12. The Prisoner's Tale
Claire would have enjoyed her regular trips to London much more if their foremost purpose had not been to hand Malfoy considerable amounts of money from her vault at Gringott's. She kept the memory of that one careless stroll through the Muggle world with Sirius like a treasure in her heart and immersed in it whenever things got to tedious.
Right now she stood in her office in Diagon Alley, looking out of the window down on the busy street to see if she could spot Sirius amongst the milling crowd. They'd agreed Sirius should run Dumbledore's errant with Mr. Olivander while Claire met her editor-in-chief at the store. Harry had been sent shopping with the Weasleys, and Arthur Weasley had promised to return the boy safely back to Hogsmeade in the evening. School was about to start in a few days, and Claire only regretted that she could not shop with Harry for school robes and books like other parents did. But then - she was not his mother, and it was better for him not to be spotted in her company by Malfoy or one of his fellow-conspirators. It would endanger the mission, but first of all it would endanger the boy who lived.
Turning away from the editor who would not stop going on and on about publishing contracts and sales numbers, she laid a hand onto her stomach. There was nothing to be seen … yet. And still she felt very protective of the tiny being growing in her. Only now she could understand how Lily Potter must have felt when on that dreadful evening when Voldemort entered the house in Godric's Hollow.
"And then there is the question of parchment," Mr. Inkers went on. "Quality decreases continuously. We should really find another supplier."
Claire smiled at him. "I trust you with that, Inkers, and I am sure you'll not only find better but also cheaper parchment, won't you?"
The frail looking wizard beamed at her. He had been her father's right hand, and although he could bore the hell out of anyone, nobody matched his scrutiny where business was concerned.
"And lest I forget," he checked the last point on his long list of subjects, which made Claire sigh softly in relief, "here is a voucher copy of Winterstorm's latest best-seller for your private library. As always you showed immaculate taste in the choice of new authors." He passed her a small silk-bound book. "I took the liberty to change the title somewhat though. 'Prisoner's Syndrome' is too medical a term in my opinion."
Claire stared at the book. Understanding dawned and her heart sunk. This were Sirius' stories … "Did I send this to you?" she asked faintly. "Did I send you this manuscript?"
"At the last minute, but we stopped the printing spells and gave this one a special treatment. It surely deserves it. People buy it like crazy. Can you tell me anything about the author?"
Claire clenched her fingers around the book. "I am sorry he wants to remain anonymous, at least for the time being." Her mind raced. How in all the world had the manuscript got into the business mail? She had filed it away and put it onto a shelf … then Sirius had entered the office and she had forgotten about it … and had told Kiki to bundle the mail for Mr. Inkers on the same afternoon, because she had been too busy with Harry's birthday party …
Shaking her head at her own incompetence, she buried the book at the very bottom of her bag and left Winterstorm's, to catch Sirius before he entered the bookstore. She was not sure how he'd react to see his stories in print. Hadn't Remus told her that Sirius had been an aspiring writer before Azkaban? Maybe he was quite happy with the result of her negligence?
Anyway she'd better tell him in person and not let him run into a cardboard rack that displayed "S. Padfoot" in golden letters which did a shaky little dance whenever a customer took a book off the rack.
* * *
Now, three days later, school had started. The hallways and staircases of Hogwarts echoed with the laughter of hundreds of students, exchanging news and refreshing old friendships.
Claire stood by the entrance door, not sure if she should venture down to the dungeons all by herself. Last time Peeves had thrown part of a suit of arms after her, and only Snape's sharp threat to report him to the Bloody Baron had made the ghost retreat. Snape and Laurel had returned from their holidays in the Austrian Alps two days before the start of term, ten days later than they had planned to. Claire smirked. Poor Laurel, she thought guiltily, he probably didn't even unpack, when Dumbledore showed him the vial Sirius had nicked at Malfoy's house.
Laurel was supposed to pick up Claire and take her to the lab, where Snape for the last 48 hours had been deeply immersed in the analysis of the red potion. Early this morning, just when Sirius had left the house, the Potions master had sent an owl with the short message to come and see the result.
Claire hoped that Sirius waited for her in the lab, since she was still uneasy in Snape's presence. He had never again attacked her verbally like that very first time, but he made it very clear he would not change his mind about the madness to send a squib into Voldemort's realm.
„Claire, I am sorry. I forgot about you." Laurel gave her an apologising smile. "I just wanted to wait until Neville comes back from the Headmaster's office."
"Is he in trouble?"
Laurel shook her head. "Neville is rarely in trouble … except in Potions class, of course." She smirked. "Although he and Severus will get along much better now since Neville decided to stay away from the cauldrons and concentrate on Herbology. But if Potions wasn't an elective for the sixth and seventh years …"
"But why did he have to go see the Headmaster then?"
"I don't know. That's why I decided to wait. I told you about Neville's parents, didn't I?"
Claire nodded solemnly. "They are patients in St. Mungo's. Amongst those who suffer from Prisoner's syndrome."
"Is that what they call it now? A very apt name. Prisoners in their own bodies, without any hope for release."
"Do you know how they … how they got ill?"
Laurel bit her lip, as always when she was nervous or worried. "Death Eaters tortured them. Neville was just a baby then and grew up with his grandmother. He has never known his parents any different than the way they are now. Empty eyes, shallow breath, no will of their own."
"And now you are afraid Dumbledore had bad news for the boy," Claire concluded.
Laurel sighed. "He is such a nice shy guy. It would hit him hard if he lost his parents. He visits them once a month and reads to them, can you imagine? Those living dead, and he reads them stories."
A sudden croaking in the winding stairs announced that Neville's talk to the headmaster was over. The staircase started to move.
When Laurel saw Neville's face, her worst fears became true. Had the boy been a Muggle, she'd said he looked as if he'd just seen a ghost. But then, this was Hogwarts and Neville saw ghosts every time he turned, since he was Peeves' pet victim.
"Neville, what has happened?" she asked softly. "Your parents … are they ..."
Neville's grey eyes were wide in shock. "Yes," he whispered as if he were afraid to say it loudly. "Something happened to them. They …," his bottom lip trembled, "They woke up this morning."
Claire and Laurel stared at him unbelievingly.
"It is true," he said, his voice gaining assurance. "Dumbledore just told me. My dad wanted ham and eggs for breakfast. And Mum … she asked for a hairbrush …"
All of a sudden he started to shiver violently, and Laurel could do nothing than hug him while he cried helplessly with relief and joy.
