AN: Pwhh! Looks like FF.net is back. I really missed this ….
11. ROSE
Serene stood by the window in Ben Olson's study and looked out at the street without seeing anything. January had gone by in a succession of grey days and February was no different. Snow had been replaced with dirty slush. But the dreary weather matched Serene's mood perfectly.
Ben stepped behind her and trailed the line of her neck with the tip of his finger. She did not flinch, did not even turn.
He sighed. "I wish you'd make up your mind, Serene."
Her answer - an indifferent shrug - was the same it had been in the seven weeks since she'd suddenly shown up on his doorstep after Salamander's concert at Hampstead Heath. When he'd saw her standing there, hair wet, clutching only her coat, he had been sure she'd finally recognised that Lupin was a loser. That she had chosen him, Ben. But she'd made his mistake very clear. Still, it was quite obvious something had happened between her and the werewolf - something irreparable, he hoped.
In the last weeks he had showered her with presents and attention, and Laeticia had promised to convince Serene of the position she'd hold as Ben's wife. There was no way she could still pretend to be unaware of his desire …
"You know I want you," he concluded his thoughts audibly. "But I understand if you'd rather go back to Hogwarts to finish what the fates want you to do."
"It is not fate …" Serene let her forehead sink against the ice-cold glass of the window. "It is I who decides."
Ben rolled his eyes upwards. "Do you still believe what that old fool Dumbledore babbles? All that nonsense about free will and second chances?" His grip around her arm tightened painfully. "You know who you are, Serene. You know what you want. So why don't you go and do it? Stop fighting yourself!"
Serene winced. "Going back to Hogwarts is not what I want!"
"It was your own vision, my darling. And it is up to you to make it come true."
She turned and frowned at him. "It was a vision. Only a vision. A possibility. There are other ways …"
At the end of his patience, Ben shook her violently, something he had wanted to do all along but had denied himself to not scare her. "What other ways? It is the perfect solution for all our problems. It would end the war …" His eyes narrowed. "You do want the war to end, don't you? And just think about the future, our future. Together."
Serene trembled visibly. Together. With Ben. Why did this sound so wrong? Her throat tightened. "I ... I don't ..."
"Imagine the power we'd have!" Ben paid no attention to her sudden reluctance. "We'd get everything we ever wanted. You'd get everything!"
"You have no idea what I want, Ben." Serene's voice was soft but icy. "I don't even know what I want myself."
"Well, how does revenge sound to you?" he seduced. "Revenge on everybody who ever deserted you, who betrayed you, hurt you?"
Her head jerked up. "My parents …"
"Parents. Lovers." He scowled. "Werewolves."
She petrified.
"Don't talk about Remus Lupin!"
Ben stepped back in surprise at her flaring anger and raised both hands in mock submission. "Whoa! Whoever." His usually so innocent face shone with hatred. "I am the last who will complain if Lupin's name is never mentioned again!"
Serene turned away. "Don't you worry, Ben. What Remus and I had … is over."
"You said that before. But even with your shields up I can read your mind. You are constantly thinking about him!"
She could almost feel the hot waves of jealousy and anger that radiated from the young wizard. But had he not every right to feel angry? After all she was letting him down, trying to find excuses to defy fate … She clenched her fists. Ben was right. She had to face it. She was evil. The darkness, Remus' father had felt lurking in her heart, was spreading. How else had it been possible to make Remy, gentle soft Remus Lupin, to turn into a monster? For fifteen years the Wolfsbane potion had kept the beast in control, but something she'd done, something she'd said had made him turn …
"Darkness calling darkness." Her voice was but a whisper.
"Come again?"
Ben frowned in annoyance. He hated it when she drifted away in thought, when her mind became all foggy and unreadable.
"The evil in me attracted the wolf."
"So? You are one of us. Evil is nothing to be ashamed of."
"I thought …" She stifled a sob. "I hoped … that the light in me attracted Remus. But it was the other way around."
He shrugged again, not sure what she was talking about. Still, if it convinced her she had to go and fulfil the prophecy that would grant them more power than any of them had ever dreamt of he was the last to protest.
* * *
"Miss Claire?"
