Chapter 36: Rearing Like a Serpent
Number 12 Grimmauld Place, as it always did, had gone back to the silence that persisted despite the gusting wind outside. Sirius was home, but he'd shut himself away in the room with his records. Hermione entertained the thought of joining him, but the closed door didn't seem an invitation.
She got up, stretched, and took a break. She'd persisted in the silence with Arithmancy processes until evening, and for her, of late, that was pretty good. With Sirius shut away, the time between now and bed looked very long. Harry was on a late watch at Blishwick's, and he wouldn't be home until he could well confirm no lights came on in the house that would indicate it was occupied. That wasn't a set time, so Hermione hadn't even his scheduled return to look forward to.
She ate a swift dinner without Sirius, then headed back up, took a hovering moment on the first floor landing before resolving herself to leave him to his memories, and climbed up to the cupboard on the third floor that held what was left of the Doxycide.
For whatever reason, Kreacher hadn't any interest in cleaning Orion Black's bedroom. Sirius, quite understandably, obviously held no great interest in entering his father's room to do it either. Unless Hermione did it, the buzzing curtains in the room would go without de-doxying. Doxies, like any infestation, would multiply and spread through a house if not dealt with – especially as Hermione didn't think they'd shut Orion's bedroom door behind them when they'd been up there the other day. So she tied a bit of cloth around her nose and mouth, grabbed a burlap sack, stuck the bottle of antidote to Doxy venom in her jeans pocket, and mounted the stairs for the fourth floor.
Hermione stepped just inside the grand room and stopped, looking around. Orion's old bedroom, huge, dark, and oppressive, gave her a shrinking sense of malevolence when she was in it alone. The mural on the ceiling seemed to weigh on the top of her head, even if it was high above her; Hermione feeling very small in the room – dwarfed seemingly by everything.
That the room itself seemed interested in doing her harm… Hermione told herself that was her imagination. If she'd known less about its dead occupant, she wouldn't find the room quite so horrible. She poked a toe at the rug, and determined Ginny's charm on it had ended. Steeling herself, Hermione headed for the first set of buzzing curtains.
The curtains were indeed full of doxies. Near a dozen flew out at Hermione at her first spray, shiny black wings whirring, four arms and four legs poised for snagging at her. She got most of them with the Doxycide, hit another with a Stunning Spell as it flew for the ceiling, and, surprising Hermione as much as the doxy, punched the last head-on as it went for her face, teeth gnashing.
Hermione collected them all into the sack, stood further back from the curtain, and, with Doxycide and her wand ready, continued on.
She had a pretty good understanding why de-doxying was done with more than one person there to achieve it. It was a battle she was waging single-handed with the colony. Collecting the latest lot of stunned doxies from the floor, Hermione considered going down and enlisting Sirius's help. She couldn't bring herself to do it, though. Sirius had had enough of his father for one lifetime. She wouldn't make him step back into the time-warp of Orion's bedroom for this.
One pair of curtains had been tackled. Hermione gave them a shake as she inspected the damp fabric, and didn't see another Doxy. She moved on, took a deep breath, and felt she was once more unto the breach. Two more pairs of curtains to go.
Hermine managed to avoid being bitten until the third and last pair of curtains. She finished with the current charging front of Doxies before hastening backwards and pulling out the bottle of antidote. Doxies left a small bite, but it stung like crazy and the skin around it on Hermione's wrist had already started to go an electric blue. Hermione put the mouth of the uncorked bottle to her arm over the bite and upended it. The poison hadn't had time to spread. She'd let the antidote soak the wound for a minute and that should do it.
She wasn't able to take a breather. The moment she'd recorked the bottle more hairy eight-limbed beasts came flying out at her from the Doxycide-soaked curtains. Hermione squeaked, dropped the bottle, and threw them all back with a Bubble Shield Spell. She regretted it over the next few minutes as she dashed around the room, Stunning and spraying every scattered doxy. She didn't think any had escaped through the open door.
Finally sure she'd cleared the curtains, Hermione sat in an armchair behind the dressing screen and inspected the bite. The blueness had gone away, the wound scabbed over. She felt a little lightheaded, though, so located the bottle of antidote and took a swig. She took a second for good measure and set the bottle on an end table with her discarded mask.
