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Oh man. Okay. At LONG LAST, here is the next chapter of The Road. *runs away from wildly thrown objects of all shapes and sizes* I'm sorreeeeeeeeeee... I do plan to post a bit of an explanation for the lengthy hiatus; I just have not been able to yet. But I am NOT discontinuing this story! I repeat, I am NOT.
That said, here is chapter 21. Updates are going to be less frequent than they were before the break, partly because I have a lot I'm dealing with in RL right now, and partly because I've finally caught up with myself in terms of drafting, so now there will be a longer wait for the next chapter. But I do not intend for it to be nearly as long as this most recent wait! *apologizes again profusely*
Okay.
Title: The Road (21/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rurounihime
Rating: hard R when all is said and done…
Pairing: H/D eventually
Summary: In the midst of a disintegrating war, Harry awaits the arrival of the Order’s last hope.
Warning: violence, character death, spoilers for all seven books. This fic is now AU because of Deathly Hallows. And at the risk of much silliness, I now discover that there are apparently DH spoilers in this story from the beginning. O.o
Disclaimer: The HP characters and most of the spellwork do not belong to me.
A/N: Thank you to April for her fabulous and attentive beta-ing, and to Coffee for constantly letting me bounce ideas off of her. The other major pairing in this is Blaise/Seamus, but there are minor het pairings as well. And THANK YOU to everyone for being so patient. ^__^
…
No artwork for this chapter.
…
**ETA: THIS CHAPTER HAS RECEIVED ITS FINAL EDIT**
Previous chapters
Chapter 21: Seamus
Noise. So much noise.
Blaise’s body was so heavy in his arms. The hand that had clutched doggedly at the back of Seamus’ collar had long since fallen away. Seamus’ mind felt like it was swimming, rising and sinking end over end. He staggered the last few yards to the bed and ended up on his knees beside it, his arms sandwiched between Blaise’s body and the mattress. The colour of his lover’s skin was too much like stone. Seamus worked one arm free and lifted a trembling hand to touch Blaise’s cheek.
“Out!” Madam Pomfrey shouted, a slice through the chaotic mess around him. “Everyone but Finnigan, Potter, and Moody, get out of my Infirmary this instant!”
People shuffled. Seamus barely registered the sound. Somewhere behind him, a door groaned sharply. Someone knocked into something that clattered. A hand grabbed his and pried it away from Blaise’s face. Seamus jerked up, flaring with befuddled outrage, and found Madam Pomfrey, her wand flicking swiftly over Blaise’s chest and head. She wasn’t looking at Seamus at all, only muttering to herself. Her already lined face was stiff with deep, careworn creases.
There was a flash of red to his left and Seamus followed it unthinkingly. One of the Weasley twins sat up in a nearby bed, a blanket draped over his knees. He stared wide-eyed at Seamus, and Seamus returned the gaze dully. George—or was it Fred?—looked sickly and withered. He looked… And then the thought was gone and Seamus was locked again on the man in the bed before him, his breaths coming faster and faster for each diminishing rise and fall of Blaise’s chest.
Pomfrey frowned even more deeply and wove her wand in a series of complex whorls. “He’s broken his arm,” she muttered, and then her voice slipped into unintelligible incantations. Seamus became aware of a great heat in his lower back, aching and burning. He stretched but could not alleviate it. Pomfrey was weaving her wand again over Blaise’s abdomen.
“What?” she whispered, then shook her head. “No. Can’t be right.” She concentrated intently and the skin of Blaise’s arm began to glow… one whole shoulder… the entire limb, then his chest, down his torso into his legs.
Pomfrey paled. Her wand moved frenziedly. “Harry, get the Moon Pomegranate Draught and a bezoar from the stockroom. We have to get something into him.”
Again and again her wand traced over Blaise. Different parts of him—fingers, pelvis, throat—glowed and faded, and all the while, his skin remained ashy and Seamus swayed. He couldn’t find his balance. Harry returned with the items at a run and Pomfrey made no move to pour the potion down Blaise’s throat, but instead tapped the phial and dissolved the liquid inside into a shimmering mist which rose out of the neck of the flask. She guided it down until it sank directly into Blaise’s bare skin and disappeared. Blaise’s eyelids fluttered.
Pomfrey let out a quick breath and set the flask down. She pried Blaise’s mouth open, then placed the bezoar against his tongue and closed his lips again. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then Blaise’s body gave a great heave, his back arching. Hands clawed, and Seamus caught one without conscious thought. Blaise’s fingers were dirty with dried blood. His nails bit into Seamus’ flesh. His limbs began to twitch.
Pomfrey’s wand was back. She pursed her lips in concentration. “Harry, we’ll need another bezoar.”
Harry nodded grimly and left the room again. The Healer laid her hand gently against Blaise’s heaving chest and began to touch her wand to his side again and again, just at his ribs. One touch after another. Seamus felt his own mind buck, but they weren’t his thoughts. Or…
He didn’t realise he was making sounds until Pomfrey grabbed his arm. Her eyes flashed over him, up and down. “Alastor, he’s injured, come here! I can’t possibly—”
Moody hastened over on clunking leg and flicked his wand in front of Seamus, muttering. Seamus tried to push him away. “’S nothing,” he hissed. “Caught a sp… spell…”
Moody’s magical eye rolled upon him avidly. “Whose spell?”
