CHAPTER TWO – ADJUSTING
It went without saying – having spent several days in bed, Sirius was in dire need of a wash and some clean clothes. Lounging in bed feeling sorry for yourself wasn't conducive to clean living. So it came as no surprise when Regulus quickly ran out of patience with Sirius wallowing in grief and filthy sheets, and ordered Kreacher to run Sirius a bath.
'You can't carry on like this, Sirius,' he said, firmly but not overly stern to the lump under the bed covers. There was a muffled protesting grunt in reply.
'I don't care – you need to wash. Kreacher is going to run you a bath and you will get yourself cleaned up.'
Another murmur.
'Do I have to order Kreacher to bathe you himself? Or would you prefer a sponge bath?'
A few moments of silence, followed by a relenting grumble. Regulus gave him a gentle shove.
'Come on, you'll feel a lot better for it, I promise. Kreacher will bring you breakfast after you're done – you need to eat properly.'
There was no response.
Regulus crossed his arms and fixed the figure hidden under the covers a stern look in a fair imitation of their mother.
'Sirius, I'm not having you wasting any more food. Kreacher has taken the time to prepare these meals for you and you've got to eat. You won't get better otherwise.'
There was a small stirring from under the covers.
'I've got to pop out for a few hours but I'll be back in time for dinner, ok? Kreacher will make sure you have some breakfast and will keep an eye on you for me, won't you, Kreacher?'
The old elf bowed his head in humble recognition of his duty. Satisfied, Regulus nodded to the house elf at his side, then bade the lump under the bedcovers goodbye before sweeping from the room.
In the comforting darkness curled up under the covers Sirius sighed. He didn't have the energy or inclination to get up at all, but even he had to admit he was feeling extremely grotty and not just from a mental standpoint.
The past two days had been hard for both of them. Regulus had to watch his older brother struggle to come to terms with the death of their parents and the loss of his memories.
As far as they could figure out, Sirius remembered nothing at all between his eleventh birthday and the day he'd woken up. Try as he might, Sirius drew a complete blank with every question. Did he remember getting his Hogwarts letter? Did he remember getting Sorted? Did he remember his N.E.W.T results? Did he remember what he had for dinner last Sunday?
Nothing. Nothing but a strange empty, foggy feeling in his mind. It was as if the experiences and memories were never there in the first place.
Sirius had become quite distressed with every probing question Regulus had posed. Confused and miserable, he'd stayed in bed, alternating between crying, sleeping fitfully and refusing the food Kreacher brought him.
They'd always eaten meals with their parents. It felt wrong to eat without them.
Begrudgingly, however, he agreed that Regulus had a point. He wasn't going to get any better by refusing food. He just didn't have any appetite.
Sirius lay there, listening to the muffled sounds of the house elf pottering about in the bathroom, hearing the squeak of the taps and rushing water pouring into the porcelain bathtub.
It wasn't long before the slightly shuffling footsteps came back into the bedroom and stopped by the side of the bed.
'Master Sirius, your bath is ready,' said the elf, in a tone that brooked no argument.
There was a rustle of sheets as Sirius finally emerged, hair tousled and flyway. Kreacher gestured towards the bathroom with his gnarled hand.
As slowly as possible, Sirius got of the bed and walked with obvious reluctance towards the bathroom.
The elf watched his hesitant charge like a hawk, as if Sirius might suddenly slip out into the corridor to try and escape his mandated cleansing. However, Sirius's reluctance was less to do with not wanting to wash and more to do with the mirror.
He wasn't feeling quite ready to accept that he wasn't actually eleven years old anymore. This body just didn't feel like his own, as if he were operating an ungainly long-limbed puppet. So he'd just laid in bed - if he didn't have to move about in this body then he could ignore how different it felt.
He just wasn't ready to face it. It was strange enough looking at his little brother. Last time he'd laid eyes on little Reggie he'd been a scrawny, timid nine year old who dutifully practised his penmanship with his quill to show off to their latest tutor. Now, there was a young man in his place. Still a little shorter than Sirius (something he'd taken an odd feeling of comfort from – at something hadn't changed!) Regulus had filled out a bit too – still slighter than his brother but he carried himself with more confidence than Sirius had ever seen before.