There was a large wardrobe before Hermione. She got wearily to her feet and sized it up. With an infestation such as she'd seen in the curtains, it was quite possible doxies had migrated into a cupboard… if it was still full of clothes.
Hermione eyed it for long enough to be sure it wasn't wobbling or rattling in any way she could attribute to a Boggart. Doxies she could deal with. She didn't know what she'd see if she came face to face with a Boggart. She doubted it'd be a disappointed professor now. There were more things to worry about than failing all her exams.
Swinging the wardrobe doors open, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when nothing horrible came bounding out of it. When she breathed in, though, she noticed the stink of decay.
There were robes aplenty in the wardrobe. Hermione caught up the bottle of Doxycide and gave the clothes a cautious spray. Nothing. Hermione tried again, edged forward, and shook an ornate pair of robes. No doxies, but something scuttled in her peripheral vision.
Hermione dumped the Doxycide and readied her wand. There was something hunkered behind the cane, shaped like a rearing cobra, that leant against the inside wall of the wardrobe. As Hermione edged the robes out of the way the cane tumbled around to face her, treating her to the open-mouthed face of a snake decorated with gold leaf.
Hermione hadn't seen one before, but she could recognise a Bundimun. It adorned the back of the wardrobe behind the cane, its many skinny legs appearing around a fuzzy green body easily mistaken for a patch of mossy mould. It wasn't so big yet that Hermione would expect it to have already bred more of its kind, but it had caused its damage. The rear corners of the wardrobe were darkened with damp, rotting away from the corner out. The fungus creature was oozing more enzymatic secretions that dripped down the wood. Hermione wrinkled her nose against the smell, her wand poised, as many eyes opened all along the back of the Bundimun.
It spat an acidic mixture at her that hit a pair of robes and Hermione took aim.
Scourgify! She thought and a yellow shot of light fired from her wand straight at the Bundimun. The mouldy pest scuttled out of the way and Hermione took a hurried side-step, keeping her wand on the Bundimun as it hid behind robes. She ducked into the wardrobe, accidentally nudging the cane, and shot a second Scouring Charm at it.
The cane toppled. Focused on the scuttling beast, Hermione didn't pay it any attention until a loud hiss sounded around her middle. Hermione looked down. The cane was no longer straight and still. She yelped and staggered backwards as a serpent with metallic eyes twisted tightly and rapidly around her chest – wrapping itself around her – elongating –
Hermione screamed, horrified – staring at the golden eyes, pupils slitted, as the snake reared up right before her face. She stumbled backwards as it lunged, falling against the folding screen and dropping her wand as she landed with a loud clatter, the impact knocking the breath out of her. She grabbed for the snake, ripping at its hard body – wriggling and fighting – as it tightened around her, pinning her arms to her sides –
Her fingers and nails did no good against its impervious scales. Hermione gasped for breath and screamed again – screaming louder as the snake reared back again and lunged for her face –
Hermione's eyes squeezed shut and her head flinched away. She felt the fangs sink into her neck, but she couldn't scream any more. The snake had her in a crushing grip. Hermione tried to suck in a breath but it was no good – she couldn't breathe – she couldn't think! Her ribs were bending under the serpent's strangling force, her own elbows digging into her sides – she was fighting for any small gasp of air as something warm, like a cataract past a broken dam, cascaded down her neck and into the hair at the base of her head; dripping from it.
Hermione's pulse beat desperately in her head. He neck burned hot – her lungs were crying out for air as her ribs creaked, threatening to crack under the pressure – and nothing Hermione did could stop any of it.
'Hermione!' came a shout that sounded far away through the blood pounding in her ears. 'Relashio!' the same voice cried.
The snake seemed to loosen, and Hermione gasped a breath – but it lasted no more than a second. The breath was squeezed out of Hermione in a loud shriek as she felt her ribs give way under an enormous, tightening force. The cracks had been audible. Hermione's eyes filled with hopeless tears, her face hot and pounding out a struggling heartbeat.
