Chapter Four (Misha)
"Stay. Please."
Misha froze, both slightly terrified and strangely moved. She'd been sleeping soundly, dreaming about taking a Charms Exam whilst naked (it was a pathetic recurring theme) when the bloodcurdling screams cut through her consciousness. Jarred awake, she looked around as the scream rang out again. It was Sirius. It had to have been. Frankly, she'd never heard anything so horrifying in her entire life.
Her first thought was Dementors and, though their presence was technically impossible, she would take no chances and readied herself to fight. Misha grabbed her wand and leapt out of bed without another thought. For a fleeting moment, reality and dream became blurred as she sprinted down the hallway disoriented, hoping she was not, in fact, actually naked. But, as time seemed to slow down to a crawl, a nagging little voice in the back of her mind told her that it would not matter, anyway. Saving Sirius was simply too important. Finally, she worked up the courage to look down, smiling grimly as she realized that she was, indeed wearing her own doggy-print pyjama bottoms and a black tank top. What an outfit in which to fight Dementors!
But, moments later, when she burst panting into Sirius' room, she found it empty, but for the thin, deathly pale man who lay screaming and writhing on the bed. She approached him cautiously and touched him gently on the shoulder. A Muggle friend had told her that it was dangerous to wake a sleepwalker, but Sirius wasn't exactly walking, was he? Still, she did not want to risk making things worse. "Sirius?" she asked softly, "Sirius, mate, are you alright?"
But he continued to scream.
She briefly considered casting a Rennervate , but thought the better of it and settled for simply touching his shoulder and nudging him gently. But when he still failed to open his eyes, Misha began to panic, shaking him harder. "Shit! Sirius, love, are you okay? WAKE-UP!"
Sirius shuddered and jolted awake; fearful grey eyes looked up at her, questioning. She plopped herself down on the bed next to him and smoothed the hair back from his brow, but he merely reached-up and grabbed her hand saying, "Stay. Please."
It took everything in her power not to simply lie down right there.
Sirius clutched her hand more tightly. "I would never, I promise… you can trust me… I wouldn't try to…" He broke off and looked dejectedly down at his hand. "I don't even think I could, anyway… Azkaban kind of…"
"I know," she said kindly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. She'd never been there, of course, and she could not even imagine the terrors the prison held, but it made perfect sense that the Dementors, who sucked away happy memories, would also affect sexual ability. "It's okay, love," she whispered. "I'll be here."
Sirius smiled, but his grin faded as Misha slid off the bed.
"But first," she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward, "I have an idea. Come with me." Almost reluctantly, Sirius followed and, hand in hand, they made their way out of the room.
The first thing they encountered was a handful of worried, pyjama-clad house-elves, one of whom was bearing a small silver tray of chocolate truffles. "Here, Master Black," she cried, pushing the tray into his face. "Pinky was thinking that maybe chocolate would help with dream Dementors, too."
Surprised, Sirius reached for a chocolate and popped it into his mouth, smiling gratefully.
"They're good, are they not? Pinky made them herself! Have another!" And Sirius did. The third one, however, he offered to Misha.
"She doesn't really need one now, does she?" huffed the house-elf called Winter. Misha flushed and said nothing, but Sirius gave the elf a hard stare and turned to Misha again. "Please," he said simply.
Misha stuck her tongue out at the irritated little creature who stood tapping her small, slipper-clad toe against the carpet. "Thank you, Sirius," she said, nibbling on the edge of the candy.
"Oh! I promised my poor, dead Mistress…" began Winter.
"Enough!!" shouted Misha. She grabbed the remaining two truffles and handed them to Sirius before dragging him on down the hallway. "Thank you, Pinky, you're an angel as always," she called over her shoulder. Pinky blushed and dropped into a small curtsey.
For his part, Sirius looked perplexed but slightly amused. The color was returning to his cheeks and his breathing seemed much more normal. "What was all that about?" he asked around a mouthful of truffle.