But he was still Reggie. That was enough to reassure Sirius that things weren't quite as awful as he'd first thought.
Keeping his gaze straight ahead he avoided catching a glimpse of the reflections on the dressing table mirrors and made it to the bathroom door.
The elegant claw foot bath was full of hot water and bubbles. A tower of fluffy white towels sat on the nearby stand. The floor-length mirror stood in the corner, slightly fogged from the warmth of the room.
Feeling the house elf's eyes on him, Sirius pointedly closed the door behind him and stood there for a while, eyeing the mirror with trepidation as he slowly unbuttoned his pyjama shirt and unceremoniously dropped it to the floor.
Maybe I ought to, he thought. Just get it over with.
The mirror stood there, perfectly innocent looking.
Come on – just do it. You're not scared of yourself, are you?
Taking a steadying breath, Sirius found a sudden burst of courage and hurriedly stepped forward in front of the glass before he could change his mind.
A very nervous looking, dishevelled young man looked back at him, fuzzy with condensation on the glass.
Starting to shake a little, Sirius forced himself to stay put and look.
That's … me … that's really me …
He reached forward, and after a moments hesitation, wiped the glass clear and stood back to take a proper look at himself.
He was tall, maybe six foot or so, it was hard to tell exactly. Gone was the puppy fat of his childhood face – he had a strong jawline with a few days' worth of stubble. Sirius put a hand to his chin, curious at the feel of it.
His body was toned and muscular, though still slender in build. He looked a great deal like his father in his early twenties – he'd often been told of the strong resemblance. Grief stabbed at his heart anew at the thought. He was never going to see his father again …
Blinking back the tears, Sirius sniffed and gave his face a firm rub. Try not to think about it … just take one thing at a time …
Once he'd got a grip on his emotions, Sirius turned his attention back to the mirror once more, trying to ignore how puffy his grey eyes looked now, focusing instead on his hair which was surprising long, a little past his shoulders; shaggy, greasy and flyaway at the moment.
Definitely in need of a wash, Sirius thought as he ran a hand through the tangles. As he did so, a mark on the inside of his wrist caught his eye in the mirror.
Turning his left arm, he saw a small semi-circular shape on the inside of his wrist, about an inch below his palm. A tentative rub proved it wasn't dirt. It was … was that a tattoo?
Sirius gaped at it, multiple questions immediately jumping into his head.
When had he got a tattoo? Why had he got a tattoo? Did he have any more?
A quick inspection of his arms and torso revealed nothing. Turning his back to the mirror, Sirius tried to look over his shoulder to inspect his back. He hissed in pain as he twisted. A bolt of pain shot through his neck and down his side, almost knocking himself off balance. Grabbing the edge of the bath to steady himself, Sirius took a few steadying breaths, then slowly, carefully, turned to look again.
There was no more tattoos that he could see. What was visible however was an angry splodge of purple just above his hip that disappeared below his pyjama waistband. Brow furrowed, Sirius touched it gently. His leg had been feeling pretty sore but he hadn't considered it might be bruised. Carefully, he removed the rest of his pyjamas to get a better look.
There was a massive bruise all the way down the side of his left leg. An impressive spread of dark purple, tinged with yellow-green around the edges. Sirius winced at the sight of it. That must have been a pretty nasty fall. No wonder it had been feeling sore!
Regulus did say I'd had an accident, he mused. I really ought to ask him about what actually happened.
The bruise wasn't the only mark, he noticed. Some scuffs and scrapes, most likely from the accident, and a handful of small, faint scars here and there.
He traced the scars lightly with his fingertips, wondering what might have caused them. They didn't look new.
Mother could heal most things with ease, so it was odd that they hadn't been dealt with.
Must have happened after – Sirius shook his head, not wanting to follow that train of thought right now – don't - focus on something else.
His body appeared to offer no further clues about himself, other than really needing the bath that was waiting for him.
Giving up the investigation for now, Sirius carefully climbed in and slowly sunk down into the soapy water. It was comfortably hot, scented with bergamot.
After laying there relaxing for a while, Sirius lifted his arm again to closer inspect the tattoo.