Claire sat down at the stairs and waited patiently until Neville calmed down. She deeply admired Laurel for her suddenly so soothing voice and the warmth she seemed to radiate. This was another form of healing, one that was not within her powers. She could have helped Neville had he sprained an ankle. But not with this. She was not good with comforting others … only with Sirius … She smiled to herself. There were so many things she could only do with Sirius, and sex was not even the most important by far. Being herself … a squib …
The only thing she obviously could not manage was being honest with him. There was the baby. The book. The fact she did not want this marriage to end. She'd have to come clear, and soon. The lies and deceptions had started to invade her dreams. And she, who had lived a lie for the greater part of her life, who had grown so familiar with pretending to be something she wasn't - she suddenly could not bear it anymore.
"Claire?"
She jumped. Laurel smiled at her and reached for her hand to draw her up.
"Where's Neville?", Claire asked.
"He left to pack. He'll take the Express to London tonight."
"To see his parents."
Laurel beamed. "Yes, to see his parents. You know, even in this world of magic this is a miracle. After so many years …" She shook her head in wonderment. "I must go tell Severus."
Claire paused. "I can come and see the result of his analysis later."
"No, don't you worry," Laurel put a arm around her shoulders and drew her with her towards the Potion's lab in the dungeons. "He rarely bites these days."
Claire smirked. "How did the holidays go?"
Her friend rolled her eyes. "Exhausting! I was so afraid my parents would not like him, and I was positive Severus would hate them. But they were completely in awe of each other. Severus embraced the Muggle world like an explorer who visits an aboriginal tribe. And my parents … well, my dad's a hobby magician. Severus showed him a few simple tricks … actually I think he bespelled his cylinder. I can only hope the Ministry never find out about it." Her eyes got soft. "And then we spent a week in a hut in the mountains. Very simple. A table, two chairs, a fireplace. A bed."
"I see," smiled Claire. "That's the exhausting part, I gather?"
"Very exhausting."
They both laughed, but then Claire got serious again.
"Laurel, I need to ask you for advice."
"On what? If it is about anything magical I am probably not the best source."
"No, nothing magical." Claire sighed and kept her eyes riveted to the floor. "About … marriage."
"Marriage?" Laurel stopped and turned to Claire. "But …"
"I know you and Severus are not married. I never understood why."
"It just didn't seem important," Laurel shrugged.
"But you and Severus have been together for longer than anybody else in my acquaintance. I don't know any other married couples but the Malfoys. And the day I'll ask Narcissa Malfoy for marital advice will be the day the sky comes tumbling down."
"What kind of advice do you seek?"
Claire sighed again. "Sirius and I … we … there are things I need to tell them. Things I kept a secret for too long. But I don't know how."
Laurel thought about it. "All I can tell you is that love can bridge any difference. But it needs a lot of work as well."
"Work?"
"Hard work. I remember, when I was very desperate once, Dumbledore told me that the easy way wasn't always the right way. I did not understand him then. But now I do. Severus and I, we work hard on our life together." She put a comforting hand on Claire's arm. "We take it step by step. And we learn so much from each other. He learned to hold my hand when we take a walk along the lake-shore. I learned to not hold his hand in the presence of students. Small things like that."
Her face got very serious. "But honesty is crucial. If you keep secrets, Sirius will never trust you. "
Claire's eyes filled with tears. "But if I tell him the truth, I'll lose him."
"And maybe you won't. I don't know Sirius that well, but he has been betrayed once and I don't think he'd take it easy if somebody claimed to love him and lied to him at the same time."
"You are right." They had reached the Potions lab. "I knew it all along, I just needed to hear it from somebody else."
* * *
The Potions master stood at a workbench and like a Muggle magician put on a show - at least that was what Sirius thought, as always irritated by the other wizard.
Two glass tubes contained the same crystal clear potion.
Snape cleared his throat. "I add a drop of the content of the vial from Malfoy's box."
The clear potion showed an immediate reaction, it sizzled and bubbled and then turned a vile green.
"What does this mean?" asked Claire, her meagre two years of Potion class long forgotten.
"It is nothing but a test reaction that allows us to compare the potency of two ingredients. Similar ingredients, similar reaction," explained Snape.
„Now, watch what happens when I add this hair from Mr. Potter's head."
With shock Claire and Laurel saw the liquid turn the same brilliant green as before.
"This stuff," Snape pointed at the vial, "contains blood. But not just some blood. It is …
"Harry's blood?" Claire's throat got very dry.
"Or blood very similar to Harry's. Incredibly similar. Male child, born on the same day, but not necessarily in the same year. Under the same stars, so it would have to be somewhere in the United Kingdom. Half Wizard, half Muggle."
"Malfoy said the vials were more expensive than Veritaserum."
Snape whistled softly. "I see. They took great pains to get as close to Harry's blood as was possible without getting a hold on Harry himself."
"How did you get the idea of using a hair of Harry's?" asked Sirius in sudden suspicion.
"I remembered what the boy told Dumbledore about his last meeting with Voldemort. That Voldemort used Harry's blood to restore his former body and strength."
"But that was not more than just a few drops as far as I know," said Claire. "No way they could have filled all the vials in the box we've seen."
Laurel shook her head and took a closer look at the remains of the red potion in the vial. "And what could they possibly use blood for now?"
Severus shrugged. "Part of another restoring ritual? Ingredient for a potion? Who knows."
He carefully locked the vial and the test tube in a strongbox and sealed it with a spell. "I'll talk about it with Dumbledore. Maybe he has an idea about what ancient ritual reacquires blood of the enemy."
Sirius left the dungeons deep in thought, but aware enough of Peeves teasing Claire to hit the obnoxious ghost with a sharp flicker of his wand. In the hall they almost got trampled down by a stampede of students and saved themselves into a corner until the crowed had passed by.
Claire took Sirius' hand, gratefully he liked physical contact better than Snape. Sirius would always hold her hand, students present or not, when he felt she needed reassurance. On the downside she never knew if his kisses and caresses really meant what she hoped for or if they were just his way to show kindness.
"I need to see Dumbledore," Sirius said regretfully. "Please don't walk through the forest alone. Take the secret passageway to the shack."
Claire smiled. In the beginning she had bristled every time he forbid her to do certain things. But they had learned, she conceded, just like Severus and Laurel had. She had learned to not take his advice as orders, and he had learned to voice his orders as advice. Like an old couple ... For a moment she allowed herself a daydream. Sirius living in her house, happily writing books, helping her raise their child ... no, their children. Growing old together ...
She sighed. Tonight she'd tell him and hope for the best. "I see you at teatime then."
