Chapter Twenty-Nine
I came to at night in a small dark room and, before a thought could enter my mind, I was screaming. I thrashed, kicked the blankets off, fell off the bed. The door opened and I cut off my screaming, though my breathing remained frantic and hurried. The light switched on.
"Hazel! Hazel, it's alright!"
It was Sirius. He hurried over, wrapping me in his arms, and the confinement set me off. I pushed against him, fought to get away, and he let go immediately as I struggled across the floor and sat.
"Don't take it personally," came another voice. I looked up in shock to see Dumbledore in the doorway. "She's been traumatized. I think it best that you give me a moment alone with her."
Dumbledore. The part of my brain that had been set off by Sirius was soothed; Dumbledore meant safety. Some part of me that clung to my childhood, to a time before the ordeal I'd just experienced, recognized Dumbledore as authority- and that meant order, and order meant a lack of chaos. As long as he was here, what I had been through couldn't be repeated.
Sirius glanced hopelessly between me and Dumbledore. The headmaster nodded at him. "I've helped those in similar situations, Sirius. I ask that you trust me with this."
With one last desperate glance at me, Sirius turned and walked out. Dumbledore came in and started to close the door, then saw the frenzied panic that entered my expression, and left it cracked. He sat in a chair.
"If you prefer, you may stay in your corner, or sit on the bed."
I had recognized the room as the one where I stayed in the Potters' house, but that felt like a lifetime ago. I didn't reply, and instead stayed where I was sitting. My brain was still wired for self-defense, for survival; I had no idea how to speak or communicate anything beyond staying put. Part of me wasn't used to being able to move freely.
"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Can you speak at all?"
My heartbeat increased and I breathed, "I- a little."
He nodded. "Miss Drummond, I need to know exactly what happened. Can I get a record of your memories to put in a pensieve?"
He delved into his robe pockets and withdrew a small pensieve. He touched his wand to it and it filled with liquid. He looked up at me. "Oh; you don't have your wand, do you?"
I shook my head, and he passed me his. It was knobby and felt strange in my hand; I shivered as my mind flashed back to all the wands that had been pointed at me. With a concentrated force of will, I placed the wand-tip to my temple. Dumbledore needs to know. He can help.
I pulled the wand from my temple slowly, focusing on the memories I didn't want to think about. Most of it was an incomprehensible blur of pain and suffering. Some of it was more notable. I placed the extensive string of memory in the pensieve, and then sat back as Dumbledore played witness to it. Once he finally finished, he met my eyes.
"You've been through a great deal, but I will let your friends comfort you." His eyes were as concentrated and resilient as ever. "Take whatever time you may need to recover. The Order can wait." He glanced at the window. "It's May 15th, Hazel; you've been captive for three months. We'll make sure Elias Harley is pardoned of any crimes when the time comes that he is captured. As for you, as you rested we had your wounds mostly healed; some will take time, Hazel, and you must give them that. Stay in here as long as you like, or wander around the house or yard, though I must ask you not go far- for your own safety. I will make sure no one speaks to you until you're ready to speak. Not speaking after an ordeal like that is very normal. The response you're having to this is normal, Hazel."
He said my first name more times in that speech than perhaps ever before; I had always been 'Miss Drummond.' Yet being called Hazel rather than half-blood bitch or worse was a refreshing change, and soothed some part of my heart. I just nodded at Dumbledore and he rose to his feet, starting toward the door.
"Dumbledore?"
My voice was barely audible but he still heard it. He paused at the door. "Yes, Hazel?"
"Thank you."
He nodded once and stepped out, leaving the door cracked behind him. I took stock: I had been changed into a pair of green plaid pajama pants (I distantly recognized as Sirius's) and a black tank top which could have been mine; all of my open wounds and gashes were closed with all infection removed; I still wasn't hydrated but I was more so; and emotionally, I had been better, but at my core I remained unbroken.