It wasn't quite the semi-circle shape that he'd first thought it was. It was oddly shaped, about half an inch across, it was perfectly rounded on the right, but rather than a flat left edge, it was bowed outwards slightly. With a thin black outline, the inside was a peculiar array of splodged shades of greys. It didn't seem like a distinct pattern.
Again, Sirius ran his thumb over it, wondering. It seemed like a pretty strange choice of tattoo. It didn't evoke any particular thoughts or jog his memory, much to his disappointment.
What in Merlin's name was it? Maybe Reg would know? Resolving to ask about it later, Sirius grabbed a nearby bottle of shampoo.
After giving his scalp a thorough scrub and rinse, he coated his hair with a thick, creamy conditioner, and then got to work scrubbing his body clean.
The mundanity of the task was a good distraction, working methodically from head to toes, trying not to let himself feel too unsettled by his new longer limbs. By the time he'd scrubbed his skin clean as he could and rinsed the last of the conditioner out, he'd been in the bathroom for over an hour. Thankfully the tub had been charmed to hold the water temperature steady so it was still comfortably warm.
Tempting though it was to stay relaxing in the water for the rest of the day, Sirius decided he'd probably spent long enough in the bath. Kreacher would probably come drag him out if he stayed in too long.
Grabbing some of the fluffy towels, Sirius clambered out. Wrapping one around his waist and giving his hair a quick, rough go over with another towel, he gave the floor-length mirror a sidelong look. Feeling somewhat braver this time, Sirius stepped forward and looked at himself again.
The shock of his appearance had waned somewhat. It seemed less unsettling. Slightly. He didn't look half bad, he decided after some consideration. A little more human certainly. Feeling more awake and alert now, Sirius pondered what to do next.
Maybe he and Regulus could have a proper talk about Hogwarts when he got back? Maybe try to jog a few memories?
As he stepped back into the bedroom it was clear that Kreacher had been busy. The bed had been made up with a fresh set of linen, the window was ajar for some fresh air, and laid out on the end of the bed was a fresh, folded set of silvery blue pyjamas.
In spite of not feeling tired, Sirius took the hint obediently, pulling on the pyjamas and climbing into the freshly made up bed. The clean linen felt so good as he snuggled down. The light scent of lavender on the pillows, the clean smooth feel of the sheets – he felt perfectly relaxed.
No sooner had he got himself settled that the bedroom door opened and Kreacher came shuffling in, carrying a laden breakfast tray, the scent of which prompted an immediate growl of hunger from Sirius's stomach. For the first time since waking up he actually felt hungry.
A large bowl of hot porridge with a very generous dollop of honey (a lot more than Mother would ever have permitted) and a sprinkling of cinnamon. A plate of thick buttered wholemeal toast and a dish of strawberry jam. A tall glass of chilled apple juice.
Salivating like a starving man, Sirius grabbed a spoon and tucked in. He let out an involuntary moan of pleasure – the sweetness was spot on, the temperature was high but at a perfect edible level, and right now it just felt like the best thing he'd ever eaten.
Kreacher busied himself straightening the bed covers, clearly keeping a close eye. He needn't have worried – Sirius ate every bite without complaint. As soon as he had mopped up the last bit of honey with the toast Kreacher held out a faintly steaming goblet.
Sirius took the proffered goblet and took a sip.
'Master Sirius should sleep now,' said Kreacher, tidying the tray.
'Oh, come on, Kreach, I'm not even tired,' Sirius protested, just as huge yawn escaped him. Kreacher deftly took the goblet from him before he lost his grip on it. Sirius blinked hard. Why on earth was he so tired all of a sudden? He'd hoped to spend a bit of time out of bed today …
Slumping back against the pillows, his eyelids felt so heavy it was all he could do to keep them open long enough to see Kreacher gather up the breakfast tray and hear him murmur, 'Master Sirius will sleep. Master needs his rest to get well again.'
Next moment, Sirius's eyes were closed and he fell unconscious.
It was hours later that Sirius came round again. Judging by the fading light it was late afternoon. He rubbed his eyes roughly. Damn it, the day was practically over and he hadn't got up.
