10. Give and Take
Claire sat at the breakfast table and kept her eyes riveted to her plate. She did not dare to look up. She just could not stop beaming with joy when she watched Harry and Sirius.
Just to see them return home, both covered in mud from an expedition into the Forbidden Forrest where Sirius had shown Harry a swamp-hole full with Floorooms ...
"They look like giant mushrooms," described Harry, his mouth full with scrambled eggs. "Only that they are filled with Floo-powder. And if you touch them accidentally," her threw out his arms in a dramatic gesture: "Kaboom!"
Sirius chuckled. "It glitters like tinsel. You should have come with us, Claire."
She smiled and put down her fork. She had really wanted to come, but then she had decided that it was good for them to do things alone, without her. And to be honest, right now she was not too keen on strolling through the Forbidden Forrest at 6 am. After all that was usually the time when she threw up … She had to tell Poppy, she decided. The matron would know a potion that'd calm her stomach.
"But aren't the … Flooroms dangerous to touch? I mean, with all the floo …"
"I just got a tiny sprinkle of it on my skin, and that was enough to transport me right out of the swamp and up into a tree."
"Sirius!" Claire gasped. "Are you crazy taking him there? Harry could have been injured!"
Harry and Sirius found that tremendously funny.
"Sirius …," Harry panted eventually, "Sirius flew out of the swamp as well!"
"But I did not end up on a branch twenty meters over the ground!" his godfather snorted.
"Yeah, you slammed right into the trunk like a wet rag."
They doubled over laughing. Claire shook her head in amazement. This had to be some kind of male bonding ritual, getting hurt together and enjoying every minute. Or maybe it was a father-and-son-thing. Or rather godfather … Although since Harry's father was dead … Sirius was probably the person closest to a father Harry knew. So did fathers and sons play Quidditch till one of them dropped dead off the broom? She would not know. Her parents had been relatively old when she had been born, and Claire was their only child.
Under the table she placed a hand over her her stomach. If the child was a boy … Then again, Sirius would probably not be here when the child was old enough to play Quidditch or hold a wand.
And what if it had inherited her disability? What if her child was a squib? Claire's heart fluttered. She remembered the humiliation of endless wandwaving without producing any results, the silent desperation in her mothe'rs face and the grim determination in her father's. She'd been five when it became apparent that her children's wand was as useless as a twig in her hands, and that none of the magical appliances in the house reacted to her. The water taps, the music chest, the ice chamber - they all ignored the little girl. After she had accidentally got caught in the ice chamber and almost died from hypothermia, Sebastian Winterstorm hired Ygor Trollstone as his daughter's bodyguard.
The troll, who even towered over grown wizards, had taken to the little girl the moment they met for the first time. He had not only guarded her, but became her confidant and friend. Like the older brother she did not have, and in a way like a father, younger than her own. But they had never played Quidditch, she regretted. Not because she was a girl - some of the most famous Quidditch players were female after all. But she could not fly a broom, and Ygor was too heavy to fly the tame model her father kept in the broom shed.
"Claire?"
Sirius' voice guided her back into the present. He touched her hand gently. "Are you still dreaming?"
She smiled faintly. "No, I was just reminiscing. So, what are you up to today?"
"I promised Coco to fix the magical faucet in the kitchen."
"And you, Harry?"
The boy frowned. "I guess I should start to go over my books. It is the same every summer, when it gets close to my birthday, I feel as if the holidays are as good as over."
"Your birthday!" Claire slapped her forehead. "Oh Harry, I almost forgot your birthday."
He shook his head. "Don't worry, Claire. I am not a child anymore. I don't need a cake or anything."
"Well, ok. If you say so." She pushed back her plate in mock indifference. No cake! Coco would blow up when Claire told her that Mr. Harry Potter did not need a birthday cake. She knew that Sirius and Remus planed a special surprise for Harry, and she had made her own preparations. So when the boy turned sixteen the day after tomorrow he'd get the cake and the party, whether he wanted it or not.
"What about tomorrow?" she asked. "You know we are invited for dinner with … with business acquaintances of mine. We can't take you with us …"
Sirius coughed and almost spit his tea all over the table. The thought alone! To take Harry Potter to a Death Eaters' meeting! Although it was not really a Death Eaters event … The invitation had been signed by Narcissa Malfoy, and since Narcissa apparently was not involved in her husbands nefarious affairs, it promised to be a "normal" dinner party. Still, there was no way Harry could accompany them.
"I guess I could ask Hagrid if I may spend the evening with him," Harry suggested
"Remus would keep you company, but he's away tomorrow and won't return in time."
"Don't you worry!" Harry smiled at Claire. "I am not a baby. I am well able to survive for an evening on my own."
"I'd really rather have you stay with Hagrid until we return.. I have to go and see Poppy today, and when you and Sirius fly to the castle to pick me up at lunch-time, you could ask Hagrid."
"Are you not feeling well?" Sirius studied her face.
Claire blushed and hid her face by busily sorting letters and papers into two piles for the morning owl flight. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"
"Why do you need to see Poppy then?" He would not let it go so easily.
"She is teaching me, remember? Med school for squibs …" She shrugged. "I need so much to learn if I want to develop the only talent the gods have provide me with."
Sirius pushed his chair back and stepped behind her. Bending down, he kissed the spot where her collar met the bare skin. "Healing is not the only talent you got, Ms. White," he murmured into her ear. "You are a shrewd business woman, you are compassionate …" He turned her around and, ignoring Harry who did his best not to look at his godfather, he kissed her on the lips. "Did I mention that you are good in bed as well?" His voice was so low it sent a tickle down her spine.
"Not that I don't appreciate that healing thing you do …"
Claire looked up, her eyes soft and dreaming. "Hm … what? Healing, yes. Are you injured?"
He chuckled and kissed the crown of her head. "I'll live. But Harry suffered a bad scratch on his arm, and I don't want it to become inflamed."
"Let me have a look at it."
