Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 8: A Parting of the Ways

Saturday, July 12 Eden

Remus tightened his grip around Sirius and slogged through the shallows of the stream against the current. Sirius' head lolled forward against his chest. His arm weighted down Remus' shoulder. Even with the help of the Mobilicorpus Charm, Sirius was still a heavy burden.

"Stay with me, Padfoot," Remus whispered. "Don't leave me now. We're almost there."

Moisture pricked in Remus' eyes. He blinked it back. Couldn't fall apart now. Padfoot needed him.

Remus glimpsed the healing pool with its spring straight ahead. He searched for any sign of Peter. Had his friend waited?

"Peter?" Remus called out. "Wormtail?"

He didn't really expect an answer. Remus wouldn't have blamed Peter if he had left. Remus himself never expected to return alive.

The bushes nearest the source of the spring rustled. A round face with frightened eyes peered out. Remus was never so happy to see his friend.

"Peter, help," Remus yelled. "Sirius is badly hurt. Help me get him to the pool."

Peter emerged from the bushes. The watery eyes darted around with nervous glances. Then Peter rushed forward to take hold of Sirius' left arm.

"What happened, Moony?" Peter panted, supporting his half of the heavy body.

"He's been hit," Remus said. "A Slashing Hex. Voldemort got Meadowes."

Peter cringed. His nose twitched. "S-sorry."

"Help me set Padfoot down over there." Remus nodded his head toward a moss-covered ledge that extended over the pool. He maneuvered the body into position and lowered Sirius' head. "Easy now."

Remus ran his hand over Sirius' brow, brushing the black fringe off of the sweat-soaked forehead. His fingers lifted the eyelids. The grey eyes stared back, unresponsive and dull. Remus choked back the lump in his throat that threatened to cut off his breath.

"Padfoot, can you hear me?" His words came out in a croaked whisper. Sirius did not answer.

Remus' fingers flew to Sirius' neck, feeling for any sign of a pulse. A faint throbbing rhythm beat against his fingers. Exhaled air rushed from Remus' lungs. Still alive.

Remus tore open the black shirt to reveal the gaping wound across Sirius' chest. Blood stained the muscled torso. Peter emitted a low whistle.

"Looks bad," Peter said. "We need to get him to Hospital."

"There's no time." Remus stared hard into Peter's face. "The Portal steals it. By the time we reach Greece, he'll be dead." He gave Peter an encouraging nod. "We must do this ourselves."

"D-do what?" Peter's face had turned white. He shook his head. "I...I'm not good at spells. And you're no good at potions."

"There's a pot of clay." Remus' eyes darted around the pool. "I left it right here not long ago. Ahmed's clay. It's our only chance. Look for it."

Remus scanned the banks of the pool and the stone ledge where he had hidden from Sirius and Dorcas. Where the hell had he put that pot? Had he used it all? Had it been destroyed?

The bushes! He must have left it in the bushes where he'd hidden his clothes. Remus ran to the underbrush and parted the branches. The Healer's vessel lay in the dirt, just where he'd left it. He seized the bowl and ran back to Sirius. He plunged his fingers in the pot, feeling the hardened mass crumble between his fingers. The clay slurry had dried. Damn!

"Dried out." Remus shot Peter a hopeless look.

Ever practical Peter had regained his composure. He sat by Sirius' side with a torn piece of shirt in his hand, cleaning the wound with water from the stream. He looked up at Remus.

"It's clay, isn't it?" he asked.

What was he getting at? Remus didn't understand. Peter dipped the shirt into the water and squeezed the lot into the vessel in Remus' hand.

"Knead that around a bit." Peter gave Remus an encouraging nod. "It'll work."

Remus' eyes widened. Of course, why hadn't he thought of that? Remus worked the water into the clay in his hands until it returned to the proper consistency. The cooling mud tingled between his fingers and on his palms. The mixture still had magic.

Remus dabbed the mud into the wound on Sirius' chest. Then he smeared the clay paste with greater abandon, leaving terra cotta handprints all across Sirius' chest. Yes! This was going to work. It had too.

Remus glanced over at Peter. The round face stared, admiring Remus' handiwork as if he was appraising the artwork of a fine painter.

"Sort of puts me in mind of finger-paints I had as a sprog," Peter said. He pointed a stubby finger at a spot of bare chest. "Missed a spot."

Remus could not hold back his snigger. Even in the most serious situations, Peter could be counted on to provide a spot of much needed levity. His remark had shattered the tension. Remus could feel his anxiety ebbing away.

