Chapter 40: Nutty Healing

Hermione didn't need to open her eyes to know Sirius was there beside her. She fell asleep surprisingly easily beside him, and had woken up peaceful and happy, a narrow trail of hair under her fingers.

Opening her eyes treated her to a view of most of his face. He was on his back, turned only partially towards her, and already awake. He was staring up at the ceiling, his expression blank.

Hermione ran her finger along the trail of hair, up, then down.

'Either go lower,' Sirius murmured, 'or stop tickling my happy trail.'

Reluctantly, Hermione stopped, laying her hand flat on his lower belly. It sloped down towards parts unseen in a way that felt fascinatingly vulnerable to her fingers. The skin on either side of the trail was smooth and very warm, the faint feel of a vein against Hermione's index finger; a tactile, narrow dip between hard rises of muscle under her thumb. Her thumb explored. A defined six-pack couldn't be seen on Sirius's belly, but it could be felt.

'"Happy trail"?' she asked. 'Is that what it's called?'

Sirius blinked. He turned his head toward her.

'Or "treasure trail",' he offered. 'Take your pick.'

Hermione fought a grin.

'They both sound appropriate.'

Sirius's eyes crinkled a second before he lost his stoic staring and barked a deep laugh. Hermione stopped trying to suppress a smile. The sight was fantastic.

He rolled toward her and shoved his pillow until it was bunched enough that he could rest his head on it and see her with both eyes. The colour of the early morning, they smiled at Hermione.

'How'd you sleep?' Hermione asked.

'Really well.'

'That's good.'

She trailed a finger over the skin beside one of his eyes, feeling the little ridges.

'I like these,' she murmured.

Sirius's eyebrow quirked.

'My wrinkles?'

'I see them as crinkles,' Hermione whispered. 'I can barely see them until you smile, and then they crinkle up…'

The crinkles deepened again, Sirius looking amused.

'They…' Hermione whispered on, 'make you more attractive. Show… kindness. Understanding. Humour…'

The crinkles slowly flattened away, Sirius's humour dissipating. He swallowed, Hermione's eyes tracing his Adam's apple as it bobbed. She didn't like the seriousness filling back into his features.

'I think,' she said quietly, 'you're better looking now than you were in those old photos of you.'

Sirius swallowed again.

'Because… I'm older?'

Hermione shoved him. She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but when Sirius rolled back to face her, looking surprised, she shoved at his shoulder again.

Sirius rolled back a second time, caught somewhere near amusement.

'I'm…' he said, eyebrows raised, 'bigger?'

Hermione pinched her lips against a smile and shoved him a third time. Sirius came back chuckling and rolled onto his elbows above her – grinning down at her and startling a flutter of raucous butterflies inside Hermione's belly.

'You're not old!' Hermione grumbled, looking up at him.

'But I am bigger?' Sirius asked.

'Well, I can't comment on that –' Sirius had rested more of his weight down on top of her. Hermione sent her arms around his back, shifting her legs to either side of his. 'But…' She giggled, flushing. 'You are heavy.'

Sirius was watching her interestedly. He lowered even more of his body onto her.

'You like it,' he rumbled and Hermione's nether regions heated up even more. It just wasn't easy to breathe under him. He was far heavier than he looked. As though made of dense rubber and steel.

'Yes,' Hermione uttered breathlessly. 'When I can… breathe, Sirius!'

Chuckling, Sirius lifted himself off her, supporting his own weight above her. The butterflies gave a more disappointed swirl.

Hermione considered him.

'You like it too,' she whispered.

Sirius met her eyes. It hadn't been an accusation, and Sirius didn't take it as one.

'I used to be very fit,' he told her softly. 'Never needed to try to be, I just always knew I could shimmy up a Quiddich goalpost if I ever wanted to. Azkaban… sucks it out of you.'

'I know. I've seen…'

'The first few years,' Sirius went on, watching her closely, 'I'd get very restless sometimes. It's a seven foot by seven foot cell, Mione. There's no space to move – none to run. I'd try – sit ups, push ups, whatever could be done against the bars. Hated it. Hated it more that, barely the moment I'd started, I'd tire out.'

