Blood Ties 8

Harry looked at the sentence and then back at his godfather. Padfoot was staring at him with an intensity he hadn’t had since that night in the Shrieking Shack with Peter Pettigrew. Thinking quickly, he glanced over at the other boys in the room and then met Sirius’ burning eyes again.

“I have class until noon,” he whispered. “And then Raye has snagged me to talk some more at lunch and then I have class until afternoon and then Hagrid wants to see me and I’ve got Quiddich practice later on. What do you want me to do?”

Sirius growled softly to himself, then shook his head, making his ears flap. It was probably for the best. Harry didn’t need to be involved too much anyway. The big dog got up and nudged Harry towards the door. Go on, he thought at him. Harry looked at him with some confusion, but went on out to class. Sirius paced around the room until the other boys left and found a window to stare out of while his brain hummed with plans.

He was now wondering if Esme was an animagus as well. He was sure he had heard the flap of wings when she had escaped from him before. He supposed it could have been the flap of her coattails, but there was other things besides that. She had identified him easily enough, saying that she had dealt with shapechangers before. She had also said that there were no vampires at Hogwarts, but had never denied being a vampire hunter. He knew some vampires could change shape, so maybe that was what she meant. He mulled it over in his head until lunchtime, when Ron brought him a bowl.

“Harry’s stuck in a corner with Raye and hasn’t been able to escape,” Ron told him. “ He said to tell you that he has Defense after lunch and then we go out to the greenhouses. Then we’re all going down to see Hagrid. Do you want me to let you out of the tower?”

Eating noisily, Sirius nodded. He suspected he was going to have to work on his table manners once he was able to come out of hiding. There just wasn’t a dainty way to eat clam chowder without hands or utensils or shape-able lips. Someone, probably Hermione, had added a breadstick, so he chomped that down and looked expectantly at Ron. The redhead looked a trifle disgusted, but picked up the now spotless bowl and lead the way out.

Sirius spent the rest of that day on the grounds, sniffing around Hagrid’s place for scent of Buckbeak and trying to avoid North. The white dog was Ms. Zephyr’s and Snape was her shadow these days, and he wanted to stay clear of all three of them. He hid in the pumpkin patch again when Hagrid stomped out of the woods with Fang and a big sack over his shoulder. Hagrid set his crossbow by the door and set out a bowl of water for Fang before grabbing the sack again and heading off towards the lake. Following him was easily done, as Fang was too busy slurping water to notice Sirius go by and Hagrid himself was humming cheerily to himself.

“Weasels and hares, weasels and hares,” the groundskeeper sang softly. “A whole squirming sack of weasels and hares!” The big guy certainly seemed happy. Maybe it was feeding day for the giant squid. Sirius trotted after him in the underbrush and then they came up to a large shed that hadn’t been there a few days ago. It reeked of Buckbeak and Sirius felt his spirits lift as a shrill squawk came from the inside as Hagrid opened the door. The hippogriff was alive then! And healthy enough to raise a commotion.

“There’s my handsome boy!” Hagrid was crooning. “Look what I’ve brought ya!” Then followed some horrible, crunching, squelching noises that Sirius recognized all too well as hippogriff feeding sounds. He snuck up to the door and peeked in. Buckbeak lay out on a thick bed of hay as Hagrid tossed him a dead hare from the sack. His gray body was swathed in bandages around his middle and he made no effort to get up, so he wasn’t up to full health. His eyes were as bright and fierce as ever, despite it.

Suddenly, Buckbeak noticed him and made a softer chirping sound of recognition. Hagrid wasn’t paying attention, being too absorbed in picking the fattest weasel to offer next. Sirius wagged his tail at the hippogriff who stretched out his neck to chirp at him. Sirius hurried out of sight before Hagrid looked up and hid himself in the bushes. He would wait for Hagrid to leave and then go into visit Buckbeak properly.