Seamus could see Pomfrey watching out of the corner of her eye even as her wand continued to touch and rise. “Death Eaters,” he managed. His mind threatened to sink.
Moody grabbed his arm. “Did they follow you?”
Some forgotten fire reared. Seamus yanked himself free hard enough to see shock in Moody’s face. “They’re dead,” he snarled. The room tilted and he slid sideways without another word. Moody’s reaffirmed grip on his shoulders righted him before he hit the floor.
“Alright,” Moody said. “Alright, then. Hold still and let me see what they…”
Seamus lost track of time and found it again abruptly. Lost it once more. Moody’s voice floated in the fog somewhere ahead of him. “Nothing but a badly aimed Blasting Curse.”
“Check him,” Pomfrey snapped. “He should not be so unstable.”
“I have checked him. Three times. There’s nothing else.”
“Well, there’s obviously something the matter with him—” Pomfrey’s face contorted. She began to weave her wand in complicated symbols just above Blaise’s throat. “Oh, what in Godric’s name…”
Her voice faded. Or Seamus’ ears did, he couldn’t be sure. The room fell out of focus, all the colours dim. Someone whispered, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. Wasn’t even sure if it was a voice.
Suddenly Blaise’s hand snapped tight around his. Seamus saw whitened knuckles, quaking fingers. He gripped in response. Blaise’s eyelids fluttered fervently, and then opened to reveal fogged eyes. He blinked up from the bed. Pomfrey bent closer, face alert.
“Harry,” Blaise said thickly. He swallowed, and Seamus practically felt the difficulty of the action. Madam Pomfrey shook her head, gripping Blaise’s good shoulder with her hand.
“No, Mr Zabini. It’s Poppy Pomfrey.”
Blaise showed no signs of having heard. His tongue came out to moisten cracked lips. Seamus wavered internally, feeling like he would be sick. His lover reached shakily and found the Healer’s sleeve. “Done,” he rasped. “Harry… It’s done…”
Moody stiffened next to Seamus. Pomfrey’s brow creased. “Mr Zabini. Blaise?”
But Blaise’s eyes rolled back up to white. His grip around Seamus’ hand tightened for an instant and then went slack. His breathing evened, if one could call it even.
Pomfrey stared down at her charge for a long moment, then spun to face Moody. “What? What’s done?”
It was Harry who answered. Seamus hadn’t even heard him come back, but his voice slid into the room from somewhere close behind. “He’s killed Nagini.”
The name meant nothing to Seamus. He couldn’t think through the pain, the sickening, ever-present razing in his innards. But Pomfrey’s face paled. She held out her hand and Harry passed the new bezoar over. The Healer pried Blaise’s clenched teeth open a second time. She fished the first stone out—it dropped hollowly onto the dirtied bed-sheets, a sickly green where it had once been black—and replaced it with the new one. She then proceeded to ignore everyone. Her wand darted, flickered, cast small green showers in some places and sparked redly in others. At one point she concentrated heavily on Blaise’s chest. Seamus lolled against the bedside.
He was shaken to rights by two thin hands grasping his shoulders. He groaned and turned away, wanting Blaise, wanting only to find Blaise again—he was losing him somewhere in the fog. Couldn’t see him. But the hands and the voice were relentless.
“…at me, Mr Finnigan, it’s very important!”
Seamus blinked and found Madam Pomfrey crouched close, Harry standing behind her. Moody was to his… right? He no longer knew. The Healer’s eyes were intent upon his. “I need to know exactly what was done to him. You said there were Death Eaters?”
Seamus failed the first time he attempted to speak, and tried again. “Found them with him. They…” He didn’t like the memory, any of it. “Spells.”
She nodded impatiently. “Which spells? Can you remember?”
“I…” He couldn’t remember. “A gold one. Golden threads.”
“Acuere Inimicus,” Moody said gruffly. “They would do it to a traitor. In the beginning.”
Pomfrey nodded. “What else?”
Seamus glared at her. “Nothing else. Fucking killed them.”
Her eyes darted over his face. She glanced up behind him and then back down. “Alright,” and the passion in her words went somewhat subdued, “alright. Acuere Inimicus takes time to complete. Did Blaise tell you anything?”
He looked at her blankly. It was strange; he felt steadier, bolstered. He turned to the bed. His lover had not moved. Pomfrey squeezed his shoulders.
“Mr Finnigan, think. Those spells don’t account for his injuries.”
“He said Cruciatus.” Seamus kneaded his forehead. “And he… It sounded like Mordeocunctor.”
Pomfrey’s eyes went hard. “Yes, but that alone could not have done this! What else? It is necessary that you remember. Even the slightest detail—”
“He was bitten!” Seamus snapped, stunned at his own vehemence. He could barely breathe, listening to Blaise’s rasps. Or maybe he was the one rasping. Blaise didn’t look like he was breathing at all.
“Once?” Pomfrey pressed. Seamus shook his head.
