Sirius did not notice when the unspeakable torment stopped, but he became semi-aware again an indeterminate amount of time after it did. The only coherent thought he managed to form (or hear?) was it's over. He still ached horribly and was exhausted, so rather than making the effort to struggle to full wakefulness, he sank back into a truer sleep.

The next time he awoke, sort of, he recognized that he was in bed. That was probably a good thing, given how awful he felt. The other thing he unfortunately recognized was his mother's voice. He flinched at the grating tone, and even that small movement brought forth a new wave of pain. He groaned. Someone touched him with hands of fire, and he pulled away from them. It was several cycles of painful touches, painful flinching, and inarticulate moaning before someone tried to drown him and an unnatural calm settled over his mind and body, sending him back to sleep.

Later, someone tried to open his eyes and communicate via Legilimency, but it proved to be a bad experience for them both. He instinctually struggled as soon as he felt the intrusion to hide the things that must never be seen, but the effort inevitably reminded him of why he hurt so badly, bringing the memory of the Cruciatus pain roaring back to the front of his mind. Both of them desperate to escape the sensation, he followed the intruder back to her mind in her hasty retreat. He realized this person was a healer before she managed to push his disoriented thoughts back out. They left his mind alone after that and just focused on making his body more comfortable, which he appreciated.

He drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he heard his mother's or his father's voice. Sometimes he did not. He did not open his eyes or attempt to speak or do anything else that might alert them to his presence-of-mind; he couldn't think how to say any real words besides "Ow," "mother," and "fuck," anyway, and his mother would definitely yell at or curse him if he accidently strung those together while acknowledging her unwanted presence.

He might have been content to stay half-asleep indefinitely, until he heard the most bizarre combination of voices yelling at each other: Walburga Black and Alastor Moody. Well, not yelling exactly, but close enough. "Ma'am, he was admitted to the hospital suffering effects of prolonged Cruciatus exposure from an unknown assailant. Of course there must be an official investigation!"

"If you so much as touch the Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, you will lose your job. No, I shall have your head to hang on my wall next to the retired house elves'!"

"And if you insist on impeding my forensic investigation, I could have you arrested!"

"How dare you, you filth! You-"

"Mmmf," Sirius interrupted. Merlin, his mouth was dry. His eyes cracked open. The lids felt like they were stuck together with glue, and they itched. He squinted up at the ceiling at first, but his eyes found his mother soon enough when she snatched up his hand and squeezed it in a death grip. His whole body jerked at the touch. At least the movement itself didn't hurt badly this time, just the hand she was squeezing all the blood out of.

"Sirius!" she cried.

Merlin, she actually seemed worried. He struggled fruitlessly to pull his hand away, then gave up and settled for complaining, "Ow." She did not take the hint, if anything clutched him tighter, scowling fiercely. His eyes wandered over to find Moody, who was on the other side of his bed. The auror was watching warily, exuding a cautious hope. Sirius' lips twitched as he attempted to grin. "'M alive," he mumbled.

Moody smiled, but before the auror could get a word in, Walburga started berating him. "Oh, you're alive, are you? Well, thank our ancestors for that. You almost weren't, you ungrateful wretch! You don't come home, you don't write, you hide when I try to see you and then go and almost get yourself killed! I should have been lucky if you had just died cleanly! You bring nothing but grey to my hair and shame to our house..."

Moody's grin morphed to a frightening glower. He drew himself up, and he towered over Sirius' mother. "Ma'am, you will desist."

"You. Do. Not. Speak in my presence, you lowly-"

"Then leave. You are distressing the victim of a brutal attack, and I must needs question him while he is awake if we are to bring his assailant to justice." Sirius almost laughed. If Moody thought this was a distressing-Walburga, he was sorely mistaken. Other than implying she wished he was dead, she was being remarkably civil at the moment. He could clearly hear her anxiety even if no one else could. He wouldn't say her presence was comforting, but it was sort of nice to know the woman who gave birth to him cared a little whether he lived or died.

"I'm not leaving him alone with the likes of you! Nor may one so unclean as you lay hand on him!"

"Fine, I won't touch him. I can have one of the Longbottoms come in for the forensic evaluation if it makes you happy. They're pure-blooded enough even for you. But he's not a minor. I'm going to talk to him, and you can't stop me."

"He doesn't want to talk to you! Or your blood traitors!"

"Is that true, Sirius?"

Sirius blinked, then slowly shook his head.

Walburga half-choked in rage, but Moody talked over her coughing and sputtering. "Great. Do you remember what happened?"

Walburga started yelling again, just generally objecting that he wasn't well enough to speak, and Sirius expertly tuned her out. He wasn't sure he should say much if anything, not on an official record in front of a witness, even if it was just his evil mother who most likely already knew exactly what happened. He ended up shrugging. This wasn't exactly valuable information to withhold since the guilty party was Bella, who was already wanted by the Ministry. He could always tell Portrait Moody the details later.

