Night of Silence
Disclaimer: I'm not Rowling and I don't own her characters. However the OCs are mine.
Thanks again to my friend Anna Fay for her great ideas and inspiration. Melody now has a gift for her dad, and a few choice words on her daddy's diet thanks to you. As always, you've been a big help, Anna. Thank you.
This story is part four in a series of four known as Scabior's Rose - In Sickness and In Health.
The others are, in order, Love's Healing Touch, Complicated Healing and Fevers & Fears.
"Open up, Scabior. That's it. Now say 'ah.'"
"Aahhh..."
Scabior opened his mouth, allowing the light from his wife's wand to shine onto his throat, revealing the most decorative tonsil infection Draconius had ever seen.
Draconius sighed, frowning at what she saw as she examined his throat. "This is the sixth time you've come down with tonsillitis this year, Scabior. You used to average three cases a year. But it's getting worse, and these infections are coming on more frequently."
A low groan escaped Scabior's lips as his wife adjusted the angle of her wand, pressing down on his tongue with a tongue depressor to get a better look at his throat.
Of all the times for him to get sick, Scabior just had to come down with tonsillitis three days before Christmas. Which meant that he wouldn't be eating the roast beef his wife cooked for Christmas dinner, or any of the other tasty treats she made during the holidays.
Draconius extinguished the light in her wand, then reached for her medical bag and bought out a small, glass spray bottle filled with a milky white potion.
"I can't get sick now," Scabior whispered hoarsely. "Christmas is in three days."
"I've told you before, Scabior. You need to have your tonsils taken out," said Draconius. "They should have come out years ago. And as long as they remain comfortably nestled in the back of your throat, you're going to keep getting sick," she added, lightly jabbing him in the neck with her wand. "Now open up."
Scabior opened his mouth, and his wife sprayed the potion onto the back of his throat several times.
Over the years, Draconius had had to get creative when treating her husband's frequent throat infections. She'd invented a pain relieving throat spray, one specially designed to ease the pain and inflammation associated with chronic tonsillitis. This potion not only helped ease some of Scabior's discomfort but it also brought in some extra money, as Draconius had secured a patent on the potion, which was now selling in stores throughout most of England.
When she was finished, Draconius set the spray bottle on the nightstand. "You can use that as often as needed to relieve the pain," she told him. "Just remember to hold it in your mouth for as long as possible before swallowing."
Scabior sighed, watching as his wife brought out two more potion bottles from her medical bag. He knew the routine well by now. First the throat spray, then potions for the infection and to keep his fever under control. After that Draconius made him comfortable, placing a damp washcloth on his forehead and sitting with him for a while until he got tired and fell asleep.
After he'd taken his potions and settled down to sleep, Draconius left their bedroom so he could get some rest. As she was leaving their bedroom, Draconius passed their daughter, who was standing in the hallway with her hands in her pockets and her back against the wall.
Melody was fourteen now. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, with streaks of purple and pink trailing down the side. She was wearing pink plaid pants, and a long white shirt that had a pink heart and silver spirals on the front.
She looked up as her mother passed. "Is dad gonna be alrigh', mum?"
Her accent wasn't as thick as her father's. But over the years she had picked up some of his accent, making her speech somewhat similar to her father's.
"He'll be fine, Melody. Though he'll probably be spending Christmas in bed, drinking soup instead of eating fruitcake."
Melody waited until her mother had left the hall before turning and making her way towards her parents bedroom. She had just put her hand on the doorknob when she heard her mother call out, "Stay out of there, Melody. I don't want you catching what your father has."
The teenager sighed and rolled her eyes. "Wha'ever," she muttered, and opened the door anyway.
Despite what her mother told her about staying out of the bedroom when Scabior was sick, Melody always snuck off to visit her father and keep him company when he wasn't feeling well. She'd started doing this as a toddler, climbing into bed and crawling towards him.
She could tell when something was wrong, even at a young age, and would whine and fuss until her mother let her in the room with Scabior. She would then curl up like a puppy, sleeping next to her sick father. And if Draconius tried to move her, Melody would wake up and start screaming, throwing a tantrum if she couldn't be next to her father.
Melody opened the door, closing it quietly behind her as she entered the bedroom. Scabior wasn't asleep yet, and he opened his eyes when he heard his daughter enter and approach the bed.