It was a taste of the answer Hermione had asked for last night. Seven feet by seven feet was barely enough for Sirius to lie down in. It wasn't as though Azkaban prisoners were ever allowed to leave their cells. Very few would even be able to. There was no yard time. Sirius's hair was hanging down on either side of his head. Hermione combed it out of the way and pulled his lips down to hers.

There was a yawned 'Meee-ew' beside them. Hermione broke away and saw a fuzzy ginger head peer between their bodies. Obviously deciding the gap between Hermione's neck and Sirius's chest was too narrow, Crookshanks chose to hop right over Sirius and sit, disgruntled by neglect, on the bed near Hermione's head.

Sirius got off of her. Manoeuvring carefully around Crookshanks, he sat against the headboard beside the cat, knees bent up.

Hermione gave Crookshanks a disgruntled look of her own.

Crookshanks blinked sweetly at her. Hermione relented.

'Good morning little smushy man,' Hermione said, scratching him behind the ears. Crookshanks's head bowed, his eyes closing. 'No, you are not forgotten.' Climbing out of the covers, Hermione wrapped herself around the cat. 'How's that?' she asked him, kissing him behind his head and scrubbing him all over with her fingers. 'Is that enough attention for you? Or…' She scooped him up and squished him a little against her. 'What about this?' she said to his furry side. 'Good enough?'

Crookshanks harrumphed – quite literally: he inflated and huffed out a large bout of air.

'He looks pretty grumpy, Hermione.'

'I'm not surprised,' Hermione said. 'He hates being picked up. But if he's going to demand attention, he's going to get smushed. He's very smushy.'

Sirius chuckled. Crookshanks, squishy, soft, substantial, and smushy as he was, had lost interest in putting up with her. He squirmed and Hermione let him down. Crookshanks stood on the bed, giving her a dirty look. Hermione scratched his head again.

Crookshanks turned away from her, took aim, and hopped onto Sirius's lap.

'Owh!' Sirius huffed, buckling – his knees pinching towards his chest as he shot his hands down. It took Hermione a second to work it out, and then she was blushing and giggling, watching Crookshanks lie down, unfazed, in the valley between Sirius's legs and belly.

'Are you…' she snickered, 'okay?'

Sirius cast her an unimpressed look. He had both hands under Crookshanks, protecting the more sensitive parts of his body.

'It never ceases to amaze me,' he muttered, 'how funny women find it when we get our knackers pounced on.'

Hermione laughed harder.

Sirius scowled at her. It didn't help sober Hermione up. He gave the cat in his lap a very serious look.

'Crookshanks, mate, we've had this discussion: mind my balls, would you?'

Sirius shook his head at her as Hermione tried to bury her laughter in a wrist.

'I'm in pain,' he complained. 'How is that funny?'

'It's not like he…' Hermione gasped, 'left any… real damage.'

'You'd better hope not,' Sirius muttered. 'Else you're out of luck.'

With some effort, Hermione pulled herself together. She nodded seriously.

'He wants you to pat him, Sirius.'

Crookshanks was purring hard, treating Sirius to very affectionate eyes. Sirius stared back at the cat.

'I realise that,' Sirius said. 'But I don't trust him.'

Hermione started giggling again.

'And, on that subject,' Sirius went on. 'You wanted help with Healing?'

That sobered Hermione up properly.

Following his second cigarette after breakfast, Sirius walked into the pantry and came out with a leg of lamb. Kreacher eyed him, then the lamb leg.

'What,' Kreacher said, 'is Master planning on doing with it?'

Sirius pulled the tea towel cover off the lamb.

'Breaking it into little bits,' he answered, 'slitting it open, and letting Hermione try to fix it.'

Kreacher looked affronted. His big, bat-like ears quivered on his head.

'That,' he croaked, disapproving, 'is not what should be done to a good leg of lamb.'

Sirius turned his gaze on the elf. It made Kreacher cower, but Hermione could see Sirius was no more than amused.

