Fire, fire, burning bright, in the middle of the night.
Chapter eleven
She was proud that this time she hadn't lost consciousness as they rushed her to the ward and to Poppy's ministrations. Although she was aware of everyone around her snapping into emergency mode, her whole psyche had to concentrate on the assault to the centre of her body, breathing shallowly as she did so. She felt both Severus' and Poppy's arms lift her onto the bed, while Dumbledore pulled the curtains round them all.
Here I go again. Same bed as well. The sun is shining outside. What am I doing here?
After they had told the matron the rough details, little though they were, Poppy demanded space and opportunity to examine her patient, and removed both men from the immediate scene, the potions master proving rather unwilling, but did not oppose her. After realizing that he could do nothing, he stood back and informed the Headmaster about what had happened. When Poppy managed to get to her patient instead of having to deal with bystanders, she was her usual bustling self and as efficient as ever. As the nurse stripping her quickly with a spell, Elrin was vaguely aware of cool hands examining her chest, while Madam Pomfrey muttered and passed her wand over her. Normally Elrin would have had a problem with being laid out naked like that and was aware of the weak defence of the surrounding curtains and the presence of the two men waiting outside, but the pain took her pride away, and she submitted to the indignity of being prodded and inspected. As the nurse finished with a scan using both hands, she dressed her in a shift in an instant, and then left her to the isolation of the cubicle, giving her no clue as to what might be happening.
Don't leave me here. Please. Do something.
A minute later, which appeared to her to be like a lifetime, she was being helped to drink something which tasted foul, but which she took obediently. She noticed that the pain was not persistent, but came and went like waves. Then she was given more potions, but smaller amounts and more gelatinous, one being a bright azure blue. Nothing seemed to help though, and after some minutes, was still racked with the pain. She could hear Poppy's voices joining the two men's discussion further down the ward and wished she could lose consciousness.
I can't stand it. Isn't there something? What's wrong with me?
The sweat poured off her, drenching the sheets and she tried not to cry out, but when the pain reached a climax, she moaned into her pillow. It was not long before the curtain shot back on its rings and Dumbledore and Severus stood around her, one on each side, their faces tense.
"Elrin my dear," said the old man gently, "Can you understand what I am saying?"
She nodded, her breath coming in gasps.
"What is happening to you is not physical," he said, glancing at Severus, "We believe it is magical. Some kind of curse."
Oh, wonderful. Was that the good news or the bad news?
She wanted to say, 'so?' and instead blinked from one to the other idiotically: Severus with his ferocious intent and Albus wearing the kind of frown that worried her more than anything else. He always appeared so composed and knowledgeable.
"What do you remember about your kidnapping?" questioned Severus, leaning down on the bed.
"Kidnapped?" She said, looking up in wonder, "I was kidnapped?"
He looked stricken, despite his attempt to hide it. Then she began to feel dizzy.
She could feel his weight on the bed and she reflected that it was a comfort that he was probably completely oblivious of.
Stay close, please. Don't go away.
"It's the Sleeping Draught taking effect. It might give you some relief," he added, seeing her unfocussed eyes drift.
Oh, at last. Anything, anything to take the pain away.
From deep within the night, she could hear something far away and lights flickering in the distance. The pain had remained as a constant presence throughout her sleep and with her returning consciousness, re-awoke with a vengeance, her head slippery with sweat and heat, her hair sticking to her skin. It was if she had been lying on the deck of a sea-drenched boat as the sheets writhed wet beneath her. The muttering grew louder and realized that it was not far away, but near. Someone was murmuring close to her ear – a rhythmic sound, a kind of deep-sounding monotonous chant.
"Contriue omnem malum et nequitiam."
Was that a last rite? She was dying then.
She turned to see a priest, only to find Severus, leaning on the bed with his head by hers, eyes closed, his lips forming the words.
Am I dying? She asked, flopping her arm out towards him and missing in her drowsiness.
He stopped and opened his eyes quickly, so close were they, like black satin in the candlelight.
"No, you are not," he growled.
"I think you are lying. That's Latin isn't it? And what are you saying to me?"
"They are counter-curses. Do not interrupt."
Great, she would die with his orders to her on his lips.
"Libera me ab," he continued, his voice solemn and low based, the stream of his breath cooling her neck, "omnibus insidiis inimici."