Peagreen stuck his head through the gap in the door. Claire looked up from the ledger she'd been writing in and smiled.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"There is a boy in the hall, yes." The elf frowned. "He wants not go away even when I tells him you is not expecting strangers when you is working on the books keeping."
Claire frowned self-consciously. Snape and Castor had taken Sirius to the Three Broomsticks, and she'd intended to use the opportunity to catch up on accounting. But somehow she could not concentrate on numbers and sums. The baby was due any day now, and although she could hardly wait to hold it in her arms, she was a bit afraid of the actual event. Squib or not, apparently this was something that had to be done without magic at all. She'd read up on giving birth in the last weeks, and Poppy had tried to calm her with dozen of stories about fast and almost painless births - all made up as Claire suspected. She sighed. Sirius' nervousness was bad enough, and she had no intention to add to it by conveying her knowledge about breech deliveries ...
It was sweet how Sirius treated her like a precious and fragile piece of art, but secretly she longed for the days when he hadn't been afraid to touch her, hold her … And she was so tired of not seeing her feet! And sick of maternity gowns … Even if they were as elegant as those Serene had designed for her.
Serene ...
She rubbed her temples and stared into nothingness. After their friends' sudden disappearance in the night of the concert they had not heard from Serene since. She'd vanished without a trace. And so had Remus Lupin, his absence only adding to Sirius' restlessness.
"Miss Claire!"
Peagreen kicked her shin to wake her from her daydreams.
"Ouch!"
The elf squinted up at her. "You is tired, Miss Claire? You is sleeping with yours eyes open! Peagreen tells the boy to go away."
"No." Claire shook her head wearily. "Tell him to wait for me in the drawing room. Who is it anyway? One of Harry's friends?"
"No. I is never seen him before. Harry Potter's friend, he is with red hair, like Miss Serene."
She closed the ledger and stood up with a groan. Her back ached worse every day - no wonder whales had decided to stay in the water, she thought frowning. "Well, offer him something to drink and tell him, I'll be with him in a minute."
When Claire entered the drawing room, Draco Malfoy rose from the deep chair by the fireside.
"Mrs. White."
"Draco." She smiled to hide her confusion. "I may call you Draco? Mr Malfoy sounds so …" 'Grown up' lay on her tongue. But then she remembered how it felt to be sixteen and not a child anymore but not one of the adults either.
"So … awkward."
The blond boy stared at her for a moment, daring her to make a joke at his expense. Then, when she sat down next to him, he opened his bag and searched through an assortment of magazines, notebooks and scrolls. Finally he produced a letter, sealed with the Malfoy crest in a lump of magical wax that made the crest sparkle and whirl.
"Mr Olsen let me know that if I ever needed to contact him you'd pass on my message to him. He said you were one of … one of them."
Claire frowned, angry about Olsen's nerve and at the same time embarrassed about her alleged membership in Voldemort's sinister army. "I am not a Death Eater …" She coughed when she remembered to keep up her disguise as a spoilt rich woman who at least toyed with the idea of joining. "Not yet," she corrected lamely, pointing at her bump. "The Dark Mark would kill the baby, you know."
Draco blushed. "No, I did not." He rubbed his arm as if …
Claire bent forward and before he could draw back, she yanked up his sleeve. The skin was pale and untainted by the grinning skull she had learned to fear. Sirius and Severus, both grown men, could hardly bear the pain each unanswered summoning caused. She could not imagine how terrible it would be for a boy Draco's age.
"Sorry." She let go of the sleeve.
He jerked back his arm, and scowled at her. "You think I am too young, don't you? I am a Malfoy!"
"Draco …" Claire searched for words. Dear Morgana, he was only sixteen, he had just lost his father, his mother had obviously no influence at all. And the few men he admired were Death Eaters … or, in Snape's case, former Death Eaters … "Don't you think you should talk to your Head of House before you bother Mr. Olsen?"
"Why should I?" The nonchalant frown dampened her pity substantially.
"I know Severus cares about you."
Draco crossed his arms, his face an infuriatingly polite mask. "What makes you think that I give a newt's ear about what Professor Snape thinks about me?"
"Well, excuse me …"
"He betrayed my father, and his cause when it got dangerous." The boy leaned forward and stared, pale eyes suspiciously bright. "He wasn't strong enough, he gave in to … I don't know what. Weakness. Cowardice."