'I'll put it back together properly after,' Sirius assured him.

Kreacher didn't look convinced. He stood hesitantly beside Sirius, as though restraining himself from whipping the lamb leg out of Sirius's hands and hiding it safely away.

'It'll be good as new!' Sirius said cheerily, carrying the leg to the table. 'You won't notice anything had happened to it. I swear!'

Kreacher tried to return to doing the dishes, but the noise the platter of lamb roast made being placed on the table made him look over again.

'Okay,' Sirius said. He hadn't sat down. Leaning on one arm over the table he readied his wand. 'We'll start with a simple bone-mending spell.'

Hermione's stomach churned as Sirius flicked his wand, perfectly casually, and the bone inside the lamb broke with an audible crack. She wasn't the only one disturbed. Kreacher had dropped a plate back into the sudsy water and slapped his hands over his eyes. Hermione stared at Sirius's wedding ring, glinting gold against his skin and the wood of the table, trying to get her nausea under control.

Sirius had been watching her.

'Okay…' he said. 'What about a healing spell to knit flesh back together?'

Kreacher was out of the cooking area before Sirius could slice into the lamb. He shot Sirius an offended look before racing to the cupboard he used as a bedroom. He retrieved broom, dustpan, mop, and bucket before scurrying out of the room and up the stairs.

Hermione looked after him. When she turned eyes on Sirius she saw he was looking at the stairs too, though with more amusement.

'I –urgh…' Hermione's stomach had revolted. She slid her chair away from the table and bent over her knees to breathe through tight lips. 'Oh, I can't, Sirius! Bones being broken – ' she shuddered. 'I just can't!'

'Smell, sight, or sound?' Sirius asked.

'All three!'

Sirius watched her thoughtfully.

'The sound is done,' he said. 'Take a breather, and we'll get to it in a minute.'

A breather! Every breath Hermione took gave her the smell of raw flesh – burnt flesh – weeping wounds… She gagged, rubbing her face with forceful fingers.

Sirius fetched her a glass of cold water and set it on the table. He pulled out the next chair over and took it, watching her with appraising eyes.

'It smells awful,' he said, tone measured, 'it looks awful, and it sounds awful. But when it's someone you don't want to let die, none of that matters.'

Hermione was worried she was going to be sick on the flagstone floor, but she listened.

'It doesn't matter,' Sirius went on, 'when the person is in pain. In those moments, you're pretty bloody glad you can do something about it.'

'I know,' Hermione whined. 'I've done it… well… I've done some of…' She gulped back bile, seeing Remus's thigh muscle being slapped back into his leg; Ron's shoulder missing a Splinched piece. '…it…'

'Yeah, you have. And you do it because you care. You can do it, Hermione.'

'I do care!' Hermione grumbled. 'I know the anatomy, and I know the spells. That's what the Standard Book of Spells Grade Seven says – what Holly Heart's Home Handbook for Healing says! I know all of that, and yet I can't do it!'

'You can't learn Healing from a textbook, Hermione.'

'You can learn the theory,' Hermione argued. 'Theory is important!'

Sirius was quiet for a moment.

'Okay,' he said patiently, 'what does the textbook say?'

Hermione rubbed her face again and sat up against the backrest of the chair.

'"Healing is unique in magic",' she recited, having read it so many times she knew it off by heart, '"as it requires a sympathetic practitioner. Care for one's patient is not merely in reference to nursing back to health, it is an emotional necessity. In its most basic form – that is to say, to mend what has been damaged by physical force – one must begin with an understanding of the anatomy and physiology of the beast or being to be healed. Care must be taken to avoid the complacent belief one's own anatomy is guide enough, particularly in the intricate workings of the hands, feet, and head."'

Sirius grunted.

'This,' he said, cavalier, 'is why I didn't bother to read the textbook.'

Hermione balked, but Sirius just handed her the glass of water and suggested she sip it.

'It's accurate,' he went on, 'just not helpful. It is true: you'll never find an unsympathetic Healer unless they work solely with potions.