Claire reached for Harry's arm, but the boy jerked away.
"Oh no! You are not going to put that potion on me!"
"Potion? What potion?"
"Madam Pomfrey's "SVSW"."
Sirius grinned. "Smells vile …"
"Stings worse," Harry finished the sentence and held a hand over the deep scratch on his forearm. "Why don't we just leave it alone, and let it mend by itself."
"Harry, don't behave like a baby!" Claire rose and looked at him, shaking her head in disbelieve. "I saw you falling off your broom yesterday, and you did not even wince. And now you tell me you are afraid of some harmless disinfectant solution?"
Sirius perched on the window sill, arms crossed, watching the scene with obvious pleasure. "I take it you have never been injured while in Hogwarts, Princess," he drawled.
"No," she said and arched her eyebrows meaningfully. "Ygor took good care of me. Although one time I suffered lots of scratches when I got lot on the school grounds at night …"
Sirius's face fell and the light died in his eyes. "I am sorry about that. You know I did not mean to …"
"I am joking, you oaf," she smiled. "But you are right, I've never been to the Hospital wing when I was a student. The matron then was …"
"Madame Dunant. Jamie called her the Dragon-lady. By Merlin's beard, that witch breathed fire and ate little Gryffindors for breakfast."
"Did she use SVSW?" Harry had let go off his arm when Sirius mentioned his father. "Did Dad have to go there a lot?"
"Your dad broke half of his bones in Quidditch practise. And Remus … well, you know, he used to almost scratch his skin off before the Wolfsbane potion was invented. He spent the days after each full moon in the Hospital wing."
Claire had silently stepped closer to Harry and touched his arm, very carefully, with a soothing, stroking gesture. The boy looked at her in amazement, then down his arm, where the scratches paled and disappeared.
"How … I thought you were a squib."
She shrugged. "But I am. I can't even ride a broom. Ask your godfather."
Sirius nodded. "She really is a squib, Harry. But she can heal nonetheless."
"I guess, some wizards would gladly give up all magic for your talent," Harry mused. "The doctor who treats Neville's parents, for instance."
"I can't do miracles, can't heal cancer or other serious illnesses. Sometimes I am able to calm others or to take away the pain, but usually I just set bones or mend skin. I couldn't do anything for the prisoners of St. Mango's."
"The prisoners?" Sirius frowned.
"That's how the doctor called the patients in the ward where Prenner is. Remember when you ….," she coughed, "when you did not feel well?"
His eyes darkened. "I remember the doctor. He came to Hogwarts when Snape …" He turned to Harry. "You saved Snape's life then, didn't you? So you are some kind of healer as well."
Harry snorted. "Hardly. All I did was coax the snake venom to leave his body. But I could not mend a broken nail if my life depended on it."
"I am good at mending nails," Claire grinned and showed him her perfect finger-nails. "And I cured Professor Vector's wand elbow last week."
"Good. Maybe that will improve his mood next term."
Claire checked Harry's arm again and gave him a contented slap. "Off you go. As good as new."
"Can I send all my friends to you now instead of Madam Pomfrey?"
"No you can't." Sirius scowled. "Poppy will have her reasons to threaten you with SVSW. And we don't want to undermine her strategies."
* * *
At lunchtime Sirius and Harry picked Claire up at the stairs of Hogwarts castle, both grinning like madmen.
She crossed her arms and looked at them gravely. "What?"
Sirius smirked. "Nothing."
"Come on, Sirius. I am not dumb. I can see something is going on, and from your faces I deduct it is something that won't make me happy at all."
"Hagrid got Sirius' old motorcycle!" Harry blurted out excitedly. "And if we replace a few odd parts, it will be as good as new!"
"His what? Claire remembered faintly reading about Sirius being involved in a motorcycle-accident many years ago.
"Motorcycle. It is actually a Muggle artefact, and Hagrid should have got rid of it, but ... well, you know him."
"Oh yes, I know Hagrid!" Claire bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Hagrid who tried so hard to go by the rules ... If only the rules tried to go by Hagrid. Dragons, beasts, unlicensed magic - everything he liked, was illegal or outright forbidden.. "Just tell me one thing: Is it dangerous?"
"Noooo!" Both Sirius and Harry starred at her with wide open eyes. Their blank faces told of the contrary just as well as a signed confession.
"Right. But don't come to my and whine if you fall off the motor .... the thing!"
She let Sirius draw her on his broom and snuggled into his arms. Could it be that her first broom-ride was only a few weeks ago? She remembered only too well how awkward she had felt with Sirius so close to her, how her body - even then - had known about her true feelings way before her heart had admitted it.
At home she hopped off the broomstick before Sirius could set her down, and nodded at her husband and Harry.
"I bet you're hungry, but it'll take a while to fix lunch. Put away the brooms, wash your hands, take your time and let me ..." she frowned and sighed, "cook."
When they entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, they found Claire, white apron over her robes, raiding the ice-chamber. "Sorry, but it is Saturday. I forgot, it is the elves' hour off."
"Poor things," Sirius grinned, and she hit him playfully with a tea towel.
"They hate it," he explained softly to Harry, while Claire started to prepare a pile of sandwiches. "She forces them to take time off every Saturday. At first I guess it was the whole afternoon, but the wailing and whining was more than anybody could bear. Now it is just an hour."
Opening the door to the elves' common room a gap, he let Harry have a glimpse at a dozen elves, sitting on tiny chairs, an expression of utter misery on the little faces.
"Wow, she is really into S.P.E.W.," muttered Harry when he saw Coco and Peagreen, with tears in their big bulging eyes.
"Into it?" Sirius snorted. "She is the Queen of S.P.E.W.! Just wait until you see the school she built for the children. Hermione Granger will just love this!"
He checked the hourglass by the sink. "It is almost over. Which is good, since Claire couldn't cook if her life depended on it!" he whispered, only to duck and cover when a tomato missed his head by inches.
