Chapter Thirteen: Nightshades
Time: Morning 7/15/95
During breakfast that morning, there had been a commotion in an upstairs bathroom. Some particularly nasty creature had been lurking behind a plumbing access panel, and had popped out as George was exiting the shower. Fortunately, he was able to fend it off with several well aimed jinxes; for, while showering, he had hung his wand through the curtain rings to keep it within reach. There had ensued afterward a lively discussion of whether the underage residents of the house should keep their wands handy at all times, whether their use of them might be detectable by the Ministry and compromise the security of the house, or whether they should be constantly accompanied by an adult. (Discussion of that last idea nearly degenerated into a shouting match between Ron, Ginny and Molly Weasley, in spite of Hermione's best efforts to mediate.)
Sapphire found her head spinning a bit trying to comprehend it all, but one thing was clear; they didn't want her anywhere near while Sirius, Molly and the twins hunted down this malevolent inhabitant of the crawl spaces. The kids were put to work cleaning up after breakfast - the kitchen being deemed the safest room in the house. Sapphire was nothing but in the way there. Trying to sit at the table and work on her paper proved futile; there was far too much banter and activity. Finding a spot alone in the house to work while a provoked ghoul prowled goodness-knew-where behind the walls also seemed a bad idea. So, promising herself that she'd be cautious, and knowing Sirius was too busy to notice, she put on some thick socks and rawhide gloves and slipped out into the weedy little garden.
The late morning sun was well on it's way to drying out the grass, and the light and warmth were a welcome change from the slightly dank house. "I know more about what's out here than what's in there anyway," she reasoned aloud, and smiled at the touch of the sunlight on her face and the smell of growing things - even if some of those things were a little unsavory. She walked slowly along the overgrown flagstone path through the center of the plot, stopping near a stone bench almost obscured by nettles. "There's still mint here," she said to herself, unsheathing the rapier and prodding some nettle out of the way with it's point. She gave a little yelp, as the nettle threw its barbed tendrils over the blade as though to strangle the intruder. She kept her grip though, and even laughed as the nettle withdrew from the sharp edge, leaving a few severed bits smoking and sizzling on the ground where one magic had overcome the other.
"OK, I consider myself warned!", she chuckled, and proceeded to carefully cut back the protesting nettles until she had revealed about two square feet containing some scraggly bergamot and woody peppermint. It was good to have the sky above her head; for even though the Black mansion was large, it had a close, almost sepulchral feeling. Out in the garden, Sapphire sang as she worked, not fearing that she would disturb anyone - or anything - with her song. She pushed the severed nettles into a pile, then prodded the mint. It didn't react, so she trimmed off the overgrown tops, pocketed a few bits for tea and looked around for another worthwhile project.
The almost skeletal remains of a creeping rosemary stood beside the stone bench, full of dead branches and much grown over with the vicious nettle. Sapphire cleared the nettle, but decided to wait for pruning shears rather than dull her blade on the bush, which would need trimming almost to the ground. Then, behind the hedge and in a rare clear space beside the path, she saw a familiar plant.
"Ah, now this is a proper witch's garden!" she laughed. "A bit of Belladonna would be mandatory. Wonder how she used it?" She extended the blade to touch the stalk and leaves; when nothing extraordinary occurred, she bent closer to examine the plant. "That's a happy looking nightshade," she observed. "If atropa will grow here, I wonder if it's cousin could be persuaded... After all, there are two things in life money won't buy; love and home grown lycopersicon esculentum." She looked up at the high enclosing walls, considered the climate and frowned. "There'd never be enough sun. Unless..., well, who knows? I'll ask Sirius if there's a spell for good tomatoes. But. . ., now what have we here?"
She sheathed the blade and knelt beside the nightshade. "This is something new! Have we fruit or flower?" Rather than the usual purple bell flowers, from the axils by some leaves there hung fat, slightly tear shaped silver orbs. They glowed faintly, like tiny moons on their thready stalks. Sapphire removed her gloves, pulled a pad and pencil from her pocket and began carefully sketching the plant. She first drew the main stems, shading carefully to capture their cylindrical shape. She added the prominently veined leaves, then began on the orbs.
She paused and studied the nightshade again. "I see some normal flowers, so this must be fruit - still. . ." she wondered out loud. "The calyx cups are quite green looking, and then here's a berry just turning from green to purple with yellowing sepals. So if you aren't fruit and you aren't flower. . ." She squinted at one large orb, her nose barely two inches distant. "Wonder if you're a bud of some kind, or perhaps a parasite?" The plant had not reacted to the charmed sword, so she gently lifted the orb with her pencil point. At once, it swelled and burst in a cloud of glittering dust that showered her hand and face. Sapphire gasped in surprise, and felt the ground revolve as the world turned gray.