The voice didn't shout the spell again. Hermione forced her eyes open and saw long black hair and the glow of red light. Her head spun sickeningly, the edges of her vision filling with grey, but Hermione forced her eyes to stay open.
A hand passed into her view, behind it a face, caring with crinkled eyes but squinted with ferocious focus. The red light was coming from the palm of that strong, long-fingered hand. Hermione tried to keep her focus on familiar grey eyes as the image wished and washed – but the snake's head was being pulled back in her sights, held tightly in that hand, looking weirdly dead. She tried to scream…
The snake tugged more at her body… but hands, alight with the funny red glow, kept her waning attention… yanking at the snake's body, forcing it by brute strength back into a straight stick… the handsome face above her with compressed lips, tight jaw, and intense eyes as the brightness of the room dimmed… He didn't look happy…
And then Hermione was sucking in a huge, painful breath and she was no longer horizontal. The room spun, colours barely able to be distinguished in the whirl.
It was instinct that had Hermione pulling in deep breath after deep breath, whining with each as her chest burned with pain. Blood flowed fast and furious through her, shooting Hermione's head into a terrible ache. She tried to push up onto hands and knees but was shoved back down.
'Just – lie there!' the voice instructed brusquely. 'You're going into shock – stay there!'
Shock… Hermione's mind struggled to understand the concept. She registered dully that she was shivering, her torso shaking with it on the carpet, feeling awfully unstable; her body both hot and frighteningly cold at the same time. She recognised Sirius's face as he leant over her, wand directed at her neck. She raised a hand to her neck and felt the sharp pain in it before Sirius pulled her hand away. Hermione saw her hand rise by his head. She could recognise her fingers. Her hand moved strangely slowly. Her fingers twitched. They were white. And covered in something red that ran down her hand.
Blood! Hermione thought wildly. She tried to shoot up, but the arm braced on her chest didn't let her. There was so much of it! Too much! Hermione felt it now – dripping down her shoulder and through her hair. Like a slick, warm caress that made her stomach heave –
'I've got it!' Sirius snapped and Hermione's muscles relaxed. All of them. Her head fell back against the hard floor. It sent sparks into her gluggy vision as a gentle softness slipped through the skin of her neck. It was all right. Sirius had it.
'I think your ribs are broken,' the man over her said. 'How do they feel?'
'M' neck's okay?'
Intense grey eyes moved into Hermione's sight.
'Yes,' Sirius said assuredly. 'All cleaned up. What about your ribs?'
Hermione took a breath and whined. She gulped and sent her fingers to the sore spots.
Sirius was watching. Hermione dashed at new tears as her top was bunched up by able hands. Cool air hit her skin and she shivered. She focused on the jeans covering Sirius's legs. He was knelt beside her. His feet were bare. She'd seen him do this too many times before.
'S-sorry!' Hermione huffed breathlessly, feeling wretched. 'Sorry S-Sirius!'
She could see only the hair hanging over the side of his face. Hermione would never want him to cut it. It got in his face, but it was wonderful.
Sirius didn't answer. He was muttering a determined string of sounds. Healing – the thing he was so good at. In the room of the man who had made him learn it. Without any warning Hermione felt a sharp, burning pain shoot through her as something jolted in her chest. She cried out, her fingers digging into her eyes. A hand caught one of hers and held it tightly, and Hermione was braced for it when another rib jolted back into place.
'Sorry,' Sirius muttered. 'One more 'Mione.'
She squeezed his hand, gritting her teeth, for the next jolt. Her breath was coming in ragged gulps when, finally, Sirius pressed his fingers into her chest, tracing it; feeling her ribs. His fingers moved down to her abdomen and Hermione opened her eyes to grey ones trained on her, watching for her reaction as they pressed into her belly. He pushed his fingers under her ribcage, but there were only aching remnants of pain in Hermione's body.
'It's fine – that's not sore,' Hermione murmured, her voice raspy.
Sirius let her sit up, her top falling to cover her. His face was held in tightly contained lines. Hermione felt herself all over. She wasn't even bloody anymore, not beyond a few spots. Sirius had cleared that up too.
