Part X: Pearl II
After Melrough left, Severus had turned back to his chambers with every intention of going to sleep. Well, almost every intention. There was a certain part of him that irrationally deemed sleeping whilst Luna was in such peril as unchaste. He stood in front of his fireplace for a moment, battling this point with himself; at present, he could feasibly do nothing to help Luna directly, and depriving himself of much-needed rest definitely wasn't doing either of them any good.
Despite this sound logic, he did not manage to make it to his bed. Instead, he dropped down in an armchair in front of the empty grate; after writing a quick note to Draco to explain what had happened and sending it via house-elf, he sank back into the chair and stared aimlessly into the ashes of the dead grate.
At some point, he did manage to doze off—not into any sort of sleep, though. Just the absence of wakefulness. It was an irritating in-between state, and every so often he felt himself twitch in annoyance. The only saving grace was that he did not dream: and this in and of itself would have been blissful if it weren't for the damning, buzzing, black and unrestful silence that pervaded.
Around one, when he could bare this state of consciousness no more, he roused himself once again. After washing up and having what could hardly be called a meal (coffee, black, an apple and half a piece of toast), he managed to busy himself for most of the afternoon filling Poppy's weekly order, as well as prepping a few emergency salves for Professor Sprout. Small comfort though it was, attending to the potions did a little to take his mind off of things, forcing him to place his full and immediate attention with a task he could actually and effectively execute. Even still, every little sound made him look up, half-expecting to see Melrough standing in his doorway.
At four, with still no sign of Melrough and most of the potions orders filled, Severus' thoughts once again turned to Luna and the task he was presented with. Breaking and entering was a certain specialty of his; with both Voldemort and Dumbledore, he'd been involved extensively in many assignments that required unlawfully getting in and out of top-security buildings, residences, and headquarters. His knowledge of cloaking and stealth charms was impressive, and he knew just about every underhanded trick there was. Nevertheless, he pulled out his books and reviewed strategies, spells and tactics that might in any way aid him getting into St. Mungo's; he sent a house-elf to the library and studied floor-plans of building, it's history, and famous escapes, of which there were few. This endeavor occupied him steadily; but far from easing his frustration, it was instead heightened.
By six o'clock, Severus was growing agitated. Where was Melrough? He stood once more in front of the hearth, looking at it expectantly. Melrough hadn't said how he'd contact him. would he floo? Should he be expecting an owl—?
Quite suddenly, there was a loud crack directly beside him, causing Severus to whirl around and snatch his wand from his robes, jumping instinctively into dueling stance.
A young face looked concernedly at the wand tip that was maybe an inch from the bridge of a blonde brow. Melrough held up his arms.
"Ah, erm, sorry to startle you," he said, eyes crossed slightly.
Despite the fact that Melrough was obviously no threat, Severus' muscles remained tensed, and he did not lower his wand. "I thought you said those privileges were temporary."
"they are," Melrough assured, looking from Severus' wand tip to the man himself. "They wear off tomorrow."
Slowly and somewhat reluctantly, Severus finally lowered his wand. He tried not to shoot the young doctor a nasty look as he slipped it back into his robes. "I would advise you never to do that again," he growled. "Consider yourself fortunate to still have a face."
Melrough had the good grace to look slightly sheepish. "Right, sorry."
Severus pressed his lips together and folded his arms grimly. "So; I assume you have news and information for me."
Melrough nodded, face growing equally grim. "Yes. I do. I have been assigned as the doctor-on-duty for the first watch of tonight's night-shift. I will be accompanied by two orderlies, and there is a medical team on standby if I need them.
Severus took another step back, generously giving the doctor a little more room and a little less reason to be afraid for his facial features. "All of them in the room with you?" he asked.
"No. One orderly in the room, one outside. The GET – general emergency team—will be on the first floor. Are you at all familiar with the layout of St. Mungo's?"
Severus nodded. "Every cubic meter."
"Good. This will make explaining a lot easier."
For the most part, what Melrough had to say wasn't anything Severus was not already aware of or hadn't deduced for himself. St. Mungo's was protected all-around by a force-field of sorts, a highly-tuned magical shield that encompassed the entire building. It identifies entities by their magical signature; patients and doctors have their magical signature encoded into the shield. This meant that security was notified every time a doctor or patient entered or exited. An inpatient or anyone with an undocumented signature could not pass through the ward without triggering an alarm.
The only gaps in the ward where undocumented persons could pass through were the three main entrances on the first floor. Since the Mental Matters ward was on the fourth floor, east side, the east entrance was the most likely route.
