His heels click on the hard floor tiles as he makes his way down the narrow corridor. The walls of the spell damage ward are spotlessly white, giving the place a distinctly clinical feel. Apparently it makes the patients feel calmer.
It makes him feel dirty.
He casts a quick, wandless cleansing charm, lest his robes be harbouring any harmful bacteria that could creep out and stain the perfect sea of cleanliness. He supposes OCD is a quirk he inherited from his father—or, perhaps more accurately, was taught by his father.
He counts the doors as he passes them, taking in the hard steely lettering on each one that denotes the room's number. It's the only thing not white, and it draws his eye like a hawk's.
223… 224… 225…
He's looking for room 421, which a pretty young healer had insisted was this way, but he's already been walking for twenty minutes. Surely there must be a quicker route?
He's still thinking this, when a little further down the corridor, a door clicks open and a male healer steps out with an elderly patient on his arm. He watches as they begin to shuffle slowly towards him, the man chatting away, while the woman stares off into the blank white—an equally as blank expression on her face. He wonders if she's all there, and considers asking the healer directions, as they continue to draw steadily closer. They're perhaps a few metres away, when without warning, the woman suddenly looks up…
And then she screams.
It's a horrible, wailing, warbling screech that cuts the air and grates against Scorpius' hearing. Frail she may have seemed from a distance, but her reaction now is violent and forceful. Thrusting herself from the arms of the healer, she throws herself at the wall, her face contorted in horror. Between the frightful, heart-wrenching cries, she babbles barely comprehensible words, and shakes her head from side to side as though attempting to dispel some evil spirit.
"No… no, please, no…" she murmurs. "Please, no more… no more!"
Now closer, he realises that what he thought were wrinkles lining her face, are actually a network of gnarly scars, littering her skin. Tears begin to roll down her cheeks, following the fine white lines, and she screws her eyes shut tight. Whatever she sees behind her lids, though, must be worse than the present reality, because a moment later they're flying open again to fix directly on Scorpius.
"Please, no more…" she begs him, her eyes swimming with desperation. The healer is murmuring soft words of reassurance, but she doesn't seem to hear them.
"Now, Alice. It's okay," he coos. "No one's trying to hurt you. It's all over now. You're in St Mungo's—your home. Come on, look at me, now."
She doesn't look at him, though. Those pained eyes are still fixed on Scorpius, and suddenly, with a horrible dawning realisation that leaves him feeling sick to his stomach, he knows why.
Written for: the 'War of Angels' Competition. Prompts: (main character) Scorpius, (characters) Dominique, James, Alice, Andromeda, Angelina, (themes) platonic, romantic, parental, antagonistic, mentorship, 500 words per chapter
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
CC cover image (entitled 'Rho Oph Cloud Star Forming Region') courtesy of Image Editor on Flickr.
A/N: Okay, so the challenge for this comp was to write a five piece drabble collection, using Scorpius as my main character, with one of each the given sub characters and one of each of the themes per drabble. I could choose which characters to use for which theme, but the collection had to be connected. It was actually really difficult! I really struggled to fit some of the characters in, as they were pretty random...
Hopefully it didn't come out too bad, though. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.
GG x