"So now what?" Peter shot Remus a quizzical stare.

"We wash it off," Remus said.

Remus scooped up water from the pool and splashed it on the wound. The effect was instantaneous. Sirius' eyes flew open wide. He gasped, sucking great gusts of air into his expanding lungs. His hands seized Remus' wrists.

"More water, Wormtail," Remus shouted. He gripped Sirius' shoulder to hold him still. "Wash it all off."

Peter splashed the clear fluid on Sirius' chest. The clay ran off the skin in red rivulets, leaving behind only a long silvery scar. The wound had been healed. It had worked.

"We did it!" Relief spilled from Remus' lips in a low, deep laugh. He released his hold on Sirius and embraced Peter, landing a sound clap on Peter's back. "Ha ha!"

"Moony? Wormtail?" Sirius stared glassy-eyed from Peter to Remus. "Where am I?"

"You're alive, mate!" Remus released Peter and gripped Sirius' shoulder. "You're alive!"

* * *

Wednesday, July 16, 1980 Santorini, Greece

Remus gripped the small rat in one hand. With the other, he clutched at the fur of a large black dog and held on for dear life. The disorienting swirl of lights danced before his vision. He felt the sickening lurch around his navel, tying his gut into knots. Then he pitched across the threshold of the Portal and fell face first onto the floor of the ruins at Akrotiri. He groaned and sank into the floor, catching sight of a pair of woman's sandals just before the buzz hit his ears and his vision faded.

A woman gasped. He felt himself hoisted up between two strong arms, one taller than the other.

"A drunken Englishman?" said a woman's scolding voice. "Where the devil did he--"

Sirius' voice whispered a series of incantations. The woman's protest was cut short. Then a loud crack sounded in Remus' ears. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the slivers of light that sliced across his vision and stabbed in his brain. He opened them again to find himself back in the rented room, stretched out on the austere white sheets of a bed. A relentless rhythm throbbed against his temples. His stomach tightened with spasms, churning in his gut. He gripped the edge of the bed, moaned, and vomited over the edge.

"Evanesco," Peter's high-pitched voice squeaked. The pool of vomit on the floor disappeared.

"Sorry," Remus mumbled, wiping the spittle from his lip.

He raised his head to see Peter's round face staring into his. The watery eyes were watching him, sizing up his condition.

"Feeling better?" Peter asked.

"No," Remus said in a weak whisper.

Shaking his head caused too much pain. Even speaking was a challenge for fear of triggering another round of retching. What he wouldn't give for just a sip of Ahmed's potion. But there was none to be had.

Sirius' face loomed into view. The restless grey eyes peered from beneath the black fringe. "Think you can travel, Moony?"

"No...time sickness...that bloody Portal," Remus managed to mumble, before another round of nausea hit. He choked it back.

"Wormtail and I made it through just fine." Mounting frustration was evident in Sirius' tone. "Pity there wasn't a full moon. You'd have had a better time of it."

Sirius would think of that. Remus shot him his most exasperated look. "A rabid werewolf...all those tourists...Only you would think that was a good idea."

Another wave of sickness swept over Remus. He vomited again, unable to stem the tide this time. Then Remus lay back on the pillows as still as possible, his eyes closed. He listened to the sounds around him, willing himself to ignore the battle raging in his own body.

Peter sat beside him on the edge of the bed. His breathing sounded in wheezy puffs. Sirius' boots clomped across the tile floors, pacing in an impatient vigil. Remus didn't have to see. He could picture the brooding look in the stormy eyes, pondering the mission, working out their next step.

"We need to go after her," Sirius barked. His pacing footsteps punctuated his remarks. "Voldemort's only got a couple of hours on us. He can't have made it through that Portal any faster than we did. We can still catch them, if we travel by magic."

"Moony can't travel in his condition," Peter said. "Magic or not."

"Go..." Remus cracked open his eyes to meet Sirius' wild stare. He waved his hand. "Go on without me...I'll manage."

"No, you won't." Peter flashed a timid glance at Sirius, then looked at Remus with more resolve. "And I'm not leaving without you." His nose twitched with that nervous tic. "Besides, what good are two of us and a sick Remus against V-vol...You-Know-Who and all his goons?"

Sirius turned on Peter, his jaw tightening. "We can't just abandon Meadowes to Voldemort."

