obviously Petunia was dead right about that. Vernon Dursley could hardly stop asking the stern young Professor questions about the very strict institute she represented. Claire went out of her way to explain how boys like Harry needed a strong hand - "and a cane at times, I am afraid" and how the deprivation of warm showers and regular meals did wonders for the juvenile delinquents in her care.
"Even Headmaster Dumbledore had to admit he can't handle the boy any longer. So, with your consent of course, I'd like to take young Harry with me to "The Manor" for the rest of the holidays. All you need to do is sign at the dotted line."
Astonished she watched how Vernon snatched the pen she offered without a second of hesitation and signed away his nephew to a strange woman without any credentials.
"I'll pack his stuff!" Petunia beamed at her. "Maybe you'd be so good and tell him about … the situation yourself. We are not on speaking terms with him right now." She pointed upstairs. "It is the second door to the left."
When Claire climbed the stairs, she overheard the Dursleys excitedly discuss the possibility of an impromptu holiday in Spain - "now that the problem with the boy is taken care of".
She knocked at the door, and when nobody answered, counted to fifteen before she turned the knob. She remembered only too well how she had refused to talk to her parents when she had been Harry's age - a battle she had always lost. But then she had had nobody else to talk to, so all they'd had to do was wait.
Harry lay on his bed, propped on a few mangled pillows, and read a battered magazine. He did not look up when Claire entered, only when she shyly cleared her throat.
She had not been sure if he'd recognise her. Obviously Sirius or somebody had pointed her out to Harry. She could only dimly remember James Potter's face, but Sirius had told her that the boy had his mother Lily's eyes, so the unruly dark hair must be James'. And the scar was Voldemort's, she thought. The look he gave her was a fascinating mixture of surprise, displeasure and curiosity.
"You?" Harry's voice trembled with suppressed fear. "Has anything happened to Sirius?"
"No. No, he is alright," Claire hurriedly assured him. So he was still worried about his godfather, even though he was angry. She took it as a good sign.
"May I sit down?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "If you like."
Claire looked at the only chair that was half buried under a pile of clothes and books. For want of another place she sat down on the edge of the bed.
"How come the Dursleys let you in? They despise witches."
"I lied," Claire admitted and explained about the story she had made up for his relatives.
Harry gazed at her incredulously. "But why?"
"I want you to come with me, Harry." Claire folded her hands to resist the urge to pull a strand out of the tight bun. "They signed this document that puts you in my guardianship for the summer."
"But why?" the boy insisted.
"The quarrel between you and Sirius is so ridiculous," Claire sighed. "He misses you, and I am sure you miss him as well."
"He does not miss me. He got a wife now," Harry gave her an odd look, "and maybe you'll have a baby soon. He'll have a family of his own, and he won't need me anymore."
He did his best to keep his voice calm and unmoved, to appear grown up and reasonable, but Claire just needed to look into his eyes to see the lost child, and her heart went out to him. His assumption she might have a baby soon had taken her by surprise. But there was no way he could know about her pregnancy. She tried to find the right words, words that would not hurt his pride and at the same time assure him of Sirius' love.
"Harry," she ventured. "Hasn't Sirius told you about the … special arrangement of our marriage?
The boy avoided her eyes. "He said he'd marry you just to be married."
"Right. Just to be married. He did not become my husband because he planed to be with me forever after. It is not as if we had a love affair or anything. In fact we had not seen each other since I was younger than you are now. He married me so we both could help Headmaster Dumbledore …"
"But … how can you be married to somebody you don't love?" Harry blushed. "I mean, it … you … well, you do have two bedrooms I assume?"
Now it was Claire's turn to blush, and her face burned with embarrassment. "I am sure Sirius will explain that to you. That is, if you come home with me."
Harry drew in a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I … I am sorry … I don't even know how to call you."
"Claire. You can call me Claire."
"I can't just go to him, Claire," admitted Harry and hugged his knees. Claire noticed he had had a growth spurt in the last month, he was thinner and paler than when she had seen him on the Quidditch pitch in Sirius' Animagus class.
"I said things to him I am sorry for now. But I meant the when I said them. He'll be mad about me."