* * *
Sirius entered the Headmasters office with the same sinking feeling as in his days as a student. But while he had had a reason to feel guilty then every time he had been called into the circular room, he was almost sure he had not committed any crime lately. Probably Dumbledore wanted another report about the mission. Or he'd again try to nudge him gently towards the admission that this marriage was a good thing …
Dumbledore gave him a big paternal smile when he entered, and pushed the half-moon-shaped glasses up on his head.
"Sit down, dear boy." Silently he reminded himself to not forget that Black was not the fledgling he seemed to the Headmaster, but a grown wizard. He certainly looked the part, he had put on weight since his days as a stray, and the wildness in appearance had given way to something more pleasant if still far too serious, something that reminded Dumbledore of the boy Sirius had been not so long ago. He sighed. It was very hard when everybody was ages younger than you were ...
He remembered Sirius on the day he'd breached the defences of Hogwarts and had almost got his revenge on Peter Pettigrew. He'd been a mere shadow than, madness burning in his eyes, ready to die as soon as he'd killed the wizard who ruined his life and murdered his friends.
Dumbledore had married him to Claire not only to provide his newest spy with a husband, not only to protect Claire, but also to heal Sirius of the many blows life had dealt him, and not only since that dreadful Halloween almost 15 years past. He could only hope that living with Claire would show the boy the more pleasant side of life. Maybe even … love …
He stroked his beard and made a mental note to not call Sirius "the boy" again. Harry was a boy, and Neville, and Draco, yes even Draco. Sirius and the two others were men now, men who could take their fates into their own hands. But then again - sometimes they needed a gentle push into the right direction …
Sirius cleared his throat. "Headmaster?"
Dumbledore snapped out of his musings and smiled at Sirius. "Ah, Sirius. What can I do for you?"
Sirius shook his head. "It was you, who had me called into this office. There was something you wanted to show me."
"Something I wanted …", Dumbledore scratched his head. "Ah, yes! I wanted to show you something! Something that was delivered to me only this morning, together with a letter from Dr. Jung."
"Jung? The doctor of St. Mungo's?"
"The very same." Dumbledore waved a piece of parchment. "Here it is. Have some cake, won't you? Did you know that there is no way whatsoever to magically produce a decent apple pie?"
Sirius sighed. Sometimes it was really hard to keep up with the old wizard jumping from one idea to the other.
"Well, well. Let me see." Dumbledore put his glasses back on his nose. Then he put the letter down again. "By the way, how are things between you and Claire?"
"Me and Claire?" Sirius frowned. "Good, I think. Why do you ask?"
"Oh nothing, nothing. Everything alright with Harry?"
"Claire almost cried when we delivered him at the door of Hogwarts - as if her little boy was sent hundreds of miles away," Sirius snorted, but Dumbledore could see he was secretly pleased about how well his wife and godson got along. "Malfoy has a spy in Hogsmeade. He knew Harry was staying with us for the summer."
Dumbledore just nodded. "I am aware of that. It is Miranda Green, the witch who lives in the house next to the train-station."
"We told Malfoy and his … friend that you forced us to keep Harry for a few weeks. Fortunately he is back in the security of Hogwarts now, before Voldemort demands another token of our credibility."
"Who was Malfoy's friend again?"
"Ben Olsen. I told you about him when we reported back, didn't I?"
The Headmaster smiled faintly. "You mentioned him, yes. Do you think he recognised you?"
"We have met when he was a student here last year. But I don't think he suspects me."
"What was your impression? Is he indeed Malfoy's friend? His fellow- conspirator? His rival?"
Sirius thought about it. "Malfoy said, Olsen was his ... legal advisor, something like that. That's why he insisted on bringing him to Gringott's when we transferred Claire's money. He seems very shrewd. Very ambitious. I guess he'd be Malfoy's rival then. They both want the position of third-in- command." He looked up all of a sudden. "Oh, and there was something else. I almost forgot about it. He asked about Serene."
"Serene Kennedy?" Dumbledore's demeanour lost all its cheerful vagueness and became attentive and cold as steel.
"He sent her his regards."
"No message?"
"Only greetings, that he was well and hoping to see her in the near future."
"Did you tell Miss Kennedy about your meeting with Ben?"
Sirius shrugged. "Serene and I are not exactly on friendly terms. No, I haven't told her yet. But I reckon, Claire has."
"Let me deal with Serene. This is serious. Ben Olsen is dangerous, maybe more dangerous than Lucius Malfoy. At least for Serene's soul."
"Talking of souls …" Sirius rose and started to pace the circular study, much to the annoyance of Fawkes. "Can't you put a stop to her torturing Remus?"
Dumbledore arched his eyebrows. "Is she torturing him?"
"She plays with him. She is sweet as honey one minute and cold as ice the next. And you know Remus … He really thinks she is his mate, the one person he'll spend his life with."
"But you think she is not?"
Sirius snorted in disgust. "Serene and Moony? Never! She'd tear out his heart."
"But shouldn't Remus know best who his mate is?"
"Yeah, one would think so." Sirius shook his head sadly. "But … I think he may lie to himself. He has been searching for that woman for the best part of his life. And hasn't found her yet. I am afraid he is in love with Serene only because he needs so much to be in love …"
"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice was still soft, but had taken on a sharp edge. "I thought Remus was your friend."
Sirius frowned. "He is. That's why I am worried."
"It is not Remus you should be worried about, Sirius Black. It is you."
"But …"
"Love is the one thing that helps us to overcome all despair, all evil, the very darkness itself. Remus loves Serene Kennedy from the bottom of his heart. And he is blessed, even if this love is painful." The old wizard looked at Sirius attentively. "Who do you love, Sirius? Who will help you get through eternal night, should it fall onto us all?"
Sirius swallowed hard and avoided to face the Headmaster. "You are wrong," he said softly. "Love is the thing that tears us apart. The thing that hurts us so bad all we pray for is death."
Dumbledore was by his side in a flash. "I am sorry, my boy," he sighed, his voice brittle with sudden exhaustion. "I did not mean to be so hard on you. But let Remus get through this on his own." He patted Sirius' shoulder.
"Now, we completely forgot why you came. I wanted to read you this letter."
Sirius only nodded. The Headmaster's words had shaken him to the core. Who would stand by his side when the final battle came? Who would cry for him if he died in the vain attempt to kill Peter? But then again - he had stood alone for most of his life, he could just as well stand alone now. A sudden memory of Claire's face on the heights of passion made him smile for a heartbeat, but then he imagined her standing at his grave and his throat tightened in pain. For the first time in weeks he felt the almost irresistible urge to run, to run until he was too tired to think, to feel, to fear.
"Sirius?"