"I heard that, Mr. I-am-so-good-with-my-hands! Care to fix your own sandwiches?"
Sirius took up the challenge, and when the elves left their confinement, they found their mistress, her Sirius and Mr. Harry Potter at the kitchen table, happily munching strange looking but obviously tasty sandwiches.
* * *
The Malfoy Mansion was brightly lit and the doors opened festively. Narcissa Malfoy awaited them at the door, dressed in an immaculate robe of silvery silk. She was as lovely as a beautifully crafted statue, thought Claire. The pictures in the Daily Prophet did her no justice at all.
Malfoy's wife smiled but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Mrs. White, Professor White, so glad you could come."
She led them into the salon, where Lucius entertained a small group of people, Claire remembered from her first party. Thankfully none of them had been witness to the humiliating scene with Prenner. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench.
Lucius kissed Claire's hand, a disturbing habit she'd hardly ever get used to, and gave Sirius a short nod of acknowledgement.
"And this," he presented a sulky yet handsome boy to them, "is Draco."
Draco studied Claire's face for a moment before he greeted Sirius. "Professor White. I did not know you were an acquaintance of my father's."
What followed was a perfectly normal dinner party - or what Claire supposed was perfectly norma,l since she had never been to a dinner party. Lucius made an effort to not talk about politics, and engaged Claire in a conversation that covered anything from export laws to rare books. Meanwhile Sirius, Draco and a wizard who had been introduced to Claire as McNair, discussed sports, broom models and the probabilility that the dragon which had been sighted near Nottingham had been a real one, not just a Muggle chimera.
Narcissa seemed content to just sit and listen and direct the serving elves. Claire noticed both how perfectly smooth everything went and how the elves kept their eyes riveted to the floor, as if they were scared to look up and face their mistress.
After dinner, when Draco had been excused by his father and had left the grown-ups, the dinner party split up in several groups. Narcissa, still the perfect hostess, offered to show Claire some of the paintings and arts treasure, and Claire did not have the heart to admit that Lucius had given her the same tour only a few weeks ago. Eventually they ended up in a small comfortable salon where a timid elf served chilled champagne.
Narcissa sat down and started to ask Claire questions about her young marriage and her husband's occupation as a professor in Hogwarts.
"Draco speaks of him with high respect … which I find rare. He doesn't like it there, I am afraid. We used to have a very close relation to his head of house, until lately. Draco took it badly when Lucius and Severus ended their friendship."
"Did they?" Claire tried to keep the conversation on a gossiping level, always hoping Narcissa would let slop more information than she'd intended. "What happened? I really don't have much contact to the staff, you must know. Severus is the scary one, isn't he?"
Narcissa held a hand over her mouth to stifle a laughter. "Scary. Yes, that's Severus. They have been friends for more than fifteen years, and then Lucius decides he won't talk to him any more … with no apparent reason. Men! I really don't understand them!"
"Me neither." Claire said compassionately. Although - of course she understood why Lucius would severe all ties with a former Death Eater who had betrayed their master …
"Sirius," Narcissa mused. "That's a rather unusual name, isn't it?"
Claire pretended to admire a painting of the Malfoy family with infant Draco. "I don't think it's that rare," she replied casually. "I know several Siriuses. I even went to school with one."
"But so did I!" Narcissa said. "Did you attend Hogwarts? I can't remember you."
"I was there, if only for two years. Then my parents had me transferred to Beauxbatons. But I remember Sirius ... Black. Wasn't he the one who escaped from Azkaban?"
Narcissa nodded. Her eyes softened. "He was quite remarkable. I don't know if you recognised then how handsome he was. You must have been some years younger than Sirius and I."
"I remember well that every girl had a crush on him." Claire smiled faintly. "He was very popular."
"Yes, he was. Slytherins, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs - no matter what house, every girl wanted Sirius." Narcissa's lovely cold face warmed considerably. "I dated him for a few days in my seventh year, you must know."
"Really?"
"Just to make Lucius jealous, of course. Sirius knew that all I ever wanted was to marry Lucius, who did not even know I existed. But Sirius played his part well. Very well, since Lucius threatened to challenge him to a duell after only 10 days. " She giggled, and the mere sound proved that the young girl still existed behind the sophisticated facade. "Oh, you could always trust in Sirius to help a damsel in distress."
"That sounds very chivalrously. Claire sat down and played with her champagne glass. "In my - admittedly dim - memory he was rather rough, always teasing me."
"Then you were probably one of those strong, independent Gryffindors," said Narcissa earnestly.
Hiding her surprise, Claire took a sip of champagne. "What makes you think so?"
"Sirius only ever dated girls with a fault. And he only teased those who were strong enough to handle it."
"A fault?"
Narcissa lowered her voice. "It was so obvious that he dated girls to do them a favour. Looking back, it could have been humiliating, but he never gave you that feeling. When Helen Sthoughton's lost their fortune in her fifth year, he went out with her until she got to grips with it. And then there was the girl from Russia who didn't speak any English. The Ravenclaw who was so shy she'd never looked at anybody. He dated me, because I was almost out of my mind with love-sickness over Lucius. And he had a blind girlfriend for a few months in his sixth year."
And now he got a wife who is a squib, thought Claire, and the thought left her numb and freezing.
"As soon as he found I was feeling better, he ended it. Very gently though. It was always the girl who had the impression, she'd just ended the relationship. None of us ever felt dumped by Sirius. And no matter what he's done ever since, and what people say about him, I am still grateful for his support."
"But now you got Lucius, and of course you got Draco. He seems to be exceptionally bright. You must be very proud about him."
Narcissa beamed in unveiled love and motherly pride. "We both are. I don't know if Lucius or I would ever get over it if anything happened to Draco."
"But ... with your husband's political ..." Claire fixed a hair-strand and thought feverishly how to place that Lucius' activities endangered Draco as well as Narcissa, "Draco is of course very young ... but one day ..."
