Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty-nine - of blood
Remus drew a sharp breath, staggering violently. He caught the wall of the empty hall reflexively, barely catching himself from falling.
And then, as abruptly as it came, it was gone.
Remus stood haltingly, eyes darting through the darkened hallway in panicked confusion. His ribs were unhurt and undamaged, the air pleasantly cool in his throat. All of the previous stab of agony felt like a wisp of some distant imagination.
Remus frowned, oddly uneasy.
Something happened…
He reached for his wand in his cloak pocket. He and Dumbledore had cast the wards protecting Sirius' room, and if any were damaged, he would receive signs of it immediately. He knew that odd flash of pain wasn't the warnings of protection wards shattering, but he couldn't help but feel suspicious. He lifted the polished wood into the dimming evening sun, and froze.
The tip was glowing red.
Without another thought, Remus spun around, heading for the nearest shortcut to Dumbledore's office. He tapped at a dusty painting, squeezing behind it as it slowly cracked open, and blindly ran down the rocky stairs. He tore through the narrow passageway, running into stray cobwebs and centuries worth of dust.
That sharp pain was a warning? How could that be possible? Perhaps it was his heightened senses that magnified it, but even then, whatever triggered it must have caused severe damage to generate a backlash that strong.
He couldn't even begin to imagine what happened. Could the ministry arrived unannounced, and somehow broke their way into Sirius' hiding place? Could they have executed him without a trial? He had just rediscovered his friend, and he couldn't lose him again. He couldn't…
Remus threw the password at the gargoyle haltingly before dashing up the stairs two at a time. He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the headmaster's office.
The magic was so thick it was suffocating, permeating the air in waves and drawing its icy fingers through his flesh. Remus reeled back, coughing. But the office was the same by all appearances, papers disorganized and meticulous at the same time; only the phoenix was missing from its perch.
"Sirius?" Remus called urgently, rushing to the familiar portrait with a sinking dread.
The oil painting of the stern peddler was missing from the frame; the entire picture hung on one side as if something had tore and ripped it away. He squeezed inside through the narrow crack, eyes scanning the room worriedly.
And stilled.
The acidic scent of blood struck him in a wave of solid ice, so acute that Remus could almost taste the bitter sweetness on his tongue. It was almost as if Dumbledore's vermilion room was dyed with blood.
He took a tentative step forward, eyes darting through the room agitatedly. The floor was glossy and fluidic under his feet, like…
Blood.
His breath hitched in his throat, Remus glanced down. A scarred face stared up at him, beady eyes wide and unseeing with a sort of horror as he laid on his back at the foot of the door. Blood streaked his face in long, raw gashes, soaking the entire length of his worn robes. Remus stumbled back, catching the wall, stunned.
Pettigrew…
Remus gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of anger more potent than he ever felt before. He didn't know how the traitor came to be there, and he didn't care. Right then, if it wasn't for the concern for his only friend preoccupying him, he would have kicked and stomped on the body by the doorway.
Reality returned to him abruptly like a ton of bricks.
"Sirius!!" Remus called out, with hints of panic leaking into his tone. "Where…?"
A warm presence tickled the side of his face. Remus distantly registered Dumbledore's phoenix settling on his shoulder, singing a mournful thrill before spreading its fiery wings again. He flew as if guiding him, circling a shadowy form once to land gracefully on the four poster.
Remus took several cautious step forward, squinting to see in the dimly lit room. A patch of black hair caught his eye.
"Sirius…?" Remus breathed, throat constricting painfully.
Sirius was twisted in an awkward position the ground, caught between kneeling and leaning. He hutched over himself, arms wrapped firmly around a form as if defensively protecting something in his possession. When Remus touched his shoulder tentatively, Sirius all but collapsed, falling stiffly to one side. His eyes were closed, expression frozen in grimace of pain and defeat. His arm fell to one side, revealing a thick patch of blood that seeped into his white shirt.
"No…" Remus choked out, pressing his fingers against the wound in a desperate action to staunch the flow.
This wasn't suppose to happen. Not when he finally learned the truth, not when they finally had a chance…
With an unsteady hand, he reached up to search for a pulse, but his arm shook so violently that it only smeared the blood.
No, please… don't die. He'd gone too far to lose it all again!
There was a raspy gasp.
A violent tremor wracked Sirius' thin frame, before he fell still again. His head fell to one side, and a stream of blood colored his chin.
Remus caught his breath, carefully easing his friend to his uninjured side. Sirius' body tensed, and choked, drowning coughs ripped from his throat. Thick, murky fluid flowed from his mouth in handfuls before Sirius drew a weak, shuddering breath.
Oh god…
"Sirius, hold on, just hold on," Remus whispered, tone almost pleading. He groped for his wand, leaving patches of red across his robes. He needed to send for help, they both needed help…
He ripped at his tattered cloak, pressing the helm against the pulsing wound. The fluid was warm and sticky on his hands, but Remus forced his hand to be steady. But Sirius was losing too much blood too quickly; judging from the deep intrusion, it must have caused internal damage as well. He was dying.