"Yes. The letter. What does it say?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat and read Dr. Jung's letter aloud. Obviously Neville Longbottom's parents had awoken from their catatonic state all of a sudden, without any medical explanation.
"The Longbottoms!" Sirius exclaimed. "I remember Frank and …"
"Alice."
"Alice, right. I did not know they were Voldemort's victims, too."
"They have been imprisoned in their body for so many years now, and there was no hope at all."
"And now they woke up? Just like that?"
The old wizard stroked his beard. "Well, Dr. Jung has a theory, and though it sounds farfetched and impossible to prove, I think he may be right. The Longbottoms are amongst the few Prisoners in St. Mungo's who get visitors on a regular basis. And these visitors, their son Neville and the boy's grandmother, used to read to them."
Sirius nodded. "You think it was the reading that healed them?"
"Not the reading per se." Dumbledore patted a silk-bound book on his desk. "But reading them this."
The book did not seem extraordinary. Sirius took it from the Headmaster's hand, opening it carefully. He had once been bitten by a book in his second year as a student. When his gaze fell onto the first page, he read "The Prisoner's Tale, by S. Padfoot." He kept staring at the page, unwilling to admit to himself that what he saw was true. Painfully slow the letters found their way into his brain. It could not be, he told himself. It could not be. But when he reluctantly turned the page, he knew every word he read.
"S. Padfoot is you, am I right?" beamed Dumbledore. "Congratulations, Sirius! It is an outstanding book. Even if it had not healed the Longbottoms. I always knew you'd be a writer one day."
"I am not a writer." Sirius got up and let the book slide out of his hand carelessly. He felt cold, and as if his body had suddenly gone numb all over. "I am not a writer," he repeated, ignoring Dumbledore's questioning look. "I am a fool."
* * *
When Claire saw Sirius' face, she knew something was wrong - and terribly so. He looked as if somebody had hit him in the stomach, sick and hurt and unbelievingly.
"Sirius?" She stood up and closed the distance between them, only to be stopped by his raised hand.
"Don't." He actually stepped back, just so she would not touch him.
Claire's heart sunk. The worst had happened. Somebody had told him about the baby, and now he hated her for tying him to her in a marriage he had only agreed to on a temporary basis.
"What is wrong?" she asked carefully, still hoping in the core of her heart she had misinterpreted his gesture.
"How could you do this to me?"
She had not been wrong. His voice was blank, void of all emotions, but his eyes told her enough. The blue had darkened to almost black.
"Don't you think I should have had the right to know before everybody else?"
She winced.
"Yes. I should have told you first. But I was not sure how you'd react."
His eyes flared up. "Do you know me so little? No, Claire, I did not want this to be. Not like this. Not now." His scowl made her shiver. "But you were never really interested in what I wanted, were you?"
She clasped her hands to fight back the tears. "If you don't want it, Sirius, then leave it to me. I am so happy about it. I promise I won't bother you for anything."
"Not bother me?" Suddenly he grabbed both her arms and shook her hard. "That's not enough. I want it gone! Get rid of it. I don't care how, just do it."
"No!"
Claire pushed him away with a strength that was born out of fury and disappointment and desperation. "How dare you even suggest I'd do anything like that!"
"Right." His face distorted into a frown of disgust. "I should have known it. It is all about money, isn't it? You give a damn about my feelings."
"That's not true!" she protested, her voice tight with uncried tears.
He shook his head, not even listening to her plea. Claire's heart ached when he stared at her. "How could you betray me like this?"
Helplessly Claire raised her shoulders and let them sink again. "I never meant this to happen, Sirius. But when it did, I was out of my mind with joy. I guess, I just wanted to keep it a secret for a while, like a treasure only I knew about. Of course I had to tell Poppy, she would have guessed anyway, but ..." She frowned in sudden confusion. "Why did you say it was all about money? What's money got to do with it?"
He snorted, and the hurt and anger that had subsided for a moment when he saw her despair, gained the upper hand again. "Money. That's why you can't take it off the market, or is it? Winterstorm Inc. would suffer greatly."
"Off the market?" Claire's eyes widened in confusion. "Sirius, what are you talking about, for Merlin's sake?"
"The book," he said through gritted teeth. "The damned book."
"The book." Suddenly she got dizzy and almost fainted with relief. He had demanded she'd get rid of "The Prisoner's Tale". Not of the baby.
Sirius' eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Claire," he said and his voice trembled with suppressed suspicion. "I was talking about the book. What did you think I was talking about?"
She wiped the tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. Then, one hand flat on her stomach, she admitted: "The baby. I was talking about the baby."
Had the situation been any different, Claire would have made a mental note to one day tell her grandchildren about the priceless gape of utter surprise her answer triggered. But as it was, the surprise was replaced by something else instantly - defeat. His whole posture crumbled. His shoulders fell, his head sunk and suddenly he reminded her of a picture she'd seen in the Daily Prophet - Sirius Black on his way to Azkaban. Numb with pain. Pale as death he stood in the middle of the office, and just when Claire feared he'd faint or break down, he raised his head and looked at her.
"Of course." His voice was empty, as if he addressed a stranger. "I understand."
"Sirius." She tried to touch his hand, but he flinched as if she'd burned him with a hot iron. "This obliges you to nothing. You are free to go wherever you want, once Voldemort is defeated. I am well able to rise a child on my own, so you must not think I did get pregnant to tie you to me."
"And why would you?" His bitterness cut her like a knife. "I helped the baby into existence, that was all you needed from me."
Claire reached out an caressed his cheek and he let it happen as if her hand wasn't there. "That's not true. I love you, Sirius. I am aware that this is just another thing you never wanted, but it is a fact and I won't deny it any longer."
"You have a very special way to show your love, Claire. If Winterstorm Inc. ever goes out of business, you might apply with the Dementors." He took her hand and removed it from his cheek like an inanimate object. "But even they would consider you cruel."
Claire could not believe the surreal situation. Whenever she had imagined the moment when she confessed her pregnancy, she had imagined Sirius to be angry, even a bit hurt she'd not told him earlier. But this, the bitterness, the coldness, was much worse than she had ever feared. She had the distinct feeling she'd missed a vital information.
"Sirius," she tried to get through to him. "I am sorry I did not tell you earlier. But .."
"Save you breath." His face was a cold mask. "You said I was free to go wherever I wanted once Voldemort was defeated. Well, I don't give a damn about your plan anymore. I am leaving. Now."
He Disapparated from the room, and when the house-elves found their mistress an hour later, she sat in her chair, staring blindly out of the window. She waited all night, but the entrance door did not open and the stairs did not croak and Sirius did not return.