There was, however, a problem there. Though the mainframe shield was inactive at the entry-points, there were smaller wards to get by, as well as a staff of at least 3 security members at each entrance.
"The security detail should not be that hard to get past," Melrough reasoned, "but the wards are a bit trickier. They don't distinguish magical signatures: it would make no difference if two or twenty people were passing through them. They do, however, detect concealed weapons and harmful magical artifacts. They also reveal if the person entering has any enchantments on them—that is, if they're wearing any glamours or veneers. If you've got a charm to change something as trivial as your eye-color, or if you've got dye in your hair, the wards will go off and you'll be found out."
"What about invisibility charms?"
"They're harder to detect, but apparently any concealment charm cast upon your person will create at least a ripple that will be noticed by security."
"So, cloaking charms are out," Severus supplied.
Melrough nodded. "If you want to gain admittance, you will have to identify yourself as a visitor."
"Could I be bringing you left-behind research materials? They know I was working with you on Lovegood's case, correct? It is a feasible excuse."
But, ever the bearer of bad news it seems, Melrough shook his head. "No. I mean, that would get you as far as the front desk, because they wouldn't let you deliver the materials yourself, especially if my shift with Luna has already started. Besides, you'd never get through the barrier ward on her door in time."
Severus narrowed his tired eyes. "What about the general wards? How strong are they? Can they be disabled?"
"Fairly strong. And yes, they can be disabled, but it might rob you of a significant amount of energy since they are so extensive—and quite honestly, you don't look like you have the energy to spare."
Severus held back the acidic remark that threatened to escape his tongue; he wasn't angry with Melrough, just the situation. It wouldn't do to piss off the man who was helping him. Illegally and at great risk to himself, at that. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And if I do away with stealth entirely?" he asked.
"Security would be notified and all floors would be put on alert. They'd be able to track you down before you even got to Luna. They are still a lot of war-heroes and high-profile criminals residing at St. Mungo's: that's why the security is so tight."
Severus cursed quietly under his breath, casting a glance to the analog clock on his mantle: it read 6:30. He had two and a half hours to come up with something
But Melrough's words were cut off abruptly by a sharp rap on the door.
Ignoring the instantly terrified look on Melrough's face (obviously the man thought Severus didn't know how to ward his own chambers against eavesdropping), Severus angrily strode over to his chamber door and threw it open, intending to verbally massacre whoever dare disturb him—
"Delivery for Professor Snape," said the small elf standing before the door.
Before Severus could even open his mouth to utter a syllable, the elf, calmly and completely unaware of the ire he might be invoking, laid a small, paper-wrapped parcel at Severus' feet, and disapparated.
Severus stared at the spot where the house-elf had been. Then he looked down at the package where it sat unassumingly on the floor.
Stooping, he snatched it up. Closer inspection revealed a few lines of scraggly writing on a smooth portion of the parcel-paper. Very familiar scraggly handwriting.
And, as Severus read those two, scant little sentences, he felt that he had never been more appreciative of the writer than at that moment.
Draco told me what happened. I got the feeling you might be needing this.
- HP
"This feels very strange," Melrough muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he walked up to the great grey-mason building with its eerie, blue-lit windows.
From under the cloak, Severus snarled, "Do not speak, and keep walking."
Pursing his mouth into a thin line, Melrough barely nodded and increased his stride, approaching the stairs leading up to the double doors of St. Mungo's east entrance at a brisk pace. Severus trailed behind, his own footsteps uncannily silent.
As he and the doctor entered the building, Severus once again thanked Potter for his unknowing stroke of pure genius. It was astoundingly convenient, really, a perfect solution. As Melrough had mentioned, the function of the wards at St. Mungo's was to detect and identify charmed persons and malign artifcats. But, since the Invisibility Cloak was a charmed object without ill-purpose, it went unnoticed by the wards, allowing Severus to discreetly tail Melrough as he went through security.
While Melrough allowed himself to be magically screened, he genially traded weary-sounding pleasantries with the attendant (yes, wasn't the night shift gruling? What, sleep? For a doctor? Nice one). Severus tuned them out, keeping himself occupied by taking in his surroundings. As Melrough had said, there were three security wizards at this entrance; there was also an exhausted looking Auror who appeared to be making rounds, who traded respectful head-bows with Melrough before the latter was allowed to pass through the double doors leading to the first floor. Severus, nearly tripping over Melrough heels, swiftly followed.