“His leg,” he whispered. Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed, flattening the filthy fabric of Blaise’s jeans with her fingers. Down the length of his leg she went, and Seamus knew the moment she’d found the bite. With a rapid slash of her wand, she spelled the fabric off his leg. The bite was dark and swollen, oozing clear bile. Thin spider-threads of black climbed up and down his leg, disappearing under the severed edge of his jeans. The instant Seamus saw it, the pain in his own body doubled. He lurched to the side and gagged, vomited. Pomfrey jumped back.
“Harry! Harry, get him into a bed. And for Merlin’s sake, find out what’s wrong with him.”
Hands lifted him, trying to pry his fingers free of Blaise’s hand. Seamus snarled and lashed out, catching his antagonist hard across the face. Harry, a weak voice in his mind said as he felt the snick of spectacles against his fingers. But Harry grabbed his hand and shoved it down against his chest with a force Seamus wasn’t expecting. “Seamus!”
He sagged back against Blaise’s bed, staring up through filmy eyes. “Can’t breathe,” he whispered. Harry’s eyes flickered to the left, where his hand was still tightly entwined with Blaise’s.
There was no pressure in his lover’s grip. That hurt more than anything else.
Seamus felt the tingle of magic and watched as Harry spun spells out over his body. There was a reddening welt on the side of his housemate’s face, but Seamus was having a hard time connecting it with himself. Had he done that? To Harry? Something deep inside him moaned. He twisted, unprepared to fight against guilt as well. “Har… Harry, I’m sorry…”
“Shut up, Seamus,” Harry muttered. His green eyes followed the path of his wand like flitting fireflies. But finally he raised his head to Pomfrey. “It’s no use. I can’t find anything wrong with him.”
“Is he breathing alright?” Her wand had paused over Blaise’s side and steady white light was pulsing into him with a disorienting grinding sound.
“Yes.”
“Then give him a calming charm and watch him. Blaise is the worse off.”
Harry’s eyes tracked back to Seamus’ face. Seamus squinted. There was an odd glow humming about the edges of Harry’s face, his hair and mouth and… and eyes. Very faint. Seamus’ chest clutched, oddly soothed and yet hurting terribly at the same time. Not the same pain, but so, so familiar. And then Harry looked away and it was gone, leaving Seamus to the raging aches of his body.
“What about Luna?” Harry asked. “Maybe she can figure out what’s wrong with him.”
“Hasn’t she done enough for you?” Moody snapped. Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer.
The minutes crawled by. Hours perhaps. Seamus’ mind wove in and out, and he stared vaguely as the Healer’s wand moved over Blaise. The only time he felt the passage of time with any clarity was when the pain flared, blinding and full before fading again. Blaise sank in and out of awareness; at times his fingers clenched madly to Seamus’, at times they hung limp. Seamus became aware of a throbbing agony deep in his gut. It went on and on until suddenly… it eased.
He opened his eyes to find the Infirmary darkened, sparsely lit with yellow torchlight. He was still on the floor, Harry and the rest standing huddled over Blaise’s bed. He tried to turn his head but it took much more work than he remembered. His entire body felt numb.
Pomfrey’s voice echoed strangely in his ears. He forced himself to straighten, to find her. Her wand had stilled at last; all magic seemed to have subsided, except for a steady silver-blue glow that hovered over Blaise’s form. It slunk down to encase the hand that Seamus held. Seamus stared at it for a long, dull moment, and then focussed on Pomfrey’s words.
“He’s sustained considerable damage to his entire system. There are signs of Cruciatus in his nerves, but the real problem—”One of her hands clenched around the other. Moody’s magical eye darted over Blaise’s prone figure.
“Some sort of dark magic?” he said tersely.
Pomfrey shook her head. “No, no, there are things that aren’t working, and they should be! I can’t even begin to explain it. His… his kidneys, for example. His lungs are struggling and I can’t find a reason for it. He has massive internal bleeding and his body is so riddled with poison that I can’t—”
She stuttered to a halt. Seamus realized that she was gathering herself, breathing deeply and quietly.
“I don’t know how he’s still alive,” she said weakly.
Harry frowned. It was odd seeing the expression from such a low angle. Seamus inhaled and felt rather than saw Blaise’s chest rise.
“He’s breathing,” Harry stated. He gestured. “Look at him, he’s… What do you mean you don’t know how he’s still alive?”
“I mean that by all rights, he shouldn’t be. He’s had enough poison to kill a young Horntail. I found three broken ribs and deep bruising all over his torso. One of his kidneys just isn’t working anymore, and that’s saying nothing of the spell damage to his nerves!” She drew a shaky breath. “I’ve stabilised him as best I can. Everything I can fix right now is healed. I just… I have no idea why he’s still breathing, but he is.”
Seamus’ world sucked in on itself, a little black hollow surrounding him and Blaise. He gripped his lover’s fingers.
“Could he have cast some sort of protection over himself?” Moody growled. “Something to keep him going for long enough to escape? A form of Vivacis or Durabilis?”
“I thought so, but I couldn’t find anything in his body or his blood. None of those spells last very long, but if he’d cast one or drunk any such potion in the last few days, the signs would be there. There’s nothing.”