It took nearly two hours for Hagrid to feed and brush and play with the hippogriff, all the while cooing to him like he was a human baby instead of the huge creature he was. As impatient as he was, Sirius had to acknowledge that neglect was out of the question. Buckbeak was being taken good care of. Finally though, Hagrid reappeared with the empty sack and a final goodbye, latched the door and went off whistling some drinking tune Sirius thought he recognized. He shifted quickly back to his human form and stepped inside the shed. Buckbeak perked up and tried to get to his feet, but Sirius shushed him and made him lay still. Buckbeak shoved his head against Sirius’ chest and he sank his hands into the feathers to scratch his neck

“I was worried about you, featherbag,” he said fondly. “It’s not the same hiding out and sneaking around without you.” Buckbeak chewed on the leather belt he still wore around his neck and Sirius only flinched a little when the sharp beak closed near his throat. “I can’t stay long, buddy, but I’ll be back when I can, OK?” Buckbeak chirped at him again. With a final pat, Sirius stepped back and shifted back to Padfoot. He let himself out and knocked the latch back into place with his nose before heading back towards the castle.

He spent the rest of the afternoon milling around the grounds, being petted by many of the girl students. It wasn’t until after dinner that he caught up with Harry and Ron again. They were waiting for Hermione when Sirius came padding up to them. A moment later, Hermione came trotting over.

“I got that summerflax from Professor Sprout,” she was saying. “Oh hello, S-Fumbles...Are you guys ready to go see Hagrid?” Sirius fastened his eyes meaningfully at Harry, who blinked at him before catching on.

“You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down there,” he said. Ron and Hermione nodded and went on. Sirius ducked into some shadows and shapechanged once again. “What is it? “Harry asked. “What’s your plan?”

“That plan is over,” Sirius whispered back. “I need to get some answers out of Esme before I know what to do. I know how to find her. If she’s after the Zephyr woman I just need to shadow her until she makes an appearance, Getting the truth out of her is another thing though...”

“Snape has a Truth potion,” Harry remembered. “He threatened me with it before, when he thought I’d stolen something out of his office...Veritaserum, I think he called it. If you could get some-.”

“Then I could get a straight answer out of that woman,” Sirius finished. “All right, we’ll try. If you can distract Snape, I’ll get inside and find it.”

“It might be easier to make our own,” Harry said, with a sinking feeling. Sirius grinned at him a little apologetically.

“Probably, but we need it in a hurry,” he said. “Let’s go.” He quickly shifted back to Padfoot and they quickly made their way down to the dungeons. Unfortunately for their scheme, Madame Pomfrey was there as well as Snape. They were in the middle of what was obviously a powerful portion. Snape made some gesture over a bubbling beaker with his wand and it glowed silver, releasing a rainy day scent into the air. Madame Pomfrey stood by to hand him a spoonful of a green powder.

It would have been a death wish to interrupt him now, so they waited quietly in the shadows for a likely moment. Sirius was annoyed that he had spent most of the day waiting on people to finish things. Harry was just hoping the flickers of light wouldn’t reflect from his glasses and give them away. He was also trying to come up with a good reason to speak to Snape afterwards. A new flash of light made them both refocus on Snape who was now holding a small, curved knife.

“I do object to this part,” Madame Pomfrey said softly. Her pleasant face clouded over, but Snape paid no attention. Very carefully, he cut his own wrist and collected the spurting blood in a little bowl. “That’s enough,” Pomfrey said after a few seconds.

“I am the Potionsmaster,” he snarled back at her. “I KNOW when it is enough, thank you.”

“You’re as bad as she is!” Pomfrey snapped. “And when you kill yourself who will make the potion for her every day then? Give me that!” She snatched his arm and gave his wrist a light touch of her wand. It healed up in just a second. They glared at each other for a moment, but Snape backed down first. He was obviously weaker after just losing a small amount of blood. If he’d been doing this for days, Harry realized, it would explain why he’d been so feeble.

“I thought she couldn’t have blood,” Pomfrey said next. “That it would just make her worse.”

