𝐉𝐈𝐆𝐒𝐀𝐖

Chapter 25

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Chapter Twenty-Five:

Of Flesh and Blood

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Interlude Five:

Sirius felt much better now. He made a mental note to never, ever drink any beverages--particularly alcoholic ones--that Snape conjured. He had a vague feeling Snape had only produced the bottle of unidentified liquor in hopes of making Sirius go away.

It had worked.

Sirius was sobering up now, unfortunately. He had also pissed like a racehorse--twice. Remus had only just recovered his powers of speech and vision, but was tired out by strenuous activities such as breathing, so he wasn't much entertainment. Sirius needed to pass the time somehow while Remus slept, Snape glowered, Tracey preached, and Contessa brooded.

If Tracey quoted something out of the bible one more time, Sirius was going to set her hair on fire. If Snape made one more sarcastic comment about Sirius's level of intelligence, Sirius was going to going to twist Snape's body into the shape of a pretzel. If Contessa kept acting like she knew everything and making nasty comments about dogs, he was going to choke her to death with her own hair. He was almost missing his house.

He heard the familiar sound of Contessa choking. She slept by herself, away from their camp. Sirius wasn't worried about it. He could hunt her down if she ran too far--one of the benefits of having a dog's keen senses. He approached her quietly, having learned the technique of padding about as quietly as possible while in human form as much as in dog form. Contessa was in her sleeping bag, twisting in desperation under the same ghostly Devil's Snare vines that threatened to strangle her every night at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Both vines and the ghostly appearance of the man faded as Sirius approached. Contessa sat up and rubbed at the fresh bruises around her throat. Before she pulled at her cloak, Sirius noted that the bruises extended to arms and legs as well. He imagined it was pretty miserable, being choked nearly to the point of suffocation every night. He'd feel sorry for her if she didn't deserve it. Every time he thought about the danger in which she'd put Harry and everyone he cared about, his sympathy drained away.

"What do you want, Black?" she rasped, breathing heavily.

Sirius shrugged. "Nothing. Just heard you choking--again. I could talk to Dumbledore about the throne if you--"

"I can deal with my own problems, Black. I don't need your help," she spat and then coughed violently.

Sirius watched her impassively. She looked a lot like her mother. At times, she looked a lot like her father. There were other times when she looked like people Sirius didn't even know. Sometimes he hated her, sometimes he pitied her.

Contessa glared up at him and then her eyes widened. Sirius opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong and then he heard a man shout, "Immobulus!"

His body froze up. After a moment, Sirius felt a wand tip pressed to the back of his neck. He swore wordlessly, since he could not move even his lips.

"Hello, Black," hissed out a familiar voice. That was Avery. He ripped Sirius's wand out of his pocket. Sirius wished that he could at least grind his teeth in frustration, mentally tearing the man's throat out.

Contessa came to her feet, her face expressionless as she stared at Sirius and Avery. Sirius glared at Contessa, wondering if she had arranged this somehow. Avery's hands roughly patted Sirius down, pulling out Contessa's wand from one of his pockets. Avery tossed it to her. It landed at her feet.