It was as if a shutter went down. Narcissa's face turned into the cool mask she showed the public. "Lucius knows very well what is best for our son. I trust him completely." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't have any children, so you have no idea how parents desire only the best for their children. One day Draco will take the powerful position a Malfoy deserves."
Lucius entered the salon and ushered them back into the library. "I have something to show you," he announced proudly.
Narcissa frowned. "Lucius, you promised to spare us politics tonight."
He went to her and patted her shoulder like he'd calm a favourite pet. "I know, I know. But this is important for Claire to see. It just arrived by special delivery."
In the library they saw a silver box sitting on a table, secured by two magical cords. Sirius, Mavis Lawrence and McNair stood by the fire, discussing Quidditch agitatedly.
"Quidditch!" groaned Malfoy and shook his head. "One should assume people lose interest in brooms and bludgers once they see where power and purpose can take them."
Sirius gave him a big grin and drawled: "What could be more important than Quidditch, old boy?"
Malfoy scowled at him, but obviously did not deem him worthy a reply. He undid the cords on the box with his wand, and the magical bind snapped with a sprinkle of greenish flashes. In the box Claire could see three rows of small glass vials, each filled with red liquid, each carefully labled with dates and numbers.
"Well, Malfoy," she asked curiously, "what is so special about this?"
"This is where the money went. The money you so generously contributed to the cause."
"To this?" Claire bowed deeper over the vials. "They don't look very expensive to me."
"You must take my word on it. Each of them is worth its weight in gold. They are more expensive than Veritaserum."
"I see. But you did not answer my question, Malfoy. What is it?"
Malfoy took one of the vials out of its holder and passed it to her. "This will ensure the Master's recovery to full strength. It is what he needs to ..." He almost leaped at Sirius when he took the vial out of Claire's hand. "Don't drop it, for Salazar's sake!"
Sirius, unimpressed by Malfoy's sudden panic, gave the vial a shake, held it to his ear and shrugged disappointedly. "I thought it might blow up or something spectacular," he drawled.
"Give it to me!" Exasperatedly Malfoy snatched the vial out of his guest's hand. He put it back safely into its place and shut the box again.
"Why don't we take the coffee on the terrace," Narcissa suggested and shot her husband an annoyed glance. "It is such a lovely night."
"Why is it that I always feel I need a shower after we meet Malfoy?"
Claire wiped the hand, Malfoy had kissed, at her robes.
"These people are scum." Sirius picked her up and carried her to up the stairs of Winterstorm Manor, ignoring her protests. "No wonder you feel dirty."
When they entered the circle of light that fell through the window over the door, she saw that he smiled. "Care to share that shower?"
"I thought you'd never ask," she chuckled and gently nibbled at his earlobe. "The shower afterwards is really the only part of these meetings I truly enjoy."
"Hm," he mused. "I do like the way these woman undress me with their eyes. And I just love it when Malfoy treats me like a walking, talking turnip."
Claire ruffled his hair while he carried her upstairs. "Poor baby. He really is not too fond of you. While Narcissa …"
"You and Narcissa talked about me?"
She watched his face with scrutiny, but saw nothing than mild curiosity. "Not exactly. We talked about Sirius Black. You know, the murderer."
"Narcissa and I dated for a while in our seventh year. For about a week, if I remember correctly."
"Ten days." Claire smiled. "She was quite impressed when you escaped from Azkaban."
Sirius snorted. "I bet she was. She always had a soft spot for wizards with high criminal energy." He set Claire down on the bathroom floor and pointed his wand at the faucet. Hot water started to gush into the tub and within minutes the bathroom filled with mist.
"Sirius, sometimes I wonder if what we do is of any use to Albus. All we do is chat to people we don't like. The bit of information we gather … do you think it is worth the risk of having somebody find out who you really are?"
He stepped behind her, embraced her and looked into the misted mirror where he met her eyes. "Every risk is worth the victory of the light over Voldemort's darkness. I got a taste of that darkness when I sat in Azkaban and thought I'd die there." His hands clenched to fists for a moment. "One day I'll make Peter pay for the lost years."
His hands wandered down Claire's arms and cupped her breasts. A hot wave of guilt made her blush, but the steam hid her face from Sirius. Poppy had laughed glady when Claire confessed the pregnancy, and had even more laughed when she heard her request for silence. "Dear girl, a baby is growing in you! How do you think you can hide that from the wizard who shares your bed? Sirius Black is neither blind nor stupid. Of course you can lie to him for two, maybe three months. But he won't be pleased when he finds you tried to decieve him. And for Merlin's sake, why should you? I can't think of a wizard who'd be more pleased about a kid than Sirius." Eventually she had agreed to let Claire find the right moment to tell Sirius but had warned her once more not to keep the truth from Sirius for too long.
And now Claire felt guilty whenever he touched her. Could he teel that her body was changing?
"Today we gathered more than just information," Sirius said, oblivious to her musing. He reached into the wide sleeve of his robe and produced a small vial filled with dark-red liquid.
Claire stared at the glass tube. "How did you ..."
He smirked and placed the vial carefully on a towel on the counter. "Minerva McGonagall always said I had a special talent for transfiguration. Malfoy will sorely miss the queen of his chess set next time he plays."
"But ... They will discover it when they want to use the content of the vial." Claire still could not believe he'd actually managed to steal the vial right from under Malfoy's eyes.
"I took the one that was in the back of the case, the one with the newest date. Hopefully it will take some time until that vial will be used and transfigure back into red marble. By then it shouldl be difficult to trace who had access to the case."
"What do you think is in it?" Claire held the vial against the light. "It looks like blood."
Sirius shrugged. "Snape will be happy to analyse it once he's back from his holidays.. What was it Malfoy said? It is something the Dark Lord's needs ... "
"We'll find out. And if we are lucky, we can withhold it from him."
"Right." He took her shoulders and turned her around so she faced him. "But for now, lets care not about Voldemort's but our own needs."