“I won’t be using the pure blood,” Snape said, pouring the bowl into the top beaker of a complicated series of tubes. “I have to distill a certain element out of it. It will only take a few minutes.”

“Good,” Pomfrey put her hands on her hips and gave him her best ‘mother’ glare. ”That’ll give me time to get a regeneration tonic down you. Severus! I mean it. Come with me.”

“I don’t nee-” he began.

“Humor me,” she flared back. There was no hint of motherliness in her anymore. It was no longer a request. He was going or she’d drag him, kicking and screaming, to the infirmary. He sighed in an exasperated way, but he went. As soon as they left, Harry picked up one foot to step out into the room. Sirius suddenly yanked him back into the dark and clamped a hand over his mouth. Esme flitted into view, sliding in between them and the table. There was a clink of glass and then she was gone again. Sirius cursed and charged after her, leaving Harry alone in the dungeon.

Harry looked closer at the potion distillery, to see if anything was changed. The beaker that had held Snape’s blood was now empty and the end tube was now full of a red-black fluid. It looked like she had sped the process into a few seconds. Nothing else looked different. He quickly hurried out again, not wanting to be there when Snape got back, especially alone. And if anything IS wrong with that potion, I will NEVER be safe in Snape’s presence again! he thought, half-smiling. Grateful that the halls were clear, he ran out to meet Hagrid.

Meanwhile, Sirius was tearing after Esme down the dark halls. He wasn’t even sure she knew he was after her. She never once looked backwards. She cut back to the Griffyndors halls, and with a swish of her coat was inside the girls’ bathing room again. Sirius slid to a halt, then crept to listen at the door. For a long moment there was nothing and then came the sound of running water. He took a deep breath, and nudged the door open.

The first thing he smelled was the miasma. It was pitch black inside until a dim light spell was chanted in the adjoining tub room. He shrank against a wall and inched along one side, trying to get a glimpse of her in the mirror so he wouldn’t have to step into the next room. Her reflection swept by quickly, dropping the trench coat beside the tub. Sirius crouched to leap out at her, but then she whipped her shirt off over her head.

Her back was to the mirror he was spying on her with and her underwear was not exciting, but he still found himself gasping. Five red scars slashed her from her left shoulder blade halfway to her right hip. It looked like something with claws had opened her back to the bone, and not that long ago either. It stretched her skin in an awful pattern between her shoulders. The dim light cast strange shadows over her and he was glad the running water had covered the sound of his gasp. He hardened his heart again. No matter what she’d tangled with before, he still had to get some information from her.

A sudden tapping sound made him freeze again. He saw the mirror vibrate and the reflections tremble. Esme spat out a curse that would have made McGonagall faint and jumped into the tub. Sirius crouched low to the floor as he got his second shock of the hour. A horrible goblin-like creature sprang out of the mirror and landed on the pile of Esme’s clothes. It was cat-sized and covered with matted, olive-green fur, even its bat wings. It had a humanesque face, if humans had evolved without noses or lips. The lower part of its face was full of thin fangs.

“Our master is not pleased with you,” it said, advancing toward the tub. Esme slapped a handful of soapy water at it and it skittered back with a hiss.

“The master’s pleasure has never been my priority,” Esme told it, but it continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Not pleased at all. He asks that you be reminded of the nature of your agreement.”

“Agreement?” Esme spat back, cutting it off in mid-chuckle. “If I had agreed, he wouldn’t need you.”

They faced each other icily, the goblin crouched on the wet floor, and Esme up to her shoulders in pink bubbles. After a second or two, she winced as if from some inner pain and held out her arm with a disgusted noise. The goblin bounded up to the side of the tub with a flap of its wings and sank its teeth into the old bandages around her wrist. Sirius’ stomach felt cold. This was worse than he had thought.