Misha grumbled. Truth be told, she did not want to answer, but something about Sirius seemed to call for absolute honesty. "Winter made a death-bed promise to my mother," she sighed. "She swore that she would forever watch over me and monitor my weight to prevent me from getting fat. Er… fatter."
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "But you're not fat," he said stupidly.
Misha smiled and squeezed his hand. "You're very sweet, Sirius Black, but that is an ultimately Wizard-like thing to say. In the Muggle world – especially my mother's world of celebrity and fashion – I am a right cow. Thin is in. In fact, I could stand to lose at least a half-stone."
Sirius clearly had no idea what to say. "So I could almost be fashionable like this?" he tried to joke.
Misha smiled but was thankfully saved from further response by their arrival at the bathroom. What could she have said, anyway? "You're gorgeous, Sirius, just the way you are?" That certainly would have gone over without embarrassment!
The bathroom was quite chilly when they entered and Sirius stood barefoot and shivering on the tile floor. But Misha merely cast a few Warming Charms and began to fill the tub with bubbles and warm water.
Sirius looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry… do I… so I still smell bad?" he mumbled. He could not even meet her eye.
"What? No, of course not," Misha laughed. "This is just to make you feel better." She happily noted the relief in his eyes. "Now go get changed," she said, pointing to the small dressing-cubicle at the other end of the room. "There's swim trunks there. Or, if you prefer, you could just go naked. Most people do."
This latter she could not even say without blushing. "Okay, I'llmeetyouinthetubforyourmassage," she squeaked before running full bore for her own dressing cubicle. Good, Merlin, did she really just suggest that he get naked? What the hell was wrong with her? Sure, people did it at the spa all the time, but still…
Moments later she emerged wearing a pony-tail and the traditional Avia uniform of white and gold swim tank and white swim shorts each bearing the Avia phoenix insignia. Sirius was already standing waist deep in bubbles and, against her better judgment, Misha tried to sneak a peak at what he was wearing. Thankfully – or not – the bubbles were far too thick to see much of anything.
She swam out to meet him and led him to the proper spot. "Mensa Consurgo!" she cried and a plateau of water rose out of the tub.
"Climb on!" she gestured, lowering the flat-topped column so that Sirius could lie comfortably upon it. "On your back please." A doughnut-shaped, circle of water appeared at the end of the aquatic massage table. "You can rest your head in there," Misha said.
Sirius looked a bit unsure, but dutifully clambered up onto the table, resting his head in magic circle of water. A small blanket of magical bubbles covered his crotch.
"Comfortable?" asked Misha, reaching into a waterproof basket for oil.
"Yeah," breathed Sirius. And he genuinely seemed to be.
Misha oiled up her hands and the fragrance of linden, passionflower, and coconut filled the room. She began rubbing small circles on Sirius' shoulders and neck. As she worked, she spoke softly to him, low tones barely penetrating their private space. "Eventually, I'm to take over operations at Avia, so my parents thought it a good idea for me to learn every aspect of the family business. The actual business and marketing part is really quite dreadful, but the potion making and massage lessons were fascinating."
Sirius tried to respond, but she shushed him gently saying, "Shhhh, Sirius, just be. Relax. I'll stop babbling. Let me know if something makes you uncomfortable or where you want more attention, yeah?"
"Feels great," he purred.
"Then close your eyes."
Misha worked small, fluttering circles across his face and brow and gently massaged his jaw, feeling him relax beneath her fingers. From this vantage point, Misha could see how truly handsome he was beneath the many years of pain and worry. But she quickly banished such thoughts, for this moment was about providing comfort rather than seduction. She moved down to once again go over his neck and shoulders before attacking the tense muscles of his chest.
"You have such interesting body art, you'll have to give me a tour someday," whispered Misha, praying it sounded more conversational that seductive. His tatts were sexy, though, and she could almost feel the tingling magic of them passing though her fingertips as she kneaded his muscles. She moved on to his arms, pulling the negative energy (as she'd learned to call it) from his heart to his fingertips. Sirius moaned slightly as she rubbed his fingertips and it took every ounce of her strength not to take them into her mouth and suck. "But he's not, yet, ready," she reminded herself.
