Three O'clock in the Morning

Three O'clock in the Morning

In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Lot's Wife

Remember Lot's wife. - Gospel of Luke

It had been a long time since he had seen Harry off to Hogwarts, Sirius thought to himself quietly. It had only been a few months, but they had been long, and, at first, quite hard.

He had spent most of September launching himself into his work and desperately avoiding the flat, where he imagined Lily brooded all hours of the day. Of course, this was decidedly untrue as she had plenty of things to do with her time other than wonder what her husband was doing with his, and the town generally benefited from her activities.

In October, Sirius had watched the calendar with a mixture of fear and anticipation. It was on the thirty-first of the month that the Potters had died and the Marauders betrayed for the last time, but Hallowe'en was also one of the most awaited and celebrated nights of the year for wizard kind. He had actually joined Lily and some other families in decorating St. Mungo's for the holiday, but when the night came around and Lily left off to go somewhere, Sirius locked himself in the bathroom all night, much as he had for the previous two years. He could not stand to be with people on the anniversary of the night his life went to Hell. Lily had not really known what to do when she came home at eight o'clock and found her husband locked in the bathroom, refusing to speak with anyone, including herself and Remus and Peter, whom she had immediately telephoned.

The early part of November had seemed devoted to Sirius' friends berating him about the Hallowe'en incident. Remus continually told him that he was there for his friend, that he would listen to whatever Sirius had to say, and the sandy haired man had no idea that he was breaking Sirius' heart every time. Peter only told him to talk to Lily, so the wizard was never tempted to give Peter the same purple corset he had cast upon Severus.

Peter had actually confronted Sirius on the steps of St. Mungo's one day in the middle of November while Remus took Lily back to the flat.

"Something is wrong, Sirius."

"What?" he had replied cautiously. The Animagus still did not enjoy spending time with the traitor, despite the fact that Peter was a perfectly respectable businessman.

"Look, we all knew something was up," he replied casually. "But Hallowe'en night really clinched it."

Sirius wondered where Peter found his vocabulary; he had not spoken like this when they had attended Hogwarts together.

"Most fully grown men do not lock themselves up in the bathroom to hide from bogeymen, and I don't think you are part of the minority that do."

The raven-haired wizard nodded his agreement. He was not exactly frightened of bogeymen.

"Yet, you did appear to do that two weeks ago. Why?" The short man raised his right hand to cut off his friend's protestations. "No, I know you don't want to tell either me or Remus, despite the fact that he's been pestering you since August like a puppy. You just ought to tell someone. We don't like to see you suffer."

Sirius had shrugged. He had told Severus, Sasha, and Harry, but they were gone at this point: two to school and one to strict bed rest. By the end of October, Sasha had become enormous and her doctors, worried about the baby boys she was carrying, sentenced her to rest and relaxation for the rest of her pregnancy.

As much as Severus had offered his time and his sympathies to the lost wizard, Sirius was uncomfortable taking up so much of Severus' time. The man was busy enough with his classes, the students he counseled, and keeping Harry in line. He did not need a half-out-of-his-mind wizard knocking on his door every hour of the day and night.

And so, he was effectively alone, as Peter so willingly told him. He was alone and there was no one in whom to confide, with whom to share his secrets, or anyone with whom he could even plan his schemes with the mysterious Gita Mahbubani.

"Sirius." Peter rested his hand on Sirius' shoulder and the wizard forced himself not to flinch away from the touch. "Just tell somebody, even if it's just your marriage counselor. You're going to go mad if you keep things pent up like this."

Sirius had merely thanked Peter for his concern and stalked home, dragging his friend behind him.

And here he sat, once more in Mahbubani's horribly tasteful waiting room. The woman had suggested that they meet her one-on-one a few times, to discuss problems they might not feel comfortable bringing up in front of their spouse.

Sirius thought that it was absurd and brought along a book to read, one he had stolen from Remus and Peter's flat. It was on the history of war tribes in Mongolia between the seventh and eleventh centuries Anno Domini. The text, which did not even contain a sketch of their armor, was putting him to sleep, but remained infinitely better than the magazines that lay strewn about the waiting room. In any case, he had probably already read all of them, as the counselors did not seem to keen on keeping their reading material up-to-date.

The same frizzy haired assistant, the one who seemed to work every day and hour of the week, even when he and Lily had to change their appointment time, appeared. "Mr. Black, we're ready for you."

"Lydia," that was the assistant's name, "my name is Sirius." He told Lydia that every time he had come here, once a week for roughly three months, but she never listened. In Sirius' mind, the only people who called him 'Mr. Black' were his schoolteachers, and he had not seen them since before he went to prison.

"Of course, Mr. Black."

Sirius sighed, closed his book, and strode into Gita Mahbubani's office.

For once the sun was shining through the large windows in her office, making an amazing pattern of light and shadow across the older woman's face and desk. Gita did not rise to greet Sirius as she usually did, but merely motioned for him to take a seat.

"Has your transition gone well?"