* * *
Claire would have enjoyed her regular trips to London much more if their foremost purpose had not been to hand Malfoy considerable amounts of money from her vault at Gringott's. She kept the memory of that one careless stroll through the Muggle world with Sirius like a treasure in her heart and immersed in it whenever things got to tedious.
Right now she stood in her office in Diagon Alley, looking out of the window down on the busy street to see if she could spot Sirius amongst the milling crowd. They'd agreed Sirius should run Dumbledore's errant with Mr. Olivander while Claire met her editor-in-chief at the store. Harry had been sent shopping with the Weasleys, and Arthur Weasley had promised to return the boy safely back to Hogsmeade in the evening. School was about to start in a few days, and Claire only regretted that she could not shop with Harry for school robes and books like other parents did. But then - she was not his mother, and it was better for him not to be spotted in her company by Malfoy or one of his fellow-conspirators. It would endanger the mission, but first of all it would endanger the boy who lived.
Turning away from the editor who would not stop going on and on about publishing contracts and sales numbers, she laid a hand onto her stomach. There was nothing to be seen … yet. And still she felt very protective of the tiny being growing in her. Only now she could understand how Lily Potter must have felt when on that dreadful evening when Voldemort entered the house in Godric's Hollow.
"And then there is the question of parchment," Mr. Inkers went on. "Quality decreases continuously. We should really find another supplier."
Claire smiled at him. "I trust you with that, Inkers, and I am sure you'll not only find better but also cheaper parchment, won't you?"
The frail looking wizard beamed at her. He had been her father's right hand, and although he could bore the hell out of anyone, nobody matched his scrutiny where business was concerned.
"And lest I forget," he checked the last point on his long list of subjects, which made Claire sigh softly in relief, "here is a voucher copy of Winterstorm's latest best-seller for your private library. As always you showed immaculate taste in the choice of new authors." He passed her a small silk-bound book. "I took the liberty to change the title somewhat though. 'Prisoner's Syndrome' is too medical a term in my opinion."
Claire stared at the book. Understanding dawned and her heart sunk. This were Sirius' stories … "Did I send this to you?" she asked faintly. "Did I send you this manuscript?"
"At the last minute, but we stopped the printing spells and gave this one a special treatment. It surely deserves it. People buy it like crazy. Can you tell me anything about the author?"
Claire clenched her fingers around the book. "I am sorry he wants to remain anonymous, at least for the time being." Her mind raced. How in all the world had the manuscript got into the business mail? She had filed it away and put it onto a shelf … then Sirius had entered the office and she had forgotten about it … and had told Kiki to bundle the mail for Mr. Inkers on the same afternoon, because she had been too busy with Harry's birthday party …
Shaking her head at her own incompetence, she buried the book at the very bottom of her bag and left Winterstorm's, to catch Sirius before he entered the bookstore. She was not sure how he'd react to see his stories in print. Hadn't Remus told her that Sirius had been an aspiring writer before Azkaban? Maybe he was quite happy with the result of her negligence?
Anyway she'd better tell him in person and not let him run into a cardboard rack that displayed "S. Padfoot" in golden letters which did a shaky little dance whenever a customer took a book off the rack.
* * *
Now, three days later, school had started. The hallways and staircases of Hogwarts echoed with the laughter of hundreds of students, exchanging news and refreshing old friendships.
Claire stood by the entrance door, not sure if she should venture down to the dungeons all by herself. Last time Peeves had thrown part of a suit of arms after her, and only Snape's sharp threat to report him to the Bloody Baron had made the ghost retreat. Snape and Laurel had returned from their holidays in the Austrian Alps two days before the start of term, ten days later than they had planned to. Claire smirked. Poor Laurel, she thought guiltily, he probably didn't even unpack, when Dumbledore showed him the vial Sirius had nicked at Malfoy's house.
Laurel was supposed to pick up Claire and take her to the lab, where Snape for the last 48 hours had been deeply immersed in the analysis of the red potion. Early this morning, just when Sirius had left the house, the Potions master had sent an owl with the short message to come and see the result.
Claire hoped that Sirius waited for her in the lab, since she was still uneasy in Snape's presence. He had never again attacked her verbally like that very first time, but he made it very clear he would not change his mind about the madness to send a squib into Voldemort's realm.
„Claire, I am sorry. I forgot about you." Laurel gave her an apologising smile. "I just wanted to wait until Neville comes back from the Headmaster's office."
"Is he in trouble?"
Laurel shook her head. "Neville is rarely in trouble … except in Potions class, of course." She smirked. "Although he and Severus will get along much better now since Neville decided to stay away from the cauldrons and concentrate on Herbology. But if Potions wasn't an elective for the sixth and seventh years …"
"But why did he have to go see the Headmaster then?"
"I don't know. That's why I decided to wait. I told you about Neville's parents, didn't I?"
Claire nodded solemnly. "They are patients in St. Mungo's. Amongst those who suffer from Prisoner's syndrome."
"Is that what they call it now? A very apt name. Prisoners in their own bodies, without any hope for release."
"Do you know how they … how they got ill?"
Laurel bit her lip, as always when she was nervous or worried. "Death Eaters tortured them. Neville was just a baby then and grew up with his grandmother. He has never known his parents any different than the way they are now. Empty eyes, shallow breath, no will of their own."
"And now you are afraid Dumbledore had bad news for the boy," Claire concluded.
Laurel sighed. "He is such a nice shy guy. It would hit him hard if he lost his parents. He visits them once a month and reads to them, can you imagine? Those living dead, and he reads them stories."
A sudden croaking in the winding stairs announced that Neville's talk to the headmaster was over. The staircase started to move.
When Laurel saw Neville's face, her worst fears became true. Had the boy been a Muggle, she'd said he looked as if he'd just seen a ghost. But then, this was Hogwarts and Neville saw ghosts every time he turned, since he was Peeves' pet victim.
"Neville, what has happened?" she asked softly. "Your parents … are they ..."
Neville's grey eyes were wide in shock. "Yes," he whispered as if he were afraid to say it loudly. "Something happened to them. They …," his bottom lip trembled, "They woke up this morning."
Claire and Laurel stared at him unbelievingly.
"It is true," he said, his voice gaining assurance. "Dumbledore just told me. My dad wanted ham and eggs for breakfast. And Mum … she asked for a hairbrush …"
All of a sudden he started to shiver violently, and Laurel could do nothing than hug him while he cried helplessly with relief and joy.
