Ok so I'm a bit late with this particular update - no valid excuse. It's been ready for a long while now, I just haven't had a chance to upload it until now. (I really do not like my laptop right now tbh)

Chapter 19: Slow and Painful

Meissa woke up with her hand throbbing painfully, causing her to curl up around it with it pressed against her chest. The pain so sharp that she was fighting the whimper that wanted to tear through her throat. She couldn't fathom a reason for the pain in her hand and was forcing herself to bite the pillow in an effort to keep from biting a hole into her lip.

She couldn't even muster the strength or will to look at the hand that was torturing her.

"Meissa?" she faintly hears her friend call through the thick curtains surrounding her bed and has to bite down hard on the pillow case to keep from making a noise that would've worried the blonde.

It was only when she felt like she could tolerate the pain she answered, "Yeah?"

"Class is going to start soon and you haven't gotten up for breakfast yet," she could hear the worry in Daphne's voice and tried as she might she couldn't convince herself to get out of the bed to ease her friend's concern.

"I know, I'll be down soon," she calls out to her before the pain in her hand got too much and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out. It wasn't until she tasted something wet and coppery that she realized that she had bitten through the skin. Muttering a soft curse to herself she finally forces herself to look at her hand, actually study it.

At first she saw nothing out of place until she tried to flex her fingers. That was when she saw the grey hue to her skin and the stiffness of her fingers alarmed her. "Oh goddess," she swore to herself, realizing that sometime in the last eight hours someone had placed a curse on her.

The realization settled in her stomach like - she cringes at the metaphor she was close to using and forces herself to get up, testing her hand and arm to see if she still has some function of mobility. Though she was finding it hard to move her hand she still could - this relieved her greatly though it still gave her a sense of urgency. She decides to keep her fingers slightly curled so that when she has someone examine it - she needed someone to because she knew she couldn't actually reverse whatever this was on her own - they could examine every inch of her hand for a puncture mark if that was how it happened.

Peeking through the curtains she takes a quick look around the dorm before concluding that it's relatively safe to leave the safety and privacy of the bed. At least, safe enough to try and get dressed before she goes over to the hospital wing. She definitely didn't fancy the idea of dealing with Madam Pomfrey so early in the day but she hated the idea of being turned into stone.

So if she had to pick the lesser of two evils, well Madam Pomfrey wins hands down.

Once dressed in her school uniform - she opted for a plain crew shirt under the button up shirt after fumbling with the buttons for almost five minutes straight - she sticks her hand into her trousers' pockets. She needed to leave the Slytherin's dormitory without being caught or questioned by another Slytherin.

She grimaces to herself at another flare of pain, biting into her lip to keep from making a noise. The copper taste flooding her mouth told her that she had opened the bite again but she couldn't stop to heal it - she wasn't even familiar with the spell to even try to anyway. Instead she just forced herself to move quickly through the common room and once she was in the corridors she picked the quickest route to the Hospital wing.

~MJB~

She takes it back, there is no way Madam Pomfrey is the lesser evil here. She's already missed three periods and she has no doubt that her godfather will have heard that she's been missing her classes. But Pomfrey still hasn't reversed the curse - what else would turn her flesh to stone aside from a Dark creature? - and she was stuck in the wing trying to wait patiently for the Medic-Witch to heal her.

The one and only upside - actually there's two - was that Madam Pomfrey fixed her lip so now she doesn't have a split lip from her biting down onto it too hard. And the other one is that she's been given an intense pain reliever - no more biting her lips in agony for her!

Of course it might means she's a bit zoned out due to the potion dulling the pain. It was taking a lot out of her not to ramble on and on and on and - has she already started to ramble inside her own mind?

She lays on the cot, her right hand held high above her face - dark eyes peering at the graying skin. To the touch it was cool and hard like, well, stone. In some lighting it wasn't even obvious that her arm was turning to stone. And it was her arm now, the curse managing to spread half way to her elbow. She's just grateful that her hand wasn't frozen in some odd gesture.

"Exactly how did this happen again?" Madam Pomfrey asks again for the twentieth time - it might actually be less than that but Meissa was a bit irritated, and loopy, from the whole situation so the exaggeration was highly appreciated by her mind.