'Think of it as needing to have a connection with your patient. It's not essential for that to be a personal relationship, though it does help when you're trying to learn it or do something new. It's more that you have to connect with what they're experiencing. Remember your own experiences – that time you broke a bone – sprained an ankle. You don't want them to feel that, because you can at least imagine what they're going through. You need to identify with it enough to want to fix it for them.'

Hermione cast the lamb leg a sideways look and felt a resurgence of nausea. It was bent oddly in the middle. She took another sip of water.

'It…' Hermione sighed out slowly, and breathed in through her mouth. 'It does make sense – it's just…' She gestured at the lamb roast without looking at it. 'I had more sympathy for the pig we used before. It still had skin and…' she gulped, 'fur on it – but that didn't help! I only managed to knit the cuts I made in it back together a couple times – and they were a mess! Not healed well at all!'

Sirius got up. Surprised, Hermione watched him go to the liquor cabinet and pull out a bottle of single malt whiskey.

'Sirius!'

'It's for you,' Sirius said, collecting a tumbler and pouring a tot of the amber liquid into it. 'See if it helps with the nausea. And I'd suggest temporarily removing your ability to smell.'

He shut the cabinet back up and deposited the tumbler on the table before Hermione. She didn't like the smell of it much either.

Swallowing hard, Hermione put her wand to her nose and thought Anosma.

'Better?' Sirius asked, sitting back down.

'Not really,' Hermione groaned. 'Half the smells are… just memories.'

Sirius nodded to the tumbler.

'Breathe in,' he instructed, 'take a small sip, and immediately breathe out.'

Hermione cast the tumbler a dubious look.

'It'll help with the nausea?'

'Maybe,' Sirius said, shrugging. 'It'll numb something. I don't know what your response to alcohol is.'

Hermione gave it a try. She followed Sirius's instructions, but still pulled a face and shuddered. She stuck the glass back on the table. The only thing it seemed to have numbed was her tongue.

Sirius took her hands.

'Bodies are no more than a collection of intricately connected working parts,' he said seriously. 'We have a very keen ability to notice when something isn't right or a person looks ill. It's an innate human reaction to be horrified by the sight of another human mutilated into an appearance they should not be in. It's actually more confronting, on a basic level, to see that than it is to see a corpse. And a big part of that, I think, is that we are confronted by their obvious suffering.

'Use that,' Sirius said, squeezing Hermione's hands. 'Focus on that when you're Healing.'

He let go of her hands and pushed up a sleeve of his overrobes.

'I never learned to Heal on animal carcasses,' he said. 'I can see why it's done that way, but it's not very helpful. And you shouldn't be inflicting the injury yourself right before you try to Heal it. Aggressor to Healer is too dramatic a shift to have to make when you're learning.'

'Sirius…' But Hermione realised what he was about to do a second too late. She yelped and launched for his hand as he slit the side of his own forearm open with a spell from his wand.

'It's fine, Hermione,' he said, looking up at her as Hermione's fingers dug into his wand hand. 'If you mess healing it up I'll fix it.'

Hermione gaped at him. For a long moment she had no idea what to do, her mind completely empty. The cut, the width of Sirius's upper forearm, was welling up blood. She shuddered and prickled with the same horror she'd felt seeing his severed fingers.

'It's not fine!' she hissed. 'Are you insane? How could you possibly think – after yesterday! After – '

Hermione swigged a big gulp of the whiskey. She shook as it went down her throat. The glass smacked loudly on the table as she dumped it down. Her fingers curled and she felt a hint of tingles in them.

'F-for Christ's sake Sirius!' she whined, pressing her fingers into her eyes as she fell back into her seat. 'D-don't do that! That's awful! It's –' She shuddered again.

'Okay…' Sirius's voice was wary. 'Okay – look, I won't again, but give healing it a try.'

Hermione gulped. She lowered her hands and glared at him.

'It's not deep,' Sirius said, siphoning some of the blood off with a spell. 'Give it a shot. You know what it's like to have your arm cut into. It hurts. You don't like seeing your own skin split open. I'm assuming you do care about me. You don't want me experiencing it either. Use your horror to drive a desire to fix it.'