"Sometimes we have to overcome our fear and just face what we are afraid of." Claire repeated what Snape had told her at the fair. She reached out and touched Harry's hand, and saw with a faint smile how he flinched. He was almost sixteen and still easily embarrassed by a woman's touch.
Harry shook his head. "I am sorry."
Claire stood up and straightened her pencil skirt. "Well, I guess I must accept that. But can I ask you for a favour?"
He shrugged, secretly disappointed that she had given in so easily.
"Would you take me to the train station and help me get onto the platform?"
Harry frowned. "Onto the platform? Why would you need my help for that? You just walk through the barrier …"
Claire gave him a sheepish smile. "I can't."
"You can't?"
"It is a magical barrier. And I am a squib."
Now she had his full attention. His eyes widened. "Really? You can't do any magic?"
"Nothing. I am as bad as any Muggle." She sat down on the bed again, casually as if she was ready to leave any moment. "But of course I grew up in the wizarding world. Believe me, it can be as embarrassing as being a wizard in the Muggle world."
Fascinated Harry started to ask her questions. Then he suddenly paused. "Do people know? I mean, does Sirius know?"
Claire smirked. "Until I married him, nobody knew what I was but Headmaster Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Now Remus knows. And Severus. And Laurel and Serene. It is not really a secret anymore, I assume."
"Snape?"
"He took it very well," Claire assured him and remembered how the Potions master had exploded when he first heard that their new spy was a squib. "Considering he is Snape and all that …"
"And now you tell me …", he said softly, his green eyes boring into hers. "And you come to London, disguised as … some kind of evil Headmistress."
She smiled wearily. "Sometimes we have to do things we are afraid of."
"But why?"
Claire stood up and went to the pin-board on the wall above Harry's desk. The furniture in the boy's room reminded her of a jumble sale, as if Harry's relatives had given him all the pieces they considered too ugly for their own rooms. Which was probably just what they had done ... On the board stuck several magical pictures of waving smiling teenagers, classmates she assumed.
"I knew Sirius in school, you know," she said softly and kept staring at the board. "Before my parents decided to keep the shame of the family at home. I was a second year in Hufflepuff, and Sirius was …" She sighed. "He was all a girl at that age could wish for. Tall, handsome, with beautiful eyes. Kind, funny, strong."
"So you had a … ah, crush on him?"
The chimes of a clock in the living room downstairs reminded Claire of the passing time. But she could not rush this.
"A crush? No. Good Goddess, no! I hated him. He played tricks on me whenever he saw me, he called me names …"
Harry chuckled. "That means he liked you, stupid!"
Claire had to laugh. "Well, he hid that very well!" Then she got serious again. "The thing is, Harry, and this is just between you and me …"
He nodded.
"I love him." She blushed and stroked Hedwig through the bars of the owl's cage. "I love Sirius. And I know he misses you. If you love somebody you don't want them to be unhappy. That's why I beg you to come with me, home to Hogsmeade." She turned around reluctantly and found Harry staring at her as if she was an apparition out of thin air.
Eventually he cleared his throat. "Wow."
Claire just had to laugh when she saw the mixture of awe and horror in his face. "Sorry, about that, Harry," she apologised. "I don't know any guys your age, but this must have been embarrassing."
"Ehm … no … yes." Harry took off his glasses and started polishing them.
"Just promise me not to tell Sirius."
He frowned, but then he nodded gravely. "I won't."
Claire sighed. "I am afraid I must hurry. The train leaves at four o'clock, and if you'd be so friendly to help me through to the platform I …"
"I only have to pack Hedwig and my school stuff. It is in the under the stairs."
"Your stuff?" Claire's face lit up. "You are coming home with me?"
"To your house, yes. I am still not sure Sirius wants me there, but maybe you'll let me stay for the rest of the summer. I won't be any trouble, I can take care of myself and …"
"Oh rubbish! Sirius will be overjoyed to see you! And when I said home, Harry, I meant it. Stay as long as you like. You'll always be welcome in Winterstorm Manor. Even when …"
Harry dumped the pile of clothes unceremoniously into the trunk he had pulled out from under the bed. "Even when what?"
"Even when Sirius and I are not married anymore."
The boy looked up, a startled expression on his face. "But you said … you said you love him."