"Opened a package and I guess it was from mother's old enemies because something stuck me and," she makes a gesture with her hand to indicate the rest of the sentence. Like before Madam Pomfrey had a doubtful look on her face but left it alone as she applied a rather foul smelling potion to the half frozen arm. Meissa couldn't stand the smell and pulled her shirt up to try at least mask the smell.

"This will teach you to open a package without checking to see who it's from," Madam Pomfrey scolds the Black heiress - reminding the girl once again that she couldn't live a normal life. Not as the daughter of an incarnated Death Eater.

"Are you any closer to breaking the curse," Meissa chose to ask instead of reacting to what the Medic-witch said.

"It's an extremely old curse, I have not come across this one at all in my years," Madam Pomfrey remarks. "You may have to go to St. Mungo for better treatment." Meissa didn't fancy this idea at all. Most of the Wizarding World were unaware of her identity and she knew, like her godfather knew, that if the rest of the Britain Wizarding community knew there'd be hell to pay.

The House of Black has been ignored ever since Sirius Black and Bellatrix Black had been thrown into Azkaban. The two remaining daughters of Cygnus Black the Third, her grandfather, were married into other families, therefore not attracting attention to themselves. Aside from the recent deaths Meissa knew that the House of Black has been out of the spotlight since the war and she was well aware that her mother did actually have enemies out there - enemies that probably wouldn't hesitate to hurt her to get back at her mother.

"I don't think going to St. Mungo would be a good idea," Meissa remarks, trying to ignore the questioning look she got from the Medic-witch.

"If this curse reaches your chest you will die."

"If I go to St. Mungo I will die anyway," she retorts.

"The Healers there will be professionals," the Medic-Witch tries to argue.

Meissa scoffs in disagreement. "I know all about my mother. I know that there victims out there and families of those victims." The girl barely glances at the witch besides her, thinking of the long list of victims and potential enemies out there. "Putting me in the care of those who might have relatives who suffered during the war puts me at risk of dying."

Madam Pomfrey stares at her before she shook her head, tapping once on Meissa's elbow - silently telling her that she can lower it for the time being. So she does, eyeing the witch as she waits for her verdict. She still couldn't feel her hand and she knew that if she looked she could probably see the creeping stone as it spread up her arm ever so slowly. It was a testament to how bored she was that she could actually sit there to watch.

"I'll try one more thing before the hour's up," Pomfrey finally announces, "But if nothing good comes of it then I'm sending you to St. Mungo. Is there someone you trust to keep you safe among the Healers?"

"I… I don't know," Meissa mutters quietly, "My godfather and my aunt usually can patch me up without having to take me to St. Mungo."

"I see," Pomfrey remarks, "Get some rest. I'll wake you when I'm ready to try again."

The Black heiress was hardly tired but she chose to listen for the time being and made herself comfortable on her left side, the half petrified arm safely resting on her hip to keep it from cracking from some unintentional move.

One thing for sure, she'll have to talk to Zabini about his mother. His mother and Daphne's mother were perhaps the only ones she encountered in the last twenty four hours who would pose a danger to her. She remember, vaguely, of previous stories of Arianna Zabini's marriages and her husbands' deaths. Each one was different, some suspicious, some not. There was one that reminded her somewhat of her current situation and knew that if Pomfrey cannot break it she may have to speak with Zabini before she gets transferred to St. Mungo.

~MJB~

Meissa was not happy - even if she was a bit high on a pain potion - because now the curse had reached her elbow and she was stuck with it bent as if she intended to drape it across her stomach. The only upside to waking up from her nap - she's actually surprised she fell asleep though she does suspect that Pomfrey had cast a spell over her - was that Daphne had finally realized that she wasn't at any of her usual haunts and came looking for her at the Hospital Wing.

"Just how did you manage to get yourself into this particular fix?" the blonde asks, her arms crossed and one of her eyebrow arched.

"If I had to hazard a guess," Meissa starts in a low voice to keep from being overheard by the Medic-witch, "I would say that Blaise's mother did something to me last night."

"Are you sure?"

"Who in this school would know a curse that Madam Pomfrey can't break? Or has minimum contact with?"

"But his mother? You're going to accuse a fully grown Dark Witch?" Daphne shakes her head. "I know you're paranoid and everything but isn't this a bit much?"

"It's not paranoia if I'm right."