I sat for a few hours in that corner, reflecting on all that had happened. Hazel was coming back; I had shut her out as soon as I'd realized where I was, kept her out of the fighting to protect her. As I came back to myself and realized what I had been through, it was like feeling the wounds all over again. Part of me wanted to scream, to unleash all the pain and fear. By the third month, when Regulus tortured me, his eyes had been blank. They had broken him- but never me. And I didn't regret that. I had wanted him to live, had wanted Narcissa to live, had wanted Harley to live. All three had put me through unbearable pain, but in the end, Harley had risked his own life to save mine. I had seen the fear on Regulus's face, on Narcissa's- Harley had simply been the only one close enough to act.
Eventually, it was my stomach that drew me out of the room. Though I didn't feel like I'd be able to eat, I knew I needed to, and the thought of Euphemia's cooking had my stomach screaming at me. I'd had enough screaming and gnawing hunger to last me the rest of my life; I wanted food and I wanted peace. I could have both if I went downstairs.
I paused outside the doorway. Leaving the room felt like leaving my solitude behind. But I recognized then that my comrades, my beloved friends, would understand if I needed more time alone and would grant that without pause.
And my heart longed deeply- deeply- for Sirius.
All I had wanted for months was to see him one more time, and now when I had, I had freaked out. Briefly, a pang of guilt stabbed me for that; I knew how it must have killed him for me to react to him like that. I would have to explain later, but, right now, I just wanted his presence.
I reached the bottom of the stairs to see James and Lily sitting on the loveseat, Remus on the couch with my mother and Yumi, Pandora and Xeno sitting on the floor by the coffee table, and, finally, in an arm-chair, Sirius. My eyes met his and shone with tears. They all looked at me; James was the only one who dared to smile.
I wanted to call Sirius's name. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't find the words. I walked up to him, the living room a blur, my strides quick on unsteady legs, and took his hand in mine. He stood immediately, apprehension obvious in his eyes, and I led him into the kitchen. On the counter food waited- rotisserie chicken and vegetables- and I sat Sirius at a bar-stool and fixed myself a plate. Halfway through, my hand started shaking, and I dropped the fork. I could feel his eyes on me, could distantly hear the others talking quietly in the living room. I felt rude for not embracing them all immediately; they had been all I thought about in that horrible torturous room.
The fork fell from my fingers with a clang and I started to tremble, and then quickly crossed around the corner of the counter. Sirius dropped to his feet from the chair and I pulled him to me, placing myself as close to him as possible and leaning into him. The smell of pine and rain hit me like a tidal wave and all my love for him swelled in my chest. He gingerly placed his arms around me and I clung tighter.
Finally, he leaned into the hug, tightening his grip slightly. "Oh, Hazel; I was so afraid I had lost you."
"I love you," I whispered. "I love you so much."
He breathed like it was the first breath of life to grace his lungs, entirely relief, and whispered back, "I love you, too."
It seemed somewhat inappropriate that I had run immediately to my romantic love when my mother sat in the other room, no doubt twice as anxious as anyone else in there, but right then, I had needed Sirius. I pulled back from the hug and looked up, meeting his eyes.
"I can't talk yet," I whispered. "Soon, but not yet. It's too hard right now."
He held my hands in his and looked closely at me. "I understand. Take all the time you need, love."
Love. Hearing his voice, his soothing words and calming pet names, quieted some frothing part of me that had ceaselessly panicked for months now. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of his hands in mine. I loved him; oh, God, I loved him, and nothing would ever change that. I leaned my head into his chest and he idly rubbed my back as I placed a hand on his stomach. I just needed to feel him there. To know I wasn't alone. Everything else could come later.
All I needed then was Sirius Black.
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A/N: Yay, recovery! You know that joyous moment when you do something and your S/O flinches away? Makes you feel like utter dog-shit. But thankfully, Sirius doesn't push; after that first moment, he just lets her come to him when she's ready. Because Sirius is fantastic, and luckily, Hazel recognizes that. (I just rewatched the series and I'm still not over Sirius's death or how pure Luna Lovegood is).
Anyway, hope you enjoyed; don't forget to review!