It was about 8:30, and the hospital was beginning to wind down for the night. Patients were being ushered into their rooms and beds, while nurses and healers made rounds, checking up on everything before their shift ended. It was early enough that most of the night shift had not yet arrived, but a substantial portion of the day-shift had been let go for the day. Melrough walked purposefully across the floor, nodding at doctors and nurses as he passed and making his way towards the elevators. Once he and Severus were inside with the door closed, Melrough, without turning, said:—
"Now, once we're at the door of her ward, you'll need to stay very close. The magical-signature reading spells on the higher-security are a little more sensitive. When I pass through the door, my signature will be read and recorded; we will need to pass through the doorway at essentially the same time, less you be detected."
Though Melrough couldn't see him, Severus nodded.
The enchanted voice of the lift-operator intoned: "Fourth Floor, Mental Matters Ward".
"Here we are," Melrough supplied needlessly, stepping out.
The fourth floor of St. Mungo's was even more desolate than the first. Instead of a wide room, they stepped out into a circular room which branched off into four long hallways. Though they could hear faintly the voices of people talking, there wasn't sight of a soul in any of the hallways, just dimly lit marble floors leading off into blackness.
Melrough set off down the second hallway from the left, keeping the brisk, businesslike pace he'd set on the first floor. The hallway, as it turned out, was lined on either side by rows upon rows of rooms. Most of the doors were mercifully shut, but a few of them were thrown wide open, their occupants staring out, loosely following the form of the passing doctor, slightly absent, mostly unseeing. Severus stared back at them as they passed, but Melrough kept his gaze intentionally forward until his footsteps began to slow, his eyes now scanning the numbers on the doors.
"468," he muttered to himself, stopping at the door in question.
Severus stepped up behind him, but was careful not to get too close. Melrough had explained earlier that unlocking the wards on individual doors took a small amount of skill, and the magic was fairly uncomplicated; however, whilst Melrough was unlocking the wards, they would be performing a signature check of the caster. If Severus stood too far away, the permanent barriers that Melrough wasn't dismantling might reject him as a foreign body. If he stood too close, the removable wards would pick up his signature and let neither of them enter.
And, right now, at the threshold of Luna's door, with his blood pounding in his ears, to be caught was the last thing he needed.
After what seemed like an hour (but, in reality, was only half a minute), Melrough made a slight noise, and his hands (which had been weaving some pattern in the air) fell to his sides. As Severus watched, the door glimmered faintly gold.
When the door returned to its original state, Melrough reached for the handle. He paused.
Severus' pulse quickened, and he stepped closer, nearly standing on Melrough's heels.
With a final nod to no one, Melrough twisted the door handle, and pulled it open. Severus tensed.
Melrough didn't budge.
Severus jerked his head to his companion, black eyes wide, stomach feeling like it had fallen out. Why wasn't he moving? Horror spread like wildfire through his brain for about a second until his eyes landed on Melrough's barely moving lips.
And though the doctor was not speaking, Severus heard his words perfectly:
One . . . two . . . three.
And, in one swift, completely synchronized motion, they both stepped through the threshold.
As soon as they were inside, Severus craned his neck to look back at the door; he held his breath, waiting. For what, he didn't quite know. An alarm? A hoard of wizards descending upon him, wands drawn?
But neither of these things presented themselves. The door hung open like a lazy yawn, and the hallway down which they had come was unnervingly quiet.
"Dr. Melrough."
Pulse spiking at the sudden noise, Severus turned back around to see two middle-aged men dressed in a white orderly uniforms. The one who had spoken stood from where he'd been sitting in a chair in one corner of the room. Though the stark white uniform should have made both of them instantly visible, neither Severus nor Melrough had noticed the man at first, since the room was completely dark, save for a small blue lantern on the wall.
Melrough (who had jumped every so slightly at the voice as well), forced a grim smile onto his features. "Bradley. Nice to see you. Nigel." He inclined his head.
The one named Nigel returned the gesture, but did not seem intent on staying; without a word, he crossed the room, opened the door with a few quick sigils, and stepped outside. One inside, one outside. Just as Melrough had said.
Bradley, the shorter of the two, pulled out a watch, checking the time. "You're early, sir," he remarked.
Melrough nodded, shifting the papers under his arm. "I know. I wanted to be here to observe her falling asleep."
They spoke softly, hardly more than murmurs in the darkness, but there was no need; the person they were attempting not to disturb was still very much awake.
"Dr. Bryan?"
That voice. Severus felt his pulse flutter and his stomach do some amazing feat of gymnastics that he would have to consider later. For now, he simply turned.