Harry spoke in a low voice. “He wouldn’t have used magic in Voldemort’s lair. They’d have felt it.”
Seamus stirred. Voldemort…? Surely that should mean something to him. A detached anxiety worked its way into his chest and hung there, but he couldn’t follow it. Couldn’t make sense of what it meant.
Pomfrey looked down at him. Even through the weariness, he saw her eyes narrow slightly.
Moody picked up where Harry fell silent. “There are no signs of dark magic in him except for the residual Cruciatus. He’s been hit with other spells, but you’ve got rid of them as far as I can see.”
Pomfrey looked away from Seamus. “They’re gone.” She gave a shudder. “One of those monsters shot him with Agonimorphus. That was what was building in his chest and throat, but they didn’t have the opportunity to lock it into a pattern. The bezoars are cleaning out the poison, and I’ve healed everything except his arm. I’m not sure what Skele-gro would do to him right now.”
“So for all intents and purposes,” Moody said, “he could survive?”
Pomfrey sighed. “It’s much too soon. I’ll have a better idea tomorrow.” Again she glanced at Seamus. Her gaze was calculating. “I have a few more spells I’d like to try, but they’ll have to wait until he’s made it through the first few hours.”
Harry nodded and eased back off the bed. Seamus hadn’t even noticed he’d been leaning on the mattress. His old housemate looked utterly exhausted. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that Seamus didn’t remember. His friend took a deep breath, let it out, and then crouched down beside him. A hand found his shoulder. Seamus could only feel its weight, not its warmth or… or anything detailed about the way it touched him. Curious.
“What about Seamus?” Harry said.
Madam Pomfrey looked at him a third time, unreadable. “We’ll put another bed here,” was all she said.
Seamus heard clunking, then the sound of something being dragged. Another cot appeared in his view. Again Harry knelt in front of him. Seamus felt his friend slip both arms under his and pull him up, settling him on the other mattress. A hand ghosted over his grip on Blaise and for an instant, hackles rose within him.
“It’s alright,” Pomfrey said suddenly. “Just leave it alone.”
Harry’s hand dropped away. Seamus felt himself being eased down onto something much softer than he’d slept on in months. Blaise was an absolutely silent presence in his mind, unnerving stillness where dreams normally roiled. Seamus stared across the space between them. The pallor of his lover’s face had eased, and his chest rose and fell infinitesimally. Otherwise, he didn’t move.
Seamus blinked once, twice, then slid into darkness.
* * *
He woke to an even deeper silence. Something was missing from the very air around him, but he couldn’t think what it had been. A voice? Singing… Seamus groaned and turned his head, wanting nothing better than to ease back into the drowse. The numbness in his limbs had lessened; he felt lighter. Just a little. There was no pain that he could recognise, but… He tried to roll and found that he was still gripping Blaise’s hand.
He opened his eyes.
Madam Pomfrey crouched mere feet away, gazing back at him. Her wand was poised above him, and a delicate silver mist drifted out of it, over his body. There were deep circles under both of her eyes.
“You’re awake,” she murmured.
Seamus looked at her, feeling empty. She waved her wand in gentle sweeps. The silver glow changed gradually, turning a ghostly purple and bathing the Healer’s face. Her eyes widened, and suddenly Seamus was looking at a face full of sorrow. Of awe. She laid a thin hand on his arm.
“I couldn’t figure it out,” she said softly. “Not even a year ago. And it was all right there for me to see, wasn’t it? All this time, we’ve…”
Seamus couldn’t summon the energy to respond. She squeezed his arm with warm fingers.
“You’re bound to him. Aren’t you?” Her eyes moved over his face as though she couldn’t decide where to look first, as though she had been looking for hours and still could not look away. “That’s how you found him.”
Seamus looked past her, focussed on Blaise. His lover looked… asleep. Just asleep. The ice-blue glow still hugged his form, curling in silent tendrils.
“You’re feeling it.” Pomfrey drew his gaze back. She did not even look at Blaise and the spell she’d cast over him, but he knew what she was talking about. “I suspected when you reacted to the numbing spells. I’d no idea a bond could…” Her face pinched briefly. “You were in pain, weren’t you? His pain.”
Seamus managed a slow nod. Her hand tightened around his arm.
“By all the gods,” she breathed.
It went unspoken, truths falling into place. Seamus watched Pomfrey, listened to his own body rise and drift. Listened for Blaise and heard nothing but emptiness. The Healer studied his face. It was strange to see her look so barren. “And now you’re the one holding him here.”
Seamus gathered himself and opened his mouth. The effort was monumental. “Will he live?” It came out a croak.
She looked back without flinching. He could feel the weight of her hand now, soft and comforting around his arm. “I don’t know.”
...
Chapter 22
...
...
...
This chapter's music: I'm afraid I couldn't find an audio version of this song to link to, but Seamus and Blaise's theme is "Away" by the Mediaeval Baebes. The song is absolutely haunting. Lyrics are:
My love has left for a faraway land
Alas! - why would he do this?
