Chapter Eight
Ain't a Real Dog
I'm all out of faith
This is how I feel
I'm cold and I'm ashamed
Bound and broken on the floor
You're a little late, I'm already torn
(Torn - Natalie Imbruglia)December 26th, 1997"Happy Christmas, Sirius." With a sad smile, Hermione entered the room from the
tent's kitchen. The wizard was currently resting on the large bed with a bandage wrapped
around his arm.
Sirius scowled at her. "Christmas was yesterday."
"Yes, but you were unconscious yesterday," Hermione explained, holding a small cup
out to him. "And I brought you tea. Consider it my gift." She smiled as he took it, bringing
the liquid to his lips, pausing only briefly to look up at her. She rolled her eyes, trying to
look offended. "It's not laced with anything."
He narrowed his. "Can you understand my hesitance?"
"I maintain that I was doing the right thing slipping that Sleeping Draught in your
tea." Hermione crossed her arms firmly against her chest. "You were exhausted and
refusing to take care of yourself."
Sirius winked at her. "And it's your job to take care of me?"
"Stop that. Drink your bloody tea."
"She swears now," he said with a grin. "I'm starting to think I'm a bad influence on
you."
"Drink the bloody tea, Sirius." Hermione scowled but dropped her anger a notch
when she saw him obey.
Sirius held the now-empty cup out to her, going so far as to open his mouth like a
child to prove that he had swallowed every drop.
"Feel better?"