'Nothing,' Hermione determined. 'I feel okay.'
Except for the shivering, and Hermione didn't think that'd go away for a little while.
The cane was a few feet away, lying on the carpet and looking absurdly harmless.
Carefully, Hermione got her feet on the floor and pushed up to stand. The room swayed badly and Hermione gulped, trying not to throw up, stumbling and grabbing the back of the armchair to steady herself.
The dressing screen she'd fallen against was broken. Sirius hadn't cleaned the carpet and there was a large bloody patch on it beside the screen. Sirius picked up her wand for her. The sack containing stunned Doxies was on the other side of the cane. Hermione started toward it –
'For Merlin's sake!' Sirius shouted – Hermione, stumbling badly, was yanked back suddenly by a steel-bound arm around her middle. 'What the fuck is wrong with you!' – and Hermione's world swished into grey, her body hoisted up, slung against a shoulder she trusted wouldn't hurt her, and then she was being planted, back on her feet in the corridor outside the room.
Hermione fell against the wall and, blinking to make her eyes focus, stared up at the tall man glowering above her. She'd been pressed against this wall a couple days ago. She wasn't laughing now.
Sirius's face was as white as she'd ever seen it. He shoved her wand at her and Hermione took it.
'The… doxies,' Hermione uttered stupidly.
'The doxies,' Sirius repeated, voice cold as ice.
'And… a Bundimun… I didn't get it…'
Sirius's face contorted. Hermione knew he was furious. She wasn't scared. His anger had scared her before, but she wasn't scared now. She was worried he'd turn on his heel and she wouldn't see him for hours – days maybe… or worse.
'Take,' Sirius said, grinding out the words, 'a Blood Replenishing Potion. The whole bottle.'
Hermione gulped.
'Thank you,' she whispered. 'I'm sorry...' And Sirius snapped.
'YOU'RE SORRY?' he yelled. 'WHAT THE HELL POSSESSED YOU TO GO IN THERE? YOU KNOW – BETTER THAN ANYONE – WHAT MY FATHER WAS!'
Hermione flinched at the volume. It made her head ring.
Sirius was nowhere near finished.
'YOU STUPID – SILLY LITTLE GIRL! YOU KNOW HE HATED MUGGLES – YOU THINK MUGGLE-BORNS WERE ANY BETTER? AS FAR AS HE WAS CONCERNED, YOU COULD ALL DIE HORRIFIC DEATHS – AND HE'D JUST WATCH ON – HE FILLED THIS PLACE WITH EVERYTHING – ANYTHING TO DRIVE MUGGLES AWAY – AND YOU GO POKING AROUND IN HIS STUFF?'
Hermione sucked a tremulous breath, sliding slightly down the wall. Sirius's fury crashed away to nothing. She could see it. He sunk into a look of wide-eyed horror.
'I… wanted to take care of the Doxies,' Hermione breathed, hoarse. 'I didn't… want you to go in there…'
Sirius stood stock still for all of three seconds, then he was whirling around and Hermione slid right the way down the wall, her eyes filling with tears, as he careered down the stairs – getting as far away from her as quickly as possible.
Hermione's backside hit the floor and she doubled up, pressing her forehead against her knees as she sobbed into them. She wanted him back – needed him to come racing up the stairs again and extend an olive branch – a hand – anything.
But he didn't.
It wasn't as though Hermione didn't understand. She'd tried hard to keep him out of that blasted room! She'd wanted to protect him – but all she'd done was get him to save her.
Hermione had never felt more like a stupid little girl. Pathetic – curled in a sobbing ball in a corridor as nothing felt right around her; her heart aching in a way she'd never known it to before; feeling a horrid silence both inside her and throughout the empty house. Many floors below, the front door slammed behind Sirius.
She had known – of course she'd known! She just hadn't thought. She'd been so determined to be the brave, strong one, she hadn't paid attention –
And now she was shaking like a dangling leaf in the autumn gusts that rattled the windows, wanting desperately to be surrounded by strong arms that would hold her to a solid chest. For all she was her own woman – for all Ginny would roll her eyes at it – Hermione wanted Sirius. She needed to be held, comforted, and told… he was okay with her. The pathetic damsel in distress she was.