Claire lifted Hedwig's cage from the window sill and covered it with a silk scarf. Then she kneeled down next to Harry to help him pack his spell- books. "Remember what I told you about our marriage? Sirius will leave one day, and I have no right to hold him back. That's why I beg you again not to mention our little talk to him. Promise me that."
Suddenly Harry seemed much older, more mature than could be expected from a boy his age. But then again, he had seen more terrible things than most wizards ever saw, Claire thought.
"I promise." He held out a hand and she took it thankfully.
Straightening, she frowned. "When we go downstairs, don't forget that I am Headmistress Winterstorm. I am really mean, and you are a remorseful student."
He closed the trunk's lid with a thud and looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure you can do mean?"
Claire checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed the collar of her stern blouse. "I'll do my best. The question is - can you do contrite?"
* * *
When they got off the train in Hogsmeade that evening, Claire saw Sirius' tall frame from afar. She had not told him that she'd go to London, so one of the elves must have. Serene and Laurel saw him approach as well and rather hastily bid their friend and Harry good-by before they left the station by broom to Hogwarts.
Claire cleared her throat and smiled anxiously when she saw Sirius' stern face.
"I was worried," he said instead of a greeting.
She had to tilt her head back to look at him. "I should have told you. But it was to be a surprise." Her hand settled on his arm. It needed not more that that one touch to make him draw her into his arms and hold her.
"I was worried," he repeated, "It is not safe for you to go to London on your own."
"I did not go alone. There were three of us, Laurel and Serene went with me." Claire savoured the warmth and the scent of his body. She was tired from the long ride and all she wanted right now was being lifted and carried home. But this was not her evening, she knew that. This was Harry's.
Gently pushing against Sirius' chest, she stepped away from him. "On the ride back there were four of us."
"Four?" He frowned. "I thought you said ..." His voice suddenly shook when he recognised Harry who was still struggling to levitate his trunk out of the train.
Claire watched Sirius' face change from surprise to joy to guarded calmness.
"You know he is only safe in the house of his guardian," he reminded Claire, never letting Harry out of his eyes.
Harry approached, the trunk, with Hedwig's cage on top, following him like a clumsy pet. "Uncle Dursley signed his guardianship away for the rest of the summer," he explained awkwardly. Both wizard and boy stared at each other, neither sure what to say, how to make up for the bitter words that had fallen last time they met.
Claire sighed. Men! They were so difficult - and yet so adorable ...
"You know what?" She smiled at them both and nudged Sirius closer to Harry. "Why don't you two guys grab your brooms and play a fast round of Quidditch, while I go home and make sure the elves have prepared a bedroom for Harry?"
Of course they had, she thought in mild amusement. Her presence was rather needed to make sure they had not gilded the boy's bed ... After all young Harry was a star, and the Winterstorm staff would certainly treat him according to his fame in the elf-world.
Harry nodded, still avoiding Sirius' eyes, and changed the spell on the trunk from following to finding its own way to Winterstorm Manor.
While the boy wrapped the safety-string off his broom, Sirius reached for Claire's hand. The look on his face made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She saw the deep blue eyes unguarded for a moment, and what she recognised in them was joy, gratefulness and something else ... desire, need, longing. Then the moment was over, she watched him rebuild his careful facade of the wizard who could not be hurt. But for a heartbeat he had allowed her a glimpse into his very soul.
Sirius raised her hand to his lips, and, gently kissing it, whispered so soft nobody but Claire would hear it: "Thank you."
* * *
Claire stood in the bathroom and studied at her face in the mirror. Something was different, she thought, touching her cheeks, her lips. She just could not name it. She was positively glowing, her skin radiant even in the soft light of the candle.
It was the middle of the night. Sirius was fast asleep in her bed, and she had no idea why she had awoken at this hour. She was not ill - at the contrary, she had never felt so … good … so strong before. So aware of her body and of the whole world around her. It must be Sirius who had that effect on her, she decided. They were married for almost eight weeks now and where there had been awkwardness at first, was now something that resembled a friendship. At least from Sirius' part, thought Claire. He might be her friend - while she loved him. She'd never tell him of course, not after he had all but forbidden her to feel anything for him. But as long as she kept her love in her heart, it would live, and when Sirius was gone and she was alone again, it would still warm her.