"B-but Remus already sent a message to Dumbledore." Peter edged away from Sirius, talking quickly. "Messages travel faster that we can. He'll have a much better chance of heading off V-Vol-You-Know than we have of catching him." Peter shot a pleading look at Remus for support. "Isn't that right, Moony?"

"And so you're just going to give up?" Sirius sneered, saving his most derisive look for Peter. "Just what I would expect from you, Wormtail."

Peter flinched.

"Easy, Padfoot." Remus raised his hand to stay his friend. "Peter's just being practical, that's all. Dumbledore will know what to do."

Sirius began pacing the room again, talking as he went. "I can track her. What's the point of being an Animagus if you can't use it to your advantage?" Sirius ran his hand through his hair and spun around to face them. Determination sparked anew in his eyes. "But we have to leave now. While the scent is still fresh."

"Be reasonable, Padfoot." Peter straightened a bit and plunged on, although he avoided Sirius' glare. "You c-can't just go charging off after You-Know-Who like some bloody white knight. You'll get us all k-killed." Peter's voice squeaked a bit higher. "This isn't one of your daft schemes to impress Meadowes, is it? She's not even your girl."

Remus jerked his stare from Peter to Sirius, sending fresh arrows of pain shooting into his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut. What did Peter know?

Sirius rounded on Peter like a snarling hound. "For your information, Wormtail, Meadowes is my girl," he growled. "Not that I'd expect you to understand."

Memories of Sirius' comments after the death of Marlene McKinnon resurfaced in Remus' mind: What's Wormtail going on about, moping like some lovelorn school boy? It's not as if McKinnon ever cared a wit for him.

But what if McKinnon had cared for Peter? As impossible as that sounded, it would explain a lot. Sirius could be callous sometimes. Unthinking. Just reckless, really. Could that be what had driven the wedge between his friends?

Peter shrunk from Sirius. The watery eyes grew wide and round. "I-I didn't know."

Remus' mind was reeling, doing some quick thinking. He had to diffuse this situation somehow. If only his head wasn't already pounding.

"Padfoot?" Remus held his voice steady, calm. "What are you planning to do when we catch up with them?"

Sirius' head whipped around to face Remus. The anger in the grey eyes subsided, replaced by helpless sadness. The broad shoulders sank. Meadowes. Sirius was only thinking of Meadowes.

"I don't know," he whispered, "but I have to try."

Remus knew Sirius and he recognized that dogged look. Padfoot would go after Dorcas. Nothing could dissuade him.

Remus struggled to get up. A fresh wave of nausea sent him sinking back down on the bed. Damn! He couldn't even make it to the loo, let alone on a deadly chase across the European continent. But there was nothing for it now. Remus sighed.

"Go on, Padfoot." Remus gestured toward the door. "You go on without us."

"I'll stay with Remus," Peter added, with a rapid nod of his head. "We'll follow as soon as we can."

Sirius did not hesitate. "See you at Hogwarts."

The heavy tread of the boots stomped across the room in a run. The door slammed shut. Remus knew that the large black dog was on the scent. A pang of misgiving struck in his breast. Did he do the right thing? He'd never forgive himself, if anything happened to Sirius.

Remus turned to look at Peter.

"Going after You-Know-Who alone?" Peter shook his head. A shudder traveled over his body. "Why that's madness. Lunacy."

Pangs of regret resurfaced, knotting with the spasms in Remus' stomach. Should he send another message to Dumbledore? But if the note were intercepted by their enemies, then Sirius would be in even more danger. Padfoot would have a better chance if their enemies did not know he was acting alone.

Remus shot Peter a worried look. The watery eyes were trained on Remus' face.

"Ever since Regulus died," Peter lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "he's gone a bit potty. Almost got us all killed arguing with Meadowes in front of that Portal."

"Yes, but--" Remus' protest died on his lips. Peter's squeaky voice brought to mind the squealing of Dorcas' sneakoscope and Sirius' baffling behavior at the Portal.

"It runs in the family, if you ask me." Peter gave his head a sharp nod. "You've met his mother? A few fingers short of full hand, she is."

Peter had a point. From the tales he'd heard, old Mrs. Black had gone round the twist since her youngest son's murder. Sirius' behavior had become more erratic of late too. Remus recalled Sirius' efforts to divert the mission. But there were logical explanations for that action. Remus shook off the thought.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Remus flashed Peter what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Dumbledore will come through, you'll see."

"I hope you're right." Peter clapped Remus on the shoulder. "Now I'll see about dinner."

"None for me, thanks." Remus clamped his mouth shut, squelching another round of illness.