Disclaimer – nope
A/N – Sorry this is late. I couldn't upload it yesterday. Grr. Oh, and I hope this chapter actually makes sense...
Egwene – Thank you. I love getting your reviews. The fact that I know you will actually give a critical response makes the praise so much more enjoyable!
Phinea – I'm really glad you're enjoying it. Don't worry, I'm not stopping anytime soon. I've got well over half of the rest of the thing written.
Leafeater – Thanks for the review. Umm... no one to save him, I'm afraid. No one knows what's happening to him. This is a mess he's going to have to get himself out of...
XaveriiJade – Thanks. It was looking at his character, and wondering what could have made him into the person he is (or was), that initially made me want to write this. I'm glad you find I'm doing it well.
Chapter Seven
Sirius didn't question the werewolf's presence in his room. He was here! That was all that mattered. His friend was here! He gazed up at Remus through blurry eyes, squinting to make out the other boy's expression. It was with a sinking heart that he realised there was no friendliness in the gaze, no concern on the face. The look that Remus gave him was as devoid of emotion as it had been that last time he had seen him, back in Hogwarts.
"Remus! Remus... please... I'm so sorry... Remus!" But his friend's face remained cold as he turned away. Sirius scrambled upright, ignoring the pain that the movement caused as he pleaded with the other boy. "Please..." His voice trailed away, until it was little more than a whisper of sound. "Please help me... please..."
But the werewolf was gone. He had driven him away. He had lost him, and it was all because of his own stupidity! He flopped back onto his tangled blankets, closing his eyes against the sight of the room swimming around him. Remus hated him now, and he didn't blame him...
He was hot. So hot. His skin felt as if it was on fire. Why was he so hot? This wasn't right... He remembered being cold, his body shivering as he curled on the hard floor. How had he gotten to this?
"Ssh..."
Tender hands moved against his skin, soothing him, stilling his automatic flinch. He hadn't been touched so gently in... in quite some time... Cold water trickled across his forehead and he felt something damp being brushed against his lips. He licked at the moisture, desperate for more as he realised his almost overwhelming thirst.
"Water... I need water..." His voice sounded harsh to his own ears; the words tore against his raw throat. He cracked open his eyes, but the figure that leant over him was a blur. "Remus...?"
"No. Ssh, Master Sirius... Here, drink."
Hands lifted him, propping his body against pillows. He closed his eyes, merely accepting the presence of his unknown helper, his mind unable to focus on who it might be. Cold glass pressed against his lips, and he opened his mouth, reflexively swallowing the cool liquid that was poured down his throat.
He began to drift again. He struggled to hold on to reality, but it was no use. His thoughts all tangled together, forming into an incomprehensible whole as dream and reality blurred. He wandered through his mind, down avenues of memory, unable to tell truth from bewildering fantasy.
James' eyes held an expression of malice that was scarily familiar to him. But James... James had never looked at him like that... James was his friend... Wasn't he? This wasn't right!
What was James doing here?
"Worthless!" his friend spat. "That's what you are – a worthless waste of space!"
No... No, James... This wasn't right at all... James had never spoken to him like that... Those were his mother's words; that was his mother's look. James would never treat him like that! Right...?
"How could you? I just can't believe it! I thought you were a friend. We trusted you!"
No... Oh, no! This was real. This was James and he was right. He had betrayed them. He had betrayed Remus. He was worthless, as his mother had so often said.
"James, please, you've got to listen to me..."
"Just fuck off, Black! Go back to the rest of your worthless family!"
With those words James turned and stormed off down the corridor.
Corridor...? Why was he in a corridor?
Sirius shook his head, fighting back tears. He would not cry! He would not... He slid down the wall until he sat, his head buried on his knees, his broken arm cradled close to his bare chest. His eyes fell closed. Upon opening them again, he found himself in his room in Grimmauld Place. His back was now pressed against the headboard of his bed. His body was still shuddering uncontrollably.
Was this real...? He couldn't tell any more. What was real and what was dream - and then, what was memory and what imagination. This was real... he thought. That had been a dream... right? He suddenly remembered Remus earlier. Had he actually been here? He doubted it. He shook his head. Why could he not tell? What was wrong with him?
Had James ever looked at him like that? Had he spoken those words? Unless his memory was playing tricks on him, the answer was yes, he had. But then... his memory might very well be playing tricks on him... Everything was so disconnected. What was the truth?
Almost unnoticeably he began to drift again. He was in a boat, floating across the lake at Hogwarts with an eleven year old James Potter, who glared at him with hatred plain in his eyes...
But... No, this wasn't right! This definitely wasn't right! He remembered this. He had shared a boat with James, but it had been before the messy- haired boy had found out that he was one of the hated Blacks. After that he had shunned him. For a whole month, even after he had been sorted into Gryffindor, Potter had continued to make his life miserable... Yes, that was the way it had happened. Not like this! They had played a prank on the other occupant of the boat – Peter! Where was Peter? He glanced wildly around him but Wormtail was nowhere to be seen. In fact, nothing else at all was to be seen. No other boats were on the lake, just his. And now James was gone as well. He was alone.
