She collapsed into her favourite armchair, allowing herself to sink into the faded red cushions. She really should buy a new one, she thought, she'd had this one for... it must have been nearing 20 years. Yes, she could remember him sitting in it years ago. Grinning at her as she landed neatly in his lap and rested her forehead against his.

She nursed her mug of tea and thumbed through an old book to find the scrap of parchment that marked her place. She wouldn't let herself think of him, not now, not after so long. The simple engagement ring still sat in her jewellery box upstairs, winking at her whenever she opened it, reminding her of a past long left behind. She should throw it out. She knew that. Sell it to that jeweller on the High Street and forget the whole affair.

The clatter of rain startled her from her confused thoughts and she glanced out of the window. The sky was glowing slightly as the sun set, not with the usual colour and splendour that is associated with this daily event, but quietly, the sky a pale grey and tinted with blue. A small strip of pink ran across the horizon, but it was soon hidden by masses of dark cloud.

Where was he now? Was he safe, curled in an armchair similar to her own? Or was he crouched under a tree somewhere with that matted black hair stuck to his head, his tattered robes soaked through. He used to pull her through the rain, she remembered. He would grab her hand and pull her, laughing, through the downpour, his cloak held over their heads, even though it wasn't at all waterproof. They always got soaked. And then he would kiss her, and the rain would just disappear, and there was nothing but the two of them.

She sighed sadly, closing the book with a snap. She hadn't read a single word. All she could think of was him. He was out there somewhere, alone. Was he alright? Was he afraid?

Why did she even care? After what he'd done?

What had me done though? Lily and James were dead. Harry was orphaned. But had he really done anything? She had tried to convince herself of his guilt, but still, after all this time, there was still a sliver of doubt in her mind. She had seen that pale, smooth forearm hundreds of times, and, no matter what, she couldn't remember seeing anything that looked slightly like that formidable mark. Never.

Something moved in the garden, which was lit by the last few rays of sunlight. She stared. A cat, she told herself. It was a cat. She stood up and drew the curtains across the window in one angry motion.

Spinning around, she caught sight of today's newspaper. BLACK STILL AT LARGE, the headline drilled into her skull and she found herself staring into a pair of haunting grey eyes set in a sunken face. It wasn't the face she fell in love with, he wasn't the same person anymore.

With one motion, she grabbed the paper and threw it onto the dying fire. It roared for a moment and then died back down. She grabbed her now cold cup of tea and walked into the kitchen. Tomorrow morning she would go into town and sell that ring. Perhaps she would put the money towards a new chair.

Outside, the dog that was Sirius Black stared past the old tree. He saw her sitting there, staring out of the window, her dark eyes troubled. He barely even noticed when the rain started and just watched her, allowing the memories to take him.

Suddenly, across the lawn, a cat ran from one hedge to another and the figure in the window jerked. He watched her walk across to the window and stare out across the garden, her gaze sweeping right over him. Then the curtains closed and he was left, cold and soaked through.

He turned and walked away from the house. Earlier this evening, Harry had been terrified at the mere sight of him. He hadn't been able to find Remus. And now she had looked straight through him. What was there left for him to do? The answer was obvious. Find Peter. Find Peter and prove that two wrongs could make a right.