He was mad. Hermione stared at him a moment longer before sniffing a deep breath and readying her wand.

The cut was deeper than Sirius made it sound, but Episkey should still work on it. Hermione focused on the bleeding wound, Sirius repeating himself, directing her attention through what she wanted to do, what she should be thinking and feeling. No, she didn't want to see him like this. Yes, she did know what it was like. She could feel Bellatrix's knife in her own arm. Yes, she did care about him…

Hermione tried. She watched on as the wound pulled itself together, closing like a zip-lock. She ran her thumb over his skin where the cut had been. Not even a scar. Sirius lifted his arm and had a look.

'Excellent!' he said appreciatively. 'Good job!'

Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

'Oh, come on,' Sirius said lightly, 'you have to admit, my way worked.'

Hermione lifted her face enough to glare at him. Sirius tried not to grin.

'Don't ever,' Hermione breathed, fierce, 'do that again!'

'Okay,' Sirius said easily. 'Anyway, I'm not about to break my own bones, so,' he tugged the platter of lamb leg over, 'you'll have to work on this. Go quickly, before you forget how to do it.'

Despite Sirius's coaching words, Hermione's first try made the leg of lamb more wonky and she hastened away from the table to walk slowly, shaking her hands, around the room. Sirius coaxed her back, and she tried again, and again, and again.

'I can't do it!' she cried on what felt like her fiftieth attempt.

'Yeah you can. It's not easy on a bit of lamb, but if you can muster sympathising with tonight's roast, you can fix anyone's broken leg.'

Sirius let Hermione walk away, closing her eyes and covering her ears, before he put the roast back together and broke its bone again. Finished, he called her back by pulling on her top.

Hermione was on her second glass of whiskey. It had numbed a decent portion of her, and she did feel less like throwing up as she looked at the lump of flesh.

'Once you get it,' Sirius said, watching Hermione take another sip, 'you're going to have to try it sober. I don't think they'd let you down two shots beforehand in the exam.'

'I'll just tell them I need water,' Hermione muttered. 'Switch to Firewhiskey so the liquid's clear.'

Sirius snorted.

'Okay,' he said, leaning over the table beside her, 'so, it's not tonight's dinner –'

'There is no way I'm eating this tonight.'

'Excellent!' Sirius said, 'More for me! Okay, so it's not my dinner tonight, it's… a person's leg. See someone's leg. Can you do that?'

'I can see your leg.'

Sirius nodded.

'It's my leg,' he agreed. 'My leg likes not to be broken, yes? I'm yelling in pain –'

'You don't yell when you're in pain.'

'I do when my leg is breaking. It's like your sprained ankle but worse,' Sirius went on. 'You can see it's obviously deformed.'

'Urgh…'

Sirius snickered. He gave Hermione a sound look.

'Try to focus,' he said.

Hermione nodded. She looked straight at his legs. He'd ditched his overrobes at some point in the morning. Hermione could see a lot of his jean-clad legs.

He watched her amusedly.

'You know,' he said, voice deep and silky smooth, 'I'm not holding out on you. You can jump my bones any time you want.'

Harry wasn't home… He was on watch. It was very tempting. And an exhilarating thing to hear and stew on.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. This week wasn't as much a cramping torture as many had been, but it wasn't a good time all the same. She pulled her eyes from Sirius's, and paid attention to the lamb leg.

'Right,' Sirius said. 'This,' he looked deliberately at the roast, 'is my leg. It's broken. I broke it myself. Imagine that. You're horrified. You want to smack me. Get into the occasion of it.'

Hermione tried. Looking at the lamb leg wasn't helping, so she eyed Sirius. She didn't want to smack him, so instead she gave him a light shove.

'There you go,' Sirius encouraged. 'You're angry with me. I'm an idiot.'

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione pushed him again. He just swayed a little and waited for her to do it again.