"The healers believe you were subjected to the Cruciatus curse," Moody said loudly. "Do you remember that?"

Sirius half-shrugged again, but grimaced slightly. "Tracks."

"Do you know who might have attacked you?"

Sirius met Moody's gaze for several seconds before shrugging again. Hopefully, the auror would correctly interpret that as yes.

Moody frowned, then sighed. "You are lucky, Mr. Black. The Cruciatus has been known to cause permanent mental injury. When Lord Malfoy first delivered you to St. Mungo's, the healers were not sure you would awaken again, let alone speak."

Sirius didn't remember any of the Malfoys being present for his duel with Bella. He furrowed his brow. "'Braxas?"

"Yes, he said he found you at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Apparently, he sent his elf to find you when you did not return to the Malfoy residence that night."

"Dobby?" That was a bad cover story, and both Abraxas and Moody must know it. Disregarding the fact few could have missed a prolonged torturing session in so public a place even long past curfew, he was only a guest in the Malfoy household. He was related by marriage, but not by blood. He had no magical ties to Dobby. He flicked his eyes towards his left arm. He wasn't wearing the same black funerary robes, yet he hadn't been arrested. The Dark Mark must have been hidden somehow. He wondered if Abraxas had left his explanation deliberately vague so that he could more easily disavow Sirius if the Mark was later discovered. He allowed his confusion to show on his face and lolled his head over towards his mother. She abruptly stopped her ongoing tirade. He arched an eyebrow. Her face softened slightly, and she cleared her throat.

"That sounds correct," Walburga said in a perfectly normal tone for a change. "Our own house elf Kreacher woke me up after Sirius was taken here. I believe the Malfoy elf recruited Kreacher to help find my son." That made much more sense. Thanks, Mum.

"I see," Moody mused. "Thank you for your insight, Madam Black. Now, Sirius, do you remember what you might have been doing in Diagon Alley on Wednesday night?"

"No," Sirius whispered. He had no interest in inventing a story. Better to leave this as wide open as possible. Safer for him, better potential propaganda material for Moody if he couldn't be caught in a deception. After all, Moody wouldn't actually let one of the other aurors examine him and discover his Mark. And with no evidence of his role as a Death Eater, the Ministry would be sure to try to spin this against Voldemort, as proof that not even a Black was safe from harm in this insurgency. Sirius wouldn't help them, wouldn't comment, but a witness's silence never stopped the reporters at The Daily Prophet from publishing strong suspicions as truth.

"What is the last thing you do remember?"

Sirius closed his eyes again. "Lucius..."

"Sirius was at the trial for Lucius Malfoy the day before this happened," Walburga explained quickly. "Supporting his cousin Narcissa."

"Of course. Well, I'm very sorry this happened to you, Mr. Black. If you remember anything more, the healers can contact my office for you. And I will send someone by later for forensics. We already have the healers' reports. A little more delay for our bit won't matter at this point. I'll let you rest."

He bowed to Walburga and left the private room. Walburga slammed the door shut behind him. Sirius' torso spasmed again at the noise. He opened his eyes to glower at his mother, but it was wasted effort. She wasn't looking at him. He let his face slacken again in hopes it would stop prickling. "What rude, supercilious slime," she muttered vengefully at the door. She turned back to Sirius then and pulled some semblance of a smile. "That went well."

"Hmm?"

"It's good of you to keep this a family matter, Sirius." She sniffed disdainfully. "The Ministry could never handle Bella anyway. We will deal with this in our own way." Her eyes narrowed. "And you will not see that lunatic again. You are coming home after this, Sirius."

Sirius was too tired to argue with her right now. Obviously, he wouldn't be going to Grimmauld when the time came, but he didn't feel like being screamed at for the next few hours. He closed his eyes instead and pretended to doze while she continued to criticize him, Moody, St. Mungo's, the Malfoys, and "that crazed bitch." She briefly paused to confirm to a healer that Sirius had indeed awoken and said a few words; she then threatened to curse the man if he tried to wake Sirius up again to examine him. Thanks again, Mum. Eventually, the feigned sleep became real.


Something tickled his nose, and Sirius awoke with a startle that turned into a sneeze and a series of involuntary twitches. There was a surprised squeak from somewhere near his chin. Sirius squinted in the darkness. He couldn't see, but that squeak could only be... "Peter?" he rasped.

The Rat skittered off his chest and gained the weight of a man, sitting on the edge of his mattress. "Yes, it's me." Sirius grabbed for his friend blindly, and Peter caught his trembling hand. "I'm here for you, Padfoot."

"I just woke up today," Sirius mumbled. "How'd you know?"