Claire's anger let her forget that she had felt only pity for him a few minutes ago. "That is rubbish, Draco! When you get older you'll learn that sometimes it takes much more courage to go against all you used to believe, than to follow blindly."
He grit his teeth and held out the letter. "I don't need your sermons, Mrs. White! I only need your services."
"And what services would that be?"
Claire and Draco jerked around simultaneously, only to see Harry stand in the open door, shrugging out of his coat.
"Not your business, Potter," drawled Malfoy, visibly shaken but trying to gather his confidence.
"Harry!" Claire smiled when the dark-haired boy bent down to kiss her cheek. "How nice of you to visit."
"I told you I'd come to tea every weekend, didn't I?" He looked down on her bump. "How are you doing? I don't like the idea of you being all alone in this great house."
"Oh," she blushed, thinking about Sirius, "I am not alone. There are the elves, you know."
Draco rose from his chair, still holding out the letter. "I am leaving, Mrs. White. Will you pass on my … Hey!"
His sentence ended in a painful exclamation because of Harry's iron grip that twisted his wrist.
"What is that? A letter?" Harry pried the crumbled parchment out of Draco's hand. "Let me see!"
"Let go right now or I'll set your hair on fire," threatened Draco and searched for his wand with his left hand. "This letter is private!"
"It is a letter to Ben Olsen!" Harry paled and only strengthened his hold on the other boy's wrist. "A Death Eater! So that's how you spent your Christmas Holidays. Did you join, Malfoy?" He tugged at Draco's sleeve until the blond Slytherin kicked him violently in the shin.
"Harry, Draco!"
Both boys were so immersed in their fight they ignored Claire completely.
"Stop it right now! .... Ouch!"
Harry let go of Draco's arm immediately.
"What … what's wrong Claire?" His voice held an edge of sudden fear. "Is something wrong with the baby?"
"Not exactly." She forced a smile on her face. "I guess she is just tired of being carried around."
"You mean it wants …" Draco starred at her with an expression of utter horror and fascination. "It wants out? Now?"
"You idiot!" Harry pushed him aside. "She's in labour!"
"Now who made you an expert on childbirth, Potter?" The blond boy snarled and concentrated on Claire.
"Tell us what to do, Mrs. White! Would you like to lay down?"
Claire had to smile when she took in the barely hidden panic in both boys' faces. "I am fine," she tried to calm the situation, only to gasp in pain when the next wave hit her.
"We need to get hot water and clean sheets," Harry stuttered. "I saw this in a Muggle movie."
"I don't know about Muggle women, but I'd prefer if one of you went to get Madam Pomfrey instead." Claire sat carefully down and breathed slowly.
Harry and Draco stared at each other.
"He can go," they said simultaneously.
Normally Claire would have seen the comical element of the situation, but as things were right now, she could concentrate on only one thing at a time. "Draco, Harry, please!"
Both boys turned to her, startled by the sharp edge in her voice.
"Draco, you ride to Hogwarts and tell Madam Pomfrey I need her. And you Harry, go up to my bedroom and get my overnight bag. You can bash in each others head afterwards if you like."
Harry pushed Draco aside and sprinted upstairs to fetch Claire's bag. Malfoy stood already in the door to get to his broom, when he turned once more and cleared his throat. "I … did not mean to upset you."
When she saw the sincerity in his eyes, she had to smile. "It is not your fault, just a coincidence."
He shook his head. "This happens all the time. I show up and people get sick. Or they die."
"Don't be ridiculous, Draco!" Claire frowned when another wave of contractions overwhelmed her. "I am not sick. And I am certainly not going to die." At least she hoped so …
As soon as she saw the shadow of a racing broom pass in front of the French windows of the living room, Claire called out for Harry.
The boy came immediately down the stairs, carrying not less then four different bags. "I don't know what an overnight bag looks like."
His voice trembled a little, but he tried to remain calm and a master of the situation - not an easy task for a sixteen year old, considering the particular circumstances.
Claire dismissed all bags. "Not so important, really." She reached for his hand. "Listen, Harry, forget the bag, will you. I want you to go and get Sirius!"
He drew his bottom lip through his teeth and gave her a worried glance. "Claire, I don't have the slightest idea where Sirius is right now. I haven't seen him since September!"
