Chapter 11 – Sirius

By the time the four wizards (one of whom was currently a dog) reached the Marrowstone estate, tempers were flaring - to say the least. The air was rife with angry, yipping barks, snide, sarcastic comments, and petulant teenaged angst. Only Albus Dumbledore rose above it all, smiling calmly and making myriad benign comments about the local flora. Sirius was fit to be tied.

Yet the mood broke as they reached the beginnings of the warded space at the edge of the property. Despite the outward appearance of a tiny, ruinous cottage sitting in the middle of a neglected field, the four were undeterred. "We approach as friends," Dumbledore cried, addressing what appeared to be nothing at all.

A door-sized patch of air shimmered in response.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and friend of Misha Marrowstone and of Sirius Black, Misha's beloved.

At that, Padfoot blushed beneath his fur; the thought of Dumbledore actually proclaiming such a thing aloud sent shivers of excitement through him. But the old man continued, unheeding of Sirius' excitement. "And with me are Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions Master and friend and care-giver to the late Melinda Marrowstone…"

This gave Sirius pause, for such information was new to him.

"…and Harry Potter, godson to Sirius Black and friend to Misha."

The air shimmered approvingly and then flashed a warning. "And Remus Lupin," came a gravelly voice behind them. Padfoot and the others stared in shock. Dumbledore opened is mouth to bid welcome, but Remus continued. "I am friend to Misha and her father, David, as well as a customer and sometimes employee of your fine establishment."

The air shimmered once again.

"Oh, yes," whispered Dumbledore, "and we approve of the medicinal herbs produced here."

"Well, approve might be a bit strong…" began Snape, but he was quickly silenced by a nip on the ankle from Padfoot. Severus gave the dog a disapproving look and attempted a vicious kick that Padfoot easily dodged. "You'll pay for this, Black," Snape muttered under his breath.

But the air paid little attention to such antics and simply formed itself into a garden gate which Padfoot nosed open to reveal the familiar lush garden and rustic hunting lodge he'd come to love. He pushed on through, transforming instantaneously into his human form as he crossed the ward.

"Well," smiled Dumbledore, "there it is." And, with that, the five wizards made their way toward the house.

*** ** *** ** ***

"Potter, get me the large, iron cauldron," snapped Snape immediately upon entering the kitchen. Harry scowled, but scurried to obey.

"Lupin, although it frightens me to the core to have a fool such as yourself anywhere near such a delicate matter as this, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to assist me," continued the Potions Master in a silky tone.

Sirius gave a grunt of protest, but Snape quickly shushed him. "Yes, Black, loathe as I am to admit it, you are, indeed, a decent-enough brewer and would be far superior to this gang of fools…" He waved his hand in the direction of an indignant Harry and a bewildered Remus. "…but I am quite sure that you'd prefer to wail and fawn over your little girlfriend there and would be of no use whatsoever."

"BULLSHIT!" bellowed Sirius, "I WANT TO HELP." All eyes in the room turned to him, and he added more softly, "Erm, but I do want to run in and check on her first."

"Of course, you do," said Dumbledore gently, before plunking himself down at the table and enchanting the teapot to brew a cup of Earl Grey.

Sirius dashed out of the room and ran up the stairs to Misha's bedroom, but as he reached the door he drew in his breath and slowed his pace. Almost hesitantly, he pushed the door opened to reveal the heavy, hushed stillness he'd come to dread. The room was darker now, the afternoon sun well out of the east-facing windows. Misha slept on, looking almost peaceful, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only movement in the room. Even the damnable clock was silent for once.

Sirius knelt down beside the bed nuzzling her hair and holding her tightly. "I'll get you out of this, love," he whispered fiercely. "I promise." He placed a gentle kiss on her cold lips and fought the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Please don't leave me, too," he added.

He raised his head and gazed down at her for moment, wondering what, precisely, she would think of the situation, were she able to see it. Would she be proud of his bravery or think him weak for fearing? Would she want him by her side or working hard to help her? The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that the he needed to return to the kitchen. Misha was not one to sit about and mope, and neither was he.