"Even if you are right where's the proof?"

Meissa huffs as she rests back against the pillows. "Right now I'm a bit worried about breaking the curse than about getting proof."

"Do you think Blaise might know how to break it?"

"If he does I'll be grateful," Meissa remarks though she does make a face. "I just don't fancy the debt I'll owe him when he does."

Daphne nods her head once - she was in touch with the whispers around the Slytherin house than Meissa and knew that some of them had managed to get word to their parents about a Black being in their house.

Most of the Dark families had sided with the Dark Lord, those who didn't were either wiped out for not joining the Dark Lord or had been so minor that they were not worth the attention. It's partially why her mother's family was able to escape the same destruction the other families had faced. The same reason why the Greengrass family is still intact despite being neutral during the war.

In any case she knew that Meissa was right to be wary of being in debt with anyone. Not only is she part of an ancient pureblood family she was also the last known heir to its' estates. She'd be the richest witch in the Britain community and she was still an underage witch.

Anyone who could get their claws into her would also have access to the Black vaults - not to mention their legacies.

"Do you want me to talk to Blaise?" Daphne asks, glancing once at the arm that was more than half petrified at this point. The fingers, hand, wrist, and elbow locked and with the sleeve of Meissa's shirt cut away she could see that the curse had spread up to her bicep at this point.

"It'd be a good idea. I don't see Madam Pomfrey letting me out of the wing long enough for me to track him down."

Daphne nods her head before she stood, pausing long enough to squeeze her friend's un-petrified hand, and left the wing.

Meissa, left with nothing else to do, focused on her arm, wondering if her magic could delay or hasten the petrifaction. Rather than sit still waiting for a death she decides to start mustering her magic, focusing first on her bicep where the stone curse had stopped for the time being.

~MJB~

"Ms. Black," she hears a familiar voice that snaps her out of her mediation faster than she could sneeze. With a wince on her face from having her concentration broken she looks up to meet her godfather's angry gaze.

"Hi," she mutters meekly.

"Madam Pomfrey filled me in," he cuts straight to the chase, "But something she said-."

"I know."

He looks at her, his eyes hard. "Why lie?"

"Because the school ignores it. So why shove it into their face?"

He frowns at her before shaking his head. "Who do you believe is responsible?"

"The Black Widow."

"When-," he cuts himself off and scowls at her. "I thought I made it clear to you that you are to be careful?"

"In my defense I thought I was," Meissa retorts. "I think I know when she had the opportunity to curse me."

"Oh?"

"I think she may have had something on her, something that bit me." She sees the blank look in her godfather's eyes and ducks her head. "I may have shook hands with her."

"You know I'm going to have to ban you from Walpurgis nights if you keep getting into these mishaps, right?"

"But-!"

"No buts," Snape interrupts before she could protest. "You were placed in my care by your family and I want to be able to look in your mother's eyes and tell her that I did my best." He watch her duck her head, the black waves shielding her face from him. "Your mother loves you, you know that right?" he asks quietly, getting a slight nod from his goddaughter.

There were days, he knew, where the girl has her doubts. The years without her mother there to raise her taking a toll on her.

"I'll speak with Madam Pomfrey and ask her to research into any known Dark artifacts with petrifaction spells," he declares, prompting the girl to look at him. "With any luck you will be out of here before the hour's up."

Meissa keeps her eyes on her godfather as he turned and stalked towards Madam Pomfrey's office. She had no doubt that he would do his best to undo the curse on her. But, she looks down at her arm where the curse had begun to creep up her arm once again after being pushed down to just below her elbow, she didn't think that this was the kind of curse that can be easily beaten.

The level of skill for the curse, to her, said that it was an ancient curse. Perhaps one passed down through the generations of a family. For all she knew it could belong to the family the Black Widow was born to or any of the seven families she had been briefly married into.

The research Madam Pomfrey would need to do may take too long. She was already living on borrowed time, pushing the curse back as much as she could without draining herself completely. It was a risk she was taking, using her magic to fight the curse - there was a possibility she could lose her magic to the curse forever, even if she was cured.

Meissa didn't want to think the worse - she couldn't imagine herself being a squib - but she knew she couldn't wait for Madam Pomfrey and her godfather to come up with a solution. Their best chance was Blaise knowing how to reverse the spell. She just hoped that Daphne would come back in time. She knew that if they waited too long the curse will turn her chest to stone and without the flexibility to breathe she'd suffocate.