Meanwhile she'd make sure that Sirius was happy or as happy as possible for a wizard with his past. Coming clean about the attacks had made him calmer, more balanced. He told her stories almost every evening, and once or twice she had had to force him back into the real world, away from the voices. But he learned to keep control step by step.
After the first night, Claire had found the semi-magic quill in the morning, reduced to a stump, on top of a stack of writings, spent to exhaustion. At first she'd assumed the parchment her own letters until she had read the top sheet.
The quill had duly written down every word of Sirius' stories - and just by reading them again, Claire relived all the emotions of the previous night. She cried. She laughed helplessly.
And then, before Sirius awoke on the couch, she locked the parchments away in her desk.
Eight weeks. She stuck out her tongue at the image in the mirror. Only eight weeks and she fussed about him like his wife of eight years.
Eight weeks. She froze. Her hand trailed gingerly down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach and settled down beyond her navel. Or course it was ridiculous … Or was it? Could it be possible?
She felt dizzy all of a sudden, her head light with joy.
The signs … all the signs had been there and she had ignored them, had blamed them on the excitement of her changed life. She was thirty-two and had given up the hope for a child many years ago, when it seemed clear she'd never be married. Who should have given her a child when she was locked away in this house? The desire had waned but never died. And now there would be a baby …
Sirius' baby …
She could not tell him. As strong as the impulse was to run into the bedroom and wake him, tell him, she knew she must never do that. If their mission was successful, Voldemort might be defeated before the baby was born. Sirius would leave, would be free, free to do all the things the fates had withheld from him until now. See the world. Write books. Find love ….
Sighing she extinguished the candle. She loved him and so she would not tie him to her life by means of a baby. Because one thing she knew for sure - Sirius would never leave his child. But she did not want him to stay out of responsibility and honour. So she'd not tell him.
When she slipped back under the duvet and Sirius reached for her in his sleep and drew her in his arms, she settled into his embrace, again marvelling how well their bodies fit to each other's. She let him hold her and lay still, content to listen to his heartbeat.
A baby.
Would it be a boy or a girl? How would she ever be able to raise a kid all alone? Claire smiled and gently kissed Sirius' arm. She was not alone anymore. Sirius had opened the world to her. And when she had a child, she'd never be alone again. The elves would help her, and she supposed she could always ask Poppy about the details of pregnancy. Although it would remain her secret as long as possible. What a gift, what an incredible precious gift!
Rubbing her cheek against Sirius' warm skin, she whispered very softly: "Thank you."
Sirius muttered something in his sleep and sighed when she kissed his ear..
Claire smiled. She'd find a way to thank him, to make him as happy as she was now. The three things she knew he wanted - she'd make sure he'd get them.
* * *
Three days later Claire stood in Snape's quarters in front of the cold fireplace and clasped her hands in silent uneasiness. She'd come to speak to Laurel, but had only found the Potions master who seemed to be in a vile mood and had offered her neither seat nor refreshment while she waited. He kept rummaging around, mumbling something about "fools in love" and ignored her otherwise.
When Laurel eventually entered, Claire let out a long breath of relief.
"Claire," Laurel smiled at her. "How nice of you to visit. I am sorry for the chaos, but we are packing."
"You'll go on holidays?" Claire winced. Right now, when she desperately needed Laurel's help!
"Next week!" Laurel beamed. "We'll visit my parents, and since we plan to stay for a few weeks, there are a lot of preparations necessary." Winking at Snape, who scowled back, she whispered, "Two cauldrons! And a mortar and pestle. Of course we can't go on holidays without that."
Claire chuckled at the expression of mild exasperation on her friend's face. She knew quite well that Laurel had seen her family only once since she'd been abducted by the Ministry and been sent to Hogwarts to learn how to deal with the magical talent she possessed. No wonder she was excited. "How did you convince Severus?" she asked.
"An eye for an eye. One week with my parents. One week hunting rare plants in the mountains." Laurel shrugged. "Thank God for the blue-spotted what- ever that only grows in the Austrian Alps!"