Claire sat down at the stairs and waited patiently until Neville calmed down. She deeply admired Laurel for her suddenly so soothing voice and the warmth she seemed to radiate. This was another form of healing, one that was not within her powers. She could have helped Neville had he sprained an ankle. But not with this. She was not good with comforting others … only with Sirius … She smiled to herself. There were so many things she could only do with Sirius, and sex was not even the most important by far. Being herself … a squib …
The only thing she obviously could not manage was being honest with him. There was the baby. The book. The fact she did not want this marriage to end. She'd have to come clear, and soon. The lies and deceptions had started to invade her dreams. And she, who had lived a lie for the greater part of her life, who had grown so familiar with pretending to be something she wasn't - she suddenly could not bear it anymore.
"Claire?"
She jumped. Laurel smiled at her and reached for her hand to draw her up.
"Where's Neville?", Claire asked.
"He left to pack. He'll take the Express to London tonight."
"To see his parents."
Laurel beamed. "Yes, to see his parents. You know, even in this world of magic this is a miracle. After so many years …" She shook her head in wonderment. "I must go tell Severus."
Claire paused. "I can come and see the result of his analysis later."
"No, don't you worry," Laurel put a arm around her shoulders and drew her with her towards the Potion's lab in the dungeons. "He rarely bites these days."
Claire smirked. "How did the holidays go?"
Her friend rolled her eyes. "Exhausting! I was so afraid my parents would not like him, and I was positive Severus would hate them. But they were completely in awe of each other. Severus embraced the Muggle world like an explorer who visits an aboriginal tribe. And my parents … well, my dad's a hobby magician. Severus showed him a few simple tricks … actually I think he bespelled his cylinder. I can only hope the Ministry never find out about it." Her eyes got soft. "And then we spent a week in a hut in the mountains. Very simple. A table, two chairs, a fireplace. A bed."
"I see," smiled Claire. "That's the exhausting part, I gather?"
"Very exhausting."
They both laughed, but then Claire got serious again.
"Laurel, I need to ask you for advice."
"On what? If it is about anything magical I am probably not the best source."
"No, nothing magical." Claire sighed and kept her eyes riveted to the floor. "About … marriage."
"Marriage?" Laurel stopped and turned to Claire. "But …"
"I know you and Severus are not married. I never understood why."
"It just didn't seem important," Laurel shrugged.
"But you and Severus have been together for longer than anybody else in my acquaintance. I don't know any other married couples but the Malfoys. And the day I'll ask Narcissa Malfoy for marital advice will be the day the sky comes tumbling down."
"What kind of advice do you seek?"
Claire sighed again. "Sirius and I … we … there are things I need to tell them. Things I kept a secret for too long. But I don't know how."
Laurel thought about it. "All I can tell you is that love can bridge any difference. But it needs a lot of work as well."
"Work?"
"Hard work. I remember, when I was very desperate once, Dumbledore told me that the easy way wasn't always the right way. I did not understand him then. But now I do. Severus and I, we work hard on our life together." She put a comforting hand on Claire's arm. "We take it step by step. And we learn so much from each other. He learned to hold my hand when we take a walk along the lake-shore. I learned to not hold his hand in the presence of students. Small things like that."
Her face got very serious. "But honesty is crucial. If you keep secrets, Sirius will never trust you. "
Claire's eyes filled with tears. "But if I tell him the truth, I'll lose him."
"And maybe you won't. I don't know Sirius that well, but he has been betrayed once and I don't think he'd take it easy if somebody claimed to love him and lied to him at the same time."
"You are right." They had reached the Potions lab. "I knew it all along, I just needed to hear it from somebody else."
* * *
The Potions master stood at a workbench and like a Muggle magician put on a show - at least that was what Sirius thought, as always irritated by the other wizard.
Two glass tubes contained the same crystal clear potion.
Snape cleared his throat. "I add a drop of the content of the vial from Malfoy's box."
The clear potion showed an immediate reaction, it sizzled and bubbled and then turned a vile green.
"What does this mean?" asked Claire, her meagre two years of Potion class long forgotten.
"It is nothing but a test reaction that allows us to compare the potency of two ingredients. Similar ingredients, similar reaction," explained Snape.
„Now, watch what happens when I add this hair from Mr. Potter's head."
With shock Claire and Laurel saw the liquid turn the same brilliant green as before.
"This stuff," Snape pointed at the vial, "contains blood. But not just some blood. It is …
"Harry's blood?" Claire's throat got very dry.
"Or blood very similar to Harry's. Incredibly similar. Male child, born on the same day, but not necessarily in the same year. Under the same stars, so it would have to be somewhere in the United Kingdom. Half Wizard, half Muggle."
"Malfoy said the vials were more expensive than Veritaserum."
Snape whistled softly. "I see. They took great pains to get as close to Harry's blood as was possible without getting a hold on Harry himself."
"How did you get the idea of using a hair of Harry's?" asked Sirius in sudden suspicion.
"I remembered what the boy told Dumbledore about his last meeting with Voldemort. That Voldemort used Harry's blood to restore his former body and strength."
"But that was not more than just a few drops as far as I know," said Claire. "No way they could have filled all the vials in the box we've seen."
Laurel shook her head and took a closer look at the remains of the red potion in the vial. "And what could they possibly use blood for now?"
Severus shrugged. "Part of another restoring ritual? Ingredient for a potion? Who knows."
He carefully locked the vial and the test tube in a strongbox and sealed it with a spell. "I'll talk about it with Dumbledore. Maybe he has an idea about what ancient ritual reacquires blood of the enemy."
Sirius left the dungeons deep in thought, but aware enough of Peeves teasing Claire to hit the obnoxious ghost with a sharp flicker of his wand. In the hall they almost got trampled down by a stampede of students and saved themselves into a corner until the crowed had passed by.
Claire took Sirius' hand, gratefully he liked physical contact better than Snape. Sirius would always hold her hand, students present or not, when he felt she needed reassurance. On the downside she never knew if his kisses and caresses really meant what she hoped for or if they were just his way to show kindness.
"I need to see Dumbledore," Sirius said regretfully. "Please don't walk through the forest alone. Take the secret passageway to the shack."
Claire smiled. In the beginning she had bristled every time he forbid her to do certain things. But they had learned, she conceded, just like Severus and Laurel had. She had learned to not take his advice as orders, and he had learned to voice his orders as advice. Like an old couple ... For a moment she allowed herself a daydream. Sirius living in her house, happily writing books, helping her raise their child ... no, their children. Growing old together ...
She sighed. Tonight she'd tell him and hope for the best. "I see you at teatime then."