* * *
Claire sat at the breakfast table and kept her eyes riveted to her plate. She did not dare to look up. She just could not stop beaming with joy when she watched Harry and Sirius.
Just to see them return home, both covered in mud from an expedition into the Forbidden Forrest where Sirius had shown Harry a swamp-hole full with Floorooms ...
"They look like giant mushrooms," described Harry, his mouth full with scrambled eggs. "Only that they are filled with Floo-powder. And if you touch them accidentally," her threw out his arms in a dramatic gesture: "Kaboom!"
Sirius chuckled. "It glitters like tinsel. You should have come with us, Claire."
She smiled and put down her fork. She had really wanted to come, but then she had decided that it was good for them to do things alone, without her. And to be honest, right now she was not too keen on strolling through the Forbidden Forrest at 6 am. After all that was usually the time when she threw up … She had to tell Poppy, she decided. The matron would know a potion that'd calm her stomach.
"But aren't the … Flooroms dangerous to touch? I mean, with all the floo …"
"I just got a tiny sprinkle of it on my skin, and that was enough to transport me right out of the swamp and up into a tree."
"Sirius!" Claire gasped. "Are you crazy taking him there? Harry could have been injured!"
Harry and Sirius found that tremendously funny.
"Sirius …," Harry panted eventually, "Sirius flew out of the swamp as well!"
"But I did not end up on a branch twenty meters over the ground!" his godfather snorted.
"Yeah, you slammed right into the trunk like a wet rag."
They doubled over laughing. Claire shook her head in amazement. This had to be some kind of male bonding ritual, getting hurt together and enjoying every minute. Or maybe it was a father-and-son-thing. Or rather godfather … Although since Harry's father was dead … Sirius was probably the person closest to a father Harry knew. So did fathers and sons play Quidditch till one of them dropped dead off the broom? She would not know. Her parents had been relatively old when she had been born, and Claire was their only child.
Under the table she placed a hand over her her stomach. If the child was a boy … Then again, Sirius would probably not be here when the child was old enough to play Quidditch or hold a wand.
And what if it had inherited her disability? What if her child was a squib? Claire's heart fluttered. She remembered the humiliation of endless wandwaving without producing any results, the silent desperation in her mothe'rs face and the grim determination in her father's. She'd been five when it became apparent that her children's wand was as useless as a twig in her hands, and that none of the magical appliances in the house reacted to her. The water taps, the music chest, the ice chamber - they all ignored the little girl. After she had accidentally got caught in the ice chamber and almost died from hypothermia, Sebastian Winterstorm hired Ygor Trollstone as his daughter's bodyguard.
The troll, who even towered over grown wizards, had taken to the little girl the moment they met for the first time. He had not only guarded her, but became her confidant and friend. Like the older brother she did not have, and in a way like a father, younger than her own. But they had never played Quidditch, she regretted. Not because she was a girl - some of the most famous Quidditch players were female after all. But she could not fly a broom, and Ygor was too heavy to fly the tame model her father kept in the broom shed.
"Claire?"
Sirius' voice guided her back into the present. He touched her hand gently. "Are you still dreaming?"
She smiled faintly. "No, I was just reminiscing. So, what are you up to today?"
"I promised Coco to fix the magical faucet in the kitchen."
"And you, Harry?"
The boy frowned. "I guess I should start to go over my books. It is the same every summer, when it gets close to my birthday, I feel as if the holidays are as good as over."
"Your birthday!" Claire slapped her forehead. "Oh Harry, I almost forgot your birthday."
He shook his head. "Don't worry, Claire. I am not a child anymore. I don't need a cake or anything."
"Well, ok. If you say so." She pushed back her plate in mock indifference. No cake! Coco would blow up when Claire told her that Mr. Harry Potter did not need a birthday cake. She knew that Sirius and Remus planed a special surprise for Harry, and she had made her own preparations. So when the boy turned sixteen the day after tomorrow he'd get the cake and the party, whether he wanted it or not.
"What about tomorrow?" she asked. "You know we are invited for dinner with … with business acquaintances of mine. We can't take you with us …"
Sirius coughed and almost spit his tea all over the table. The thought alone! To take Harry Potter to a Death Eaters' meeting! Although it was not really a Death Eaters event … The invitation had been signed by Narcissa Malfoy, and since Narcissa apparently was not involved in her husbands nefarious affairs, it promised to be a "normal" dinner party. Still, there was no way Harry could accompany them.
"I guess I could ask Hagrid if I may spend the evening with him," Harry suggested
"Remus would keep you company, but he's away tomorrow and won't return in time."
"Don't you worry!" Harry smiled at Claire. "I am not a baby. I am well able to survive for an evening on my own."
"I'd really rather have you stay with Hagrid until we return.. I have to go and see Poppy today, and when you and Sirius fly to the castle to pick me up at lunch-time, you could ask Hagrid."
"Are you not feeling well?" Sirius studied her face.
Claire blushed and hid her face by busily sorting letters and papers into two piles for the morning owl flight. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"
"Why do you need to see Poppy then?" He would not let it go so easily.
"She is teaching me, remember? Med school for squibs …" She shrugged. "I need so much to learn if I want to develop the only talent the gods have provide me with."
Sirius pushed his chair back and stepped behind her. Bending down, he kissed the spot where her collar met the bare skin. "Healing is not the only talent you got, Ms. White," he murmured into her ear. "You are a shrewd business woman, you are compassionate …" He turned her around and, ignoring Harry who did his best not to look at his godfather, he kissed her on the lips. "Did I mention that you are good in bed as well?" His voice was so low it sent a tickle down her spine.
"Not that I don't appreciate that healing thing you do …"
Claire looked up, her eyes soft and dreaming. "Hm … what? Healing, yes. Are you injured?"
He chuckled and kissed the crown of her head. "I'll live. But Harry suffered a bad scratch on his arm, and I don't want it to become inflamed."
"Let me have a look at it."
