A Cloud Before the Moon

Chapter 28

Back in Adams' flat, they moved Letha onto the couch. Snape knelt down next to her, and proceeded to evaluate her condition. "I will need some medical supplies". He tried to stand up, but seemed a bit unsteady. Blood was dripping in slender rivulets down his arm.

"You won't be much help to her like that," said Adams. "We'd better take care of those bites." He went to the kitchen and brought back some wet towels and bandages.

"Thank you, Mr. Adams, but it will require something more. These bites are poisonous," said Snape. "They are rarely fatal, but they can cause dizziness, confusion, and loss of equilibrium." That was readily apparent, as he collapsed onto the couch, next to Letha. He then began searching haphazardly through his pockets, appearing to be a bit disoriented. "I do not have a specific antidote with me, but I have a general anti-venom here - somewhere - - ah, here it is." With uncharacteristic nonchalance, he took a swig from the bottle. His head fell back against the couch cushion. "Forgive me; I need a moment to collect my thoughts - just a moment to..." and his eyes were shut.

Adams shook his head in amazement as he considered the three unconscious forms lying in his living room - odd enough under any circumstances, but these individuals happened to be two wizards and a witch. And no normal people (or practically none - surely there must be others beside him) even knew they existed. Normal people? He chided himself. Bit presumptuous, that.

He was startled from his thoughts by the loud jangle of the telephone, but it did not awaken any of his impromptu house-guests. He picked up the phone - it was Emmet Harris. No, he assured him, his 'cousin' had NOT trashed his flat; no, he did not care to join him at Mulligan's for a drink; no he did not need any assistance. He most definitely did not need any visitors at the moment. 'Well', he imagined explaining, 'they got a bit drunk and rowdy, y'see; this bloke here had to be restrained'.

He picked up the alcohol and bandages. While Snape slept, Adams cleaned and dressed the worst of the bites. As he checked for any bleeding wounds he might have missed, he noted a faded, rather ugly black tattoo on Snape's left forearm. He doubted he would ask what it meant - Snape would probably put some kind of curse on him for asking "idiotic questions". He was one temperamental character, but Adams felt a certain sympathy for him - especially after seeing what sort of father he'd had to put up with Like Aunt Joan's boys, Davy's real cousins. Their father, Uncle Aidan, might have been Da's brother, but Aidan and Sean Adams couldn't have been less alike. Aidan had a violent temper, especially when he'd been drinking, which was most of the time. When things started to get really bad back home, and one of Davy's friends had been shot while walking to school, Sean Adams and Dan Harris, Emmet's father, had decided it was time to leave. A couple of their old mates had found decent work as cops in a small town in the English countryside. Sean and Dan hated the idea, but if it meant not having to fear for their children's lives every time they went off to school, maybe it was for the best. When word got out what they were considering, the real trouble started. Uncle Aidan had gone wild. He'd called his brother a traitor and said he was "as good as dead'. He'd thrown rocks through their windows, spray-painted their walls, and rung up their house with 'anonymous' death threats. Even worse, he'd filled young Stephen's head with hateful thoughts. As a tiny lad, Stevie had practically worshipped his cousin Davy; now he'd as soon kill him as talk to him. When Aunt Joan had told Aidan to stop, to leave everyone alone, he beat her black and blue and left, eventually getting himself jailed for setting off a bomb that killed a cop - and a young woman and her baby.

He finished bandaging Snape's wounds. After checking that Bailey was still well-secured, he picked up Letha and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and went to let in a bath.

Snape woke with a start, and looked around in confusion. When his eyes focused on Bailey, lying on the floor, he remembered what had happened and where he was. He stood up, still feeling a bit lightheaded. When he opened the door to the bedroom, he was appalled - Letha lay unconscious on the bed, and the Muggle was stripping off her clothing. "What do you think you are doing?!" he shouted indignantly. A florid hue suffused his pale face.

Adams looked up at him mildly. "I'm letting in a bath. Can't leave her in these filthy wet clothes." He looked down again and smiled to himself. "Of course, Severus, if you prefer, I'll keep an eye on Mr. Bailey; and you can look after her." He began walking away from the bedside.

Snape looked at him in alarm. "Adams - wait - I - you -", but he had already left the room.

Adams was right - she couldn't be left like this. Gingerly, Snape slid Letha's arms out of the filthy sleeves, and peeled the rest of the ruined clothing from her body. When she was completely undressed, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom, lowering her into the water. He meticulously picked out bits of muck and sludge and dried blood from her hair, thinking that it was somewhat like extracting flobberworm larvae from their slimy nests, an activity that, oddly enough, he found rather soothing. He ran a soapy washcloth over her body, conscientiously removing every remnant of filth. As he slid the cloth around the curve of her cheek, the curve of her neck, the curve of her breast, following the path of the washcloth with his eyes, he concluded that, actually, it was nothing like extracting flobberworm larvae. Not the least bit. When he had finished cleaning her, he put aside the washcloth and could not resist running his fingers across the shiny, smooth, pale skin of her belly. This would not do. Reluctantly he drew his hand away. He lifted her out of the water, wrapped her gently in a large towel and carried her back to the bed.

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She did not know how much longer she could hold her breath. The ship had capsized in the storm, and every time she thought she'd reached the surface, another crashing wave would push her under. She kept swimming and swimming, and her arms were growing tired, but she still hadn't reached the surface. Perhaps it would be easier to give in and simply let the sea take her. But no, she thought, she knew, she was almost there; she felt cold air against her fingertips; she was almost there, almost there....a sharp rush of air entered her lungs. Gasping for air had never seemed to be such a wonderful thing. She lay back, exhausted, eyes closed, allowing herself to be inundated with sensory input from all around. She was not alone. Someone was gently touching her face, was talking to her, but she could not really understand the words. She opened her eyes. A man with black eyes and was watching her closely.

"You're back!" He smiled cautiously.

She tried to answer, but her throat was dry, so she simply nodded.

He continued to speak spoke to her softly, gently. She had some difficulty following what he was saying, but she smiled up at him. He seemed so kind, so earnest, so deeply concerned. What a shame she would have to tell him - -

"Who are you?"

He took her hands in his. "Not what you expected is it? I've been horrible, haven't I? You must think I'm a complete stranger."

She shook her head. "You are a complete stranger." He looked at her uncertainly. "I mean - I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."

His face darkened and he frowned at her. With great agitation, he stood up and darted out of the room. She thought that he must be very angry that she could not recognize him. Now, she supposed, he didn't like her anymore. She started to cry.