* * *
Sirius entered the Headmasters office with the same sinking feeling as in his days as a student. But while he had had a reason to feel guilty then every time he had been called into the circular room, he was almost sure he had not committed any crime lately. Probably Dumbledore wanted another report about the mission. Or he'd again try to nudge him gently towards the admission that this marriage was a good thing …
Dumbledore gave him a big paternal smile when he entered, and pushed the half-moon-shaped glasses up on his head.
"Sit down, dear boy." Silently he reminded himself to not forget that Black was not the fledgling he seemed to the Headmaster, but a grown wizard. He certainly looked the part, he had put on weight since his days as a stray, and the wildness in appearance had given way to something more pleasant if still far too serious, something that reminded Dumbledore of the boy Sirius had been not so long ago. He sighed. It was very hard when everybody was ages younger than you were ...
He remembered Sirius on the day he'd breached the defences of Hogwarts and had almost got his revenge on Peter Pettigrew. He'd been a mere shadow than, madness burning in his eyes, ready to die as soon as he'd killed the wizard who ruined his life and murdered his friends.
Dumbledore had married him to Claire not only to provide his newest spy with a husband, not only to protect Claire, but also to heal Sirius of the many blows life had dealt him, and not only since that dreadful Halloween almost 15 years past. He could only hope that living with Claire would show the boy the more pleasant side of life. Maybe even … love …
He stroked his beard and made a mental note to not call Sirius "the boy" again. Harry was a boy, and Neville, and Draco, yes even Draco. Sirius and the two others were men now, men who could take their fates into their own hands. But then again - sometimes they needed a gentle push into the right direction …
Sirius cleared his throat. "Headmaster?"
Dumbledore snapped out of his musings and smiled at Sirius. "Ah, Sirius. What can I do for you?"
Sirius shook his head. "It was you, who had me called into this office. There was something you wanted to show me."
"Something I wanted …", Dumbledore scratched his head. "Ah, yes! I wanted to show you something! Something that was delivered to me only this morning, together with a letter from Dr. Jung."
"Jung? The doctor of St. Mungo's?"
"The very same." Dumbledore waved a piece of parchment. "Here it is. Have some cake, won't you? Did you know that there is no way whatsoever to magically produce a decent apple pie?"
Sirius sighed. Sometimes it was really hard to keep up with the old wizard jumping from one idea to the other.
"Well, well. Let me see." Dumbledore put his glasses back on his nose. Then he put the letter down again. "By the way, how are things between you and Claire?"
"Me and Claire?" Sirius frowned. "Good, I think. Why do you ask?"
"Oh nothing, nothing. Everything alright with Harry?"
"Claire almost cried when we delivered him at the door of Hogwarts - as if her little boy was sent hundreds of miles away," Sirius snorted, but Dumbledore could see he was secretly pleased about how well his wife and godson got along. "Malfoy has a spy in Hogsmeade. He knew Harry was staying with us for the summer."
Dumbledore just nodded. "I am aware of that. It is Miranda Green, the witch who lives in the house next to the train-station."
"We told Malfoy and his … friend that you forced us to keep Harry for a few weeks. Fortunately he is back in the security of Hogwarts now, before Voldemort demands another token of our credibility."
"Who was Malfoy's friend again?"
"Ben Olsen. I told you about him when we reported back, didn't I?"
The Headmaster smiled faintly. "You mentioned him, yes. Do you think he recognised you?"
"We have met when he was a student here last year. But I don't think he suspects me."
"What was your impression? Is he indeed Malfoy's friend? His fellow- conspirator? His rival?"
Sirius thought about it. "Malfoy said, Olsen was his ... legal advisor, something like that. That's why he insisted on bringing him to Gringott's when we transferred Claire's money. He seems very shrewd. Very ambitious. I guess he'd be Malfoy's rival then. They both want the position of third-in- command." He looked up all of a sudden. "Oh, and there was something else. I almost forgot about it. He asked about Serene."
"Serene Kennedy?" Dumbledore's demeanour lost all its cheerful vagueness and became attentive and cold as steel.
"He sent her his regards."
"No message?"
"Only greetings, that he was well and hoping to see her in the near future."
"Did you tell Miss Kennedy about your meeting with Ben?"
Sirius shrugged. "Serene and I are not exactly on friendly terms. No, I haven't told her yet. But I reckon, Claire has."
"Let me deal with Serene. This is serious. Ben Olsen is dangerous, maybe more dangerous than Lucius Malfoy. At least for Serene's soul."
"Talking of souls …" Sirius rose and started to pace the circular study, much to the annoyance of Fawkes. "Can't you put a stop to her torturing Remus?"
Dumbledore arched his eyebrows. "Is she torturing him?"
"She plays with him. She is sweet as honey one minute and cold as ice the next. And you know Remus … He really thinks she is his mate, the one person he'll spend his life with."
"But you think she is not?"
Sirius snorted in disgust. "Serene and Moony? Never! She'd tear out his heart."
"But shouldn't Remus know best who his mate is?"
"Yeah, one would think so." Sirius shook his head sadly. "But … I think he may lie to himself. He has been searching for that woman for the best part of his life. And hasn't found her yet. I am afraid he is in love with Serene only because he needs so much to be in love …"
"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice was still soft, but had taken on a sharp edge. "I thought Remus was your friend."
Sirius frowned. "He is. That's why I am worried."
"It is not Remus you should be worried about, Sirius Black. It is you."
"But …"
"Love is the one thing that helps us to overcome all despair, all evil, the very darkness itself. Remus loves Serene Kennedy from the bottom of his heart. And he is blessed, even if this love is painful." The old wizard looked at Sirius attentively. "Who do you love, Sirius? Who will help you get through eternal night, should it fall onto us all?"
Sirius swallowed hard and avoided to face the Headmaster. "You are wrong," he said softly. "Love is the thing that tears us apart. The thing that hurts us so bad all we pray for is death."
Dumbledore was by his side in a flash. "I am sorry, my boy," he sighed, his voice brittle with sudden exhaustion. "I did not mean to be so hard on you. But let Remus get through this on his own." He patted Sirius' shoulder.
"Now, we completely forgot why you came. I wanted to read you this letter."
Sirius only nodded. The Headmaster's words had shaken him to the core. Who would stand by his side when the final battle came? Who would cry for him if he died in the vain attempt to kill Peter? But then again - he had stood alone for most of his life, he could just as well stand alone now. A sudden memory of Claire's face on the heights of passion made him smile for a heartbeat, but then he imagined her standing at his grave and his throat tightened in pain. For the first time in weeks he felt the almost irresistible urge to run, to run until he was too tired to think, to feel, to fear.
"Sirius?"