A patch of wild black hair caught his eye. Carefully, Remus pried away Sirius' stiff hand with difficulty. The slight form of Harry, slipped lifelessly from the crook of his arm, slumping indolently against Remus' shoulder. His head lolled back, a splatter of brilliant red across his neck.
Blood was running in streams across Harry's face, neck, shirt, staining his too pale skin crimson.
Remus could feel the color draining from his face, his stomach churning violently.
"No…"
A jagged gash was carved into the child's neck, thick and swelling. Trembling, Remus pressed an edge of his cloak against the wound, the cloth already soaked with Sirius' blood.
"No, no, no… Harry?" Remus choked out, dabbing at the blood on Harry's face. He was silent, so pale that Remus could see the blue veins on his neck. As he brushed against the child's cheek gently, his head fell flaccidly to one side.
No, please not Harry too! They're all he had left… no…
Lightly, he rested his head against the child's chest, holding his breath. But his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that it drowned out all other sounds.
His throat constricted so tightly that it hurt to even breathe. The air was heavy with the bitter tang of blood. And the only two people he had left in were lying, limp and lifeless on the vermilion rugs. Remus dug his nails into the flesh of his palm, desperately wondering if everything was just a terrible nightmare.
*
Oh, grr… I'm pissed now. WS lost 23 reviews when ffNET died on June 14, so much for their announcement on losing no data. CD lost 1, but that doesn't matter. But 23?!?! Urg! crud…
Eh? Kaydee, you ok? What's wrong? Umm… allergies? Moodswings? *offers tissues* Oh! You have a dog too! What's he like? Big, black, and fluffy? *grins*
Sorry about that rather unforunate joke on the last chapter! I tried to make it up in PoM, but I took that one down. It's going to make a come back really soon. This chapter's short, I know! But I will start combining chapters later on to make up for the lost time. PoM may go on a rather prolonged hiatus after chapter 10 so I can work on WS' sequel, because PoM really isn't agreeing with me. Urg... it's a really hard story to escalate, but I'll figure something about.
humm... about the gash on Harry's neck; it's really dangerous. Most people who get their neck slit doesn't die from choking, but rather blood loss. There are 2 main arteries that go to your brain (that's why we take our pulse at your neck. It pulses with your heart), and if you puncture it, you're basically going to go comatose The brain needs a lot of oxygen to function, and when those cells die, the person's as good as dead. That doesn't make Harry's situation look to bright, does it?
Short author's note, i know! But this headache has been stuck with me since yesterday and its... urgggggggg!!
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty-nine - of blood
Remus drew a sharp breath, staggering violently. He caught the wall of the empty hall reflexively, barely catching himself from falling.
And then, as abruptly as it came, it was gone.
Remus stood haltingly, eyes darting through the darkened hallway in panicked confusion. His ribs were unhurt and undamaged, the air pleasantly cool in his throat. All of the previous stab of agony felt like a wisp of some distant imagination.
Remus frowned, oddly uneasy.
Something happened…
He reached for his wand in his cloak pocket. He and Dumbledore had cast the wards protecting Sirius' room, and if any were damaged, he would receive signs of it immediately. He knew that odd flash of pain wasn't the warnings of protection wards shattering, but he couldn't help but feel suspicious. He lifted the polished wood into the dimming evening sun, and froze.
The tip was glowing red.
Without another thought, Remus spun around, heading for the nearest shortcut to Dumbledore's office. He tapped at a dusty painting, squeezing behind it as it slowly cracked open, and blindly ran down the rocky stairs. He tore through the narrow passageway, running into stray cobwebs and centuries worth of dust.
That sharp pain was a warning? How could that be possible? Perhaps it was his heightened senses that magnified it, but even then, whatever triggered it must have caused severe damage to generate a backlash that strong.
He couldn't even begin to imagine what happened. Could the ministry arrived unannounced, and somehow broke their way into Sirius' hiding place? Could they have executed him without a trial? He had just rediscovered his friend, and he couldn't lose him again. He couldn't…
Remus threw the password at the gargoyle haltingly before dashing up the stairs two at a time. He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the headmaster's office.
The magic was so thick it was suffocating, permeating the air in waves and drawing its icy fingers through his flesh. Remus reeled back, coughing. But the office was the same by all appearances, papers disorganized and meticulous at the same time; only the phoenix was missing from its perch.
"Sirius?" Remus called urgently, rushing to the familiar portrait with a sinking dread.
The oil painting of the stern peddler was missing from the frame; the entire picture hung on one side as if something had tore and ripped it away. He squeezed inside through the narrow crack, eyes scanning the room worriedly.
And stilled.
The acidic scent of blood struck him in a wave of solid ice, so acute that Remus could almost taste the bitter sweetness on his tongue. It was almost as if Dumbledore's vermilion room was dyed with blood.
He took a tentative step forward, eyes darting through the room agitatedly. The floor was glossy and fluidic under his feet, like…
Blood.