Disgusted with herself, Hermione sobbed harder.
Forget the tingles in her last two fingers, Hermione tingled all over. She sucked in shuddery breaths and tried to stand up. She needed a Blood Replenishing Potion, but they were downstairs. Her head swum worse than the rocking had ever been before. She caught the balustrade and hung onto it, using it as a crutch through every wobbly step she took down the stairs. She hit the bottom of the first flight and nearly burst back into tears at the three still to descend.
An image came to her, no more than wishful thinking, of Sirius running back up the stairs to help her. Hermione wanted it badly. He could lift her right up. But she couldn't rely on it.
Three more flights sobbed and wobbled through, and Hermione reached the cabinet. She fell onto a sofa in the sitting room and drained the bottle, pulling her knees up and cuddling into a cushion once it was gulped down and the potion had stained her mouth with its metallic tang. And what was left was worry about the man who'd stormed out of the house.
He could do anything. Go anywhere. Hermione couldn't find him. Would never be able to catch up with him. She'd seen him return bloody and limping one time too many. She couldn't bear seeing that again. He hadn't been wearing shoes. The wind outside gave a particularly loud gust. He hadn't been wearing overrobes or a jumper either. Just a t-shirt and jeans.
No one came home for long enough that Hermione stopped tasting metal. For her head to stop pounding. For her body to grow restless, wrapped around the insubstantial cushion. She watched the doorway with lasting hope. And, eventually, she was rewarded.
Hermione sat up as the front door opened and closed quietly. It could be Harry, but she knew it was Sirius. She called out, then sat, terrified of what she'd see.
But all she saw was a very tall man, broad-shouldered, lithe body built for fighting, stepping into the doorway with bare feet soft on the worn carpet… Jaw-length shaggy hair badly windswept and lined grey eyes looking haunted.
Hermione's lips compressed, trying to hold back tears. Sirius saw. He looked away. Hermione shifted aside on the sofa.
'Sit,' she whispered. 'Please.'
Sirius hesitated, but did come in. Slowly. And he shut the sitting room door behind him. He sat on the sofa a foot away from her with a stare directed deliberately at the front window. He'd leant forwards with his elbows on his knees, looking like he was relying on the ability to stand up from the sofa with little warning. Hermione had no idea what to do with herself. She just sat, fingers clasped together.
Hermione had never been in the sitting room before with the door shut. It seemed different. More… orange, though that was probably just the crackling fireplace.
Sirius swallowed.
'You're not…' he murmured at the window. 'What… I said…'
'A stupid,' Hermione breathed, feeling her eyes prickle, 'silly little girl…?'
Sirius's eyes shut. His head tipped and Hermione lost a tear as he buried his face in his long-fingered hands.
'I am!' Hermione hissed. 'I knew – I did! I was just trying…' she dissolved, pinching her lips and trying to breathe through a nose that felt stuffy. 'To be brave!' she whined. 'To do it all – so you wouldn't have to!'
Sirius's fingers dug into his hairline.
'I-I'm never the brave one!' Hermione cried. 'I always need help! Ask Harry! He's always h-helping me! P-pulling me out of the way of a g-giant! S-saving me! I'm u-useless! I w-wanted not to be! I knew that r-room was worse for you!'
'I'm an adult, Hermione,' Sirius muttered. 'I don't need to be protected from a room.'
Hermione turned her gaze away, crying as silently as she could into a fist pressed against her mouth.
She heard Sirius swallow.
'You should have told me what you were planning to do,' Sirius whispered and Hermione cried harder.
'Y-you h-haven't been u-up there! I g-guessed it w-wasn't easy f-for you!'
Sirius drew a long, rattling breath.
'It isn't…' Sirius sighed and Hermione felt a hand rest gently on her arm. 'It isn't,' Sirius repeated huskily. 'I'd have warned you…' Sirius trailed off, then restarted, 'I should have dealt with that room a long time ago.'
Hermione leant into his grip, clasping his hand to her arm.