_________
Remus Lupin had just arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place after concluding some business for the Order. He'd had no breakfast, so headed straight for the kitchen; but rather than finding Molly fixing a bite for lunch, he found Ron, Ginny and Hermione. The three related to Remus how George had fought off the ghoul and emerged unscathed, if somewhat undignified since he had blasted his bath robe to ashes in the fight and been forced to wear the flowered shower curtain.
"Sirius, mom and the twins are hunting it now." Ron offered.
"And we were ordered to stay in the kitchen," added Ginny with a bit of a pout.
"Where's Sapphire?" Remus asked.
The kids looked around. "She was sitting at the table," Hermione began, "but I haven't seen her in while."
"Wait, I remember! " Ron said brightly. "I saw her come in with some work gloves on her hands, so maybe she's in the garden."
"Alone?" asked Hermione, looking alarmed.
Remus stretched up to look out the small window. Almost immediately, he swore under his breath and ran for the back door. "Go find another adult!" he yelled at the kids as they emerged from the house behind him.
Hermione reentered the kitchen first and almost ran headlong into a black robe. "Remus wants some help in the garden!" she panted. "There's been an accident!"
Severus Snape regarded her coldly, but turned and exited the kitchen.
"Why did you send him?" Ron asked incredulously.
"He's the first adult I saw!" Hermione retorted. "Remus obviously wanted help fast. And anyway, if we're asking 'why,' why didn't you tell us Sapphire went out?"
As the argument progressed in the kitchen, Remus looked up from his crouch over the unconscious Sapphire to see Severus striding toward him down the garden path. As he neared them, his steps slowed and his mouth twitched a little. "Did you manage to knock her out?" he purred. "Really, Remus, you must show me how you did it."
"I found her here," Remus said, ignoring the intent of Severus' remark. "She's unconscious and her pulse is weak and fast. I think she's been attacked, but I don't know by whom or what." He pointed his wand at her. "Ennervate!" he commanded, but Sapphire didn't respond.
"Isn't she wearing Black's rapier?" Severus asked.
"Yes, there it is - still sheathed. She must have been surprised to not draw it." Remus had one hand on her right wrist, the other probed the pulse in her neck.
"It doesn't work when she's unconscious then," Severus remarked, and prodded her with a finger. Instantly, both he and Remus drew back their hands with exclamations of pain.
They looked at each other for a second, then Remus carefully touched her hand. "I feel something, but it isn't uncomfortable. Perhaps the charm allows her to be touched if she needs assistance? "
"Why you and not me?" Severus asked.
Remus shrugged. His eyes were on Sapphire, and he didn't raise them until Severus bent and lifted a notebook from the ground.
"This may be the cause of her condition," he offered, displaying the sketch of the Nightshade to Remus. They both turned toward the nearby plant that matched the sketch, and Severus pointed a wand at one of the silver pods. "Levioso." The orb lifted on it's stalk. "Haustorium reducto," he commanded, and the pod removed itself, a miniature full moon suspended only by a spell.
Remus repressed a shiver of revulsion. "It's a parasite on the host nightshade then?" he asked quickly.
"A most unusual relationship," Severus confirmed. "She seems to have been studying it. Her pencil is covered with silver spore. " Here, Severus dropped the notebook into an outer pocket and lifted the pencil with the hem of his robe. He tapped the silver powder from it into a small jar, then caught the levitating pod in the same and sealed the lid. He squinted into the jar. "Well, well, Mrs. Black! I'm impressed. I've never knew luamorta* would grow this far north. No doubt the nightshade host has increased it's hardiness. I wonder what sort of joining spell she used?"
"Devil's breath*?" Remus asked. "That's native to the Algarve region of Portugal!"
Severus nodded. "A rare fungus even there, much prized as a potent ingredient in several restricted sleeping potions. It's effects could well be intensified by the absorption of it's nutrients from the blossoms of Belladonna. You said the pulse is thin; are the pupils dilated by any chance?"
Remus gently pulled back an eyelid; it was like uncovering a bottomless well. "And how!" he answered. "So what should we do?"
"What should we do?" echoed Severus, rather vacantly.
"Do you know an antidote, man?" Remus was becoming piqued by Severus' apparent lack of concern. "Or do you think she'll wake on her own?"