Sirius just stared blankly at her, not understanding the question at all.

"I assume your presence here accounts for the shift in magic, Sirius. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please tell me. I'll remove this conversation from your memories." Gita said this all in a light, conversational tone, as if she were asking Sirius if he would prefer jam or butter on his toast.

"How?" Sirius managed to ask.

"How what? How would I adjust your memories? I have my wand in my desk and it would only take a simple Obliviate charm and you'd be as good as new."

"You-you're from... home?"

Gita granted him a tight-lipped smile. "Of course, I am. Would I really know about magic if I didn't come from your world, Sirius?"

He shook his head and felt for his own wand in his coat sleeve, but the pocket he had carefully sewn into it was empty.

The Indian woman pulled a narrow wand from her desk. It was rough, uneven, and appeared to be hand-made. The gentle holly was bent in some places and Sirius could see that the core was made of a braid from the woman's own head. Wizard's or witch's hair made for tempermental and unpredictable wands, but he knew that even a weak wand was better than no wand. Lucky that Wolfgang never bothered to learn how to make one, he thought to himself.

"Now, my question to you is this: why are you here?"

Sirius just stared at her, finally making the connections. Gita C. Mahbubani was also Gita Chatterjee, one of the two women pushed beyond the Veil and Archway. Shocked that he had been sharing his secrets, even if those secrets were, in fact, lies, Sirius was furious. He scrambled to his feet.

"Death Eater!"

Quite calmly, Gita placed a locking charm on the door and invited Sirius to sit down in the chair again and discuss the situation like a rational human being. Sirius did not want to discuss the situation at all, but he did not like the way she was pointing her make-shift wand at him.

"I take it, then, that you are not a Death Eater?" she asked dryly.

Sirius scowled at her. "Unlike you, I have morals."

The woman then had the nerve to 'tsk' at him. "An attitude like that will not garner you any friends, Sirius. In any case, I'm no more a Death Eater than you appear to be."

"Then why were you pushed through the Veil and Archway?"

"I could ask the same of you," Gita countered. "But I won't. I didn't arrange for one-on-one meetings so that I could point fingers and tell you you got yourself into a mess. You already know that. I just want to know how you are doing. I'm thinking that your marital difficulties are stemming from your transition from the magical world into this one. Am I right?"

Sirius glared at her with great venom. "I fell."

His comment seemed to have caught Gita off guard. "What?"

"I fell through the Veil and Archway; I wasn't pushed. We were in the middle of battle and a hex caught me the wrong way."

Gita frowned at him. She knew how this conversation ought to play, knowing the ways of the British Purebloods fairly well. Now she needed to tell her side of the story.

"I was pushed," she replied quietly, as if discussing an unmentionable. "The Aurors found me aiding wounded Death Eaters and, after a brief stint in Azkaban, I was pushed through the Archway and Veil, assuming it would be my death."

Sirius shrugged indifferently. "You shouldn't have been helping Death Eaters in the first place."

"I was a Healer," Gita snapped. "I couldn't let men die in agony in the streets when I knew I could full well prevent it. The Aurors don't always stick to the nice hexes, you know. Or even legal ones."

"They were Death Eaters!"

"They were men! And they were dying!"

Sirius scowled.

"In any case," Gita continued, once again in that eerie conversational tone. "I did not invite you here to discuss the morality of my past decisions, or yours. How has your transition gone?"

Eying the holly wand warily, Sirius sighed. "Poorly. I can't be what they want me to be."

"Why ever not?"

Sirius looked Gita in the eye. "I never married my wife. I never raised my son. I never lived in my flat. I never ate dinner with my family. I never worked at my job. How do you think I'm doing?"

Gita's dark eyes took on a steely glint. "Well then, I suppose you will have to make do."

"Make do? There has to be a way back home!"

"How many years have I been here, Sirius? There is no way back. None of us have ever returned. We live the lives we were given, however poor and harsh they may seem. You're pining for what can never be."

Sirius bit his lower lip and came to a decision over which he had been dithering for months. "Then it's time to tell Lily. She shouldn't be in a relationship with me while I lie about my entire life."

"That isn't wise."

"What?"

"There's a chance she'll think you mad. There's an even greater chance she'll want to leave you. For all the wonderful things that Lily is, your wife is in dire need of a security blanket. At the moment, you and your son are that blanket. You shouldn't rob her of that. I never told my husband my story and we have been perfectly happy."

Sirius shook his head. "No, she needs to know that I'm not the man she married."

"Maybe, then, you should become the man she married."

-----

On his way home, Sirius had concocted many different ways to tell Lily the truth. He knew he needed to pull up his Gryffindor courage and tell her today. If he put it off, even for another day, it would never be done. He told himself that she would understand, that she would help him, as Severus and Sasha had understood and helped him.

But now that he sat in front of her, a hot mug of tea in his hands, Sirius realized that he had not anticipated how hard it would be to know that he was going to hurt Lily.

"Lily, I have something to tell you."