Holding a Torch For Gilderoy Lockhart

"You slut," Miriam cried. It was Tuesday morning, and Dearborn was regaling her with tales of his night before. "He's actually a milkman? Really and truly?"

"Yes. Really and truly."

"You slut!" she cried again.

"Ahem." Knowing that sound, both Miriam and Dearborn turned with trepidation from the potions they had been brewing.

"Hello, Madame Sullivan," they both recited by rote. All who knew her feared Anne Sullivan, the most decorated and celebrated Healer since Mungo himself. She was ruthlessly intelligent and demanding- and maybe a touch evil.

"While I'm very happy to hear that Mr Dearborn is a slut, I would like a word with you, Ms Strout." For some reason, hearing the word slut come from Sullivan's mouth was the most sobering and frightful thing Miriam had ever heard.

"Yes, Madame," she said with a curtsy, following quickly in the woman's wake. Sullivan led her to her Director's Office, and closed the door.

"I wish to speak to you about your ex-husband."

"Madame?"

"He's a convicted felon, is he not? Escaped from Azkaban Prison?"

"Yes." Wherever this was going, Miriam had the sudden urge to flee.

"Have you seen him?"

"Pardon me?"

"Ms Strout, I will be frank with you," Madame Sullivan said. "The Aurors Department at the Ministry has contacted me. They seem to think, as your trusted confidante, that I can pry more information out of you than their personnel."

"Trusted confidante?" The words escaped her mouth before Miriam could stop them.

A ghost of a amiable twist lit Madame Sullivan's mouth for a split second. "It would seem my reputation has not reached the Ministry."

"Uh..."

"Ms Strout, have you seen your husband since he escaped?"

"N- no!" Miriam insisted, lying through her teeth. Really, if she was going to admit the truth to someone, Anne Sullivan was the last on her very very long list.

"Alright. You may return to your duties," Madame Sullivan said. Miriam rose and curtsied again and turned to the door. "Oh, and Ms Strout?"

"Yes?" she replied.

"Perhaps, in the future, when calling Mr Dearborn a slut, you could see that the door is closed?"

"Yes, Madame," she said, fleeing the office and jogging to the stairwell. "Give me a fag!" she demanded of Smethwyck.

"What's the matter?" he asked when she starting sucking back the cigarette.

"Sullivan came to my ward and-"

"No!" the stairwell's population, about six people, said in unison.

"And took me to her office!"

"Oh, God. You aren't fired, are you?" Pippa pleaded.

"No. The Aurors thought that I'd tell Sullivan things I hadn't told them," she explained.

"What? You mean about Sirius Black?" Smethwyck asked. Miriam nodded. "Why'd they think you'd tell her?"

"No idea. Give me another?"

By the time Miriam returned to Ward 49, Dearborn was almost in hysterics.

"Miriam! Oh, Miri. Was it awful? What did she want, ducks?" he asked, pulling her in for a hug.

"She just wanted to ask me questions about Sirius- the Aurors asked her to," Miriam said, grateful for the affection. "And I'm to make sure the door is closed the next time I call you names."

"What? That evil evil woman! Dictating when and where you'll insult me," Dearborn said.

"Can I hug you, too?" Gilderoy asked, sidling up to Miriam.

"Uh, Dearborn? Why is Gilderoy naked?"

"Gilderoy, you're supposed to be taking your bath!"

"There's a giant snake in the washroom," Gilderoy whinged.

"Your turn," Dearborn said, handing Miriam a torch.

"I'm changing careers."