Alone...
He didn't like this. This had to be a dream. He had to wake up! He didn't want to be in this dream... He wanted to wake up!
"Master Sirius? Master Sirius - wake up. Calm down. Ssh. It's just a dream... Wake up."
His eyes flashed open to find a grotesque face staring down at him. With a shocked exclamation he rolled away, only to cry out in pain as the movement jarred his broken arm.
The face withdrew. Gnarled fingers reached towards him, pausing momentarily as he flinched away, but then continuing to brush against the heated skin of his forehead. The movement brought back a dim memory. Water... Someone had given him water...
Words sounded, echoing oddly. It was a squeaky voice that, despite his inability to understand the words, sounded familiar to him. The face again drew in close to his and, squinting up at it, Sirius managed to determine the large eyes and ears, and the snout-like nose, of a house-elf.
"Master Sirius is sick! He needs some help. Tibby will help him. Tibby will look after him."
Tibby! Of course... Finally recognising the familiar kindness of his childhood nursemaid, Sirius relaxed.
"Tibs..."
"Ssh. Master Sirius needs to rest and get better. Tibby saw what they did to him. Tibby will see he gets better."
Sirius gave a small shake of his head, quickly halting the movement and squeezing his eyes shut as pain exploded through his brain. "You'll get in trouble..."
"Maybe, Master Sirius," she replied, but that acknowledgement didn't stop her from continuing her ministrations.
Sirius lay motionless as she bustled around him, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. The house-elf's voice sounded in a constant stream, but his understanding of the words came and went in sporadic fits and starts.
"...and you be filthy, Master Sirius... ...such a nasty man..."
The feel of a damp sponge moving gently over his battered torso caused a hiss of pain to escape him – but the pain was accompanied by the blissful cooling of his heated skin. He closed his eyes fully, distancing himself from the frissons of pain, and allowed the house-elf's words to wash over him, forming a calming cocoon.
He couldn't help but smile at her indignant manner, remembering many similar occasions during his childhood. He had never been in such a state as this before, of course, but she had patched him up so many times... Usually following Titus Solomon's weekly reports to his mother on his educational progress. Those had always made for incredibly unpleasant encounters with the woman, who had never been happy with anything less than perfection from him.
His lessons with Solomon had rarely been pleasant, either. The man had been strict and critical, his mocking remarks painful to his young self. Sirius had usually been more interested in whatever was happening with the kids in the street below than with whatever boring lesson the man was trying to force into his head.
Which had usually resulted in yet more unpleasantry.
"You are a useless boy! You'll never amount to anything if you keep this pathetic behaviour up."
His tutor glared at him, his pale eyes sending shivers through him.
"Give me your hand."
He didn't want to. He really didn't want to. His hands already burnt from... from...
From the potions! That was why his hands hurt – because of the potions. He had scalded his hands, hadn't he? It wasn't because of Soloman and his cane. He hadn't been faced with that man since he had left for Hogwarts. Thank Merlin.
"Give me your hands, Master Sirius."
That wasn't his tutor's voice. That was Tibby's voice. What was going on? Why did Tibby want his hands? Tibby had never punished him before! Tibby had never...
"Master Sirius... Calm down. Tibby needs to bandage your hands. Ssh."
Bandage him. Oh. Of course...
He forced his eyes back open, his pulse still racing, and fixed his gaze on the house-elf's bowed head. He had, he realised, pulled his hands away. Struggling still against unnecessary reluctance, he returned them to her
"Whatever happened to Master Sirius' hands? What a state they be in!"
"When the potions exploded... They were in the way," he explained.
She glanced up at his face, a slightly shocked expression in her large eyes. She hadn't, he realised, actually expected him to reply to the question. He gave a slightly queasy smile. She returned it with one of her own.
"Go to sleep, Master Sirius," she ordered. "Let Tibby make you all better."
"Don't want to sleep... Dreams..."
"You need to sleep. Tibby won't let the dreams take you. Go to sleep." Her stubby fingers brushed over his forehead and down over his eyes. An odd, tingly sensation washed over him and, with a sense of peace surrounding him for the first time since his return to the house, Sirius slipped involuntarily, uncontrollably back into sleep. This time the uneasy dreams failed to claim him.
"It's waking up."
His mother's sharp voice echoed unpleasantly in his ears, tearing through the many layers of sleep that covered him. It was joined a moment later by his father's dull rumble.
"I do believe you're right."
"Well? What are you going to do about it?"
"I haven't decided yet."
He didn't want to wake up. In fact, Sirius realised, he really didn't want to wake up. Sleep was good. When he was asleep he didn't have to face his parents.
"You can't just let him leave!" the woman said, her voice far louder than was actually necessary. "He knows far to much! We can't..."
"I will decide what to do with him, Spica. He's mine. Remember?"