And here I am so tied and bound
I cannot go where he is
So he holds my heart in his hands
Wherever he comes or goes
And with my true love a thousandfold.
~Mirabilis album, Mediaeval Baebes
I will keep looking for an audio link. ^__^
That said, here is chapter 21. Updates are going to be less frequent than they were before the break, partly because I have a lot I'm dealing with in RL right now, and partly because I've finally caught up with myself in terms of drafting, so now there will be a longer wait for the next chapter. But I do not intend for it to be nearly as long as this most recent wait! *apologizes again profusely*
Okay.
Title: The Road (21/?)
Author:
rurounihimeRating: hard R when all is said and done…
Pairing: H/D eventually
Summary: In the midst of a disintegrating war, Harry awaits the arrival of the Order’s last hope.
Warning: violence, character death, spoilers for all seven books. This fic is now AU because of Deathly Hallows. And at the risk of much silliness, I now discover that there are apparently DH spoilers in this story from the beginning. O.o
Disclaimer: The HP characters and most of the spellwork do not belong to me.
A/N: Thank you to April for her fabulous and attentive beta-ing, and to Coffee for constantly letting me bounce ideas off of her. The other major pairing in this is Blaise/Seamus, but there are minor het pairings as well. And THANK YOU to everyone for being so patient. ^__^
…
No artwork for this chapter.
…
**ETA: THIS CHAPTER HAS RECEIVED ITS FINAL EDIT**
Previous chapters
Chapter 21: Seamus
Noise. So much noise.
Blaise’s body was so heavy in his arms. The hand that had clutched doggedly at the back of Seamus’ collar had long since fallen away. Seamus’ mind felt like it was swimming, rising and sinking end over end. He staggered the last few yards to the bed and ended up on his knees beside it, his arms sandwiched between Blaise’s body and the mattress. The colour of his lover’s skin was too much like stone. Seamus worked one arm free and lifted a trembling hand to touch Blaise’s cheek.
“Out!” Madam Pomfrey shouted, a slice through the chaotic mess around him. “Everyone but Finnigan, Potter, and Moody, get out of my Infirmary this instant!”
People shuffled. Seamus barely registered the sound. Somewhere behind him, a door groaned sharply. Someone knocked into something that clattered. A hand grabbed his and pried it away from Blaise’s face. Seamus jerked up, flaring with befuddled outrage, and found Madam Pomfrey, her wand flicking swiftly over Blaise’s chest and head. She wasn’t looking at Seamus at all, only muttering to herself. Her already lined face was stiff with deep, careworn creases.
There was a flash of red to his left and Seamus followed it unthinkingly. One of the Weasley twins sat up in a nearby bed, a blanket draped over his knees. He stared wide-eyed at Seamus, and Seamus returned the gaze dully. George—or was it Fred?—looked sickly and withered. He looked… And then the thought was gone and Seamus was locked again on the man in the bed before him, his breaths coming faster and faster for each diminishing rise and fall of Blaise’s chest.
Pomfrey frowned even more deeply and wove her wand in a series of complex whorls. “He’s broken his arm,” she muttered, and then her voice slipped into unintelligible incantations. Seamus became aware of a great heat in his lower back, aching and burning. He stretched but could not alleviate it. Pomfrey was weaving her wand again over Blaise’s abdomen.
“What?” she whispered, then shook her head. “No. Can’t be right.” She concentrated intently and the skin of Blaise’s arm began to glow… one whole shoulder… the entire limb, then his chest, down his torso into his legs.
Pomfrey paled. Her wand moved frenziedly. “Harry, get the Moon Pomegranate Draught and a bezoar from the stockroom. We have to get something into him.”
Again and again her wand traced over Blaise. Different parts of him—fingers, pelvis, throat—glowed and faded, and all the while, his skin remained ashy and Seamus swayed. He couldn’t find his balance. Harry returned with the items at a run and Pomfrey made no move to pour the potion down Blaise’s throat, but instead tapped the phial and dissolved the liquid inside into a shimmering mist which rose out of the neck of the flask. She guided it down until it sank directly into Blaise’s bare skin and disappeared. Blaise’s eyelids fluttered.
Pomfrey let out a quick breath and set the flask down. She pried Blaise’s mouth open, then placed the bezoar against his tongue and closed his lips again. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then Blaise’s body gave a great heave, his back arching. Hands clawed, and Seamus caught one without conscious thought. Blaise’s fingers were dirty with dried blood. His nails bit into Seamus’ flesh. His limbs began to twitch.
Pomfrey’s wand was back. She pursed her lips in concentration. “Harry, we’ll need another bezoar.”
Harry nodded grimly and left the room again. The Healer laid her hand gently against Blaise’s heaving chest and began to touch her wand to his side again and again, just at his ribs. One touch after another. Seamus felt his own mind buck, but they weren’t his thoughts. Or…
He didn’t realise he was making sounds until Pomfrey grabbed his arm. Her eyes flashed over him, up and down. “Alastor, he’s injured, come here! I can’t possibly—”
Moody hastened over on clunking leg and flicked his wand in front of Seamus, muttering. Seamus tried to push him away. “’S nothing,” he hissed. “Caught a sp… spell…”
Moody’s magical eye rolled upon him avidly. “Whose spell?”