"Melody," he rasped, a small smile spreading across his face as she sat down on the foot of the bed. Having his daughter around was the one thing that would always cheer him up no matter how bad he felt.
They began a conversation, with Melody doing most of the talking so Scabior wouldn't make his throat hurt worse. She talked for several minutes while Scabior listened, occasionally nodding or shaking his head in response to her questions.
They'd done this so many times throughout the years that it had become a father/daughter bonding ritual for them. Melody would talk for an hour or two until Scabior got tired and fell asleep. He'd listen to her for hours if he could stay awake long enough, listening as she shared stories about school and the friends she'd made at Hogwarts.
Eventually the conversation strayed to other topics, and Scabior made an effort to speak, keeping his voice at a low whisper as he spoke. His voice was so faint and hoarse that Melody had to scoot closer to him on the bed so she could hear what he was saying.
"I'm surprised they 'aven't fired me from my job at the ministry," he said, pausing briefly as he rubbed his throat. "I keep taking off work from being sick. I don't know 'ow much longer I can keep this up before I lose my job."
"They won't fire you," said Melody. "They know better than to fire the most dependable person that rounds up more mudbloods than anyone else. You do a damn good job, dad. And they know that."
Scabior allowed himself a small smile. "Tha's true," he said, adjusting the damp washcloth on his forehead.
"Here. Let me get that for you," said Melody, taking the washcloth and refreshing it in the bowl of water on the nightstand. "It's probably warmed up by now anyway."
"You better watch it," Scabior rasped. "You keep tha up an you're liable to become a 'ealer like your mum."
Melody rolled her eyes and scoffed at the idea. "Seriously, dad? You really think I'd want to work the same boring job that mum has?"
"You don't want to be a 'ealer?"
"No."
Scabior's smile widened. "Then there's 'ope for you yet, sweet'eart."
.oOo.
One day faded into the next. Scabior stayed in bed and rested, while his daughter continued sneaking in to visit him every chance she got.
Sometimes the rebellious teen would drop down and hide under the bed when she heard her mother's footsteps approaching from down the hall. Her humorous antics never failed to amuse her father, who would have laughed if it didn't make his throat hurt worse.
Melody knew what she was doing, saying things like "incoming" or "hit the deck" before diving under the bed. She knew her father didn't feel well, and she was trying her best to take his mind off his discomfort. Which Scabior greatly appreciated, because in his mind there was nothing worse than being sick during the holidays.
It was now Christmas eve. The skies were grey, with bruised and darkened clouds hanging low in the sky, blocking out the sun. Snow was falling outside as Melody stood at the window, watching the white flakes falling silently from the heavens.
She looked over at her father, who was asleep in bed. He was lying on his back, his mouth open slightly as he slept, and he had begun to snore.
Scabior's breathing broke and hitched in strange rhythms, his snoring becoming progressively louder. There was a loud, snuffling snort, followed by silence when he suddenly stopped breathing.
Melody quickly went over to the bed and put her hand on her father's shoulder. "Dad," she said, shaking him gently. "Dad, wake up."
Scabior choked and gasped, coming awake with a start as he fought to draw air into his lungs. His daughter stood back, watching as he sat up in bed, coughing and gasping for several seconds until he could breathe again.
She looked at him with concern. "What's wrong, dad? Are you alright?"
"My throat..." Scabior croaked. "Sometimes I can't breathe... My throat closes up on me."
"Maybe you should let mum take a look at you. Maybe she can give you a stronger potion."
"There's nothing she can give me. She's tried five different types of anti-infection potions. But they don't work on me like they used to." Scabior sighed. He looked utterly miserable. "Nothing works on me like it used to..."
Although she wouldn't admit it, Melody was worried about her father. She'd seen him sick several times throughout her life, but this past year had been the worst. Scabior wasn't responding well to the potions Draconius gave him. There were times when his wife had to try several types of potions before she found one that worked.
He was staying sick longer and getting sick more often, until it reached the point where the overall quality of his life and health had been effected by near constant infections.
He leaned back against the mound of pillows in bed. He closed his eyes, and was just about to fall asleep, when something dawned on him.
"Oh shit..." he groaned, clapping a hand over his face.
"What?" Melody looked at him with a confused expression on her young face. "What's wrong?"
"I forgot to get your mother a Christmas present," Scabior replied, his voice cracking as his words grated hoarsely against his sore throat.