"It's not spotted but striped." Snape arched one eyebrow and kept his face as austere as possible. "But trust me, before we return, you will know exactly what it looks like. And where it can be found. And how it must be harvested."
"Probably naked by the light of the full moon," Laurel joked, and Claire watched in amusement how her friend's face flushed when Severus nodded seriously. Suddenly she felt like an intruder to a very intimate moment. Still, she needed Laurel's help ...
Clearing her throat she reached for Laurel's hand and begged: "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"
They left Snape and his equipment, and wandered through the hall and out of the castle.
On the stairs they almost tripped over Serene, who sat in the sun with a spell-book in her lap.
"I really can't remember ever being as bored as I am right now," the red- haired witch sighed.
The three women settled down on the lawn in front of the castle.
"Aren't you busy enough making Remus Lupin miserable?" Claire blushed when she saw Serene frown. "Sorry, I know it is not my business."
"Exactly!" Serene snapped. "Just why is everybody thinking they have a right to interfere with my private life? Or Remus' for that matter?"
"We like him," Claire explained. "And we like you, too."
Serene stared at her with narrowed eyes. "So?"
"So we want to see you happy." Laurel interfered calmly.
Before Serene could answer, Claire felt she had to change the subject or this conversation would end in bitter argument. Whatever it was that constantly went wrong between Serene and Remus, they were both grown-ups and had to deal with it alone.
"I came to ask Laurel to accompany me to London tomorrow," she said.
"To London? Can I come, too?" Serene begged, apparently glad that Claire had stirred the conversation away from her love-life. "These walls are crushing me right now. It is so empty and calm without the students."
Claire noticed something in the beautiful witch's face that had not been there a few weeks ago, a faint trace of desperation around the eyes. Suddenly she pittyed Serene, maybe for the first time. She had envied her as long as she knew her, but now she was so happy and Serene seemed so genuinely unhappy ...
"You are not going to visit your family?" she asked gently.
"No-one to visit. At least no-one I care about," Serene shrugged. "So one day in London is the best I can get."
"If we leave early in the morning," Laurel suggested, "we can fly straight to London and back in a day."
Claire looked at her shoes. Was this the moment when she had to confess? "I'd rather go by train."
"You are not too fond of flying, are you?" Serene remembered. "Remus told me you had a problem with his broom a few days ago."
"Well, I suppose we can always Apparate." Laurel bit her lip. "Only ... Apparating is not really my favourite choice of transportation."
"I can't Apparate either," Claire admitted. Then she sighed and looked at the two witches, her face pale with anxiety. "I guess I have to tell you now."
"Tell us what?"
"I can't fly. I can't Apparate. I can't even take the damned Express, because I won't be able to leave the platform at King's Cross."
Serene and Laurel stared at her.
"I am a squib." Claire's voice died away in humiliation. "To leave or enter the platform you need magic … and I don't have any."
"Oh Claire," Laurel hugged her impulsively. "You should have told us before!"
Serene nodded silently. Then she suddenly smiled. "We'll go with you by train and drag you through that wall off the platform!"
"That's what I hoped to hear," sighed Claire. They had taken it much better than she'd expected. But then they were special each in their own way, both being stray witches who had been brought to Hogwarts as adult students.
"So what are you planing to do in London?"
Claire's mouth twitched. "You'll see in time."
* * *
In front of the Dursley's house Claire smoothed her navy blue suit jacket and checked the tight bun and half-moon glasses Serene had seen fit for a Headmistress. She looked a bit like Minerva McGonagall, she thought, when she saw herself in the small pocket mirror, and the idea made her giggle nervously.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button at the door. Laurel had provided her with an intense lecture in Muggle culture on the train ride to London, and so it was no surprise to her when a bell somewhere inside the house chimed "Rule Britannia".
A fat teenage boy opened the door, a half eaten pizza slice in his chubby hand.
"Watchawant?" he asked, chewing his food with great dedication.
"I am Professor Winterstorm," Claire raised her eyebrows and looked down at the boy with the sternest expression she could muster. "I'd like to speak to your parents."
The boy turned wordlessly and trotted back inside, not without yelling: "Mum!"
A thin brunette came down the stairs, patting the boy indulgently on the head.