*** ** *** ** ***

Sirius trotted into the kitchen to find a sullen Harry chopping gurdy-root and a far more calm - if equally as annoyed - Remus dicing slugs.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Lupin, could you at least attempt to make your slug cubes a near-approximation of the same size? Or is it beyond your capabilities, as usual?"

Remus stiffened, and Sirius threw a comforting arm around his friend's shoulder. "At least your slugs are free of dripping hair-grease," Sirius whispered loudly into the werewolf's ear.

"I trust you realize I heard that, Black," chided Snape.

Sirius grinned. "Of course."

And so the process continued: Harry and Remus, chopping vainly away at their given ingredients as they suffered Snape's abuse, Sirius taking on the more delicate tasks (and, to Snape's obvious consternation, doing a spectacular job of it), Snape directing his minions and specializing in nasty remarks, and Dumbledore calmly drinking pot after pot of the Marrowstone's tea and making pointless, innocuous observations about the weather. All in all, it was a most productive evening.

By the time the potion was set on the fire to brew, tempers were short and the smell in the kitchen was overwhelming. "I'm bloody surprised the stench alone, doesn't wake her up," Harry muttered darkly.

"Believe it or not, Potter, that's rather the point," muttered Snape. "For once you actually figured something out on your own without that buck-toothed, Muggle-born to…"

"Now, Severus," chided Remus, "that's rather unnecessary."

"Whatever," grumbled Snape as he decanted the foul-smelling liquid into a large, silver goblet. Handing the cup to Sirius he added, "It's all up to you now, I suppose."

"What?" asked Sirius. Frankly, he was still a tad bit disconcerted by the process - not to mention by Snape's utter lack of forthright information.

The Potions Master heaved a great, discontented sigh and glared at Sirius. "As you might recall had you been paying attention, Dumbledore mentioned that The Draught of Living Energy requires the person to smell it in order to revive. I'm certainly not going to be part of that process, so it's all up to you now."

"Of course," grinned Sirius, glad that this ordeal was coming to an end. He grabbed for the goblet, but was stopped by a firm, wrinkled hand over his wrist.

"We'll be going now," interrupted Dumbledore, who for some reason had an extremely strong grip for an old man. "Harry, Professor Snape, and I must return to the school, but I'm sure that Remus would be more than happy to stay and assist you."

Remus wiped his hands on is shabby robes and nodded enthusiastically.

"However, I must warn you," the Headmaster continued, "the affects of the The Draught of Living Energy can be quite alarming, and it often takes two people to deal with the consequences. Also, you'll need to stay on top of things and try to reach her. "

Sirius nodded.

"Here," added Dumbledore, fishing about in the pocket of his robes, "you might find this rather useful." Handing Sirius a small, tattered pamphlet, he gave a slight nod and herded a resentful Harry and seething Snape out the door.

"But I didn't even get to say good-bye," whined Harry.

"Shut-up, boy," retorted Snape. "You're lucky we let you come along at all."

Once they were gone Sirius gave Remus a weak smile and glanced down at the yellowing parchment. "The Draught of Living Energy and YOU," he read aloud, "Simple guidelines to keep safe and prevent unwanted death."

"Well, fuck."

*** ** *** ** ***

A quarter hour later, after having all-but memorized the instructions, the two wizards were ready for their task. Odiferous goblet in hand, they marched up the stairs and into Misha's bedroom.

"Dear Merlin, what is that smell?" cried the mantle clock after catching a whiff of the potion.

Remus gave the timepiece a hard stare, but Sirius just ignored it.

"It smells like an old athletic sock soaked in bat urine and buried under a chicken coop for a month before…"

"SHUT-UP," growled Sirius. "Do you want to save her or not?" And the clock fell silent.

Wincing, Sirius held the cup beneath Misha's nose as Remus pushed the sleeping girl into a (mostly) upright position on the bed. "There we go, love," take a big whiff, soothed Sirius. He held the cup closer, jiggling it gently to waft the smell.

For a moment nothing happened and then, miraculously, Misha snorted. It was a faint snort and, in fact, vaguely pig-like, but Sirius rejoiced at new turn of events. This was progress, at least. He jiggled the cup again, and she gave another snort.