And there she was. The little slip of a girl who'd saved both his life and his sanity. The young woman to whom he owed so much, yet asked so little of him. A pale blonde waif, draped in a shapeless hospital gown, wrists and ankles bound loosely by magical restraints, sitting up curiously in a featureless hospital bed.
Melrough's grim smile lost some of its tightness, becoming more genuine, his eyes softening as they turned to the girl who'd spoken. "Hello, Luna. Still awake?"
Luna Lovegood nodded dimly, eyes fluttering closed and open again slowly, a long, sleepy blink. Her head lolled to one side, tilting her entire body, and her eyes were glassy orbs of electric blue peeking out of her wan face. Drugged. Severus gritted his teeth.
Melrough, also taking in such observations, turned back to the orderly. "Sedatives?"
"About fifteen minutes ago. She should be out within another ten."
Severus ignored the alarms going off in his mind at those words. His eyes narrowed and he watched Luna even more closely, noting how she swayed slightly from side to side. She appeared to be humming faintly, although the tune was indistinguishable. Her eyes kept moving from Melrough, to Bradley, to the ceiling in one long circular motion, never really focusing on anything, just making a wide woozy sweep. It was enough to make him slightly dizzy, just watching her. Exactly how drugged up was she?
While Melrough and the orderly were busy murmuring to each other, Severus dipped a hand inside his robes, fingers searching in his pocket until he found the pearl. He held it in between his fingers, smoothing over it with his thumb as if to distract himself. With every swipe of his thumb, he could have sworn he felt it pulse, as though with its own heartbeat. Granting himself a minute to collect his thoughts, he closed his eyes, focusing his energy and mind.
The soft, infrequent words exchanged between Melrough and the orderly quickly faded into dim periphery as he withdrew into his own mind. He exhaled in long, measured breaths, attempting to ease some of the tension that was coiled tightly around him, at the same time reasoning away his avid impatience. It was almost debilitating, this suspenseful agitation; by his guess, it was around 8:30 or 8:45, and he had but minutes to wait until it was time to get to work. But those minutes were dragging by with the solemnity of centuries—a comparison which, while sounding overly-dramatic even to Severus, was aggravatingly accurate.
Severus opened his eyes once more, and took the opportunity to give a scathing glare at the unassuming orderly. Why wouldn't the wanker just leave? Curling his lip nastily, he was about to embark on a mental tirade that was more means of distraction than anything else . . . when distraction came of its own vehicle.
A characteristic, all-too-familiar chill raced up Severus' spine. His entire body locked automatically and he stood stock-still.
He was being watched.
He was invisible, and he was being watched.
Slowly, moving only his eyes, he turned his attention away from the oblivious orderly, towards the bed.
He felt his eyes widen. He swallowed hard.
Luna Lovegood was staring straight at him.
He couldn't even pretend to try and reason with himself otherwise. Her lolling stupor was not completely dissipated; her head still tilted from side to side arbitrarily, but her eyes were no longer dancing about aimlessly. They were locked in on him, the intensely absorbed, curious gaze of a kitten who has just spotted a bird lingering too long upon the ground. Her expression flitted through a myriad of microscopic emotions; filtered through her drug haze, they all came out unclear and unfocused, but there was no mistaking the confusion, the slight disbelief in her eyes.
She could see him. That much was plainly—bafflingly—obvious. Somehow, she could see him despite the invisibility cloak. But she seemed to doubt that he was really there. By the tilt of her head and the way her eyes cyclically widened and contracted (the sedatives must have been making it difficult to concentrate), she seemed to be trying to dispel him from her vision—as if he were a hallucination.
Who knew he would ever see the day when Luna Lovegood— who believed in knargles and wrackspurts, who passed no judgment, who accepted the most bizarre ideas as truths without batting an eyelash— would try and convince herself of something's nonexistence. Of his nonexistence.
There was something deeply unsettling about that.
Severus bristled and looked down, checking himself. This wasn't the time to become morose. Speculation could wait.
When he looked back at Luna, she was still staring at him in that dazed, confused manner. Now, though, her mouth was also moving, opening and closing arbitrarily, as if she wanted to say something but kept forgetting the words.
The more closely he watched her mouth, however, the clearer the words became.
Pro . . . pro . . . profess. . . .