"He is sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Severus and Castor," she replied impatiently. "Please go and tell him the baby is coming."
Harry stroked a damp hairstrand out of her face. "Claire, believe me there is nothing I want more right now than to have Sirius here. But …"
Her iron grip made him fear for his wrist.
"You. Go. And. Get. Him."
So for the sake of Claire's peace of mind and for the sake of his physical health Harry went into Hogsmeade to look for a wizard he knew was not there.
* * *
Castor, Sirius and Severus sat in a shady corner of the Three Broomsticks, enjoying the foaming Butterbeer Rosmerta had served them in person, thunderstruck by Sirius Black's presence in her pub. Both Black brothers had given her their most charming smile and Severus still marvelled at how a wink of blue eyes had turned the fire-breathing dragon who run the pub into a docile giggling lamb.
Castor's face turned serious.
"I am sorry I stayed away for so long. But I thought you at large."
His brother shrugged wearily. "I know."
"And then I got kind of …"
"Promoted?" Sirius' face dripped with disdain. Although he knew that no society could exist without some kind of police force, he was not particularly fond of his younger brother being one of them.
"Actually I've been demoted," Castor smirked. He knew that Sirius still held a grudge and could understand why. After all he had been imprisoned twice and both times without trial. But it had always been Castors dream to be an Auror, to stand up for the Light, and Dumbledore had always supported him in his pursuit. Julia Lupin would come to terms with it eventually - at least she had not tried to burn his Auror's robe lately. And one day even Sirius would understand … "They transferred me to the Werewolf Squad."
"The what?" Snape frowned.
"Werewolf Squad," Castor repeated patiently. He had already heard every joke there was about his new assignment. "We work together with the Department of Werewolf Affairs, and …"
"So now you investigate lunatics?
Castor's scowl made Sirius shut up.
"In the last three months we had two dead werewolves. Or more precisely - we had two bodies, who, according to the Were-registry, have bee werewolves. But a post-mortem blood-test showed no trace of the lycanthropy antigen."
"They were cured?" Severus frowned and set down his mug. "There is no cure for lycanthropy."
"The Wolfsbane potion …"
"Only relieves the symptoms. It is not a cure. The transformation still occurs, only less violently and more controlled. When Lon Cheney found the formula fifteen years ago, hopes were high that a cure would be developed soon. But all experiments failed in the end."
Sirius sighed. "And we all know that Wolfsbane is no solution. The side effects are devastating."
"It is a poison after all," confirmed Snape. "If you take it long enough it will kill you in the end."
"I understand." Castor took notes with a magical quill while he took a scroll from his satchel. "I compiled a list of scientists and Potions masters who posses the means and the knowledge to try themselves on a cure for lycanthropy."
Snape spread the parchment and smirked. "I don't know whether I am supposed to be flattered or annoyed to find my name on top of your ranking."
Castor shrugged. "Don't tell me you never considered it."
"Of course I did. But only because Lupin demanded it," replied the Potions master acerbically. "You know how stubborn he gets. But I could not overcome the lethal effects of the only known remedy. And I prefer to not kill my guinea … wolves."
"Very funny, Snape." Sirius snatched the parchment out of his hands. "Somehow I liked you better when you were still the git without a sense of humour.
The door of the pub slammed open, and Harry stormed in, out of breath and pale with anxiety.
"Sirius!"
"Mr. Potter!" Severus threw a fast gaze at the few other customers. "Why don't you shout a bit louder. I doubt the people in Edinburgh heard you!"
"I … I am sorry!" Harry blushed and wrapped the Gryffindor shawl off his neck in a sudden bout of heat. "It is only …"
"What's up, Harry?" Sirius patted the seat next to him. "I know you are surprised to see me. Sit down and have a butterbeer, and I'll explain."
The boy stared at him and shook his head.
"Harry?" Sirius frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Claire," Harry panted, finally finding his voice again. "She … the baby is coming."
* * *
"I did not know you smoked." Laurel pointed at the cigarette in Sirius' hand.
They sat in front of Claire's bedroom and waited since what felt like eternity by now.
"I don't." He stared down at the butt as if he'd never seen it before. "I haven't smoked for over a year," he muttered. "Damn it."