"I've been sneaking into your room as Wormtail every night since the papers reported you'd been attacked and hospitalized." Of course that was a thing. Fuck, Sirius had missed his friends. He felt a lump in his throat and tears heating his eyes. He reached his other hand towards Peter too, catching him in a weak and clumsy hug. Peter bent and hugged him back. "Happy belated birthday," he murmured. "Figures you'd want to have your party in a hospital room." Sirius smiled faintly at the poor excuse for a joke. "What happened to you, Padfoot?" Peter asked.

Sirius shivered, then whispered, "Cruciatus."

"Oh, Sirius." Peter patted his shoulder, which sent jolts of pain lancing down his back. Merlin, hunching his shoulders like this was a bad idea, but he refused to let go and lie back. Peter noticed his wincing though. "Sorry...We haven't heard anything, and now this... where have you been?" he pressed. So, Fleamont hadn't told James. Well, that had been Sirius' idea. He didn't say anything in answer. "We heard you'd been seen at Malfoy Manor. Why on earth would you go there? Did they blackmail or kidnap you or something? Did-"

"Pete, stop," Sirius managed.

"No, Sirius, I won't just stop. You're one of my best friends, and you broke off contact for six months in the middle of a war! Not cool. We've been worried about you! What happened?"

Sirius gave in. It wasn't safe for his friends to know the truth, but Peter had more than enough information to guess. Sirius was weak right now; he couldn't bear it for Wormy to guess wrongly and think the worst of him. "Bella happened," he confessed. Peter tensed. He knew plenty about Bellatrix. All the Marauders did after listening to Sirius' family anecdotes for almost seven years. He took a deep breath. "She cornered me the week I left school." There. He'd said it. Sort of. He wouldn't say any more, nothing that would truly endanger himself, or put his friends on a hit list.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. So sorry. You're safe now. It's over. You'll never have to go back there. I won't let your Mum take you."

Sirius closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the false comfort. "Missed you. And Moony and Prongs."

"Missed you too. Merlin, I'm glad we've found you again. You probably haven't heard. James and Lilly are engaged-" Sirius grinned sleepily. "-And James asked me to be his best man. Me. Can you imagine me at a society wedding like that? Unbelievable. It'll be you, obviously, now we got you back. Don't worry, it's not until spring, plenty of time for you to rest and get back into the swing of things..."

Sirius' tears leaked out as he listened to Peter's Marauders Update. Oh, did he want to go home to the Potters, celebrate James' wedding, run under the full moon, all of it. But he couldn't. He would be going back into the dragon's nest as soon as he could walk. He forced himself to sit up straight and face reality. "Pete, I love you. I love James, I love Moony, and I love James' parents Fleamont and Euphemia. Tell them for me."

Pete laid a hand against his cheek. "You'll tell them yourself, Sirius."

"We... we don't know that."

"I am not letting anyone else take you out of here."

"There's a war on, Pete. Any one of us could die tomorrow," he said hopelessly. "Tell them for me. Tell them I love them..." His shoulders shook. His grip loosened, and he collapsed onto his side, too weak to hold himself up with core strength alone under the weight of his fear and his guilty conscience.

"Shh... I'll tell them," Peter whispered soothingly. He helped reposition Sirius back against his pillows. He silently stroked Sirius' hair, murmuring meaningless reassurances, "It's okay, you're safe now. It's over..."

When Sirius' sobs dissolved back into hiccups, he murmured, "Tell me more about your summer. You and our friends."

"Well, you'll never guess who Lily's got on her side of the bridal party..."

Sirius fell asleep again to the sound of Peter's soft, gentle voice. He had a funny dream that night of Snape in witch's dress robes.


"No, you thieves of my son's love, you may not see him! Get out! Get out!" Walburga slammed the door shut again. He wondered if it was the senior Potters or the Marauders who had tried to visit him. Probably his friends. Fleamont and Euphemia would surely know better. It didn't matter. His mother was very determined to control all his visitors. He'd seen no one but healers, Moody, and Blacks since he woke up three days ago. He couldn't tell if she was doing it of her own volition or as a favor to the Dark Lord. She returned to her seat and took up the parchment and quill she had abandoned earlier.

"I'm writing to Regulus," she declared haughtily. "Would you care to add anything for your brother's benefit, or do you disdain him as much as me? He has sent six owls in six days asking after your health, I'll have you know."

Sirius winced in guilt, which turned into another spasm. Merlin, that was getting annoying. "I'll write," he said through gritted teeth. He pushed himself upright with some difficulty. She passed him a second self-inking quill and a blank sheet of Black family letterhead. He took hold of the quill and dropped it twice while attempting to grip it properly. The tips of his fingers felt numb and tingly, and his arm and hand kept twitching. This was going to be impossible. "Do you have a Quick Quotes Quill?" he asked.