Working his legs took even more strength of will for, as she made her way up his thighs, the urge to part that blanket of bubbles that covered his crotch became nearly overwhelming. It was almost a relief when she asked him to flip over onto his belly so that she could massage his back.
Sirius' back was amazing. While his chest was thin, all protruding ribs and sunken wells of neglect, his upper back rippled with muscle. "Probably from riding Buckbeak," she thought to herself. Still, her breath caught at the sight of the knobs of vertebrae that ran down his spine. Clearly, the man had been starving. Nevertheless, she made pressed her thumbs gently on either side of each knob, working out the knots of tension.
Beneath her hands, Sirius seemed to relax entirely, a small smile playing upon his lips. But for his occasional comment or grunt of pleasure, she would have thought the man was asleep. She worked her way down his spine and toward that delicious dip before the rise of his arse. Misha reminded herself that many people experienced lower-back pain and that sleeping on rocky cave floors and riding a saddle-less hippogriff would surely contribute to such, but she remained hesitant to move down further.
"Why're you stopping?" mumbled Sirius, raising his head slightly. He fixed her with a penetrating grey gaze that took her breath away.
"Erm, just want you to be comfortable," she replied, resuming her work. She was fast approaching the line of bubbles that covered his arse. Did she dare? She'd just reached the edge of the bubble-line when the realization hit her: her fingers had yet to find fabric. Sirius was completely naked. Undaunted, she pressed onward – literally – massaging the muscles of his arse as he writhed in pleasure. She longed to know whether or not this was actually turning him on but contented herself with her work.
Finally, after nearly an hour of working his body, her hands were tired and her fingers aching. "Okay, then, Sirius?" she asked.
Sirius rolled off the watery table and dunked himself underwater, freeing himself from his blanket of bubbles. "I feel fantastic," he growled.
Misha tried, but failed to avert her eyes. Apparently, he didn't feel all that fantastic. And Sirius followed her gaze, blushing with shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I just… can't."
"It's fine, love," she said, stepping forward to pat him consolingly on the arm. And suddenly they were kissing, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his mouth hot upon hers. Ah, this was something he could still do quite well, apparently!
But as quickly as he'd begun it, it was over. Sirius pulled back and looked at Misha with fearful eyes. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I shouldn't have done that."
"I rather enjoyed it, actually," laughed Misha, kissing him on the cheek. "Now let's go get changed."
Minutes later, dry and dressed for bed, the pair found themselves standing awkwardly in the hallway. Sirius shuffled his feet and squirmed shyly. "Misha, I really didn't mean to overstep my bounds there," he began. He looked at her nervously. "And, I can sleep on my own if you don't feel comfortable anymore…"
"Of course I do," snapped Misha, too loudly for her own comfort. She smiled apologetically. "Now, your room or mine?"
Sirius shrugged, but smiled in relief. Obviously, Misha noted, he was still a bit reluctant to be alone. "Yours?" he suggested. And, hand in hand, they padded down the hallway toward her bedroom.
Opening the door, she saw to her horror that floor was barely visible beneath a veritable sea of books and parchment and discarded clothing. "Excuse the mess," she said, kicking the myriad fashion detritus off of the floor. "I try to keep the rest of the house fairly neat but people so rarely see my bedroom…" She kicked herself. Had she just made herself sound like a loser? Not to mention a total slob?
But Sirius just smiled and straightened the blankets for her. He crawled in and patted the empty spot beside him. Relieved, Misha snuggled in next to him and pulled closed the bed-curtains. Sirius smelled of soap and massage oil, of contentment and happiness. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing Misha gently on the lips.
"Thank you," she replied. She turned and nuzzled into Sirius' chest, hoping vainly for another kiss, but he was already fast asleep.