"Calm down, Black," demanded Severus exasperatedly. "After all the birth of a child is a perfectly natural event …"
Sirius grabbed the Potions master's arm. "What would you know about it, Snape? Ever had a baby yourself?"
He let go off the sleeve and took up his pacing. "She is so fragile … And she's been in there for hours!"
Laurel gave him a quick hug. "She is strong, Sirius. You know that. She's going to be fine."
The door opened and Sirius jumped up.
Madam Pomfrey gave him a curt smile. "Claire asks you to come in."
When he disappeared in the bedroom as quick as a broom out of control, she frowned at Laurel, Severus, Castor and Harry who crowded the hall amongst all the elves of the Winterstorm household. "So impatient! This is going to take hours, so why don't you people go home and I sent an elf when the baby is here."
Harry shook his head stubbornly. "If it's going to take hours, why did Claire call Sirius in?"
Madam Pomfrey smirked and gave him a wink, before she went back into the bedroom. "I suppose she wants to rip his head off. If not now, then in a few hours."
The past hours had been the most horrible and at the same time most wonderful experience in his whole life, thought Sirius and gazed at the tiny bundle in his wife's arms. Nothing had prepared him for the moment when he heard the first cry of his child ...
Claire held the baby up so he could take her, but he stepped back, face suddenly pale as parchment, blue eyes full of panic.
"Sirius, you wanted a girl, didn't you? Are you disappointed now?" she wondered.
He gasped. "No!"
Gingerly lifting the soft blanket with one finger, he uncovered the baby's face.
"She is so … small."
Claire chuckled. "She is supposed to be small. She's a baby, Sirius. She'll grow."
"I only ever knew boys." Sirius shook his head. "Even when my brothers were little, they were more … robust."
Madam Pomfrey, who had overheard the conversation, laughed. "Don't let her delicate features fool you. This one is a fighter, Sirius! Just you wait."
Claire unwrapped the child. Tiny as the baby was, she fitted right into her father's big hands, and slept there, oblivious to the world.
Sirius sighed and carefully sat down to study the softly breathing miracle in his hands. Amazing, how fast she'd changed from a reddish wrinkled thing into a beautiful babygirl with long lashes and a tuft of whiteblond hair. Her cheeks, hushed pink and porcelain white, reminded him of …
He looked up at his wife.
"I know we had the list down to three names. But would you mind if we call her …"
"Rose." Claire sat up. "I'd really like to call her Rose."
He smiled and blew the baby a soft kiss. "Welcome to the world, Rose."
* * *
In the mouldy smelling storage room of a potions shop in Knockturn Alley, an wizard with shaggy grey hair pushed a bottle across the counter.
Remus opened it cautiously and recoiled from the acrid stink of the potion. His stomach revolted. He had felt dizzy and nauseous all week long, but the wizard had warned him of the possible side effects of the potion. And anyway, there was no turning back now. He had already taken the first two potions, and this bottle contained the last dose.
"Don't have the guts, have you, wolf?" the wizard cackled. "Told you before, it won't come cheap to become normal. And I was not talking about money …"
With satisfaction he watched his client drain the last bottle.
Well, one would see if his latest adjustment of the mercury dose had the required effect.
"Feel anything?"
Remus' winced when a wave of excruciating pain surged over him.
The voice of the old alchemist hurt. The light from the flickering candle on the desk hurt. Breathing hurt. Even his heartbeat …
* * *
Only two alleys away, Serene cried out in her sleep. When she woke up in the morning her pillow was wet with tears.
The world was grey and foggy.
So much pain …
She curled into a tight ball under the covers and pulled the pillow over her head.
There was no reason to get up. Ever again.
* * *
As petite and fragile Claire might appear, she was out of bed as soon as Madam Pomfrey allowed it. She could hardly take her eyes off Rose and spent the most part of the first day with Sirius and the baby on a soft rug in front of the fireplace, marvelling at tiny but perfect toes and fingers. How in the world had they managed to produce something so beautiful?
Since Sirius threatened to lock the door to keep her from showing the baby to all neighbours and friends and the entire population of Hogsmeade, she finally agreed on having a small group of visitors for tea and the 'first handshake'.