'Usually,' Hermione said, 'when I'm cross with you, you react. This isn't very believable…'

Sirius was leant over the table on both hands. He nodded a little, looking thoughtful. Hermione pushed, just a little, on his shoulder –

Her arm was up, above her head a second later – and then she was facing away from Sirius, both of her wrists held behind her back in one of his hands. Hermione knew he was only using one hand, because the other was holding her tightly around the top of her chest.

'What?' she uttered stupidly. She tilted her head back against his chest and Sirius released her enough for Hermione to look up at him. He was grinning broadly. Hermione's insides tingled. 'Is that…' she said, a little breathless, 'something you learn in Auror training?'

'Mm… well,' he said, 'Mad-Eye and Bloodworth would be impressed. I'd say I remained neatly within the boundaries of "necessary force required for capture".'

'You're,' Hermione whispered, 'seriously overestimating my ability to resist if you think two arms are needed.'

Sirius let her wrists free and bent his head. His lips had just touched Hermione's when she whirled away from him and raced, giggling, for the other side of the room.

She had little more than a second to spin around and goad him before she was up against the wall, a very firm body pressing her into it. Hermione's giggles died in a heated kiss that left her groaning when Sirius released her.

'Okay,' he said, back over the table, 'now imagine I couldn't do that, right? My leg is broken.'

Effectively frustrated, Hermione could conjure some irritation with him. It didn't work the first time, but, Sirius spinning a murmured story in her ear, it did the second time. The lamb bone was right back to where it should be, and the moment Sirius pronounced it a glowing success Hermione shot both hands in the air and did a little dance.

He made her do it several times before covering the lamb back over and returning it to the pantry. Kreacher only approached the kitchen again when he saw Hermione and Sirius out of it, checking how hard it would be to remove the wallpaper in the dining room.

It was a less destructive version of their de-snaking activities, and all through inspecting mouldings, pulling at wallpaper, and testing the integrity of walls, Sirius's smile wasn't far from his face. It left Hermione feeling as though she were walking on bouncy air.

'Erm… wood,' Hermione said, floating where Sirius had Levitated her up to a cornice. She scraped away a bit more of the paint and plaster on what was left of the cornice, blew the dust out of the way, and confirmed it. 'Yes, it's wood under here. Eeeek!' Sirius had let her drop a little. It hadn't been an accident. Hermione glowered at him as, grinning, he hoisted her back up to the cornice. 'I told you not to do that!'

'Yup.'

'So don't!'

Sirius just laughed.

'Let me down!'

Hermione emitted another screech as Sirius let her fall a bit. She swiped at his arm and he let her down properly, catching her waist and grinning at her as Hermione's feet found the drawing room floor. She didn't think the levitation spell had finished with her organs yet. She was sure they were still floating.

They came down a bit more to earth when Sirius just let her go and returned his attention to the wall.

'You told me to trust you!' Hermione complained as Sirius tugged at a peeled bit of wallpaper.

'And you did,' Sirius agreed. He met Hermione's look and snickered. 'I didn't drop you, did I?'

Behind the wallpaper was paint. A dark green paint. Sirius got a lengthy strip off the wall and rubbed at it.

'Do you know anything about fixing up a house?' Hermione asked.

'Nope,' Sirius answered. 'But I've painted walls before. Painted the ones in my old flat. The previous owners had had them pink and pea green. No idea what they were thinking.'

'What colour did you paint them?'

'Bright red.'

Sirius spotted Hermione's expression and laughed.

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'They were a bit too bold, but the bloke at the shop said I'd need some kind of primer to cover that colour. I rather lost interest in changing the colour after that.'

'Well,' Hermione indicated the dark green paint, 'you'll need a few coats at least to cover that. Unless you want to paint them… dark grey or something.'

'Nah, not grey.' Sirius stepped back from the wall and considered it.

'How about,' Hermione suggested, 'a nice, airy white? Perhaps a warm shade of white. Wouldn't that be nice?'

'Mm…'

That was all Sirius said. He tramped over to the corner of the room, pointed his wand at the edge of the carpet, and it sprung up. Hermione took a look over his shoulder. The carpet was stuck down onto quite attractive dark wood floorboards.

'They'll need a bit of varnish…' Hermione said.