And then she noticed, as if one could avoid noticing what she had thought to be distant, to be near instead: a vast assemblage of candles surrounding the wide area in which the bed stood, all hovering at different heights bathing them and the whole ward in their sparkling light. Amongst them were thick sticks of incense, their grey smoke twisted up from them through the air, mixing with the light of the candles and oozing out their intoxicating scent.
"Gustu huius unguenti" he continued, and dug a finger in a small jar and wiped a mark on her wet and burning forehead. "Aduersus omnes nequitias in mundorum spiritum."
Spritum? She said, alarmed, disturbing him. Spirit? Isn't that to do with ghosts and dead people?
He glared at her with his eyes wide.
"Do I –" and stopped, dropping his head in defeat. "What I just said was: 'Blessed with a touch of this unguent, against all wickednesses aimed at the spirit of pure ones. Satisfied?" he asked sarcastically, tilting his head in the way she loved.
"Hardly pure," she muttered, and got one eyebrow raised in reply. After a while, he got up and lit what looked like a thick bunch of tiny twigs with a spell, stopped it burning, and with the smoke trailing wide over them and ashes falling over the bedclothes, he began wafting it backward and forward over her, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he needed to. She thought she might choke with it, but surprisingly did not, and inhaled the penetrating smell as he, with one arm out, traced her whole body in lines and circles, for all the world as if she were being laid out for burial, while he continued to mutter the counter-curses. She had no idea what he was doing and in her disablement, just observed his deep concentration, robes draping as he moved like a dark canopy over her, like a welcome shadow from a desert sun.
She lay back, drifted again, exhausted, listening to his voice, glad that he was there and secure in the knowledge that he hadn't left her alone with the pain and then from there immediately fell into a jagged abyss. Hands, hands spider-long and vicious, clawing at her face, her father cold and absent, a black horse and rider turning against a snow-packed mountain, a child's white face looking up at her with his nervous fingers grasping one another, slitted nostrils reeking of corruption and sniffing at her, the thrust of Severus' tongue in her mouth, the hurt face of Xiomara, her aunt Dorothy as she sat hunched in her chair like a sinister insect, the long frail hand of an old man handing her a book with a smile, a snake's head on a cane sinking it's teeth into her breast, a black owl swooping towards her, the blank look of her parents, the slick curve of a high heeled shoe, the high mountains and the school below like a child's toy. So many torn dreams, so few living hopes, so fragile the innocent, so low the expectations, so deep the desire of the abyss, so wide the pitiless doubts. All crowded into the furnace of her body and fought for supremacy. There was no way of knowing which one would emerge the victor, and then out of it from somewhere, from a black nowhere, sounded the melodious beauty of Phoenix, and she began to echo it and was not aware of the effect it had on the one figure who was then sitting still as a rock beside her and who jolted his head up at the sound of it. Almost at that moment, there could be heard the flapping of heavy wings as Fawkes swooped down the length of the ward, his scarlet body shimmering in the radiant candlelight with golden tail feathers sweeping out behind, his image reflected in the polished floor. The dark face of the potions master showed how glad he could be at the sight of the bird and he stood to watch it as it landed on her bed with a high keening sound as she awoke, her eyes barely able to open.
"Fawkes help me, please, this pain. It's terrible."
"Ah, that I wish I could dear lady," he said, his huge feet careful not to crowd her.
"What do you mean? Please, it's consuming me. It's going to kill me. I feel its power."
" I know what it is you are fighting and how you feel."
"No you don't," she said angrily.
"Unfortunately, yes I do, though it has been some centuries since it happened to me."
"Then, why have you come?" She said, looking away in despair.
"Because you called in your need. I have to tell you that it is not in my power to take it away."
Great, wonderful.
"I cannot touch you, and at this point, my tears would burn you. But I can tell you that this process is on the edge of completion."
"Process? What is this Fawkes? What is it?"
"You will know soon enough. Just a little while longer. Just a little. Hang on my friend."
Hang on. Yeah right. Screaming pain in the centre of you.
The bird glanced at the black shadow standing on the other side of the bed.
"Severus looks as if he would tear the world apart to stop your pain."
"I think he might tear you apart if he doesn't see some action from you."