Seamus could see Pomfrey watching out of the corner of her eye even as her wand continued to touch and rise. “Death Eaters,” he managed. His mind threatened to sink.
Moody grabbed his arm. “Did they follow you?”
Some forgotten fire reared. Seamus yanked himself free hard enough to see shock in Moody’s face. “They’re dead,” he snarled. The room tilted and he slid sideways without another word. Moody’s reaffirmed grip on his shoulders righted him before he hit the floor.
“Alright,” Moody said. “Alright, then. Hold still and let me see what they…”
Seamus lost track of time and found it again abruptly. Lost it once more. Moody’s voice floated in the fog somewhere ahead of him. “Nothing but a badly aimed Blasting Curse.”
“Check him,” Pomfrey snapped. “He should not be so unstable.”
“I have checked him. Three times. There’s nothing else.”
“Well, there’s obviously something the matter with him—” Pomfrey’s face contorted. She began to weave her wand in complicated symbols just above Blaise’s throat. “Oh, what in Godric’s name…”
Her voice faded. Or Seamus’ ears did, he couldn’t be sure. The room fell out of focus, all the colours dim. Someone whispered, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. Wasn’t even sure if it was a voice.
Suddenly Blaise’s hand snapped tight around his. Seamus saw whitened knuckles, quaking fingers. He gripped in response. Blaise’s eyelids fluttered fervently, and then opened to reveal fogged eyes. He blinked up from the bed. Pomfrey bent closer, face alert.
“Harry,” Blaise said thickly. He swallowed, and Seamus practically felt the difficulty of the action. Madam Pomfrey shook her head, gripping Blaise’s good shoulder with her hand.
“No, Mr Zabini. It’s Poppy Pomfrey.”
Blaise showed no signs of having heard. His tongue came out to moisten cracked lips. Seamus wavered internally, feeling like he would be sick. His lover reached shakily and found the Healer’s sleeve. “Done,” he rasped. “Harry… It’s done…”
Moody stiffened next to Seamus. Pomfrey’s brow creased. “Mr Zabini. Blaise?”
But Blaise’s eyes rolled back up to white. His grip around Seamus’ hand tightened for an instant and then went slack. His breathing evened, if one could call it even.
Pomfrey stared down at her charge for a long moment, then spun to face Moody. “What? What’s done?”
It was Harry who answered. Seamus hadn’t even heard him come back, but his voice slid into the room from somewhere close behind. “He’s killed Nagini.”
The name meant nothing to Seamus. He couldn’t think through the pain, the sickening, ever-present razing in his innards. But Pomfrey’s face paled. She held out her hand and Harry passed the new bezoar over. The Healer pried Blaise’s clenched teeth open a second time. She fished the first stone out—it dropped hollowly onto the dirtied bed-sheets, a sickly green where it had once been black—and replaced it with the new one. She then proceeded to ignore everyone. Her wand darted, flickered, cast small green showers in some places and sparked redly in others. At one point she concentrated heavily on Blaise’s chest. Seamus lolled against the bedside.
He was shaken to rights by two thin hands grasping his shoulders. He groaned and turned away, wanting Blaise, wanting only to find Blaise again—he was losing him somewhere in the fog. Couldn’t see him. But the hands and the voice were relentless.
“…at me, Mr Finnigan, it’s very important!”
Seamus blinked and found Madam Pomfrey crouched close, Harry standing behind her. Moody was to his… right? He no longer knew. The Healer’s eyes were intent upon his. “I need to know exactly what was done to him. You said there were Death Eaters?”
Seamus failed the first time he attempted to speak, and tried again. “Found them with him. They…” He didn’t like the memory, any of it. “Spells.”
She nodded impatiently. “Which spells? Can you remember?”
“I…” He couldn’t remember. “A gold one. Golden threads.”
“Acuere Inimicus,” Moody said gruffly. “They would do it to a traitor. In the beginning.”
Pomfrey nodded. “What else?”
Seamus glared at her. “Nothing else. Fucking killed them.”
Her eyes darted over his face. She glanced up behind him and then back down. “Alright,” and the passion in her words went somewhat subdued, “alright. Acuere Inimicus takes time to complete. Did Blaise tell you anything?”
He looked at her blankly. It was strange; he felt steadier, bolstered. He turned to the bed. His lover had not moved. Pomfrey squeezed his shoulders.
“Mr Finnigan, think. Those spells don’t account for his injuries.”
“He said Cruciatus.” Seamus kneaded his forehead. “And he… It sounded like Mordeocunctor.”
Pomfrey’s eyes went hard. “Yes, but that alone could not have done this! What else? It is necessary that you remember. Even the slightest detail—”
“He was bitten!” Seamus snapped, stunned at his own vehemence. He could barely breathe, listening to Blaise’s rasps. Or maybe he was the one rasping. Blaise didn’t look like he was breathing at all.
“Once?” Pomfrey pressed. Seamus shook his head.