"Can I help you?" she asked suspiciously, when she saw Claire at the doorstep.
"I am Professor Winterstorm," Claire repeated and stretched out her hand, as Laurel had shown her. Somewhat surprised Mrs. Dursley shook the visitor's hand.
"I am Headmistress of The Manor, a correctional institution for incurably malevolent wizards."
"Wizards?" Petunia Dursley paled. "Are you … You are …"
"Me, a witch?" Claire pursed her lips. "Good god, no! I do my best to make them see the error in their ways, but … well, you know how they are." She gave the woman a small conspicuous smile. "Stubborn and impudent."
Harry's aunt rolled her eyes. "No need to tell me," she sighed. "Please, do come in. My husband will be delighted to meet you."
Obviously Petunia was dead right about that. Vernon Dursley could hardly stop asking the stern young Professor questions about the very strict institute she represented. Claire went out of her way to explain how boys like Harry needed a strong hand - "and a cane at times, I am afraid" and how the deprivation of warm showers and regular meals did wonders for the juvenile delinquents in her care.
"Even Headmaster Dumbledore had to admit he can't handle the boy any longer. So, with your consent of course, I'd like to take young Harry with me to "The Manor" for the rest of the holidays. All you need to do is sign at the dotted line."
Astonished she watched how Vernon snatched the pen she offered without a second of hesitation and signed away his nephew to a strange woman without any credentials.
"I'll pack his stuff!" Petunia beamed at her. "Maybe you'd be so good and tell him about … the situation yourself. We are not on speaking terms with him right now." She pointed upstairs. "It is the second door to the left."
When Claire climbed the stairs, she overheard the Dursleys excitedly discuss the possibility of an impromptu holiday in Spain - "now that the problem with the boy is taken care of".
She knocked at the door, and when nobody answered, counted to fifteen before she turned the knob. She remembered only too well how she had refused to talk to her parents when she had been Harry's age - a battle she had always lost. But then she had had nobody else to talk to, so all they'd had to do was wait.
Harry lay on his bed, propped on a few mangled pillows, and read a battered magazine. He did not look up when Claire entered, only when she shyly cleared her throat.
She had not been sure if he'd recognise her. Obviously Sirius or somebody had pointed her out to Harry. She could only dimly remember James Potter's face, but Sirius had told her that the boy had his mother Lily's eyes, so the unruly dark hair must be James'. And the scar was Voldemort's, she thought. The look he gave her was a fascinating mixture of surprise, displeasure and curiosity.
"You?" Harry's voice trembled with suppressed fear. "Has anything happened to Sirius?"
"No. No, he is alright," Claire hurriedly assured him. So he was still worried about his godfather, even though he was angry. She took it as a good sign.
"May I sit down?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "If you like."
Claire looked at the only chair that was half buried under a pile of clothes and books. For want of another place she sat down on the edge of the bed.
"How come the Dursleys let you in? They despise witches."
"I lied," Claire admitted and explained about the story she had made up for his relatives.
Harry gazed at her incredulously. "But why?"
"I want you to come with me, Harry." Claire folded her hands to resist the urge to pull a strand out of the tight bun. "They signed this document that puts you in my guardianship for the summer."
"But why?" the boy insisted.
"The quarrel between you and Sirius is so ridiculous," Claire sighed. "He misses you, and I am sure you miss him as well."
"He does not miss me. He got a wife now," Harry gave her an odd look, "and maybe you'll have a baby soon. He'll have a family of his own, and he won't need me anymore."
He did his best to keep his voice calm and unmoved, to appear grown up and reasonable, but Claire just needed to look into his eyes to see the lost child, and her heart went out to him. His assumption she might have a baby soon had taken her by surprise. But there was no way he could know about her pregnancy. She tried to find the right words, words that would not hurt his pride and at the same time assure him of Sirius' love.
"Harry," she ventured. "Hasn't Sirius told you about the … special arrangement of our marriage?
The boy avoided her eyes. "He said he'd marry you just to be married."
"Right. Just to be married. He did not become my husband because he planed to be with me forever after. It is not as if we had a love affair or anything. In fact we had not seen each other since I was younger than you are now. He married me so we both could help Headmaster Dumbledore …"
"But … how can you be married to somebody you don't love?" Harry blushed. "I mean, it … you … well, you do have two bedrooms I assume?"