Dumbledore appeared from Poppy's office and joined his senior professor, intrigued by Fawkes' appearance. Severus was becoming tetchy with the Phoenix.
"There are no indications of any tears from that overgrown turkey, Albus," the potions master said with gritted menace, turning to the old man. "He is chattering away as if he were in some damned drawing room discussing the state of the weather. Can you tell me why?"
"I cannot say my young friend," said Albus with outward calmness.
Then she started to pant with the pain, clutching her heart, but then cried out as it burned her hand. When the pain had lowered a fraction, she called Severus' name so faintly that Fawkes hardly heard it, but Severus caught that faint whisper and moved swiftly over to her side, bending close so she could speak to him.
"He says," she whispered, "that it will soon be over. Just a little more time."
He flashed his eyes at the bird, which was near enough for him to put out his hand to strangle.
"It is not improbable that he could help instead of just standing there," he growled, searching her face.
"He says it is beyond his power."
He curled his lip at the Phoenix, who had his head on one side.
"If that's what he says, I can bear it," she said, inspecting his face.
Don't know if I can though.
He looked as if he was the one who could not and clearly wanted to bury his face in her.
My darling.
And Elrin closed her eyes.
And woke to find several people round the bed with someone who screamed in the ward, only to find that it was her own voice, her back bent backwards. On one side, Severus attempted to hold her and Poppy the other, with Dumbledore only a step away. Just as she thought she could not bear another moment, something changed, and they felt a reverberation through her body. He was the first one to notice an odd light coming from her chest, beneath her nightshift. He was about to dive in to find out, when he halted and indicated to Poppy, who, nonplussed, waved him away a little so that he could not see, and peered underneath to see what it was and gasped in surprise. She marched away quickly, and both men looked at each other baffled, one deeply anxious and one distraught. They had to wait until she returned, and would give them no answer, intent was she to do what she needed to do, and was about to do it with a fine pair of surgical tongs. She spent some time using them down the front of Elrin's shift but could not manage to do whatever she was trying to do and Elrin herself was trying to pull and scratch where she was working, even with Severus holding her arms away. He was getting madder.
"What the hell is it Poppy?" He snarled.
The nurse wiped her face, damp with the attempt.
"Well, I'm not sure what it is, but it looks like - a jewel-like object stuck in the centre of her chest. It's not far under the surface, but I can't get it a proper grasp of it. I think, though that it might be working its way out, which is why it's hurting her so much. You can see the green glow of it through her gown can't you?"
"Yes, that's what I indicated to you," Severus growled irritably, staring at her writhing body.
"How long before it comes out?" Asked the Headmaster.
"I really can't tell. It appears to be coming though," as Elrin shrieked and thrashed about throwing herself over the bed and nearly onto the floor with two strong black clad arms to prevent her.
"Is there anything that will help it come through?" asked Poppy.
"We might Accio it," suggested Severus,
"No," said Albus, "no I think not. You must not touch it," and he laid his hand on the younger man's arm, his expression resolute. "We wait."
"I don't think she will last much longer Albus," whispered Poppy and Severus gaped at her uncomprehending, his own face wet with his own sweat and if Poppy didn't know better, tears mixed among it.
With a sudden odd noise in her throat, Elrin stopped, her ragged breathing the only sound in the ward. And then became frantic as she tried to fumble with her clothes.
"Get it out, get it out," she screamed, wild, panicking, plucking at her clothes.
Poppy took immediate command, yelling above Elrin to stop immediately and as she stopped still, panting, her face contorted with pain, the older woman grabbed the tongs and fished inside and brought out a lurid green jewel, glowing and spitting with an eerie fire and with a crack down its middle. Elrin collapsed, and Poppy checked for a wound mark, and for a brief second, saw the tear in her flesh, but then there was no trace of it having been in her body at all. Severus then dived down to be with her, wiping the strands of hair off her face, and finding a handkerchief, wiped her face carefully, scrutinizing her wide eyes, which were unnaturally bright and bewildered.
"Is it gone?" She asked, her head too tired to stay upright without support.
"Yes," he whispered, "it's gone. Has the pain gone?"
"Yes. I'm just – "and could not finish.
"Exhausted. Inevitably. It is vital that you sleep now."