He remembered her bloody wrist in the cave when they had first met. How long had this been happening? Who was this master? The first thing to come to his mind was, of course, Voldemort. The cold feeling in his stomach flipped over. If that was the case, he really had no choice, Even if she killed him here, it would alert Dumbledore to the danger. She was sloshing around angrily, one hand toweling herself off and the other trying to pull her clothes on. As always happened in such situations, the clothes she managed to drag on stuck to her, as did the wet ends of her hair. Somewhere in all this, the goblin was gone.

Sirius made another change back to his human form, took another deep breath, and lunged out at her. She let out a high-pitched “EEEK!” of fright and threw herself backwards. She slid in the water on the floor and Sirius tackled her into the towel rack. Towels went everywhere and he managed to pin her against the wall. He saw her eyes widen as she realized who he was, and while that thought was registering, he seized her bitten wrist and sank his thumb into one of the wounds. Blood spurted out and he felt something crunch under the pressure. Esme cried out again and stopped struggling. He grabbed both her middle fingers and bent them back, not enough to be really painful, but giving her a definite warning.

“I’ll kill you,” he panted, dragging her upright by the fingers. Blood was running down her arm to her elbow now. She wasn’t able to answer, because at that moment, the door behind them flew open. Esme threw herself forward and planted a poorly aimed kiss under his nose.

“AHA!!” screamed Argus Filch from the doorway. “I caught y-Oh. Oh!...Uh.” That pretty much described Sirius’ train of thought as well. In that moment of mutual bewilderment, Esme freed her hands and stepped in between the two startled men.

“Oh, please don’t tell!” she wailed at Filch, clutching her hands to her soggy chest. “His parents would never let us visit. I haven’t seen him all winter! Oh please!” Filch looked as panicked as Sirius felt, especially when she burst into tears.

“Now, uh, see here,” Filch began.

“Promise you won’t tell??” Esme shrieked, desperately.

“Uh, But...but I,” he said.

“You mustn’t!!” Esme was well into hysteria at this point. “It’ll ruin everything!! His parents! His MOTHER...!!!”

“What on earth is going on??” a new voice demanded and Filch stepped back to let Professor McGonagall in. Sirius was frozen. He was found. He was caught. And, he suddenly realized, his hair was the wrong color. It was an auburn brown, sleek and wet at the ends. Esme’s hair was now as black and wild as his had been. It hid her face as she collapsed to cry in the floor. McGonagall gave him one sharp disapproving glare and sank down beside Esme. It was easy to guess what she was thinking...why was some ragamuffin wizard in the girl’s bathing room, after hours, with a screaming female Muggle? Esme sounded so traumatized though that she couldn’t be ignored.

“My dear,” McGonagall said, patting the sobbing woman’s shoulder. “What is this about??”

“We’ve been engaged for almost two years!” Esme wept, looking tearfully at Sirius. “His parents won’t let us get married because I’m a...a Mupple or whatever.” She sniffed miserably and McGonagall handed her a hanky. The professor’s stern expression had softened a little. “We decided to meet here to get some advice from Cyrus’... uncle, I think?” They were both looking at him now, so he started nodding.

“And who is your uncle?” McGonagall asked, more gently. Sirius was still reeling from how sudden this whole evening had been, but was prepared to play along. There was only one person he dared show himself to right now anyway.

“Albus Dumbledore,” he said, watching the look of surprise sink into her face. “He’s the Headmaster. But of course you know that already! Sorry, sorry.” He fidgeted, looking as nervous as Esme looked weepy. When liars work together... he thought unhappily. He had been prepared to kill her and now he was in her debt once again.

“Where’s the dog I followed in here?” Filch asked from his post by the door. “And what happened with all the water?”

“Dog?” asked Sirius. Esme told a sniffling story about running a bath to pretend to be in if anyone came by. She had hidden her hurt arm in the trench coat. McGonagall sighed and agreed to summon Dumbledore for them as long as the removed themselves from the girl’s bathroom and waited somewhere more discreet.