Now it was Claire's turn to blush, and her face burned with embarrassment. "I am sure Sirius will explain that to you. That is, if you come home with me."
Harry drew in a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I … I am sorry … I don't even know how to call you."
"Claire. You can call me Claire."
"I can't just go to him, Claire," admitted Harry and hugged his knees. Claire noticed he had had a growth spurt in the last month, he was thinner and paler than when she had seen him on the Quidditch pitch in Sirius' Animagus class.
"I said things to him I am sorry for now. But I meant the when I said them. He'll be mad about me."
"Sometimes we have to overcome our fear and just face what we are afraid of." Claire repeated what Snape had told her at the fair. She reached out and touched Harry's hand, and saw with a faint smile how he flinched. He was almost sixteen and still easily embarrassed by a woman's touch.
Harry shook his head. "I am sorry."
Claire stood up and straightened her pencil skirt. "Well, I guess I must accept that. But can I ask you for a favour?"
He shrugged, secretly disappointed that she had given in so easily.
"Would you take me to the train station and help me get onto the platform?"
Harry frowned. "Onto the platform? Why would you need my help for that? You just walk through the barrier …"
Claire gave him a sheepish smile. "I can't."
"You can't?"
"It is a magical barrier. And I am a squib."
Now she had his full attention. His eyes widened. "Really? You can't do any magic?"
"Nothing. I am as bad as any Muggle." She sat down on the bed again, casually as if she was ready to leave any moment. "But of course I grew up in the wizarding world. Believe me, it can be as embarrassing as being a wizard in the Muggle world."
Fascinated Harry started to ask her questions. Then he suddenly paused. "Do people know? I mean, does Sirius know?"
Claire smirked. "Until I married him, nobody knew what I was but Headmaster Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Now Remus knows. And Severus. And Laurel and Serene. It is not really a secret anymore, I assume."
"Snape?"
"He took it very well," Claire assured him and remembered how the Potions master had exploded when he first heard that their new spy was a squib. "Considering he is Snape and all that …"
"And now you tell me …", he said softly, his green eyes boring into hers. "And you come to London, disguised as … some kind of evil Headmistress."
She smiled wearily. "Sometimes we have to do things we are afraid of."
"But why?"
Claire stood up and went to the pin-board on the wall above Harry's desk. The furniture in the boy's room reminded her of a jumble sale, as if Harry's relatives had given him all the pieces they considered too ugly for their own rooms. Which was probably just what they had done ... On the board stuck several magical pictures of waving smiling teenagers, classmates she assumed.
"I knew Sirius in school, you know," she said softly and kept staring at the board. "Before my parents decided to keep the shame of the family at home. I was a second year in Hufflepuff, and Sirius was …" She sighed. "He was all a girl at that age could wish for. Tall, handsome, with beautiful eyes. Kind, funny, strong."
"So you had a … ah, crush on him?"
The chimes of a clock in the living room downstairs reminded Claire of the passing time. But she could not rush this.
"A crush? No. Good Goddess, no! I hated him. He played tricks on me whenever he saw me, he called me names …"
Harry chuckled. "That means he liked you, stupid!"
Claire had to laugh. "Well, he hid that very well!" Then she got serious again. "The thing is, Harry, and this is just between you and me …"
He nodded.
"I love him." She blushed and stroked Hedwig through the bars of the owl's cage. "I love Sirius. And I know he misses you. If you love somebody you don't want them to be unhappy. That's why I beg you to come with me, home to Hogsmeade." She turned around reluctantly and found Harry staring at her as if she was an apparition out of thin air.
Eventually he cleared his throat. "Wow."
Claire just had to laugh when she saw the mixture of awe and horror in his face. "Sorry, about that, Harry," she apologised. "I don't know any guys your age, but this must have been embarrassing."
"Ehm … no … yes." Harry took off his glasses and started polishing them.
"Just promise me not to tell Sirius."
He frowned, but then he nodded gravely. "I won't."
Claire sighed. "I am afraid I must hurry. The train leaves at four o'clock, and if you'd be so friendly to help me through to the platform I …"
"I only have to pack Hedwig and my school stuff. It is in the under the stairs."