Claire reached for Harry's arm, but the boy jerked away.
"Oh no! You are not going to put that potion on me!"
"Potion? What potion?"
"Madam Pomfrey's "SVSW"."
Sirius grinned. "Smells vile …"
"Stings worse," Harry finished the sentence and held a hand over the deep scratch on his forearm. "Why don't we just leave it alone, and let it mend by itself."
"Harry, don't behave like a baby!" Claire rose and looked at him, shaking her head in disbelieve. "I saw you falling off your broom yesterday, and you did not even wince. And now you tell me you are afraid of some harmless disinfectant solution?"
Sirius perched on the window sill, arms crossed, watching the scene with obvious pleasure. "I take it you have never been injured while in Hogwarts, Princess," he drawled.
"No," she said and arched her eyebrows meaningfully. "Ygor took good care of me. Although one time I suffered lots of scratches when I got lot on the school grounds at night …"
Sirius's face fell and the light died in his eyes. "I am sorry about that. You know I did not mean to …"
"I am joking, you oaf," she smiled. "But you are right, I've never been to the Hospital wing when I was a student. The matron then was …"
"Madame Dunant. Jamie called her the Dragon-lady. By Merlin's beard, that witch breathed fire and ate little Gryffindors for breakfast."
"Did she use SVSW?" Harry had let go off his arm when Sirius mentioned his father. "Did Dad have to go there a lot?"
"Your dad broke half of his bones in Quidditch practise. And Remus … well, you know, he used to almost scratch his skin off before the Wolfsbane potion was invented. He spent the days after each full moon in the Hospital wing."
Claire had silently stepped closer to Harry and touched his arm, very carefully, with a soothing, stroking gesture. The boy looked at her in amazement, then down his arm, where the scratches paled and disappeared.
"How … I thought you were a squib."
She shrugged. "But I am. I can't even ride a broom. Ask your godfather."
Sirius nodded. "She really is a squib, Harry. But she can heal nonetheless."
"I guess, some wizards would gladly give up all magic for your talent," Harry mused. "The doctor who treats Neville's parents, for instance."
"I can't do miracles, can't heal cancer or other serious illnesses. Sometimes I am able to calm others or to take away the pain, but usually I just set bones or mend skin. I couldn't do anything for the prisoners of St. Mango's."
"The prisoners?" Sirius frowned.
"That's how the doctor called the patients in the ward where Prenner is. Remember when you ….," she coughed, "when you did not feel well?"
His eyes darkened. "I remember the doctor. He came to Hogwarts when Snape …" He turned to Harry. "You saved Snape's life then, didn't you? So you are some kind of healer as well."
Harry snorted. "Hardly. All I did was coax the snake venom to leave his body. But I could not mend a broken nail if my life depended on it."
"I am good at mending nails," Claire grinned and showed him her perfect finger-nails. "And I cured Professor Vector's wand elbow last week."
"Good. Maybe that will improve his mood next term."
Claire checked Harry's arm again and gave him a contented slap. "Off you go. As good as new."
"Can I send all my friends to you now instead of Madam Pomfrey?"
"No you can't." Sirius scowled. "Poppy will have her reasons to threaten you with SVSW. And we don't want to undermine her strategies."
* * *
At lunchtime Sirius and Harry picked Claire up at the stairs of Hogwarts castle, both grinning like madmen.
She crossed her arms and looked at them gravely. "What?"
Sirius smirked. "Nothing."
"Come on, Sirius. I am not dumb. I can see something is going on, and from your faces I deduct it is something that won't make me happy at all."
"Hagrid got Sirius' old motorcycle!" Harry blurted out excitedly. "And if we replace a few odd parts, it will be as good as new!"
"His what? Claire remembered faintly reading about Sirius being involved in a motorcycle-accident many years ago.
"Motorcycle. It is actually a Muggle artefact, and Hagrid should have got rid of it, but ... well, you know him."
"Oh yes, I know Hagrid!" Claire bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Hagrid who tried so hard to go by the rules ... If only the rules tried to go by Hagrid. Dragons, beasts, unlicensed magic - everything he liked, was illegal or outright forbidden.. "Just tell me one thing: Is it dangerous?"
"Noooo!" Both Sirius and Harry starred at her with wide open eyes. Their blank faces told of the contrary just as well as a signed confession.
"Right. But don't come to my and whine if you fall off the motor .... the thing!"
She let Sirius draw her on his broom and snuggled into his arms. Could it be that her first broom-ride was only a few weeks ago? She remembered only too well how awkward she had felt with Sirius so close to her, how her body - even then - had known about her true feelings way before her heart had admitted it.
At home she hopped off the broomstick before Sirius could set her down, and nodded at her husband and Harry.
"I bet you're hungry, but it'll take a while to fix lunch. Put away the brooms, wash your hands, take your time and let me ..." she frowned and sighed, "cook."
When they entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, they found Claire, white apron over her robes, raiding the ice-chamber. "Sorry, but it is Saturday. I forgot, it is the elves' hour off."
"Poor things," Sirius grinned, and she hit him playfully with a tea towel.
"They hate it," he explained softly to Harry, while Claire started to prepare a pile of sandwiches. "She forces them to take time off every Saturday. At first I guess it was the whole afternoon, but the wailing and whining was more than anybody could bear. Now it is just an hour."
Opening the door to the elves' common room a gap, he let Harry have a glimpse at a dozen elves, sitting on tiny chairs, an expression of utter misery on the little faces.
"Wow, she is really into S.P.E.W.," muttered Harry when he saw Coco and Peagreen, with tears in their big bulging eyes.
"Into it?" Sirius snorted. "She is the Queen of S.P.E.W.! Just wait until you see the school she built for the children. Hermione Granger will just love this!"
He checked the hourglass by the sink. "It is almost over. Which is good, since Claire couldn't cook if her life depended on it!" he whispered, only to duck and cover when a tomato missed his head by inches.