'You're not… useless… silly,' Sirius whispered. He was silent for a moment, then Hermione felt herself pulled into a hug. Her cheek found his shoulder easily. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. He swallowed hard. 'I'm so sorry…'
'I w-wanted to help!'
'Merlin…' Sirius breathed. Hermione felt it rustle her hair. 'I know,' he said. 'Trust me, I know…'
Hermione turned and slung both arms around him.
'How d-did you know?' she whispered. 'I was up there?'
'… Luna's flowers ate a Doxy…'
Hermione nodded against his shoulder, but that wasn't all of it.
'You screamed,' Sirius murmured.
The rumble of his voice brought back the experience. Hermione drew a sharp breath.
'You didn't use your wand…'
She felt his chin rest on the top of her head. Sirius took a moment to answer.
'It wasn't working,' he said quietly. 'I needed both hands and the spell to get it off.'
'So you used wandless magic?'
Sirius just sighed out into Hermione's hair. Hermione shook her head, not sure how to process anything.
'Thank you Sirius!' she whispered forcefully. 'For everything – thank you!'
'Don't thank me!'
There was such heat in his hiss – Hermione gripped him harder.
'I am thankful for it!' she cried.
'You'd have died!' Sirius said. 'I'd have to live with that!'
'I wasn't just thanking you for – '
'I know!'
Sirius had grown hard, his arm leaving her. Hermione pushed up and stared at him. Sirius shoved his hair out of a ferocious face. Hermione could see his wedding band. He still wore it, like her. Her finger around her ring felt warm like it had that first night in his bed. She drew a sharp breath.
'I know you hated it!' she whispered desperately. 'I'm sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me! Ginny isn't scared of it like that! It's just me! Lavender, Susan, and Pavarti – they giggled about it! It's me – I can't do it! There's something wrong with me!'
'There's nothing wrong with you,' Sirius muttered, glaring at the closed door. 'You were just…' Hermione waited for it. Sirius took a long time to finish his sentence. 'Not ready,' he said finally.
He turned a look on Hermione as she tried hard not to return to tears.
'I think,' he said, his voice more gravelly than usual, 'you had to grow up too fast in some ways – started fighting some big evil too soon. You didn't have a chance to do all the normal things around Voldemort.'
'But I'm not the only one who's been fighting Voldemort!' Hermione cried breathlessly. 'Harry – Ron – Ginny – '
'But you're the one,' Sirius said fiercely, speaking quickly, 'who's comparing herself to everyone else! Merlin's beard, Hermione! You're looking to everyone else to figure out what you should be – rather than just being the person you grew up to be!'
Now Hermione wanted to run. She felt like a silly little girl all over again. But Sirius had her by the arm.
'You've always been the responsible one!' Sirius went on, voice low. 'The one who keeps an eye on all of them! You had to be the older one – and I don't think you were ready for that.'
The shakes were back. Hermione's muscles rattling her to the core.
'Why,' Sirius went on, and Hermione felt his voice as though it was rumbling though her, 'do you shave your pubic hair?'
Hermione's eyes squeezed shut. For a long moment she couldn't speak even if she had words. She couldn't breathe. He'd noticed! No one had ever known that about her! She gasped.
'I d-don't know,' she warbled. 'I j-just… ne-ever liked it!'
'There's nothing wrong with you,' Sirius said, voice like distant thunder. 'Just wait for someone you want – some wonderful bloke will come along – someone you want – are attracted to – and you'll be ready.'
And Hermione couldn't stop it. She gulped, but even that didn't hold the words back.
'I do want you. I a-am attracted… to you.'
Hermione grew dizzy again, waiting with baited breath. Everything felt too early – madly out of place and strange. But she meant it.
'Someone you're… more attracted to… then.'
'I don't…' Hermione breathed, 'think… that's possible.'
Sirius had stilled. Completely. Jaw very tight. Hermione didn't think he was even breathing. She watched him, her lips tingling, with wide eyes. Then she moved.
Up onto a knee on the sofa, and Sirius looked up just before Hermione's eyes shut.
Their strange new friendship had survived a lot. Hermione felt she was playing with fire, knowing it may well not survive this. But his shoulder was under her hand and she found his lips with her tingling ones.