"An antidote to revive a meddling muggle," drawled Severus, with a smirk. "Well, yes, I suppose I know something that might do it. Without intervention, I suspect she will sleep quite a while. As a matter of fact. . ., 'Engorgio gemma' " he said, pointing his wand at Sapphire's left hand. The gray dust there suddenly swelled to the size of marbles. "Ingenious, Madam Black! The sleep induced by the expelling vapors ensures that their host does not remove the spores."
"Haustorium reducto!" Remus almost shouted, waving his wand over Sapphire. Gray dust fell from her face, hands and clothes. Feeling more than a bit ill at the idea of a flesh eating fungal parasite, he applied the same spell to himself and followed with a couple of cleansing spells for both of them.
"Now, as I asked before," he resumed, when he was satisfied that no spores remained externally, " do you think she needs an antidote? What if she inhaled the spores along with the expelling vapors?" Severus said nothing for a long moment as he seemed to study Remus, who was now cradling Sapphire's head in his hands. Remus, avoiding his eyes, asked again, "What does she need?"
"Yes, it's quite likely she inhaled. It would be interesting to see how long she would sleep. . ." He stooped and regarded the altered nightshade.
"She shows signs of poisoning, Severus. Her vitals aren't good," said Remus wondering if Severus could hear the fear in his voice. He tried a deep breath. "I don't carry bezoars. You know how expensive. . ."
"Wouldn't help - no, I doubt it." Severus, still contemplating the spell graft, would have sounded more engaged making a lecture about cleaning potions on a Friday in May. "This is almost more a sleeping potion than a poison. True, the ingredients are potentially lethal, but she inhaled it rather than swallowed it, and the effects seem long term."
"No, you're right. Not a bezoar. What about a rejuvenating draught of some sort?"
"It would be tedious to administer enough liquid to have an effect, as she would probably choke in her sleep."
"Yes, of course." Remus felt a bit foolish for not seeing that right away. "But we should try to improve her heart function right away, don't you agree?"
Severus didn't answer. He was going through the pockets inside his robe. Finally, he produced a small vial with a substance inside that seemed to be in flux between states, boiling up green and then transforming into a blue vapor, only to condense like rain and return to it's green liquid state.
"Inhaling potion! Of course," Remus said reaching for the vial. Severus held it out of his reach, and Remus looked a question at him.
"It's a good batch, don't you think?" Severus raised it to the sunlight and admired it's churning colors. "It's very difficult to brew these effervescents, you know. If one gets the confining spell too strong, it fails to assume the vaporous form. Too weak, and of course, the whole batch evaporates before one can bottle it."
"It's an admirable job of brewing." Remus wondered how long it would be necessary to play this game before Severus handed over the vial.
"It really seems a shame to waste it on this muggle. "
"It seems fortuitous that you have some on hand just when it's needed," Remus retorted. The pulse beneath his finger seemed fainter, and he was running out of patience.
Severus continued to hold the vial before his eyes, like a jeweler appraising a gem stone. "I really should have some compensation for this. Does Black seem very attached to his muggle? One might consider that she isn't so young as when they met. I wonder what he would pay for a . . ."
"Since you no doubt used Hogwart's stock to brew it in the schools' cauldron, why don't you have Dumbledore figure the bill?" Remus knew money wasn't the real issue, but he didn't care anymore what Severus thought; he'd had enough of being toyed with.
Severus' smile was triumphant. "I suppose that would be acceptable," he said, as he handed over the vial to Remus.
A minute later, while a barrier spell confined the blue vapor around Sapphire's nose and mouth, Remus felt a strengthening of her pulse. In another minute, she began to breath more deeply.
"I believe the muggle has escaped from most of the paralysis, and should sleep off the remaining effects," said Severus, who had continued to observe as Remus administered the potion. "It is unlikely that any spores will survive in her airways."
"Help me move her indoors," Remus said.
"You'll have to carry the muggle yourself, unless you want to unfasten that sword."
"I can handle her," Remus responded quickly. "I don't want to push my luck by touching the rapier directly. Besides, we don't know for sure that it doesn't help protect her from this poison, do we?"
"The blade's behavior has proved something of an unknown," Severus agreed, not smiling.
"Then it should stay attached," Remus said and, slipping both arms beneath her, he staggered to his feet, trying not to look surprised that she wasn't as light as he had guessed. The sheathed rapier dangled from Sapphire's left side; her right side lay against his chest. Severus preceded Remus into the house, opening the doors for him as they went.
Remus was panting from the effort of carrying the unconscious woman up the stairs and wishing he had tried to levitate her, spell repelling sword or not, when he deposited her on the center bed in the girls room. He arranged her limbs and head into what he hoped were comfortable positions and felt her pulse again. It seemed regular and strong enough, if rather slow. "Will she need another dose of the antidote?" he asked Severus.