Laurel had to admit that she'd never seen anything as touching as the ancient ceremony in which the Winterstorm elves welcoming the newest member of the household. Whenever she thought she knew the wizarding world and its different customs, she got surprised - just like right now.
Weeks ago the elves had taken Claire's old cradle from the attic, had brushed the intricately woven basket, had polished the hazel wood rockers, and then cushioned the baby's bed with a soft goose down mattress. Now, as little Rose lay in her cradle like in a lace-bordered nest, they passed by one by one and shook the baby's tiny hand. And Rose, barely two days old, endured the ceremony with a grave face as if she understood every word they said.
As soon as all the elves had got the opportunity to shake the baby's hand, Coco served Butterbeer for everybody.
Laurel looked at Severus. "Will there be a baptism?"
"A what?"
"A … name-giving ceremony?"
Sirius answered in Snape's place. "Among wizards there is a ceremony when the baby is placed into her godfather's arms for the first time." His face clouded over with worry. "As soon as we get hold of Remus, that is."
"Which reminds me," said Severus casually and reached for a scroll the morning owl had delivered. To see an owl with the Ministry collar still made his stomach churn, and he had been secretly relived to find that it was neither a demand to return Jonah nor one of Fudge's sudden bouts of suspicion concerning his past as a Death Eater. "From your brother," he announced.
Sirius smirked. "Why doesn't anybody ever write me a letter?"
"I assume they would if they could only remember you long enough." Snape scrutinised him with narrowed eyes. "How long since I saw you last time?"
"Yesterday," sighed Sirius. "Trust me, I am sick and tired of this rotten charm."
"Since Castor does not recall meeting you in The Three Broomsticks two days ago, he asks just me to join his Werewolf Squad for the raid of a suspected dark lab in Kockturn Alley tomorrow night. Obviously he wants me to check out the substances they find. Maybe this is where the poison is cooked that killed the two werewolves he was talking about."
Sirius crossed his arms. "I'll come with you. Something's wrong, something happened to Moony. He would not leave his parents without a message for so long."
"Castor writes that he found no trace of Lupin so far …"
"Let me see …" Sirius reached for the parchment, but Jonah was faster. One fast grip and the letter was only shreds.
Jonah beamed at the Potions master and stuffed the remains of the letter in the wizards wide sleeves.
"Fix!" he demanded.
"Yeah, fix!" Sirius mimicked his breathless voice. "And fast! I wanted to read that, Jonah!"
"Go play with Mommy for a while, Jonah. Uncle Sirius is not happy when you break his toys." Snape's mouth twitched when he set the boy down on the carpet.
"You know he is breaking things on purpose only to watch you repair them?" Laurel scolded.
Jonah tugged on Severus' robes excitedly. "Fix!"
With a quick "Reparo" the torn shreds of parchment became a letter again, and Jonah clapped his hands.
"You are spoiling him," Laurel said, and watched with pleasure how the wizard she loved blushed.
"Am not," he mumbled and bent his head over the parchment, the long black hair hiding his embarrassment. "I am teaching him. Can't start early enough."
Then he pretended to concentrate on Castor's plan, and his and Sirius' part in it.
Laurel led Jonah to the cradle that stood near the fireplace. The small boy had to rise on tiptoes to get a look over the edge of the basket, so Laurel summoned a low footstool for him to climb on.
The baby lay on her back and played with one of her soft satin shoes. When Jonah stepped onto the stool, she dropped the shoe and made a sound like a little kitten. Her big blue eyes were wide open and although Laurel knew that so small a baby could only focus objects that were very close, it appeared almost as if the little girl looked right into Jonah's eyes.
"Look, honey!" She took his hand and laid it gently against the baby's soft cheek. "This is Rose. You must be very nice to her."
Jonah looked down at the babygirl in the cradle, and then up to his mother.
"Rose," he said clearly, brows drawn in concentration.
Laurel beamed with pride.
"Severus, Claire!" she exclaimed. "Did you hear that? He just said Rose."
And while the grown-ups discussed Jonah's pronunciation, they missed completely how the baby clenched her tiny fist around the little boy's finger with considerable strength. And how Jonah gazed at the sweet face and repeated to himself: "Rose."
And another new word. "Mine."