“What were you doing to spread towels all over?” snapped Filch, looking at the mess. Esme blushed and Sirius shuffled his feet. Once he interpreted that, Filch changed colors and stomped out muttering. McGonagall pursed her lips and marched them out into the hall. Esme took Sirius’ arm and snuggled him from the side. They were presented to Dumbledore, who was in his pajamas. He looked closely at Esme, but acknowledged Sirius as his nephew.

“It seems we have a lot of things to discuss,” he said, eyeing both of them sharply. “However, you both look as if you’d been through a lot. Why don’t you both get some sleep and we’ll sort this out in the morning.” Sirius felt his jaw drop, but managed to grab it before it hit the floor. He couldn’t believe Dumbledore was willing to let Esme run loose for another twelve hours without at least questioning her. He tightened his grip on her arm. Fine. He’d just have to be her warden until morning then.

While he was fuming, McGonagall had herded the pair of them to two guest chambers. Esme started to go into the one decided as hers, but Sirius gave her a light yank and pulled her into his room with him. She blushed and the professor was appalled. He would have enjoyed the scandalized look on McGonagall’s face more if he hadn’t been so worried. In the room, he and Esme faced each other. She met him gaze coolly, all traces of her tears gone. He opened his mouth to demand an explanation from her, but she interrupted him.

“Give me three days,” she said. “and if I’m still alive, I will tell you everything. I swear it. Now come to bed, sweety. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to let my guard down to sleep.” She promptly stripped down to undies and another of her black shirt collection. This one said FREAK in big white letters. She crawled into bed and took the biggest pillow. He took off his robe and crawled in with her to lock eyes again.

“That’s not good enough,” he told her. “Too much is at stake now.”

“More is at stake than you know,” she said, smoothing her new black hair behind her ears. She seemed genuinely upset, but he had seen her acting ability and wasn’t convinced. Her eyes flickered around the room as if looking for something small and he remembered the goblin creature. Taking her arm again, he was surprised once more to see that there was a scar on her wrist, but no recent bite. He stared at it in disbelief and then something moved under her skin. It was faint as a shadow and flitted under the skin, like a living tattoo in pale ink. He gaped and she pulled her arm free. “Three days,” she said again.

They both tensed as a shadow darkened the thin strip of light under their door. It paused. They looked at each other meaningfully. Someone was listening to them. Sirius shifted in the bed, still not releasing her wrist.

“You’re not like other girls,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure out what the difference is.” He meant the miasma and the way she almost winced told him she knew it.

“It comes from a life of experience,” she told him, playing along. “I always seemed to attract the wrong sort before you came along. I was naive then and I was deceived more than once. Those scars are on the inside, not the outside. Is that what you meant? ”They kept their eyes on the door. The shadow was still there.

“Well, scarred or not, I’m glad you’re here,“ Sirius said. "I just wish there wasn’t so much between us.”

“It would be nice if there wasn’t,” she agreed.” But some things are meant to be. I’m lucky to have you.” With that, she snuggled into his neck, which made his ears burn with embarrassment. “Have faith,” she added, and as far as he could tell, immediately fell asleep. He stared at her. She seemed to have aged since he had first seen her in the cave. The last few days had been hard on her, but he would have been more sympathetic if she hadn’t been pinning his arm underneath her. It was already beginning to go numb.

Have faith, she had said. In three days, if she was still alive. But what did the crazy wench intend to do??? That thought brought an unbidden smile to his face. Lily had never cared for the term ‘wench’. He thought Esme deserved it, though. She had been one nuisance after another to him, a constant worry in the back of his mind. But now, here she was, cuddled up to him in only a shirt and pair of panties which he thought had been covered in little smily faces. That made him a grin more like his old self and he looked at her again.

She certainly seemed to be asleep. She was limp and breathing slow and deep from her open mouth. He gave her a pinch, but all she did was twitch. He gently pulled his arm out from under her. After a moment of thought, he found her hands under the blankets and removed both of her rings. When she didn’t react to that either, he was satisfied she was asleep. He dropped the rings down into his shoes and fell asleep, too.