"Not unless she fails to wake within twenty-four hours, or has a decline in her vital signs." Severus added, "Someone should observe her until she regains consciousness."
"Yes, of course. I'll fetch Sirius," Remus said, and strode quickly toward the stair landing.
_______
Severus remained where he stood, drumming his fingers on crossed arms as he watched the sleeping muggle. He had only meant to stay a moment in this hateful house; Dumbledore had sent him to leave a package for Arthur. Now he was stuck with nurses duty. At least he had managed to have a little fun at Remus' expense - it had almost erased the residue of his tedious morning with Ratsnoot. So, Lupin was growing fond of Miss McNosey, eh? That might prove entertaining.
It was so easy to get a rise out of these Gryffindor types - over hot cauldrons that boiled their contents out at the slightest provocation, or none at all. (A fact that Dumbledore was exasperatingly determined to ignore. If he couldn't talk him out of this idiotic plan to teach the Potter boy Occlumency, the Headmaster was about to get an object lesson he'd not be able to deny.) He would get Black's back up just by being here - another diversion from his oppressive existence if he played it right.
Really, it was small wonder Black and Lupin were attracted to this muggle. Like them, she had no restraint in her thoughts. Most muggles, when probed with legelimency, either put up some sort of feeble resistance that he could suppress without much effort, or were cowed into a sort of mental paralysis that allowed him to sort through their thoughts without distraction. It was never difficult to obtain the information he needed - not unless their encounter with the deatheaters had left them deranged. (In those cases, their minds were chambers of horrors, and probing not only was unproductive, it could be injurious to the legelimense. For those, the healers at St. Mungo's could only wipe their memories clean and deliver them back to their families as mysterious cases of total amnesia.)
But this muggle had been a complete surprise. Entering her mind had been like diving into a swollen river. A thousand narratives had swirled around him as he had struggled to focus on the ones that were relevant; while, in the midst of the voluptuous maelstrom, on her little island of consciousness, this powerless muggle had been observing him - learning his own mind by watching him learn hers. Severus shook his head, chasing away the disturbing sense of intimacy - yes, even violation - that he still felt vividly. Better not to think of that.
Of course, she had other, more mundane charms that any sort of man might appreciate. Severus' mood improved again as he lazily regarded the strong planes of her cheeks, the graceful length of her neck, the thickness and sheen of the black, shot with silver braid that snaked over the side of the bed. It was satisfying to let his eyes drift slowly over the rest of her form. "She's not unattractive when she's unconscious," he muttered to himself. He recalled accessing some fragmented memories of Black stunning her a time or two when she was less than fully clothed. "I suppose that would prevent her impertinent tongue from spoiling the moment." His smirk stretched itself into a leer.
Sapphire stirred. A low moan escaped her lips and she tried to lift a hand, as though fending off a blow. She shouldn't be awakening yet. Severus brow creased as he tried to remember if there could be side affects from the potion ingredients. She mumbled something and twitched her legs a bit. He would have said a muggle with that mix of dwale and Devil's breath* in her would be unconscious for half a day, no matter what antidote was used. She must be dreaming, and not a nice dream from the looks of it. Could it be a psychotic reaction to the poisons? She might suffer for a long time if the dream lasted as long as her sleep.
"If she awakes with damage to her mind, no doubt Black will say my antidote was at fault, " he muttered. He began to wonder what sort of story Dumbledore would concoct when the legelimenses as St. Mungo's discovered Black wandering about in the mind of their patient. Could they trace her thoughts to Grimmauld Place? There seemed to be no certainties with this one. Severus' felt his previous black mood returning and sighed.
What to do? If he entered her mind, he would know what sort of dreams disturbed her, but legelimency was useless on the unconscious. "Somnium imperio" would allow him to control her dream. Using it might prevent any trauma, but, because of the helplessness of the subject, there were strict regulations for it's use; written consent in advance was required. Of course, Black was hardly in a position to turn him in for unauthorized use of restricted magic. Still, there might be a better way.
What he wanted was to examine the dream, and then influence it as required. There was another spell; he had learned it from a Beaux Batons exchange student. He hadn't used it in years - and never on a muggle - but when he was a youth in his teens and twenties, there had been occasions. . . He watched a few more seconds, then lifted his wand while shaking his head, amused at his own thoughts. "Well, why not? I could use the practice," he whispered.