"I heard that, Mr. I-am-so-good-with-my-hands! Care to fix your own sandwiches?"
Sirius took up the challenge, and when the elves left their confinement, they found their mistress, her Sirius and Mr. Harry Potter at the kitchen table, happily munching strange looking but obviously tasty sandwiches.
* * *
The Malfoy Mansion was brightly lit and the doors opened festively. Narcissa Malfoy awaited them at the door, dressed in an immaculate robe of silvery silk. She was as lovely as a beautifully crafted statue, thought Claire. The pictures in the Daily Prophet did her no justice at all.
Malfoy's wife smiled but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Mrs. White, Professor White, so glad you could come."
She led them into the salon, where Lucius entertained a small group of people, Claire remembered from her first party. Thankfully none of them had been witness to the humiliating scene with Prenner. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench.
Lucius kissed Claire's hand, a disturbing habit she'd hardly ever get used to, and gave Sirius a short nod of acknowledgement.
"And this," he presented a sulky yet handsome boy to them, "is Draco."
Draco studied Claire's face for a moment before he greeted Sirius. "Professor White. I did not know you were an acquaintance of my father's."
What followed was a perfectly normal dinner party - or what Claire supposed was perfectly norma,l since she had never been to a dinner party. Lucius made an effort to not talk about politics, and engaged Claire in a conversation that covered anything from export laws to rare books. Meanwhile Sirius, Draco and a wizard who had been introduced to Claire as McNair, discussed sports, broom models and the probabilility that the dragon which had been sighted near Nottingham had been a real one, not just a Muggle chimera.
Narcissa seemed content to just sit and listen and direct the serving elves. Claire noticed both how perfectly smooth everything went and how the elves kept their eyes riveted to the floor, as if they were scared to look up and face their mistress.
After dinner, when Draco had been excused by his father and had left the grown-ups, the dinner party split up in several groups. Narcissa, still the perfect hostess, offered to show Claire some of the paintings and arts treasure, and Claire did not have the heart to admit that Lucius had given her the same tour only a few weeks ago. Eventually they ended up in a small comfortable salon where a timid elf served chilled champagne.
Narcissa sat down and started to ask Claire questions about her young marriage and her husband's occupation as a professor in Hogwarts.
"Draco speaks of him with high respect … which I find rare. He doesn't like it there, I am afraid. We used to have a very close relation to his head of house, until lately. Draco took it badly when Lucius and Severus ended their friendship."
"Did they?" Claire tried to keep the conversation on a gossiping level, always hoping Narcissa would let slop more information than she'd intended. "What happened? I really don't have much contact to the staff, you must know. Severus is the scary one, isn't he?"
Narcissa held a hand over her mouth to stifle a laughter. "Scary. Yes, that's Severus. They have been friends for more than fifteen years, and then Lucius decides he won't talk to him any more … with no apparent reason. Men! I really don't understand them!"
"Me neither." Claire said compassionately. Although - of course she understood why Lucius would severe all ties with a former Death Eater who had betrayed their master …
"Sirius," Narcissa mused. "That's a rather unusual name, isn't it?"
Claire pretended to admire a painting of the Malfoy family with infant Draco. "I don't think it's that rare," she replied casually. "I know several Siriuses. I even went to school with one."
"But so did I!" Narcissa said. "Did you attend Hogwarts? I can't remember you."
"I was there, if only for two years. Then my parents had me transferred to Beauxbatons. But I remember Sirius ... Black. Wasn't he the one who escaped from Azkaban?"
Narcissa nodded. Her eyes softened. "He was quite remarkable. I don't know if you recognised then how handsome he was. You must have been some years younger than Sirius and I."
"I remember well that every girl had a crush on him." Claire smiled faintly. "He was very popular."
"Yes, he was. Slytherins, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs - no matter what house, every girl wanted Sirius." Narcissa's lovely cold face warmed considerably. "I dated him for a few days in my seventh year, you must know."
"Really?"
"Just to make Lucius jealous, of course. Sirius knew that all I ever wanted was to marry Lucius, who did not even know I existed. But Sirius played his part well. Very well, since Lucius threatened to challenge him to a duell after only 10 days. " She giggled, and the mere sound proved that the young girl still existed behind the sophisticated facade. "Oh, you could always trust in Sirius to help a damsel in distress."
"That sounds very chivalrously. Claire sat down and played with her champagne glass. "In my - admittedly dim - memory he was rather rough, always teasing me."
"Then you were probably one of those strong, independent Gryffindors," said Narcissa earnestly.
Hiding her surprise, Claire took a sip of champagne. "What makes you think so?"
"Sirius only ever dated girls with a fault. And he only teased those who were strong enough to handle it."
"A fault?"
Narcissa lowered her voice. "It was so obvious that he dated girls to do them a favour. Looking back, it could have been humiliating, but he never gave you that feeling. When Helen Sthoughton's lost their fortune in her fifth year, he went out with her until she got to grips with it. And then there was the girl from Russia who didn't speak any English. The Ravenclaw who was so shy she'd never looked at anybody. He dated me, because I was almost out of my mind with love-sickness over Lucius. And he had a blind girlfriend for a few months in his sixth year."
And now he got a wife who is a squib, thought Claire, and the thought left her numb and freezing.
"As soon as he found I was feeling better, he ended it. Very gently though. It was always the girl who had the impression, she'd just ended the relationship. None of us ever felt dumped by Sirius. And no matter what he's done ever since, and what people say about him, I am still grateful for his support."
"But now you got Lucius, and of course you got Draco. He seems to be exceptionally bright. You must be very proud about him."
Narcissa beamed in unveiled love and motherly pride. "We both are. I don't know if Lucius or I would ever get over it if anything happened to Draco."
"But ... with your husband's political ..." Claire fixed a hair-strand and thought feverishly how to place that Lucius' activities endangered Draco as well as Narcissa, "Draco is of course very young ... but one day ..."
