This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though!
Prompt 7. Broken
Characters: Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody; Poppy Pomfrey
Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.
"It's broken, I'm afraid, Mr Moody," Madam Marr said, examining the little slip of parchment in her hand. Seventeen-year-old Alastor groaned – part through annoyance, part through pain – and let his head flop back against the pillow. He had been afraid of that. The pain in his leg was excruciating.
"Don't you groan at me young man! Why the cheek of young people today! In my day, if I had ever groaned at a member of Hogwarts' staff I would have been given a swift smack on the backside. My, oh, my-"
"Are you sure it's broken?" Alastor interrupted before Madam Marr could lecture his ears off his head and onto the floor.
"Am I – Am I sure?" Madam Marr seemed to swell in her indignation. "Well! The cheek! If I were to ask the Hogwarts Matron about her diagnosis I would have been cuffed around the head! The nerve of you!"
" Sorry, Madam Marr," Alastor replied, before his ears could soak through the floor and drip into the corridor below.
"You had better be, Mr Moody! I have a mind to complain to your Head of Year. Discipline was worth its salt in my day. Well, now, Mr Moody, I shall answer your obnoxious question. Your leg is broken in two places; I cannot imagine what impetuous decision had you attempting to climb the castle walls! Now, I shall go and fetch Miss Archambeau to dose you with healing potions. That girl is far too lazy for her own good; hard work is the only cure for that affliction."
Still grumbling, Madam Marr turned on her heel and strode away to the healer's office. Alastor leant back on his pillows, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his leg. This proved easier than expected; Miss Archambeau now occupied his mind. His darling flower. Trying to impress her with his strength and bravery (because that was what attracted women, obviously) he had attempted to climb up the outside of the castle and climb through her bedroom window. The rose held in his mouth added romance, which women apparently enjoyed. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to take the thorns off the rose and in attempting to do so, he let go of his handholds and fell about twelve feet.
Well, romance was painful.
The opening of the door caught Alastor's attention; he fixed his most dashing smile on his face as Poppy Archambeau, healer-in-training, crossed the room to his side. She was older than he was, already mid-way through her training as a healer. It was with practiced efficiency that she deposited a tray of bottles on his bedside table and began to measure out doses. Alastor became frustrated very quickly when she didn't greet him, or congratulate his bravery, or his resistance to pain.
"You are looking particularly fine this evening, Madam Archambeau. The blue of your nightdress contrasts wonderfully with the-"
"Open up please, Mr Moody." Alastor stopped talking, stung by her indifference, but did as he was told, hoping his obedience would stir her compassion. He swallowed each mouthful dutifully, not even complaining at their hideous taste. He looked at her carefully – as he always did – and noticed the almost imperceptible glances of annoyance she sent his way.
"You aren't very happy with me," he offered.
"No," she replied, finally showing her irritation openly. "What possessed you to climb the castle walls?"
"You did," he smiled – romance books told him women liked grand gestures and feats of bravery. She would be hugging his knees in under a minute, he guessed. Her response caught him by surprise.
"You are a fool. I have told you repeatedly that I don't return your interest. It is time for you to stop following me." Her words slapped Alastor in the face. He gaped at her.
"And even if your utter lack of self preservation and failure to understand the word 'no' did not turn me away, this would." She reached into the neck of her blouse to pull out a necklace with a ring hanging from it. "I am engaged to be married. His name is Quincy Pomfrey." With that, she turned on her heel and marched away.
The memory of that simple ring on a golden chain hung before Alastor's eyes in the intervening hours. She was engaged. To a man called Quincy. She would never be his.
Was this what it was like to have a broken heart?
Hello there! Long time no see!
My new-year resolution is to finish all my fanfictions, so hopefully you'll be seeing many more chapters in the next few months!