"Yes. The letter. What does it say?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat and read Dr. Jung's letter aloud. Obviously Neville Longbottom's parents had awoken from their catatonic state all of a sudden, without any medical explanation.
"The Longbottoms!" Sirius exclaimed. "I remember Frank and …"
"Alice."
"Alice, right. I did not know they were Voldemort's victims, too."
"They have been imprisoned in their body for so many years now, and there was no hope at all."
"And now they woke up? Just like that?"
The old wizard stroked his beard. "Well, Dr. Jung has a theory, and though it sounds farfetched and impossible to prove, I think he may be right. The Longbottoms are amongst the few Prisoners in St. Mungo's who get visitors on a regular basis. And these visitors, their son Neville and the boy's grandmother, used to read to them."
Sirius nodded. "You think it was the reading that healed them?"
"Not the reading per se." Dumbledore patted a silk-bound book on his desk. "But reading them this."
The book did not seem extraordinary. Sirius took it from the Headmaster's hand, opening it carefully. He had once been bitten by a book in his second year as a student. When his gaze fell onto the first page, he read "The Prisoner's Tale, by S. Padfoot." He kept staring at the page, unwilling to admit to himself that what he saw was true. Painfully slow the letters found their way into his brain. It could not be, he told himself. It could not be. But when he reluctantly turned the page, he knew every word he read.
"S. Padfoot is you, am I right?" beamed Dumbledore. "Congratulations, Sirius! It is an outstanding book. Even if it had not healed the Longbottoms. I always knew you'd be a writer one day."
"I am not a writer." Sirius got up and let the book slide out of his hand carelessly. He felt cold, and as if his body had suddenly gone numb all over. "I am not a writer," he repeated, ignoring Dumbledore's questioning look. "I am a fool."
* * *
When Claire saw Sirius' face, she knew something was wrong - and terribly so. He looked as if somebody had hit him in the stomach, sick and hurt and unbelievingly.
"Sirius?" She stood up and closed the distance between them, only to be stopped by his raised hand.
"Don't." He actually stepped back, just so she would not touch him.
Claire's heart sunk. The worst had happened. Somebody had told him about the baby, and now he hated her for tying him to her in a marriage he had only agreed to on a temporary basis.
"What is wrong?" she asked carefully, still hoping in the core of her heart she had misinterpreted his gesture.
"How could you do this to me?"
She had not been wrong. His voice was blank, void of all emotions, but his eyes told her enough. The blue had darkened to almost black.
"Don't you think I should have had the right to know before everybody else?"
She winced.
"Yes. I should have told you first. But I was not sure how you'd react."
His eyes flared up. "Do you know me so little? No, Claire, I did not want this to be. Not like this. Not now." His scowl made her shiver. "But you were never really interested in what I wanted, were you?"
She clasped her hands to fight back the tears. "If you don't want it, Sirius, then leave it to me. I am so happy about it. I promise I won't bother you for anything."
"Not bother me?" Suddenly he grabbed both her arms and shook her hard. "That's not enough. I want it gone! Get rid of it. I don't care how, just do it."
"No!"
Claire pushed him away with a strength that was born out of fury and disappointment and desperation. "How dare you even suggest I'd do anything like that!"
"Right." His face distorted into a frown of disgust. "I should have known it. It is all about money, isn't it? You give a damn about my feelings."
"That's not true!" she protested, her voice tight with uncried tears.
He shook his head, not even listening to her plea. Claire's heart ached when he stared at her. "How could you betray me like this?"
Helplessly Claire raised her shoulders and let them sink again. "I never meant this to happen, Sirius. But when it did, I was out of my mind with joy. I guess, I just wanted to keep it a secret for a while, like a treasure only I knew about. Of course I had to tell Poppy, she would have guessed anyway, but ..." She frowned in sudden confusion. "Why did you say it was all about money? What's money got to do with it?"
He snorted, and the hurt and anger that had subsided for a moment when he saw her despair, gained the upper hand again. "Money. That's why you can't take it off the market, or is it? Winterstorm Inc. would suffer greatly."
"Off the market?" Claire's eyes widened in confusion. "Sirius, what are you talking about, for Merlin's sake?"
"The book," he said through gritted teeth. "The damned book."
"The book." Suddenly she got dizzy and almost fainted with relief. He had demanded she'd get rid of "The Prisoner's Tale". Not of the baby.
Sirius' eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Claire," he said and his voice trembled with suppressed suspicion. "I was talking about the book. What did you think I was talking about?"
She wiped the tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. Then, one hand flat on her stomach, she admitted: "The baby. I was talking about the baby."
Had the situation been any different, Claire would have made a mental note to one day tell her grandchildren about the priceless gape of utter surprise her answer triggered. But as it was, the surprise was replaced by something else instantly - defeat. His whole posture crumbled. His shoulders fell, his head sunk and suddenly he reminded her of a picture she'd seen in the Daily Prophet - Sirius Black on his way to Azkaban. Numb with pain. Pale as death he stood in the middle of the office, and just when Claire feared he'd faint or break down, he raised his head and looked at her.
"Of course." His voice was empty, as if he addressed a stranger. "I understand."
"Sirius." She tried to touch his hand, but he flinched as if she'd burned him with a hot iron. "This obliges you to nothing. You are free to go wherever you want, once Voldemort is defeated. I am well able to rise a child on my own, so you must not think I did get pregnant to tie you to me."
"And why would you?" His bitterness cut her like a knife. "I helped the baby into existence, that was all you needed from me."
Claire reached out an caressed his cheek and he let it happen as if her hand wasn't there. "That's not true. I love you, Sirius. I am aware that this is just another thing you never wanted, but it is a fact and I won't deny it any longer."
"You have a very special way to show your love, Claire. If Winterstorm Inc. ever goes out of business, you might apply with the Dementors." He took her hand and removed it from his cheek like an inanimate object. "But even they would consider you cruel."
Claire could not believe the surreal situation. Whenever she had imagined the moment when she confessed her pregnancy, she had imagined Sirius to be angry, even a bit hurt she'd not told him earlier. But this, the bitterness, the coldness, was much worse than she had ever feared. She had the distinct feeling she'd missed a vital information.
"Sirius," she tried to get through to him. "I am sorry I did not tell you earlier. But .."
"Save you breath." His face was a cold mask. "You said I was free to go wherever I wanted once Voldemort was defeated. Well, I don't give a damn about your plan anymore. I am leaving. Now."
He Disapparated from the room, and when the house-elves found their mistress an hour later, she sat in her chair, staring blindly out of the window. She waited all night, but the entrance door did not open and the stairs did not croak and Sirius did not return.
* * *