Merlin. Severus cast his glance in the direction of Dr. Melrough and the orderly, who were still talking in hushed voices. They were fairly wrapped up in their conversation but Melrough (damn him) kept looking to Luna every other phrase. After a few glances, it became obvious that Melrough knew what was going on; he chanced a split-second look to the corner where Severus stood frozen, then back to Luna. What little color his face had in the eerie bluish light drained out, and the young doctor began to look increasingly ill.
And though the orderly was not the brightest chap, it was difficult to miss the tacit exchanges going on. Now, when Melrough snuck a glance in Lovegood's direction, the orderly's gaze followed him. And dull as the man may have been, it was plain to Severus that he was growing suspicious.
"Miss Lovegood?"
Luna did not even look at the man. Severus was slightly uncertain whether she'd heard him.
Evidently, the orderly thought so as well, because he side-stepped away from Melrough, coming to the side of the bed. "Miss."
Luna's eyes remained locked on Severus, distracted and confused and slightly worried. She opened her mouth again.
"Pr . . pro . . ."
Luna!
He hadn't said her name aloud, hadn't even moved. But she halted immediately, as if he had. Her eyes were wide, watchful. Slowly, she closed her mouth.
And then opened it again in a petit yawn, closing her eyes as she did so. When she reopened her eyes, they were no longer trained on Severus. "Tired," she murmured to no one in particular.
Bradley the orderly nodded. "Are you going to sleep now?"
Luna blinked slowly, turning her head. "Am I wearing pajamas?"
"Yes."
"What about shoes?"
Melrough, who had until that point been standing slightly paralyzed where Bradley had left him, took the opportunity to alleviate the confusion from the other man's face. "She sleep walks," he supplied, stepping up to the bed as well. "Luna?"
Raising her small shoulders to crowd her ears, she slipped Melrough a shy smile. "Hi."
Melrough returned the smile with a warm, slightly sad one of his own. "Hi. Listen, Luna: I'm going to be monitoring your sleep. You will not be able to get up. Is that alright?"
She took a moment to reply to this. "I . . . yes. Sure. Okay."
Whilst Luna settled back into her bed, the orderly again took out his watch, checking the time. "It's almost time for shift change. My replacement should be here in a few minutes. Is there anything you would like me to do before I leave, Dr.?"
Melrough looked as though he was about to say no, then thought better of it. "Double check her restraints," he ordered quietly.
It was probably the appropriate thing to request, and perhaps the orderly would have done it anyway; however, neither of these thoughts did anything to console Severus. It was all he could do not to grind his teeth too loudly as the white-uniformed man tightened the bindings on the wrists and ankles of the slight-limbed, nearly-slumbering girl.
As the orderly was finishing his check of the magical bonds, movement from the other side of the room caused both Severus and Melrough to turn.
Severus' first thought was that this person would be the orderly covering the next shift. But the grey-haired wizard in neat navy blue robes standing in the doorway definitely didn't look like hospital muscle.
A glance at Melrough did nothing to ease Severus' nerves; under a remarkably maintained veneer of cool, the younger doctor looked like he was going to be sick on the spot.
"D—Dr. Standish."
The Mental Matters ward director inclined his head, and stepped further into the room, appraising the situation silently. Melrough continued to gape at the man, completely at a loss.
Instinctively, Severus brought a hand up to his chest, where the pearl hung from its silver chain. He held it tightly, its strange aura matching the frantic rhythm of his own pulse.
Melrough took a few steps towards the director, lowering his voice until it was nearly inaudible. "I did not know you would be joining me, sir," Severus heard him say.
The director spared a glance for Melrough, then looked back at Luna, whose breathing had evened out and deepened as to one on the brink of sleep. "This case if causing quite a stir," Standish replied just as quietly. "I wanted to observe her symptoms for myself."
"Of course," Melrough said quickly—what else could he say? He couldn't exactly kick the head of the department out of the room.
But he needed to, that was the issue. It was bad enough that the orderly was still in the room—not to mention the one just outside—but having Standish presented a serious complication. It was completely unexpected, an unanticipated obstacle, a hurtle that was missed. He couldn't attempt anything with either Standish or the orderly still in the room, but they couldn't be ushered out without suspicion.
There was a small moan from the bed, and all four men turned to see Luna Lovegood turn her head sharply, then fall back into slumber. Merlin; only a few minutes asleep and she was already showing symptoms of an attack. Whatever they had given her had already succeeded in putting her into a deep slumber, making her mind vulnerable.
He had to get them out. Now.
He looked to Melrough; sensing his gaze, the doctor's face turned towards him.
And it was the look on his face—the lost-cause, let's come back another night, situation impossible look—that finally made up Severus' mind.