His incantation was silent - partly out of tradition, though in this case, there was little danger of waking the sleeper. But a silent spell had an aroma that was different from spoken ones, and he generally preferred them as much for that reason as any other. Severus prided himself in being able to discern the scents of spells. Not one in a thousand wizards could do it, he knew. It was sometimes as useful as legelimency. The odors of people told him much as well. He could identify most muggles without even looking at them, just from their smell. Most were a stinking caldron of synthetic poisons and bad imitations of entrancement potions. Young muggle women were particularly likely to smell of the later. It now struck him that this one smelled different. It was no wonder he had doubted her muggleness at their first meeting; his nose seldom lied. She smelled of lime rich earth, leaf mold and a complex mixture of plant oils - not wholly unlike the ingredient locker that Madame Pomfrey kept at the Hogwart's infirmary. At first, he put this down to her proximity to these things in the garden - though this garden's soil was actually lacking in lime, now that he thought of it - or residue on her hands and clothes; but after Remus' assiduous cleansing, he realized these smells emanated from herself. She had absorbed into her very flesh the stuff she worked with.
Now a fine gray mist was forming around Sapphire's forehead. It collected and thickened a bit. Without lowering the wand, Severus took his other hand, scooped up a bit of the vapor and carried it to his own forehead. Then, he made small stroking motions in the air. The mist lengthened and covered his face. Mimicking his strokes, the mist above Sapphire extended itself down the length of her face. The furrows in Sapphire's brow softened. Her jaws unclenched, lips opening slightly, and she breathed more evenly. "That's better, isn't it?" Severus murmured to the sleeping woman. It was surprisingly pleasurable to redirect the muggle's dream, which he now judged to be obliviation induced - more about dementors than dementia. It had been no trouble distracting her; she seemed to welcome his presence in her dream. He hadn't used this spell in so long he had quite forgotten how satisfying it could be. He and that little blonde from Chaumont had derived great pleasure from it - that was, until she decided to spend her evenings stargazing with . . . His initial scowl tightened into a crocodile smile. Perhaps he really would get something in return for his potion? After all, the muggle was receptive.
He paused, turning one ear toward the open door. Hearing nothing, he turned back and continued pulling at the air. The mist elongated, slowly creeping from chin, to throat, to chest. Severus' eyes were almost closed behind the magical cloud. He breathed deeply, slowly, in time with the sleeping woman. Except for the motion of his hand and the rise and fall of their diaphragms, neither Severus nor Sapphire moved at all. The mist continued it's progress.
The blow landed squarely on Severus jaw and would have knocked him to the floor if he hadn't landed on Ginny's bed. He sat up, one hand supporting him, the other palming his throbbing face, and spat a bit of blood onto the floor. His wand had rolled away on the sagging floorboards and into the hall, but Sirius wasn't holding one either. Both Sirius' hands were clinching and unclenching as though he couldn't decide whether to strangle Severus or pound him to pulp, while his jaws chewed soundlessly on what seemed an immovable clog of words. Severus swallowed once and smiled up at his assailant with reptilian coolness. Ignoring the blood that seeped from one corner of his lips, he spoke. "You give the muggle nightmares, Black. I was attempting to replace them with a more, shall we say 'pleasant' dream."
"Go!" Sirius growled through clenched teeth.
Severus rose slowly from the bed, spat blood again, this time dangerously close to Sirius' feet and, without turning his back on Sirius, made his way toward the door. The mocking sneer remained unmoving on his bleeding mouth." It is fortunate that I was able to administer an antidote so quickly. Under normal circumstances I would expect the muggle to sleep like the dead for about twelve hours, but this one seems to be full of surprises," he drawled. " For it to be dreaming so soon is rather remarkable," he continued in a somewhat bored manner, as though he were giving instructions to a class of rather slow first years. "You should be pleased. Either it isn't as badly poisoned as I had thought, or it's very resistant to the toxin. Perhaps whatever makes this one resistant to Obliviation also resists charmed sleep. I think St. Mungo's might find your muggle pet very interesting to study. . ."
"Go!" said Sirius again, drawing his wand. Severus, too dizzy to bend down, prodded his with his foot and summoned it from the floor to his hand, where it hung with insolent looseness from his long fingers. As he began to turn away Sirius added, "If you use her like that again - if you so much as touch her, I'll kill you."
Severus mouth, now swollen and lopsided, twitched once as he turned and met Sirius' eyes for a moment, but he only turned again and slowly, silently descended the stairs.
____________
*Many thanks to Mugglenet pal, Linda C for providing the botanical and common names for the fungus.
@4,616 words, 6/14/06, Final edit, 7/18/07
Posted by Madmaxime at February 5, 2008 04:02 PM