Kreacher had clearly done the rounds. Everything was straightened, the window now closed against the cooler air, and the bathroom had been dried and tidied. The jug of water had been refreshed and a clean goblet set out for him.
Sirius sat up and listened. Other than the light wind and the faint sounds of London outside the window, the house seemed quiet.
He tugged at his left sleeve and peered at the tattoo again. Who'd have thought that the heir to the House of Black would do something as horribly common as to get a tattoo? Sirius frowned. Not long ago (to him anyway) Mother had had a jolly good rant about what a horrible practice it was, having seen such common folk in Regents Park on one of their afternoon walks earlier that summer.
A pair of Muggle men had been spotted lounging on a park bench by Regulus and Sirius, their peculiar short sleeved clothes showing off all manner of colourful designs all over their arms. The boys had naturally been curious and Sirius had piped up with questions for their mother, but her agitated disapproval brooked no discussion on the matter, only to chivvy her offspring away as expeditiously as possible whilst remaining suitably dignified.
Maybe he'd done it in secret – Merlin knew his parents probably would have been absolutely livid if they had found out. Something told him that he'd kept this quiet from them – that was assuming he'd even had it done before either of them –
A coldness gripped his chest.
No, try not to think like that.
Without a clock in the room to tell the time Sirius was at a loss as to how long it might be before Regulus returned or for Kreacher to bring him his dinner.
He was just pondering about summoning the elf when there was a sharp rap on the door.
Practically on cue, the old elf came shuffling into the room, floating a covered tray beside him, and with Regulus behind him.
'Ah, Sirius, you're awake at last!' Regulus swept into the room and sat himself on the edge of the bed. 'How are you feeling?'
'Better, much better after that bath,' conceded Sirius, as the elf bustled between them both, setting down the dinner tray and arranging the cutlery.
'You look a lot better. Smell a lot better too,' Regulus said with a mock snooty sniff.
'Still more handsome than you,' Sirius ran a hand through his clean locks. Merlin he did feel a lot better.
'Well, you took more than your share obviously – so I got all the brains left over.'
'You wish.'
There was a slight pause before they both started snorting with childish humour.
It felt nice, just making silly little jokes and sniggering like little kids, Sirius thought. It felt normal.
Kreacher lifted the silver dome off the tray. Immediately there was a heavenly scent of chicken soup and bread. A bowl full of pale broth, teeming with generous chunks of chicken and vegetables, and a freshly baked crusty bread roll.
Breakfast might as well as not happened for all Sirius's stomach was concerned. He felt ravenous.
'Sorry it's not our usual fancy fare,' said Regulus as his brother eagerly grabbed a spoon. 'It's probably best that you don't upset your stomach with anything too heavy for the time being.'
Only half listening, Sirius tucked in. Kreacher had not skimped on the ingredients that was for sure. The vegetables were soft and tender, the meat just fall apart in your mouth tender. Kreacher's cooking clearly hadn't slipped over the years. That thought was almost as comforting as the food itself.
Regulus sat in silence for a few minutes, watching him eat.
'Good?'
'Hmm, very!' With a small smile, Regulus held out a napkin and indicated his brother ought to wipe the dribbled soup off his chin. 'Still with the table manners of child I see.'
'Hey, I was eleven a couple of days ago,' protested Sirius, trying for a jokey smile.
'You'll be twenty-one in a few months.'
That was a sobering thought. He'd been so excited about turning eleven … it was hard to feel excited about turning twenty-one so soon.
'That's really weird, you know that? I still feel like I'm dreaming and going to wake up any minute.'
Regulus gave him a sad smile.
'It'll be alright, I'm sure. You'll get used to everything again. I'll help you. We can talk about some of it tomorrow, if you'd like?'
With a mouthful of bread, Sirius had to settle for nodding eagerly. The prospect to having to re-learn his life was daunting, but the thought of learning about Hogwarts was certainly something to look forward to.
'Your medication has arrived by the way,' Regulus reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a potion vial and held it out. The potion was beautiful shade of dark purple. 'You need to take it every night before bed. It'll help heal your mind.'
Sirius took the vial.