Esme was still there the next morning which he found encouraging. They dressed and went to see Dumbledore. She didn’t mention the missing rings, so he didn’t either. She was all smiles for Dumbledore, but annoyed Sirius by sticking to her engagement story and refusing to turn his hair back.. The Headmaster looked hard at her. Sirius wanted to ask if he could sense the miasma too, but Dumbledore suddenly asked Esme for a moment alone with his nephew. She seemed to hesitate then, but nodded and left with a promise to stay close.

“You trust her to do that?” Sirius sputtered at Dumbledore when she had gone. The Headmaster nodded absently.

“I don’t want you to jump to conclusions,” he said. “But things are badly out of hand. The Elmskill Morthahg was released by someone in that school, using an item that can only be used by a certain family’s bloodlines. The one in question belongs to the Ms. Zephyr your betrothed is so intent on reaching.”

“You think Esme released the Morthahg??” Sirius was too startled to even argue the ‘betrothed’ remark. He shook his head. “I don’t see it. She wasn’t even able to summon up a Hydraqua. I thought she was the vampire hunter that little Raye was writing too.” At mention of vampires, Dumbledore’s eyebrows came crashing down.

“Ms. Zephyr is not a vampire,” he said slowly. “She was kept as a pet by one and was bitten several times. He called her a blood doll. There was a change in her body after a year or two of being sporadically fed off of, but she has never hunted or taken blood herself, so she herself is trapped somewhere between the two. She is quite harmless, if somewhat bitter over the whole thing.”

“Do you know yet what’s going on in the Forest?” Sirius asked next.

“Blood and hate,” Dumbledore replied, looking tired again. “The Morthahg is there. How it came or who it followed, I do not know.” A new chill touched Sirius as he thought of Esme again. The taint in her could very easily be the Morthahg, he thought queasily...except that she could still use magic. She could’ve carried it to the Forest after releasing it at Elmskill. He felt truly sick at the thought. He could just barely hear a soft thumping sound and decided it was his head trying not to burst. Dumbledore was continuing, though.

“And something has been killing Hagrid’s rabbits,” the headmaster sighed. “Draining their blood. I don’t believe that was done by a vampire either, unless by a very SMALL one.”

“I know what that is!” Sirius sat up. “I saw it last night. A little ratty goblin thing all covered in fur. It bit Esme, too.” Dumbledore shot out of his chair.

“An ichling??” he asked. Sirius shrugged. “One that takes blood. This is bad...Call your fiancee in.” Puzzled, Sirius went to the door and opened it, only to find Aunty Quilt pounding on it as hard as her corner tassles could hit, which wasn’t very. It made the soft thumping he had heard.

“This is all YOUR fault!” the quilt screamed, waving a tassle at him threateningly. “Why did you leave her alone?? That terrible man won’t try anything in front of a witness, but now he has her AGAIN!!” He and Dumbledore stared at it and it began to weep, shuddering ripples going through its fabric. Ever the gentleman, Dumbledore took one of its tassls and petted it.

“There, there, Madam,” he cried, looking quite mad to Sirius’ eyes. “Where is Ms Esme now?”

“HE made her go!” the quilt sounded distraught. “The one she can’t speak of! The thump and click man! Oh, my poor girl!” That made no sense to Sirius, but he could see something dawn in Dumbledore’s eyes. The Headmaster soothed the weeping quilt and offered it a chair, which it folded itself neatly on. Then, he hurried out, motioning Sirius to follow him.

“Ichlings coming for her blood and a master she can’t speak of,” He said softly, shaking his silver hair. Sirius jogged along beside him, still puzzled. Then, from out of nowhere, a scream of unbearable agony shattered over the castle, stopping them both in their tracks. It was a woman’s voice, though the pain made it seem inhuman. Teachers came rushing out of classrooms to see who was being tortured. It went on and on and then was silenced. In the sudden quiet Dumbledore met Sirius’ eyes again, a little sadly. “A vampire would be better.”