It was as if a shutter went down. Narcissa's face turned into the cool mask she showed the public. "Lucius knows very well what is best for our son. I trust him completely." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't have any children, so you have no idea how parents desire only the best for their children. One day Draco will take the powerful position a Malfoy deserves."
Lucius entered the salon and ushered them back into the library. "I have something to show you," he announced proudly.
Narcissa frowned. "Lucius, you promised to spare us politics tonight."
He went to her and patted her shoulder like he'd calm a favourite pet. "I know, I know. But this is important for Claire to see. It just arrived by special delivery."
In the library they saw a silver box sitting on a table, secured by two magical cords. Sirius, Mavis Lawrence and McNair stood by the fire, discussing Quidditch agitatedly.
"Quidditch!" groaned Malfoy and shook his head. "One should assume people lose interest in brooms and bludgers once they see where power and purpose can take them."
Sirius gave him a big grin and drawled: "What could be more important than Quidditch, old boy?"
Malfoy scowled at him, but obviously did not deem him worthy a reply. He undid the cords on the box with his wand, and the magical bind snapped with a sprinkle of greenish flashes. In the box Claire could see three rows of small glass vials, each filled with red liquid, each carefully labled with dates and numbers.
"Well, Malfoy," she asked curiously, "what is so special about this?"
"This is where the money went. The money you so generously contributed to the cause."
"To this?" Claire bowed deeper over the vials. "They don't look very expensive to me."
"You must take my word on it. Each of them is worth its weight in gold. They are more expensive than Veritaserum."
"I see. But you did not answer my question, Malfoy. What is it?"
Malfoy took one of the vials out of its holder and passed it to her. "This will ensure the Master's recovery to full strength. It is what he needs to ..." He almost leaped at Sirius when he took the vial out of Claire's hand. "Don't drop it, for Salazar's sake!"
Sirius, unimpressed by Malfoy's sudden panic, gave the vial a shake, held it to his ear and shrugged disappointedly. "I thought it might blow up or something spectacular," he drawled.
"Give it to me!" Exasperatedly Malfoy snatched the vial out of his guest's hand. He put it back safely into its place and shut the box again.
"Why don't we take the coffee on the terrace," Narcissa suggested and shot her husband an annoyed glance. "It is such a lovely night."
"Why is it that I always feel I need a shower after we meet Malfoy?"
Claire wiped the hand, Malfoy had kissed, at her robes.
"These people are scum." Sirius picked her up and carried her to up the stairs of Winterstorm Manor, ignoring her protests. "No wonder you feel dirty."
When they entered the circle of light that fell through the window over the door, she saw that he smiled. "Care to share that shower?"
"I thought you'd never ask," she chuckled and gently nibbled at his earlobe. "The shower afterwards is really the only part of these meetings I truly enjoy."
"Hm," he mused. "I do like the way these woman undress me with their eyes. And I just love it when Malfoy treats me like a walking, talking turnip."
Claire ruffled his hair while he carried her upstairs. "Poor baby. He really is not too fond of you. While Narcissa …"
"You and Narcissa talked about me?"
She watched his face with scrutiny, but saw nothing than mild curiosity. "Not exactly. We talked about Sirius Black. You know, the murderer."
"Narcissa and I dated for a while in our seventh year. For about a week, if I remember correctly."
"Ten days." Claire smiled. "She was quite impressed when you escaped from Azkaban."
Sirius snorted. "I bet she was. She always had a soft spot for wizards with high criminal energy." He set Claire down on the bathroom floor and pointed his wand at the faucet. Hot water started to gush into the tub and within minutes the bathroom filled with mist.
"Sirius, sometimes I wonder if what we do is of any use to Albus. All we do is chat to people we don't like. The bit of information we gather … do you think it is worth the risk of having somebody find out who you really are?"
He stepped behind her, embraced her and looked into the misted mirror where he met her eyes. "Every risk is worth the victory of the light over Voldemort's darkness. I got a taste of that darkness when I sat in Azkaban and thought I'd die there." His hands clenched to fists for a moment. "One day I'll make Peter pay for the lost years."
His hands wandered down Claire's arms and cupped her breasts. A hot wave of guilt made her blush, but the steam hid her face from Sirius. Poppy had laughed glady when Claire confessed the pregnancy, and had even more laughed when she heard her request for silence. "Dear girl, a baby is growing in you! How do you think you can hide that from the wizard who shares your bed? Sirius Black is neither blind nor stupid. Of course you can lie to him for two, maybe three months. But he won't be pleased when he finds you tried to decieve him. And for Merlin's sake, why should you? I can't think of a wizard who'd be more pleased about a kid than Sirius." Eventually she had agreed to let Claire find the right moment to tell Sirius but had warned her once more not to keep the truth from Sirius for too long.
And now Claire felt guilty whenever he touched her. Could he teel that her body was changing?
"Today we gathered more than just information," Sirius said, oblivious to her musing. He reached into the wide sleeve of his robe and produced a small vial filled with dark-red liquid.
Claire stared at the glass tube. "How did you ..."
He smirked and placed the vial carefully on a towel on the counter. "Minerva McGonagall always said I had a special talent for transfiguration. Malfoy will sorely miss the queen of his chess set next time he plays."
"But ... They will discover it when they want to use the content of the vial." Claire still could not believe he'd actually managed to steal the vial right from under Malfoy's eyes.
"I took the one that was in the back of the case, the one with the newest date. Hopefully it will take some time until that vial will be used and transfigure back into red marble. By then it shouldl be difficult to trace who had access to the case."
"What do you think is in it?" Claire held the vial against the light. "It looks like blood."
Sirius shrugged. "Snape will be happy to analyse it once he's back from his holidays.. What was it Malfoy said? It is something the Dark Lord's needs ... "
"We'll find out. And if we are lucky, we can withhold it from him."
"Right." He took her shoulders and turned her around so she faced him. "But for now, lets care not about Voldemort's but our own needs."
* * *