“His leg,” he whispered. Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed, flattening the filthy fabric of Blaise’s jeans with her fingers. Down the length of his leg she went, and Seamus knew the moment she’d found the bite. With a rapid slash of her wand, she spelled the fabric off his leg. The bite was dark and swollen, oozing clear bile. Thin spider-threads of black climbed up and down his leg, disappearing under the severed edge of his jeans. The instant Seamus saw it, the pain in his own body doubled. He lurched to the side and gagged, vomited. Pomfrey jumped back.
“Harry! Harry, get him into a bed. And for Merlin’s sake, find out what’s wrong with him.”
Hands lifted him, trying to pry his fingers free of Blaise’s hand. Seamus snarled and lashed out, catching his antagonist hard across the face. Harry, a weak voice in his mind said as he felt the snick of spectacles against his fingers. But Harry grabbed his hand and shoved it down against his chest with a force Seamus wasn’t expecting. “Seamus!”
He sagged back against Blaise’s bed, staring up through filmy eyes. “Can’t breathe,” he whispered. Harry’s eyes flickered to the left, where his hand was still tightly entwined with Blaise’s.
There was no pressure in his lover’s grip. That hurt more than anything else.
Seamus felt the tingle of magic and watched as Harry spun spells out over his body. There was a reddening welt on the side of his housemate’s face, but Seamus was having a hard time connecting it with himself. Had he done that? To Harry? Something deep inside him moaned. He twisted, unprepared to fight against guilt as well. “Har… Harry, I’m sorry…”
“Shut up, Seamus,” Harry muttered. His green eyes followed the path of his wand like flitting fireflies. But finally he raised his head to Pomfrey. “It’s no use. I can’t find anything wrong with him.”
“Is he breathing alright?” Her wand had paused over Blaise’s side and steady white light was pulsing into him with a disorienting grinding sound.
“Yes.”
“Then give him a calming charm and watch him. Blaise is the worse off.”
Harry’s eyes tracked back to Seamus’ face. Seamus squinted. There was an odd glow humming about the edges of Harry’s face, his hair and mouth and… and eyes. Very faint. Seamus’ chest clutched, oddly soothed and yet hurting terribly at the same time. Not the same pain, but so, so familiar. And then Harry looked away and it was gone, leaving Seamus to the raging aches of his body.
“What about Luna?” Harry asked. “Maybe she can figure out what’s wrong with him.”
“Hasn’t she done enough for you?” Moody snapped. Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer.
The minutes crawled by. Hours perhaps. Seamus’ mind wove in and out, and he stared vaguely as the Healer’s wand moved over Blaise. The only time he felt the passage of time with any clarity was when the pain flared, blinding and full before fading again. Blaise sank in and out of awareness; at times his fingers clenched madly to Seamus’, at times they hung limp. Seamus became aware of a throbbing agony deep in his gut. It went on and on until suddenly… it eased.
He opened his eyes to find the Infirmary darkened, sparsely lit with yellow torchlight. He was still on the floor, Harry and the rest standing huddled over Blaise’s bed. He tried to turn his head but it took much more work than he remembered. His entire body felt numb.
Pomfrey’s voice echoed strangely in his ears. He forced himself to straighten, to find her. Her wand had stilled at last; all magic seemed to have subsided, except for a steady silver-blue glow that hovered over Blaise’s form. It slunk down to encase the hand that Seamus held. Seamus stared at it for a long, dull moment, and then focussed on Pomfrey’s words.
“He’s sustained considerable damage to his entire system. There are signs of Cruciatus in his nerves, but the real problem—”One of her hands clenched around the other. Moody’s magical eye darted over Blaise’s prone figure.
“Some sort of dark magic?” he said tersely.
Pomfrey shook her head. “No, no, there are things that aren’t working, and they should be! I can’t even begin to explain it. His… his kidneys, for example. His lungs are struggling and I can’t find a reason for it. He has massive internal bleeding and his body is so riddled with poison that I can’t—”
She stuttered to a halt. Seamus realized that she was gathering herself, breathing deeply and quietly.
“I don’t know how he’s still alive,” she said weakly.
Harry frowned. It was odd seeing the expression from such a low angle. Seamus inhaled and felt rather than saw Blaise’s chest rise.
“He’s breathing,” Harry stated. He gestured. “Look at him, he’s… What do you mean you don’t know how he’s still alive?”
“I mean that by all rights, he shouldn’t be. He’s had enough poison to kill a young Horntail. I found three broken ribs and deep bruising all over his torso. One of his kidneys just isn’t working anymore, and that’s saying nothing of the spell damage to his nerves!” She drew a shaky breath. “I’ve stabilised him as best I can. Everything I can fix right now is healed. I just… I have no idea why he’s still breathing, but he is.”
Seamus’ world sucked in on itself, a little black hollow surrounding him and Blaise. He gripped his lover’s fingers.
“Could he have cast some sort of protection over himself?” Moody growled. “Something to keep him going for long enough to escape? A form of Vivacis or Durabilis?”
“I thought so, but I couldn’t find anything in his body or his blood. None of those spells last very long, but if he’d cast one or drunk any such potion in the last few days, the signs would be there. There’s nothing.”
Harry spoke in a low voice. “He wouldn’t have used magic in Voldemort’s lair. They’d have felt it.”
