From the smell of the place she had been moved to St Mungo's. This was a risky move for the Order, she must have been badly hurt. Odd, though, that neither Dumbledore nor Severus could heal her. Well, there would be time for questions later. Clearly, she had to move. There was little doubt in her mind that Mungo's would be under Dark wizard control. Stiffly, she sat up in bed and tried to peer through the early morning gloom. The medicinal smell was all the stronger now she was awake and across the room she could see another patient. She couldn't make out anything about him but the stillness implied he was heavily sedated.

Isolde maneuvered herself into a standing position and looked around. Save for the two beds, her own and the stranger's, everything else was murky. She could make out a couple of squat armchairs, and wondered if she'd had visitors. No, probably too dangerous. Her stomach rumbled and she put her hands over it to silence the noise. Gingerly, on two bare feet she began to grope toward a nearby doorframe. She was wearing a very old tee shirt which was large enough to do the job of a nightgown. How was she going to escape? Without a wand, adequate clothing and with a body that still complained with every step, this wasn't going to be easy.

Before she had time to become overwhelmed with desperation the creak of a floorboard outside made her skin prickle. Whoever it was Isolde was certain they meant her harm. Moving next to the closed door she waited for the stranger to enter. As she crouched behind the door she knew she would do anything to get out of St Mungo's, kill even. Without her wand it would be a grisly business but she had the element of surprise and felt certain she could defeat her opponent, even in her weakened state.

The door opened and time seemed to slow as a wiry man slipped into the room. He smelt of healing potions and blood and the scent steeled Isolde's resolve. She barely heard the man's cry as she came at him from behind, closing her hands around his throat. She felt the pulse in his neck as he struggled to twist. Harder and harder she squeezed, increasingly uncertain that he would ever pass out. As the figure thrashed around ever more feebly and sank onto his knees she suddenly saw what she was doing and, with what felt like enormous effort, she pried her fingers from his neck. Scared by what she had been prepared to do her knees gave out from under her and she fell heavily onto her bed. Tears came unbidden and racking sobs filled the small room.

Remus vomited onto the floor. His bruised windpipe made it difficult for him to breathe and now the aftereffects of his attack had him being sick on the carpet. He felt weak and shaky and it took all his strength to stay kneeling on the floor. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and he was dripping with sweat. Stars were in his eyes as he concentrated on breathing in, out, in, out. Slowly, as he became increasingly certain he would survive, and as the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he became aware of another sound. Isolde sat on the bed where she'd had lain for weeks and was sobbing. She had pulled her knees up under her and held them close as she rocked back and forth. For someone who had come so close to killing him she looked like a lost little girl. After swallowing with difficulty Lupin tried to speak. "Isolde? Isolde, it's Lupin. Remus Lupin." The sobbing stopped and silence spread out between them. Lupin got to his feet and accio'd his wand. The small light lit up his face.

"Remus? Oh Remus, I almost killed you."

"Luckily werewolves are hard to kill." Lupin meant this as a joke, though the tone was flat. Isolde had started crying again. "I can't believe I attacked you like that. What's happened to me Remus? I was so scared. I've... I've been scared for such a long time." As she was saying this Lupin got to his feet and approached her. "It was a misunderstanding, that's all. You'd been attacked, you didn't know where you were, you didn't know who I was. I probably would have done the same thing."

"I came so close to killing you. Look at your neck." Lupin didn't want to see the red weals emerging, he could feel them well enough. A change of subject was needed lest Isolde fall back into tears. "Let me examine you." As Lupin had with another member of the Snape family hours earlier he used his wand as a medical aid. Isolde's wounds were mended and though she'd be left with a scar on her midriff where Bellatrix's curse had hit her, she was otherwise well. Lupin ended the examination with her head, checking the cuts were fully healed. Isolde had been silent throughout and Lupin was troubled by the cloudy, faraway look in her eyes. He didn't want her to ruminate on his near miss. "I prescribe a hot shower, clean clothes and good food. There's a shower upstairs. Make use of it. The clothes you travelled in are washed and ready for you. Meanwhile I'll get going on an early breakfast."

"Where am I Remus? I can't remember much."

"12 Grimmauld Place. You made it here as planned but were badly wounded. Three weeks have passed."

"And Severus? How is he?" In the upset and confusion Isolde had forgotten about the other occupant of the room. Trying to push thoughts of Snape's body from his mind Lupin replied lightly "He is his usual misanthropic self. He will be glad to see you. Now, to the shower."

As Lupin heard Isolde climb the stairs he looked at the clock, it was 5.27 am. Snape was still heavily sedated and Lupin looked at him as he lay in stillness. There was little doubt Isolde would be distressed when she saw her uncle. Though Snape's face had adopted its tranquil pose in unconsciousness this only provided the canvas for a kaleidoscope of greens, yellows and purples that coloured his face. His hair was matted with blood from injuries to his scalp and the jaw, though healed, looked puffy and swollen. At least Isolde wouldn't see all that Lupin had. The battered body would remain out of view. It was a testament to Snape's injuries that he had let Lupin heal him. Remus wondered how many times Snape had resembled a punchbag bellow those billowing black robes. In normal life he held himself so upright, never showing a twinge of pain, a flicker of hurt. Snape carried himself like he'd been made to balance books on his head as a child. No-one, save perhaps for Dumbledore, would know what wounds lay beneath. Even as Lupin felt overwhelmed with compassion for a man who would never accept it he also felt a curious pleasure that he had an insight into Snape's jeopardised life. For a reason he could not discern Lupin took Snape's hand in his and squeezed it tight. Snape radiated a surprising heat. Sirius had always claimed that Snape was cold-blooded and reptilian but the Potions Master's hand was hot. Thinking of Sirius made Lupin realise what the scene would look like if Black came into the sitting room and with a chuckle he replaced Snape's hand on the bed and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The shower had carried away some more of Isolde's tears and, by the time, she was drying herself with a big fluffy towel she was feeling more like her old self. Not knowing where her clothes were kept she wandered into a nearby bedroom and saw a large tartan dressing gown which she put on. Calling her wand to her she was gratified to see it was whole and working properly. Someone must have put it out of harm's way while she convalesced. She was somewhat surprised they'd been able to free it from her grip. One of the last things she remembered was apparating in front of Order headquarters and clutching her wand so tightly she feared it would splinter. She flicked her wand around to dry the rest of her hair and apply salves to her complaining wounds. Barefoot she began to creep downstairs.