"Your stuff?" Claire's face lit up. "You are coming home with me?"
"To your house, yes. I am still not sure Sirius wants me there, but maybe you'll let me stay for the rest of the summer. I won't be any trouble, I can take care of myself and …"
"Oh rubbish! Sirius will be overjoyed to see you! And when I said home, Harry, I meant it. Stay as long as you like. You'll always be welcome in Winterstorm Manor. Even when …"
Harry dumped the pile of clothes unceremoniously into the trunk he had pulled out from under the bed. "Even when what?"
"Even when Sirius and I are not married anymore."
The boy looked up, a startled expression on his face. "But you said … you said you love him."
Claire lifted Hedwig's cage from the window sill and covered it with a silk scarf. Then she kneeled down next to Harry to help him pack his spell- books. "Remember what I told you about our marriage? Sirius will leave one day, and I have no right to hold him back. That's why I beg you again not to mention our little talk to him. Promise me that."
Suddenly Harry seemed much older, more mature than could be expected from a boy his age. But then again, he had seen more terrible things than most wizards ever saw, Claire thought.
"I promise." He held out a hand and she took it thankfully.
Straightening, she frowned. "When we go downstairs, don't forget that I am Headmistress Winterstorm. I am really mean, and you are a remorseful student."
He closed the trunk's lid with a thud and looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure you can do mean?"
Claire checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed the collar of her stern blouse. "I'll do my best. The question is - can you do contrite?"
* * *
When they got off the train in Hogsmeade that evening, Claire saw Sirius' tall frame from afar. She had not told him that she'd go to London, so one of the elves must have. Serene and Laurel saw him approach as well and rather hastily bid their friend and Harry good-by before they left the station by broom to Hogwarts.
Claire cleared her throat and smiled anxiously when she saw Sirius' stern face.
"I was worried," he said instead of a greeting.
She had to tilt her head back to look at him. "I should have told you. But it was to be a surprise." Her hand settled on his arm. It needed not more that that one touch to make him draw her into his arms and hold her.
"I was worried," he repeated, "It is not safe for you to go to London on your own."
"I did not go alone. There were three of us, Laurel and Serene went with me." Claire savoured the warmth and the scent of his body. She was tired from the long ride and all she wanted right now was being lifted and carried home. But this was not her evening, she knew that. This was Harry's.
Gently pushing against Sirius' chest, she stepped away from him. "On the ride back there were four of us."
"Four?" He frowned. "I thought you said ..." His voice suddenly shook when he recognised Harry who was still struggling to levitate his trunk out of the train.
Claire watched Sirius' face change from surprise to joy to guarded calmness.
"You know he is only safe in the house of his guardian," he reminded Claire, never letting Harry out of his eyes.
Harry approached, the trunk, with Hedwig's cage on top, following him like a clumsy pet. "Uncle Dursley signed his guardianship away for the rest of the summer," he explained awkwardly. Both wizard and boy stared at each other, neither sure what to say, how to make up for the bitter words that had fallen last time they met.
Claire sighed. Men! They were so difficult - and yet so adorable ...
"You know what?" She smiled at them both and nudged Sirius closer to Harry. "Why don't you two guys grab your brooms and play a fast round of Quidditch, while I go home and make sure the elves have prepared a bedroom for Harry?"
Of course they had, she thought in mild amusement. Her presence was rather needed to make sure they had not gilded the boy's bed ... After all young Harry was a star, and the Winterstorm staff would certainly treat him according to his fame in the elf-world.
Harry nodded, still avoiding Sirius' eyes, and changed the spell on the trunk from following to finding its own way to Winterstorm Manor.
While the boy wrapped the safety-string off his broom, Sirius reached for Claire's hand. The look on his face made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She saw the deep blue eyes unguarded for a moment, and what she recognised in them was joy, gratefulness and something else ... desire, need, longing. Then the moment was over, she watched him rebuild his careful facade of the wizard who could not be hurt. But for a heartbeat he had allowed her a glimpse into his very soul.
Sirius raised her hand to his lips, and, gently kissing it, whispered so soft nobody but Claire would hear it: "Thank you."
* * *