Seamus stirred. Voldemort…? Surely that should mean something to him. A detached anxiety worked its way into his chest and hung there, but he couldn’t follow it. Couldn’t make sense of what it meant.
Pomfrey looked down at him. Even through the weariness, he saw her eyes narrow slightly.
Moody picked up where Harry fell silent. “There are no signs of dark magic in him except for the residual Cruciatus. He’s been hit with other spells, but you’ve got rid of them as far as I can see.”
Pomfrey looked away from Seamus. “They’re gone.” She gave a shudder. “One of those monsters shot him with Agonimorphus. That was what was building in his chest and throat, but they didn’t have the opportunity to lock it into a pattern. The bezoars are cleaning out the poison, and I’ve healed everything except his arm. I’m not sure what Skele-gro would do to him right now.”
“So for all intents and purposes,” Moody said, “he could survive?”
Pomfrey sighed. “It’s much too soon. I’ll have a better idea tomorrow.” Again she glanced at Seamus. Her gaze was calculating. “I have a few more spells I’d like to try, but they’ll have to wait until he’s made it through the first few hours.”
Harry nodded and eased back off the bed. Seamus hadn’t even noticed he’d been leaning on the mattress. His old housemate looked utterly exhausted. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that Seamus didn’t remember. His friend took a deep breath, let it out, and then crouched down beside him. A hand found his shoulder. Seamus could only feel its weight, not its warmth or… or anything detailed about the way it touched him. Curious.
“What about Seamus?” Harry said.
Madam Pomfrey looked at him a third time, unreadable. “We’ll put another bed here,” was all she said.
Seamus heard clunking, then the sound of something being dragged. Another cot appeared in his view. Again Harry knelt in front of him. Seamus felt his friend slip both arms under his and pull him up, settling him on the other mattress. A hand ghosted over his grip on Blaise and for an instant, hackles rose within him.
“It’s alright,” Pomfrey said suddenly. “Just leave it alone.”
Harry’s hand dropped away. Seamus felt himself being eased down onto something much softer than he’d slept on in months. Blaise was an absolutely silent presence in his mind, unnerving stillness where dreams normally roiled. Seamus stared across the space between them. The pallor of his lover’s face had eased, and his chest rose and fell infinitesimally. Otherwise, he didn’t move.
Seamus blinked once, twice, then slid into darkness.
* * *
He woke to an even deeper silence. Something was missing from the very air around him, but he couldn’t think what it had been. A voice? Singing… Seamus groaned and turned his head, wanting nothing better than to ease back into the drowse. The numbness in his limbs had lessened; he felt lighter. Just a little. There was no pain that he could recognise, but… He tried to roll and found that he was still gripping Blaise’s hand.
He opened his eyes.
Madam Pomfrey crouched mere feet away, gazing back at him. Her wand was poised above him, and a delicate silver mist drifted out of it, over his body. There were deep circles under both of her eyes.
“You’re awake,” she murmured.
Seamus looked at her, feeling empty. She waved her wand in gentle sweeps. The silver glow changed gradually, turning a ghostly purple and bathing the Healer’s face. Her eyes widened, and suddenly Seamus was looking at a face full of sorrow. Of awe. She laid a thin hand on his arm.
“I couldn’t figure it out,” she said softly. “Not even a year ago. And it was all right there for me to see, wasn’t it? All this time, we’ve…”
Seamus couldn’t summon the energy to respond. She squeezed his arm with warm fingers.
“You’re bound to him. Aren’t you?” Her eyes moved over his face as though she couldn’t decide where to look first, as though she had been looking for hours and still could not look away. “That’s how you found him.”
Seamus looked past her, focussed on Blaise. His lover looked… asleep. Just asleep. The ice-blue glow still hugged his form, curling in silent tendrils.
“You’re feeling it.” Pomfrey drew his gaze back. She did not even look at Blaise and the spell she’d cast over him, but he knew what she was talking about. “I suspected when you reacted to the numbing spells. I’d no idea a bond could…” Her face pinched briefly. “You were in pain, weren’t you? His pain.”
Seamus managed a slow nod. Her hand tightened around his arm.
“By all the gods,” she breathed.
It went unspoken, truths falling into place. Seamus watched Pomfrey, listened to his own body rise and drift. Listened for Blaise and heard nothing but emptiness. The Healer studied his face. It was strange to see her look so barren. “And now you’re the one holding him here.”
Seamus gathered himself and opened his mouth. The effort was monumental. “Will he live?” It came out a croak.
She looked back without flinching. He could feel the weight of her hand now, soft and comforting around his arm. “I don’t know.”
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Chapter 22
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This chapter's music: I'm afraid I couldn't find an audio version of this song to link to, but Seamus and Blaise's theme is "Away" by the Mediaeval Baebes. The song is absolutely haunting. Lyrics are:
My love has left for a faraway land
Alas! - why would he do this?
And here I am so tied and bound
I cannot go where he is
So he holds my heart in his hands
Wherever he comes or goes
And with my true love a thousandfold.
~Mirabilis album, Mediaeval Baebes
I will keep looking for an audio link. ^__^