A door slammed.
Sirius finally found himself facing full consciousness. It was with great reluctance that he opened his eyes. His mother, though, had now gone – only his father stood smirking down at him.
An instant jolt of terror shot through him as he met the cold gaze of the older man. He felt his eyes grow wide, his heartbeat quickening. Had he been able he would have fled. But he was not able. He was locked, immobile, beneath the older man's satisfied smile.
"Feeling a little under the weather are you, Son?"
Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but the words escaped him. The man's face began to drift in and out of focus, blurring and changing, shifting in unnatural patterns. With an involuntary groan, Sirius closed his eyes.
"Oh no you don't!"
Hard fingers gripped his shoulders, shaking him roughly, digging into the torn flesh. Sirius cried out and cracked his bleary eyes back open. But his father's gaze was no longer fixed on his face. It was with utmost reluctance that Sirius followed his father's stare, and saw the bandages that adorned his body, visible now that his father's actions had dislodged the concealing blankets.
"What is this?" the older man demanded, his fingers snagging at the fabric binding Sirius' shoulder.
He shook his head, almost frantic. A movement in the doorway, seen out of the corner of his eye, caught his attention, and Sirius couldn't help his quick glance. In the doorway stood Tibby, her small form frozen in shock as she met his eyes. Sirius quickly tore his gaze away, looking back at his father. But he wasn't quick enough. The older man had evidently noted his moment's distraction and he turned now to look in that same direction.
"You!" his father growled. "Elf! This is your doing!"
The grip on his shoulders was released as his father abruptly crossed the room. Sirius' eyes briefly drifted closed as he drew a deep breath, thankful to be out from beneath the older man's alarming scrutiny. He was jerked sharply back to reality as he heard the house-elf give a small cry of fear. His eyes flashed open - to see his father holding a cowering, whimpering Tibby pinned to the wall.
"How dare you, you foul little creature?" the man said, his voice dangerously soft.
"Tibby is only following orders, Master Black..."
"Orders! I know full well that Spica ordered you to stay away from the brat!"
Sirius felt fear course through him, but this time it was not fear for himself but for his loyal nursemaid. He would not let her get hurt because of him. Too many people got hurt because of him! That thought gave him the strength to swing his feet to the floor and push himself up from his bed.
Pain flooded through him at the movement, his entire body howling its discontent, and he fought to stop himself from screaming. His raw throat attested to the fact that he had done that far more often in the past day – or was it two? Or even three? He didn't know – than he liked to admit.
"Tibby has other orders, Master Black!" He could hear Tibby's voice, protesting in a show of bravery that Sirius couldn't help but be impressed by. "Older orders, Master Black."
"Oh? And just what might those orders be?" Sirius knew that voice only too well. Its softness was hideously deceptive. Shuddering, he gazed frantically around the room. There had to be something he could use against the man! But what?
"Tibby was ordered to look after Master Sirius," the house-elf squeaked. "Tibby was ordered to make sure he stayed well... She was given these orders when Master Sirius was just a baby. Those orders have always overridden any others given to Tibby, Master Black!"
For one long moment there was silence from his father. Sirius, forced to catch himself against his trunk as a wave of sickening dizziness washed over him, almost held his breath in fear of the older man's response.
Finally he spoke, and his deep voice held a slow, thoughtful note. "Yes... Yes, they have, haven't they?"
The man moved so quickly that Sirius, weakened and in pain as he was, had no chance of avoiding him. The house-elf was dropped to the floor as he span, catching hold of Sirius' arm in a fierce grip. His broken arm.
So much for not wanting to scream any more.
His legs gave way at the agony that caused shadows to cloud his mind and he fell to his knees, his own pained cry echoing in his ears. The older man smirked down at him.
"New orders, Elf, and this time they do override your original ones! Look after him, yes. Make sure he survives – but if you heal him... I'll be giving you to my dearest wife to deal with." He gave the broken arm a squeeze, and Sirius let out a small, helpless whimper. "I do rather like him like this..."
The words drifted to Sirius' ears as if from a great distance. Far clearer he could hear weeping. Was that him? No, no... It was Tibby. It wasn't him.
He felt himself released, his limp body dropped contemptuously onto the floor. He remained as he was, unmoving but for his body's uncontrollable shuddering. The door banged shut.
"Master Sirius? Master Sirius? Is you alright?"
He drew in a deep breath, allowing his eyes to flicker open. Tibby's tear-stained face seemed to swim in and out of focus before his eyes. Her fingers reached out to touch his face and he gave her a small reassuring smile.
"Been better," he told her. "Help me up?"
It seemed to take forever, although it was probably only a few minutes, before he was back in his bed. Exhaustion dragged at his every fibre, causing shadows to encroach on his uncertain vision. He collapsed onto his tangled, bloodstained blankets with a sigh of heartfelt relief, his mind fixed on a single certainty.
He had to find a way of getting out of here!
A/N – I really hope that made sense!!!