She glares at her hand and makes a note to herself to never trust another person again.

~MJB~

Daphne wasn't having much luck finding her fellow house mate. Blaise has always been a quiet person but she never realized how often he would disappear. Not even Draco was aware of his whereabouts and he usually keeps tracks of those in his class. Draco was often the reason why Daphne knew where to find Meissa whenever the other girl disappears during those moments when she just wants to be away.

It had already been half an hour since Daphne left the Hospital wing to search for Blaise and she was beginning to think she wouldn't be able to find him before Meissa was sent to St. Mungo.

"Daphne?"

Startled to hear her name, she turns towards the voice to find that it's Hermione - her arms laden with books as per usual. "Hermione," she greets the Gryffindor.

"Is… is everything okay?" the bushy haired girl asks, slightly hesitant to ask as if she realizes that no, nothing is alright.

At first Daphne didn't want to say anything but then she remembered that Meissa trusts this one and the Gryffindor has actually been civil towards her despite the house rivalry. "Have you seen Blaise Zabini?" she asks instead of answering her directly.

"I think I saw him last in the library."

"When was this?!"

"Five minutes ago?"

Daphne nods and ran past Hermione for the library. He had to still be there!

"Daphne? Wait for me!"

She half turns, doing an odd side hop, "Hurry up then!"

"What's going on?!"

"Meissa's cursed. Zabini might have cure," was all Daphne said on the issue.

"Oh god."

Running flat out they reached the library, just barely managing to keep from bursting into the room.

"Do you think he's still in there?" Hermione asks worriedly, glancing at the blonde who was tying her hair up into a knot to keep it from her face.

"I need to find to find him," the blonde answers shortly. "I don't have time to wonder." With that she pushes through the doors with the Gryffindor following along quickly behind her. The wing was large with many floors with nary a clue to where to start. "Do you remember where he was when you saw him last?"

"I was leaving… he looked like he was studying a book on the third floor," Hermione recalls.

"I'll check the third floor, you search from here to there, does that sound fair?"

"Just find him," was all Hermione said in response.

Daphne nods her head before hurrying up the steps, trying hard not to run but nearly chucking it aside in her haste and in her concern. The relief of seeing the boy was greater than she ever thought it would be.

"Zabini!" she slams her hands down onto the table, prompting him to look up from his reading. "What's the cure."

"Cure?" he drawls as he bookmarks his place and shuts the book.

"Your mother cursed Meissa. Now tell me how to break it!"

He tilts his head in confusion at first before he realizes what she could be talking about. With a frustrated sigh he covers his face with a hand, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "I thought I made it clear to her not to go cursing anyone from Hogwarts," he mutters to himself. With an exhausted look on his face he finally meets Daphne's angry gaze. "What's happened to Black so far?"

"She's turning into stone."

He winces. "That one is a slow and painful death," he remarks with a shake of his head. "We need to talk to Professor Snape. I don't have the ingredients to brew the antidote but I have it memorized."

"Professor Snape should be in the Hospital Wing by now," Daphne comments as he gathers his things.

"Black will be fine for at least another twelve hours," Blaise remarks, sliding the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "The curse usually takes twenty-four hours to completely consume the victim."

"And if it reaches her chest first?"

He stills, dark eyes meeting blue. "Then she'll die first before the curse takes her," he mutters. With a look of determination on his face he made his way out of the library, Daphne barely having the time to grab Hermione from the second floor.

The blonde had no intention of ever losing Meissa - not to something so stupid as a curse, it just wasn't something she could ever envision being the cause of the girl's death. Hermione was still unsure of what was happening but she knew that it must be serious to make the blonde Slytherin break her composure. The year was not even done and she can probably count with one hand how many times she had seen the blonde lose her composure and she was positive that each time was because of Meissa.

~MJB~

Meissa was fighting a losing battle, she knew it, she had to have known it. Lying to herself was never something she ever did and she knows she didn't want to start now. Not with the curse reaching for her heart. Not when she was getting more and more exhausted with each passing hour. She didn't know if she'll get her magic back once the curse breaks, she was scared to know if that's what would happen.