Lifting one of her sore arms up, she softly stroked his cheek with the back of her hand and he looked devastated.
Oh, this is good. This is very good. I am alive and he is here.
When she woke it was morning and she found him with his head lying on his arms on the side of the bed beside her, his hair splayed over the sheets, asleep.
What a sweetheart.
As she gradually came out of the heavy sleep feeling as though she had gone many rounds with Mike Tyson, she smiled at the thought of his puzzlement – 'and who might I ask, is Mike Tyson?' If she had had the energy to move, she would have kissed the top of his head, but satisfied herself with stroking his hair until he suddenly jerked awake and she noticed the tiredness in his face, the beloved lines around his mouth carved even more intensely, but also the deep satisfaction in his eyes. As he sat up, stiff from his night's vigil, there must have been something that triggered her memory, some movement, some expression, or merely something in the air, a sound or a smell, but whatever it was, a multitude of past incidents invaded her memory like shock troops and she gasped silently in horror.
No. No. I couldn't have. Not possible.
Turning away from him, she realized that she was not able to able to face him and instead stared up at the ceiling as if she could see it all there. She did not see his face change to a blank wall from where he cautiously observed her change, and it was clear that he had expected it, but had not thought it be so soon or so dramatic and he watched as she pulled away from him into her own hell. He was not a stranger to despair, but his emotions at this time were of a kind he had never met before and was amazed at how fresh the pain could be.
No. Never.
She could not have done those things, said those things, been those things. She did not even reject Severus; she had just turned away.
How could he be near her? How could he touch her? How could he look upon her?
Rampant through her giddy mind came snatches of a walk through a crowd of students with her tight dress and a huge slit up the side, high on her stilettoes, a proud, unbending, arrogant, sexy walk, a superior being surveying her admirers. Then there was her attempted seduction of Severus in the middle of the dance floor and the one in private when she had forced him onto the floor in vexation with her supremacy and grabbed the vase to smash onto his stubborn head. How she had absolute contempt for the oddly assorted teachers and in particular her disdain of the Headmaster as the reigning fool and of her vile treatment and cynical use of Xiomara, the one friend she had made. How they had all increased their distance from her and her gladness of it in her island of hatred and bitterness, how they turned their heads away and signalled to each other at her presence. Her intriguing desire for Lucius was bad enough, but much worse was her alliance with his secret plans and of his master: Voldemort: the monster that had implanted a sinister and eerie fire within her with his hand, if something so vile could be called a hand. After that there was an odd snatch of memory where she could feel the motion and force of Severus marching her out of his classroom like some unhealthy pariah, though where it fitted in, she was not quite sure. Tumbling on top of that was the sight of children around her, open mouthed and hypnotized and Severus in front of them with his arms wide, vulnerable and determined and angry. She remembered with a shock that he nearly did an Unforgivable Curse on her, although it was not the killing one. Because she was the one with the killing in mind as she forced them all to their knees and gloried in the mighty soaring power.
She remembered the stopping vividly. She had been engulfed in the killing vibration in the midst of this rage of power and vengeance – a mountain top of a force pushing all those underneath her own will and the triumph of it pleased her soul, when out of no-where came another potent power but with a mystery that crowned hers: the ancient mystery of sacrifice, of a love so intense and with a risk taken so pure, so reckless, that it transformed everything. They were both lifted to another level where they joined together and were changed and restored within the clarity of the transcendent sound and blowing through her body, reached her centre and cracked it – began propelling the invader out of her body and then she remembered herself and found herself staring into Severus' face, his arms tight in protection or imprisonment, she could not tell.
It all then slotted into place with the pain and the candles and Severus chanting in her ear and Poppy and Albus around her and now it was daylight but it felt like darkness and the rain streaming down the windows echoed her inner state. She had come alive with him at her side only to wish she had not. All those events passed through her head at lightning speed as if they all came at once and as if she had always known them. The merciful veil that had come down on her previously was a cruel illusion and had allowed her to open herself to Severus when she had no right to do so. Now it had been torn apart, she had no right to love him. More importantly, she had no right to let him love her.
Latin Quotes: from Miscellaneous Lacnunga Charms: BL MS Harley 585, circa 1050. Copyright: Karen Louise Jolly, Misquoted William Blake's Tiger, Tiger