'Reg,' he said, turning it over in his hands, 'can you tell me how I got hurt? How did I end up like this?'
Regulus seemed hesitant.
'We can talk about it tomorrow –'
'Please?
Those pale grey puppy-dog eyes pleaded in earnest. After a few moments, Regulus let out a relenting sigh.
'Alright, if you must know right now … we were in a fight.'
Sirius dropped the vial in shock.
'A fight?'
He was dumbstruck. The very idea was both distasteful and exciting at the same time. Sirius could almost hear their mother now telling them off for the playful scuffles they'd often had in the nursery; that fights were beneath their dignity as Blacks. The idea that they had been in a real fight was quite tantalising.
'We were ambushed,' said Regulus, nodding grimly. 'We were out for a walk one evening, minding our own business when some masked wizards attached us. We were out-numbered, but we held our own,' he added, with dignified sniff.
Subconsciously, Sirius mirrored this. Of course they had.
'Then one of our enemies managed to get off a particularly nasty curse …. It was aimed at me … you leapt between me and the curse.' Sirius was hanging onto every word, eyes wide, 'You couldn't deflect it fully – it caught you in the side of your head and you fell off the edge of the roof. Scared the life out of me – I thought you might have …'
Regulus trailed off, unable to say it.
'But you were ok! Merlin knows how, but you didn't actually break your neck like I feared you had. I managed to get to you before they did and used a Portkey to get us to safety.'
'Wow,' said Sirius, softly.
An unexpected ambush, a gallant duel, an act of supreme heroics on his part, and a daring escape! Suddenly the bruising was feeling more like a badge of honour than just a nasty injury. He'd saved his brother's life, and in turn, Reg had saved him. What an adventure! He was almost wriggling with excitement.
'I brought you back to Grimmauld Place and you were unconscious for two days. I was so relieved when you woke up, but clearly that curse has damaged your memories. The good news is that it definitely wasn't a Memory Charm that hit you, so your memories haven't been Obliviated.'
Immense relief flooded Sirius. His memories weren't lost forever? He'd been scared to think …
'Unfortunately, because we're not sure what exactly hit you and what's causing the memory loss, it's hard to say how long this might last,' continued Regulus. 'The healer that came to see you said you need plenty of rest and to take this potion daily. Hopefully, given time, you'll start to remember things.'
Sirius nodded, pleased at the news. He would get better. His memories would come back and they could put this behind them.
In the meantime, Reg would just have to fill in the blanks.
'Who were they? The wizards that attacked us – why did they do it? You said they were our enemies?'
Regulus held up a hand to stem the flow of questions.
'How about I explain another time? It's getting late and you need your rest.'
'But –'
'Remember what the healer said?'
Sirius sighed in surrender.
'Rest and potion.'
'Rest and potion,' echoed Reg, nodding in satisfaction. He gestured to the vial Sirius had dropped into his lap.
With a show of mock reluctance, Sirius pulled the cork with a sharp tug. The cork came out along with a light scent of lavender and liquorice. In an effort to get it over with, Sirius threw his head back and downed it. It was quite thick. It tasted very bitter and peppery much to Sirius's obvious distaste.
'Horrible?' Regulus was trying not to laugh at the disgusted expression Sirius was pulling.
'It's no pumpkin juice,' said Sirius, handing back the empty vial. He settled back on the pillows, resigned to yet more sleep.
'Need me to tuck you in?' said Reg with a bit of a teasing smirk, then leaned back to avoid the playful backhand aimed at his head.
Sirius laid back against the pillows and pulled the covers up as Regulus got up off the bed. Seeing that Sirius's eyes were already drooping, Regulus bade him goodnight and made for the door, turning down the gaslights with a lazy wave of his wand.
'Reg?'
Regulus paused and looked back over his shoulder, his expression questioning.
'Thank you,' said Sirius, yawning. 'For saving me.'
Regulus smiled.
'You're very welcome.'
He left, closing the door gently behind him.
Sirius closed his eyes and snuggled down into the covers, thinking of daring fight they'd had together.
Just as he was drifting off, it occurred to him that in all the excitement, he'd completely forgotten to ask about the tattoo.