Chapter 1: Edited
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. I don't own the characters. Anything that is recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling or the authors I credit in my quotes.
"Once upon a time a little girl was raised by monsters. But the angels burned the doorways and she was all alone." –Laini Taylor
"What?" Druella shrieked at the Healer. "What do you mean she has an anxiety disorder? Her! My daughter! My Narcissa?" Her heels clicked steadily against the wood as she paced back and forth. She stopped for a moment to yell "how could she have an anxiety disorder, you incompetent excuse for a man?" She resumed her pacing again, wringing her hands together in agitation.
"Ma'am, these are the facts. Your daughter is displaying all the symptoms of having a General Anxiety Disorder, Mrs. Black." The middle aged Healer patted Narcissa on the back comfortingly, seemingly not impacted by the look of pure outrage that contorted Druella's face. "There are treatment options available, to make her life as average as possible. There are potions that she can take daily-"
"Absolutely not!" Druella shrieked. "Everyone would notice if she had to take potions! It would disgrace the family name." By this point her pacing had increased, and she shook with rage.
It was not a peaceful scene. Narcissa pulled her arms tighter around herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. She wished to be anywhere but there, in the darkly colored and small room. Her mother's yells and wails only served to make the space feel more oppressive. Andi had insisted that her mother would take her to see a Healer, believing that she had a more serious problem than any of them had believed. In fact, her mother was so assured that her youngest was completely fine that she allowed the Healer into her house to begin with. She let him in just to stop Andromeda's constant nagging.
"Then there are other options. Weekly therapy has been shown to help people with her same condition. If she is treated as quickly and as efficiently as possible, then the problem may go away permanently." The Healer was calm, much more so than any person is when Druella Black flew into one of her rages. The only sigh of his nerves came from the occasional smoothing of his thin hair. He had a comb over, which he repetitively smoothed his hair back over. Narcissa wondered if he was aware that he was fooling nobody into thinking his hair was coming back, or if he had deceived his own self.
"She doesn't have anything wrong with her. She does not have a condition. I will not allow the furtherance of this ridicule on my family. Leave now." Druella pointed her wand first and the Healer, then flicked it in the direction of the door. The massive ebony door flew open, hitting the end of its hinges loudly with a bang. "Leave and know you have insulted the great name of the Black family."
The Healer quietly gathered his belongings, dropping them into a small leather briefcase that had his name carved into it. He turned and walked out the door, calling over his shoulder "I warn you, if this disorder remains untreated, it will just become worse with time. Her forgetfulness will turn into full blown panic attacks. She will find it increasingly hard to maintain a normal life."
"GET OUT!" Druella shrieked. Narcissa flinched away without thinking.
The Healer turned and walked away, not bothering to say anything else. His robes swished as he walked away. Narcissa watched, feeling a bit guilty because of her mother's poor treatment of the man who was only trying to help. She quickly thought of something else. He was beneath her, beneath purebloods. He deserved to be treated that way. This is what she is taught as a proper young lady of social standing, and this is what her family holds too.
"Cissy, make sure he leaves the house without taking any of our things. I don't trust him." Gruella pulled Narcissa to her feet, patted the nonexistent wrinkles out from her dress, and then shooed her gently through the door. "Then you must go to your piano lessons. Understood?"
"Yes mother," Narcissa's voice was soft and subdued. She followed the Healer, trying her best to blend in with the walls. It would have been simple enough to do that, if not for her white blonde hair. The walls of the home were thickly wallpapered in dark hues, and the floors were stained a dark, shiny ebony. Her grey dress blended in well with the home, she thought. If her hair was as dark as the rest of her families, all of her would have faded into the background. Her hair, her composure, her anxiety stood out in this home, and try as she might she would never be able to blend into her surroundings.
The Healer didn't linger, he walked briskly down the long corridor. A couple of the paintings they passed looked at him, but other than that ignored him. The painting of my great-grandfather Cygnus sneered at the Healer, who had stopped, looking a bit confused.
"The entry room is over here." Narcissa opened a door to her right and gestured for the man to follow her. She lifted her chin a bit as she had seen her mother and sisters do countless times and forced confidence into her voice. "The house is a bit confusing, sometimes."
The Healer jumped a bit, just then realizing that he had been followed. He nodded at the little girl, and walked into the entry room. "Thank you."
"How will I get worse?" Narcissa looked around before asking to make sure that no one was watching her. Her blue eyes were wide, and showed a sense of knowledge that were well beyond her years.
The healer looked at the little girl. He considered lying, and telling her that she would be fine. That her mother was correct and he was wrong about his diagnosis. He would have said all those things, if not for the knowing look in Narcissa's eyes. She knew when she was being lied to. All Blacks did. It was something that was part of their nature.
"Don't lie to me. Please. I would like to really know." She said again, dropping her haughty attitude. She looked scared, like any child should be. Narcissa knew this, but she couldn't find herself caring about how poor of behavior this was. Proper girls weren't ever scared, and they certainly never showed it.
"All the symptoms that you have described to me, the panic attacks, your fear of crowds, and your compulsive need to have everything organized, will get worse as you get older. You may even develop more problems if this remains untreated." He tried to smile, but he stopped. To smile at a child as you told them that things were going to get worse would look a bit sadistic. "You could try to find a way to get some treatment, but I cannot do much else if your mother will not allow it."
Narcissa nodded, then looked at her feet. Pressing her palms together she murmured. She closed her eyes for a moment and took deep, steadying breaths just as Andromeda had instructed to do whenever she felt particularly upset. "Thank you," she whispered and opened her eyes again.
The healer opened the door leading out of the house. Before stopping with a thoughtful expression on his face. He then pulled a piece of paper from his bag. He scrawled out his name and how to contact him, then held it out for Narcissa to take. Then he left, without another word.
As the door clicked shut, Narcissa read the paper.
For when things get too horrible
M. Jefferson Daniels, Healer at St. Mungos
Prescription for the potion Cura Mederi to be administered to Narcissa A. Black