"It works!" shouted Remus, moving to spontaneously hug his friend. But as he drew near, logic got the best of him and, rather than risk Sirius spilling the potion all over the bed, he gave Sirius a quick peck on the lips and then pulled back quickly. "We actually did it," he added.

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Yes, Moony," he said, "but we still have a long way to go. That bloody pamphlet said that this could take hours and that we had to keep constant contact with her."

Remus nodded and offered a tired, enthusiastic smile. Truthfully, the full moon was approaching and he was exhausted.

Suddenly, Sirius was struck with an idea. "You stay here and talk to her for a moment, please. I need to find something." Remus barely had time to nod before Sirius sprinted from the room.

Bounding down the stairs and heading for the library, Sirius passed several bewildered house elves. "She's waking, so I gotta get a book," he grunted as he shot past. The house elves smiled as if in understanding.

Once in the library, Sirius searched hurriedly through the shelves in search of a book on massage. He was relatively sure that Misha had said that Avia had published one and that that was what she'd used on him. But there was nothing to be found. Finally, he grabbed an enormous volume titled, "The Endless Joys of Magical Bodywork," and headed back up to the bedroom. By the time he reached her bed, Sirius was breathless and starting to sweat. Clutching the heavy book to his chest he gasped, "Now all I need to do is read this."

"WHAT?" asked Remus, examining the book. He paused, looking thoughtful. "Are you serious, Padfoot?"

"Of course," snapped Sirius. "She does this for me all the time. It's bloody spectacular - life changing, even. So I thought if I learned it and did the same for her, it might help reach her."

Much to Sirius' dismay, Remus laughed.

"What the fuck?" Sirius growled.

"Oh, Pads," chided Remus gently, "You don't need a book."

"I don't?"

"No, of course not. You said she does this for you all the time, right?" The werewolf's eyes glinted with amusement as Sirius scowled and nodded. "Then all you have to do is do what she does. Touch her the way she touches you. Use you kinesthetic memory, Pads; you'll be extraordinary as usual."

Shit. Sirius could not believe that he'd missed the obvious. Blushing, he reluctantly admitted that his oldest, living friend was correct as usual.

"Well, then," said Remus briskly. Rising to leave the room he added, "I'll go down and make us something to eat. I'll leave you to it, then."

Sirius pulled his friend into a fierce hug. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for staying and for believing in me and…"

"Just wake her up, love," smiled Remus as he disengaged himself from Sirius.

And Sirius was left alone with the half-sleeping form of the woman he now knew that he loved beyond measure.

Reluctantly, he removed the sundress she'd been wearing for the past few days and laid her flat on the bed. "Damn, you're beautiful," he whispered as he oiled his hands and began to caress her feet. Misha stirred slightly at the touch, making Sirius grin. It was working! She could feel him! He continued to work his hands over her body, the delicate scent of perfumed oil filling his nostrils as he caressed her skin. Sensory memory took over as he softly kneaded her muscles. This was love. This was connection. Although she never fully moved, Sirius was aware of slight changes in her breath as he moved his hands over her soft skin. He became confident that she was aware of his presence, and, for the first time in days, he was at peace.

He continued his ministrations until his hands ached and his arms could barely reach across her body. Exhausted, he simply put aside the vial of oil and lay down next to her. Her breathing remained slow and even, but somehow different – more alive and vital – and Sirius matched her breath for breath until he, too, fell asleep at her side. He never even noticed Remus pad silently into the bedroom and place a small tray of soup and wine on the bedside table.

Hours later, Sirius awoke to bright moonlight falling across the bed and the combined odors of chicken soup, lavender massage oil, and The Draught of Living Energy. Sirius blinked into the darkness and noticed Remus asleep in an overstuffed chair in the corner. The clock ticked quietly, for once fulfilling its role as time-keeper rather than dispensing unwanted advice. Across the room, slumbering on a nest of soiled laundry, lay a pile of house elves, Winter amongst them.

Sirius sat up and looked at Misha, slowly drawing a finger down the side of her cheek. "I love you," he whispered aloud.

Then, without warning, Misha sat-up and vomited spectacularly.