* * *
One day after the Handshake-ceremony Sirius and Snape stood in the back of the run-down lab in Knockturn Alley and watched the Aurors search the numerous cupboards and chests in the shop. The owner had obviously smelled the danger and had escaped only minutes before the armed wizards broke through the front- and back-door.
Castor caught Severus' gaze and shrugged. "There must be a leak in the Ministry," he said through grit teeth. "This is the third operation without prisoners. Somebody is warning them."
Sirius frowned. "Did you find any evidence of Remus ever frequenting this shop?"
"Not yet. And I doubt we'll …" Castor raised a hand wearily. "Sirius! Don't! I am happy to see you after all these months, but if you change here, right in front of my men one of them will add Animagus and Black, and you'll eat tomorrow's breakfast in Azkaban. Fidelius charm or not."
But it was already too late. Where a moment ago the tall wizard had perched on a grimy counter, a great black dog looked at them now.
"Hey, Professor," one of Castor's Aurors called. "Get your dog out of here! It is messing up the evidence."
Snape snorted. "Right. Well, … dog. Let's go outside and see if we can find anything."
As soon as they had left the shop and stood in a dark backyard, Padfoot started to bark furiously. The Potions master frowned. "I don't speak dog. If you found something, lead the way and I'll follow."
The black dog led him through a maze of yards and side-alleys until they reached a ramshackle shed at the corner of Perpetu and Nonverb Alley. Padfoot barked twice and threw his considerable weight against the door which gave in after the second assault.
In the bright light of his wand Severus followed the dog and quickened his stride when he heard him whine. Before his eyes the Animagus changed back into human form and crouched down next to what looked like a heap of old rags at first sight.
The rags turned out to be the body of a wizard. Snape stepped closer. His breath hitched when he took in his colleague's pale face. There was no sign of life.
"Lupin? Can you hear me?"
He gave the wizard a hard shake but got no response. But when he checked the pulse at the neck, secretly bracing himself for finding only proof of death, there was something … a mere flicker … but still.
"He is alive," he decreed. "Barely."
Sirius stroked the damp hair out of the clammy face. "Moony?"
Without hesitation he picked up the limp body and looked at Severus, his mouth set in a hard line.
"What now?"
"We need to get him to St. Mungo's, and fast." The Potions master's eyes burned like black fire. "And then …"
Sirius stared down at his best friend's deathly pale face.
"And then we find Serene Kennedy."
* * *
Ben Olsen grit his teeth and watched Serene over the table, never dropping the smiling mask he wore for his guests. He should have listened to Laeticia and let Serene stay in bed. But then again he could not let her indulge in her mood swings forever. And he was tired of her weeping. Not to mention that dark rings under her eyes spoilt her beauty considerably.
If she did not get better soon, he'd provide her with a potion that would do the trick, he decided.
Right now she sat next to the French ambassador, a promising supporter of the cause, and looked as if her dog had just died. He chuckled softly and dabbed his mouth with a napkin to hide a smirk. As far as his sources had reported, it was not exactly the dog that was about to die … but the wolf.
Still, nobody could demand from the ambassador to understand why the young witch who was supposed to entertain him, sulked because of a werewolf.
When the door crashed open all of a sudden, Ben dropped both napkin and smile.
Sirius Black … White … whoever …. stood in the dining room, as unselfconsciously as if he'd been properly invited to Laeticia's dinner party. He ignored the hostess' protest, rounded the table with a few strides and dragged Serene out of her chair.
For the first time in almost a day she showed a reaction to what was going on.
"Sirius!"
"Get. Up." Sirius snarled, whipping out his wand when he saw Ben move.
"Do it, Olsen. Give me a reason." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Raise so much as one finger, and I'll kill you right here, in front of your guests."
Olsen grit his teeth but did not dare to reach for his wand.
Sirius stared at Serene. "I told you to get up and come with me."
"Or what?" She paled with anger. "Or you kill me as well?"
He went to her chair and pulled her up forcibly. "Maybe. Or I'll make you sorry you are still alive."
A moment later, when they were out of the door, Ben Olsen and his party had forgotten they'd ever seen the infamous criminal Sirius Black in the dining room. But nobody could explain why Serene Kennedy had run off all of a sudden, without a coat. She'd even left her shoes under the table …
* * *