Magic was her life. It wasn't just a way of living. It was all she knew.

"Meissa!" she hears someone shout her name, prompting her to look up from where she had been concentrating on a clear crystal. A focus gem her godfather had given her to improve her concentration and help her center her magic after he realized what she was trying to do.

"Hermione?" she blinks, surprised to see the Gryffindor in the hospital wing and - she frowns as she notices this - did she look like she just came from a potion mishap? "What are you doing here?"

"I needed something from you," the bushy haired girl replies, producing a compact scissor.

"What, you need a clipping of my hair?" Meissa asks. The counter-curse required something from the victims?

"And a few drops of your blood."

"That's getting dangerously close to blood magic now."

"Blood magic?"

"I keep forgetting that you're not that familiar with the many branches of magic," Meissa remarks drily. "Well, they won't actually cover it that much in school," she mutters as she allows Hermione to cut away a little at her hair. She didn't care where the Gryffindor had cut but after it was done she was pleased to note that it wasn't a noticeable cut.

"Why, and what do you know about it?"

Meissa tilts her head thoughtfully. "Well, the reason why they won't cover blood magic is going to be because it falls under Dark magic. And honestly I don't know much about it. It's not exactly something my family was interested in." She holds her hand out for Hermione who was frowning at her.

"I… suppose I understand why they would think that," Hermione mutters as she got out a needle, pressing the tip into Meissa's skin. Hurrying to catch the drops of bloods she needed in a clear glass vial.

"Blood magic is dangerous," Meissa tells the Gryffindor in a firm tone. "A few strands of hair can be used to allow a person to mimic another person's form," Meissa starts in a low voice, "Their blood can allow another person to control the victim. Maybe even cause them to boil from the inside out. Their blood turning so hot that they just can't breathe."

"You're scaring me with that kind of talk Meissa."

"Sorry," the Black heiress mutters quietly. "My point is, makes sure that what you've collected is actually used. If there is any left… destroy it."

Hermione frowns before she nods her head in understanding. "We should be done in an hour," she mutters before she glances at Meissa's arm. "… Will you last that long?"

"I'm going to have to whether I like it or not," Meissa does a one shoulder shrug, the curse having actually reached her shoulder at this point. She does this lopsided smile in an attempt to reassure Hermione but instead it made the brunette worry.

Meissa watch Hermione all but run from the wing, the clipping of hair and vial of blood clutched preciously to her chest. As uncomfortable the topic had made her she knew that there were some benefits in it. The one text on the branch was clear enough for her to understand that if she so desired she could use a drop of her blood to identify where those who share her blood are on the planet. Well, if she had a map of the world to be more accurate.

And she knew that some of the old manors in the Black estates had blood wards meant to protect the family and obey those who has control over the estates regardless of who lived inside the wards. But… there was something she was forgetting.

She frowns as she tries to remember what that little nugget was, staring blankly at the blood smeared on her finger. She was rubbing her fingers together, thinking, when she realized something.

"Of course," she whispers quietly to herself as she reaches for the needle Hermione had left behind in her haste. Once she has the needle between her teeth she pricks her finger, the blood welling quickly to the surface. Working quickly she smears the blood onto her petrified arm in a clear design of a rune. When the blood runs out she repeats the process over again before she managed to cover her entire arm with runes. The resulting lightness in her head was getting harder to ignore but she was able to cover the parts of her bicep she could reach and half of her forearm.

She felt odd with the runes on her on top of the curse but could feel the difference. Before the curse had felt oppressive and stifling, now it felt like she could actually breathe. She still felt the curse squeezing at her but it didn't feel as heavy as it had before.

"Miss Black what do you think you're doing!" she hears Madam Pomfrey shout but found she couldn't care what she thought as she bought herself some time. Her magic had a slimy feeling to it now but it was a price she was willing pay if it gave the others a chance to bring her the antidote.

"Don't touch me!" she snaps in warning, shuffling away from the Medic-witch to keep her from smearing the runes.

"Meissa… those are," she hears her godfather whisper.

"I know."

"Why would -."

"It was a risk I was willing to take," she cuts him off.

Snape scowls at her before ushering the disapproving Medic away. The glance he gave her from over his shoulder was enough for her to know that she'd be getting a stern lecture from him after this.

If she survives that is.