"No," she said shortly.

He hadn't really expected her to. The quills were temperamental and produced mediocre penmanship at best, unsuitable to the dignity of the Blacks, but it would have been so helpful just now. He struggled for about five minutes and dropped the quill about a dozen times to produce a hundred ink blots and six shaky, nearly illegible words: I'm alive. Ask Mum. Love, Sirius. Merlin's pants, how long was it going to take for his nerves to recover? Would he recover enough to hold a wand and write legibly again? He threw the pathetic missive at her and flung himself moodily back onto the pillows. His spine arched painfully in another involuntary spasm.

Walburga picked up the letter and looked at it for a long minute. "I will get you a new quill," she conceded.

"Thank you."

She went back to writing her own letter. "That idiot auror came by again."

"How do you know he's an idiot if you won't let him get a word in edgewise?"

"Don't talk back to me, young man, unless you want a stinging hex. I'll wager that would hurt quite a lot in your present condition."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said quickly. He knew she wasn't joking. If he managed to ward off a simple stinging hex, she wouldn't let it end there either. She'd switch to something stronger, and he was pretty helpless to defend himself against a witch of Walburga's caliber at present.

"That's better. He confessed he sneaked in here again after hours to do his filthy forensics."

"I didn't know that."

"He said you were asleep. No respect for your privacy." She barred her teeth. "He said he had a few more questions for you based on what he found, and I say he's an idiot because if he was competent, he wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer at that point and instead would have arrested you." They both glanced at his left arm. Someone had obscured his Dark Mark with another magical tattoo layer depicting a manticore. It was almost as ugly as the Mark in Sirius' opinion. There was no style, as if the image had been copied from a drawing in a textbook. Regardless, a really determined auror should have been able to sniff him out.

"Guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm your mother. You can hate me all you want, but I will always be right. I will always be wiser than you and know better than you. I will always have your best interests at heart, no matter how much you protest otherwise, no matter how much you disagree. You are my blood. I will never let you go."

Sirius took a deep breath. He had held his tongue long enough. "You are a bitter, cruel, and cold old woman and completely blind to your own inadequacies as a human being. You don't care about the happiness or well-being of your children. You care about me only insofar as you care about how my life reflects upon yourself. I honestly tried for years to earn your approval, and that got me nothing but dismissal and abuse. I'm not trying anymore, Mother. Hate me, dismiss me, or disown me, I am still going to make my own decisions and live my own life. And I am not going home with you to live under your controlling thumb, you bitch. There are so many things I dislike about our family, but you are what I loathe the most. I would rather return to live with Bellatrix than with you. I would rather spend the rest of my life in this hospital bed than step foot in your house again."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. She stood up, crossed over to the bedside, grabbed a handful of his shoulder-length hair, and twisted it. Hard. With his hypersensitive skin, it felt like she had ripped his scalp clean off. He howled in pain, and she slapped a hand over his mouth. She pulled harder. All the muscles in his neck tensed reflexively, his head pulling inexorably backwards until he was gaping at the wall behind him. Walburga leaned over him and hissed, "You think I'm bitter and cruel? Listen to yourself, you stupid, selfish child. With my own body I made you. You think this is pain? No man knows pain. Only mothers do, from the blood of birthing you ungrateful spawn, from the fear of watching you grow, from the betrayal of your worthless rebellions. You think you got away from me, leaving our house, dragging our name through the dirt, throwing our values in my face, but you're wrong. You pull away so hard because I hold you so tight." She smiled darkly. "I know what you have been doing. I know whose house you've been sleeping in, whose cause you've been keeping. Lie to yourself and say you're doing this for you, my little simpleton. You're not. You took the Dark Mark for me. You never escaped my womb, boy, and you never will." She let go of his hair. "You may apologize now."

"Go to hell," he panted.

"Hmm." Without missing a beat, she unpinned the brooch on the front of her robes, a silver reproduction of the Black family crest, and jammed the pin into his arm. He had no idea if it even broke the skin, but his whole arm seized up in response nonetheless. He opened his mouth, but before he could curse her out or even yell for help, she drew her wand on him. "Silencio. You need discipline, Sirius. I have been remiss." She stuck the pin in a different muscle. "This will stop when you're ready to apologize. You only need to blink twice, slowly."

The healers were concerned that evening that he seemed to have suffered a relapse, with uncontrollable shaking and spasms, barely able to speak. They treated him with an extra calming draught, an extra pain potion, and two different muscle relaxants. If Peter joined him again that night, he didn't know it.

Author's note: he lives! (not that any of you would have doubted it. In the words of the Narrator of George of the Jungle, "X can't die, let's face it, he's the hero..."). Thank you for the reviews, should be back to regular Saturday updates again, now.