"So what are you going to do? You're sick. You can't go out like this."
"Yes, I can." There was a strong note of determination in his tone, despite the overall rasping quality of his voice.
Scabior eased the covers off and sat up on the side of the bed. He reached for his leather jacket, which was hanging up on the bedpost, and slipped it on. His plaid scarf was also hanging on the bedpost, and he snatched it up, wrapping it around his neck several times.
Melody's mouth opened in shock as she watched her father getting dressed. She stood there, staring at him in disbelief, before she finally found her voice and could speak.
"You're not seriously thinking about going out now, are you?"
"You 'ave a better idea?" he snapped, tying a knot in the plaid material so his scarf remained snug around his neck. "I'm not letting your mother go without a gift on Christmas." He then decided that his scarf was on too tight, and loosened it a little.
"But you can't," Melody insisted. "You shouldn't be out of bed. You shouldn't even be talking. And it's snowing outside. If you go out in that mess you're liable to catch pneumonia."
Scabior frowned. "You sound like your mum when you say tha."
There was nothing Melody could do as she watched her father lace up his boots and slip the bottle of throat spray into the pocket of his jacket. She knew there was no way she could stop him from going out in the cold to look for a gift for her mother. Which meant there was only one thing left to do.
"If you're leaving then I'm coming with you," she announced suddenly, just as Scabior was about to head out the door.
Scabior paused, his hand halfway to the doorknob. He turned slowly, looking back at her. He considered her for a moment before speaking.
"No, Melody. I need you to stay 'ere an keep your mother distracted while I'm gone."
"We're doing this together," said Melody. "You're not leaving without me, dad."
She could be so forceful sometimes, so strong, so demanding and determined to get her way. Though he wasn't surprised by this. Scabior knew that, with her mother's stubbornness and his attitude, she was bound to inherit at least some of these qualities. He'd seen it in her when she was younger. And now that Melody was a teenager, her wild, fiery personality had become more pronounced than it was during her childhood.
"An wha 'appens when your mother comes looking for us an finds tha we're gone?" Scabior asked.
His throat was killing him, and it hurt like hell to talk. Scabior knew he shouldn't be out of bed, he knew he shouldn't strain his voice to speak. The raw, burning pain in the back of his throat intensified with every word he spoke. But he refused to let his wife go without a gift on Christmas. Sick or not, Scabior was going to get her a present.
"Who cares what mum thinks when she finds us missing?" said Melody. "We'll be long gone by then. And when we come back, carrying loads of presents for her, there's no way she'll stay mad at us."
"I don't know," said Scabior, sounding somewhat doubtful. "I think you underestimate your mother's ability to 'old a grudge."
Melody turned and suddenly darted out of the room, leaving her father standing there wondering where she had gone. She returned moments later, wearing her leather jacket and a pair of black, fingerless gloves.
Despite his pain and illness, Scabior couldn't help but smile at his little girl.
"Protection charms," said Melody, grinning as she pointed at the black leather. "Just in case mum gets seriously pissed at us."
"Melody?"
Scabior and Melody both turned as they heard Draconius coming down the hall.
"Melody, what are you doing in there? I told you not to bother your father when he's sick. He needs his rest."
"The window!" Melody cried, running to the window and yanking it open. "Come on, dad! Let's go!"
Scabior hesitated, listening as his wife approached the door. Melody paused, already halfway out the window, glancing back over her shoulder at her father.
"Dad!" she called out to him. "Come on!"
But Scabior held back, wondering if he could actually do this. He had a fever, and had begun to sweat since getting out of bed. On top of that he'd been sick for the better half of two months. Ear infections, the flu, and countless sore throats had taken their toll on him, leaving him miserable and weak.
"Dad!" Melody shouted one final time before diving out the window.
The doorknob began to turn, and in a flash Scabior turned and bolted out the window, running after his daughter who was almost halfway across the lawn.
Draconius flung the door open just in time to catch a glimpse of her husband going out the window in his jacket and plaid pajama bottoms. She ran to the window and stuck her head out, watching as her husband and daughter sprinted across the snow covered lawn.
"Dammit, Scabior!" Draconius shouted. "You get back here right now. Or so help me, I'll pull your blasted tonsils out through your nose!"
But it was too late. Scabior had grabbed his daughter's hand, and vanished on the spot with her once they were past the apparition boundary that surrounded their home.