His breath hitched in his throat, Remus glanced down. A scarred face stared up at him, beady eyes wide and unseeing with a sort of horror as he laid on his back at the foot of the door. Blood streaked his face in long, raw gashes, soaking the entire length of his worn robes. Remus stumbled back, catching the wall, stunned.
Pettigrew…
Remus gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of anger more potent than he ever felt before. He didn't know how the traitor came to be there, and he didn't care. Right then, if it wasn't for the concern for his only friend preoccupying him, he would have kicked and stomped on the body by the doorway.
Reality returned to him abruptly like a ton of bricks.
"Sirius!!" Remus called out, with hints of panic leaking into his tone. "Where…?"
A warm presence tickled the side of his face. Remus distantly registered Dumbledore's phoenix settling on his shoulder, singing a mournful thrill before spreading its fiery wings again. He flew as if guiding him, circling a shadowy form once to land gracefully on the four poster.
Remus took several cautious step forward, squinting to see in the dimly lit room. A patch of black hair caught his eye.
"Sirius…?" Remus breathed, throat constricting painfully.
Sirius was twisted in an awkward position the ground, caught between kneeling and leaning. He hutched over himself, arms wrapped firmly around a form as if defensively protecting something in his possession. When Remus touched his shoulder tentatively, Sirius all but collapsed, falling stiffly to one side. His eyes were closed, expression frozen in grimace of pain and defeat. His arm fell to one side, revealing a thick patch of blood that seeped into his white shirt.
"No…" Remus choked out, pressing his fingers against the wound in a desperate action to staunch the flow.
This wasn't suppose to happen. Not when he finally learned the truth, not when they finally had a chance…
With an unsteady hand, he reached up to search for a pulse, but his arm shook so violently that it only smeared the blood.
No, please… don't die. He'd gone too far to lose it all again!
There was a raspy gasp.
A violent tremor wracked Sirius' thin frame, before he fell still again. His head fell to one side, and a stream of blood colored his chin.
Remus caught his breath, carefully easing his friend to his uninjured side. Sirius' body tensed, and choked, drowning coughs ripped from his throat. Thick, murky fluid flowed from his mouth in handfuls before Sirius drew a weak, shuddering breath.
Oh god…
"Sirius, hold on, just hold on," Remus whispered, tone almost pleading. He groped for his wand, leaving patches of red across his robes. He needed to send for help, they both needed help…
He ripped at his tattered cloak, pressing the helm against the pulsing wound. The fluid was warm and sticky on his hands, but Remus forced his hand to be steady. But Sirius was losing too much blood too quickly; judging from the deep intrusion, it must have caused internal damage as well. He was dying.
A patch of wild black hair caught his eye. Carefully, Remus pried away Sirius' stiff hand with difficulty. The slight form of Harry, slipped lifelessly from the crook of his arm, slumping indolently against Remus' shoulder. His head lolled back, a splatter of brilliant red across his neck.
Blood was running in streams across Harry's face, neck, shirt, staining his too pale skin crimson.
Remus could feel the color draining from his face, his stomach churning violently.
"No…"
A jagged gash was carved into the child's neck, thick and swelling. Trembling, Remus pressed an edge of his cloak against the wound, the cloth already soaked with Sirius' blood.
"No, no, no… Harry?" Remus choked out, dabbing at the blood on Harry's face. He was silent, so pale that Remus could see the blue veins on his neck. As he brushed against the child's cheek gently, his head fell flaccidly to one side.
No, please not Harry too! They're all he had left… no…
Lightly, he rested his head against the child's chest, holding his breath. But his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that it drowned out all other sounds.
His throat constricted so tightly that it hurt to even breathe. The air was heavy with the bitter tang of blood. And the only two people he had left in were lying, limp and lifeless on the vermilion rugs. Remus dug his nails into the flesh of his palm, desperately wondering if everything was just a terrible nightmare.
*
Oh, grr… I'm pissed now. WS lost 23 reviews when ffNET died on June 14, so much for their announcement on losing no data. CD lost 1, but that doesn't matter. But 23?!?! Urg! crud…
Eh? Kaydee, you ok? What's wrong? Umm… allergies? Moodswings? *offers tissues* Oh! You have a dog too! What's he like? Big, black, and fluffy? *grins*
Sorry about that rather unforunate joke on the last chapter! I tried to make it up in PoM, but I took that one down. It's going to make a come back really soon. This chapter's short, I know! But I will start combining chapters later on to make up for the lost time. PoM may go on a rather prolonged hiatus after chapter 10 so I can work on WS' sequel, because PoM really isn't agreeing with me. Urg... it's a really hard story to escalate, but I'll figure something about.
humm... about the gash on Harry's neck; it's really dangerous. Most people who get their neck slit doesn't die from choking, but rather blood loss. There are 2 main arteries that go to your brain (that's why we take our pulse at your neck. It pulses with your heart), and if you puncture it, you're basically going to go comatose The brain needs a lot of oxygen to function, and when those cells die, the person's as good as dead. That doesn't make Harry's situation look to bright, does it?
Short author's note, i know! But this headache has been stuck with me since yesterday and its... urgggggggg!!