The little girl look had not entirely left Isolde but Lupin was gratified to see this was because she was wearing his dressing gown, making her look much younger than her twenty seven years. Her careful tread implied locomotion was making her feel dizzy and she leaned on the kitchen table as she found a seat. "How does scrambled eggs, sausages and beans sound? Molly will want to feed you all over again when she arrives at 8."

"Fabulous. You read my mind."

"Pour yourself some coffee. I've put sugar out. I know you have a sweet tooth."

"Thanks. I can do without now. I've learnt to do without a lot of things I used to think essential. Does Dumbledore know I've woken? I have to give him my report."

"I sent him an owl while you were upstairs. He's replied saying," Lupin stopped scrambling the eggs to pick up a piece of parchment "he sends you heartiest felicitations and he will see you as soon as time allows. Until then you are to remain here and recuperate."

"There's an order I can follow."

"I doubt Molly would let you leave." They ate in companionable silence. It seemed to Isolde that there were so many questions competing for her attention that she barely knew where to begin. She wanted to know how the war progressed, what Voldemort's movements were, what Harry Potter was really like, how Charlie Weasley was. Most of all, most of all she wanted to see Severus. As she finished her second cup of coffee she decided to start with her only living family. "When do I get to see Severus?" Lupin gave her a long look, as though weighing up something. Isolde didn't understand. She knew Lupin and Snape didn't get on; hated each other in fact, but she'd already been told Severus was well. She was a little surprised - and hurt - that he hadn't already shown up.

"Isolde, I wasn't entirely truthful with you earlier. Now, don't worry. Snape is alive and recovering next door. As you know he's been spying on the Death Eaters for us. From time to time Voldemort... well, he tortures him. Don't - don't! - tell Severus I told you. Last night there was a meeting of Death Eaters and Severus returned here in a terrible state. I've patched him up and he's sedated in the same room where you were." As Lupin spoke Isolde felt a cold chill run down her spine. She knew Severus' work for the Order was dangerous but that it included torture? This was new. "I have to see him."

Daylight was carving up the gloomy sitting room and Isolde was astonished she ever confused the place with St Mungo's. The chintzy armchairs, knick knacks and fireplace made it look oddly quaint. Her bed had been transfigured back into a three piece settee. In one corner of the room stood another bed, this one with Snape under the covers. Lupin had taken her next door but upon seeing her perch next to her cousin he withdrew to give them some privacy. Isolde kissed her cousin's forehead. "Severus? Sev, it's me. I'm back from the dead. I can't wait to speak to you again." Some small irrational part of her thought that her presence might lift his sedation, but the potion (one of Remus' concoctions) was sound.

She heard a man thudding down the stairs and, shortly after, a face she recognised only from the international wizarding press bounded into the sitting room. She stood and turned with her back to Severus, almost as if shielding him from the intruder. "You must be Sirius Black."

"My fame precedes me, huh?"

"I know your face."

"Still? But I've been in hiding for months. I thought some of my old handsomeness might have returned."

"Not that I can see. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Sirius leant against the doorframe and grinned wolfishly. "And you behold me as ugly? Thanks a lot! This much rudeness on first acquaintance means you must be a Snape." Isolde offered her hand and Sirius shook it. They were interrupted by Lupin rounding the corner, "Sirius, it's barely 6, what are you doing up?"

"Someone was in the shower. The pipes woke me,"

"That was me," said Isolde.

"In that case you're forgiven." Lupin could scarcely believe the transformed Sirius Black who stood before him. All summer he'd been a brooding bad-tempered presence and now, with an attractive twenty-something woman before him the old charm came to the fore. Sirius moved to the centre of the living room and caught sight of the bed. "Hey, what's happened to Snivellus?" The smile that had been playing around Isolde's lips disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. "My uncle is badly wounded. The Death Eaters."

"Oh." Caught between wanting to criticise Snape and wanting to curry favour with his relation, Sirius could think of little to say. Isolde turned to Lupin, blanking Sirius in the process, "Remus, you said my clothes were washed?"

"Yes, in the chest of drawers upstairs, in Regulus' room." Isolde swept past them both. If she'd had robes they would have billowed after her. Lupin cuffed Sirius on the shoulder, "Nice one mate. You've known her half a minute and you start mocking her family? You need to work on your flirting."

"I wasn't flirting," Black grumbled, "for a start, she's too young for me and, she's a Snape for God's sake. What would James say?"

"Never mind that," laughed Lupin, "what would he say?" pointing to the prone Potions Master.