He waited just long enough for the orderly to bid both doctors good night and open the door to the hallway before drawing his wand.
His first charm was subtle. A simple flick of the wrist that caused the orderly to trip as he was crossing the threshold. Simple; but it had its desired effect.
It landed the unfortunate orderly flat out on the other side of the door, leaving the door wide open and causing both Melrough and Standish to rush to the fallen man.
Severus waited until they were all clustered together, helping up the orderly before throwing off the cloak.
"Flippendo!"
They all had about a split-second to look surprised before the spell hit them and forcefully knocked them backwards into the hallway. Severus wasted no time, brandishing his wand again with the quick efficiency of a skilled duelist.
"Colloportus!"
The door swung shut and glowed instantly green as it sealed itself.
Ignoring the immediate uproar of voices and banging, Severus strode over to Luna's bed. Carefully, he sat on the edge, watching her quietly for a few seconds. His heart beat was pounding in his ears.
Luna frowned, and he thoughtlessly reached across and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Millions of thoughts tried to flood his mind, but he shut them out, shut everything out. He shut out the sounds coming from outside, the voices having grown in number; he forgot his exhaustion, the anxiety spiking through him; he forgot doubt and fear. He remembered only all of those nights when he was lost in his own ravaged mind, only to awake to her face, her voice.
He rested the tips of his fingers against her cheek, and spoke quietly, his voice so soft it was almost completely inaudible. He repeated the phrase a little more loudly as he removed the pearl from his neck with his other hand; he placed it in one of Luna's slack palms and clasped their hands together. The phrase rolled again from his lips, and he let his eyes drop closed. Again, louder, this time lilting, like a song. Soon he was repeating it continuously, his voice seeming to echo throughout the room as it weaved a shapeless melody that danced around itself.
And finally, he was pulled under.
Color. Everything, all around him. bright-shining, multifaceted, dark and deep, opaque, clear, warm, cold, sunlight, shadows. Everything was so colorful. Fantastical.
It was no small wonder she lived in her head.
But, for all the color, there was something else. Something filthy and foreign, curling silkily around the edges of dancing hues. Potent, dangerous, heavy, like a weight suspended by thin gauze. It was suffocating, bleeding out all of the colors, straining the shades and patterns, creating swirls of grey and pure, lethal black, noir tendrils stretching out like branches. Dead mind.
Only it wasn't as expected. It was supposed to be a tumorous matter, a cancerous limb. A parasite clinging on the periphery. But it wasn't.
Embedded.
It was embedded in her mind.
"Who the bloody hell was that?! What happened?!"
Melrough shook his head at the irate director, dazed. What had happened?
The orderlies (who were actually the ones on the receiving end of the director's bellowing) shook their heads stupidly. Poor bastards.
"I don't know," Bradley said. "One minute, I'm leaving, the next I'm flat—"
"I mean how the hell did he get in, you idiot! How did you manage to let him get past the security wards, just so happen to not take notice of his presence—"
"He was invisible, sir—"
"That shouldn't have bloody mattered! If you had been doing your job and paying attention, I'm sure he triggered some ward or alarm! But now there is a man stuck in that room with a mentally unstable teenaged girl— we don't even know who he is—he could be a psychopath! Do you understand that?! Do you have any idea what he could be doing? What the fucking hell is going on in that room—?!"
"Sir!" Melrough shouted, interjecting and causing Standish to close his mouth. Melrough had his ear pressed against the door, and was straining to hear what was going on inside the room.
Standish's closed mouth lasted for only a few seconds. He rushed up to the door, getting in Melrough's personal space. "What is going on? What is he—?"
Melrough narrowed his eyes and made a violent shushing sound at Standish, who immediately clammed up. In another time, it might have been funny; but for now, Melrough was far more interested in learning what was occurring on the other side of the door to be sidetracked.
Impatient for a response, Standish mimicked Melrough, pressing his own ear to the door. The door was spelled with a standard muffling charm, but even despite that, both men could hear a continuous low murmuring.
The longer they listened, the sicker and angrier Standish looked, so Melrough closed his eyes and concentrated on the sonorous monotony of Severus' voice.
He only stopped when the GET arrived and pulled him away, as they made preparations to take down the door.
He found her eventually.
As much as it unsettled him, he followed the black-grey web-branches, watching them grow denser and more knotted around him. he followed them until only a little color, dull and dying bled through, like an inaudible cry for help.
And there, where the black was at its densest, he found her. Suspended, wrapped almost completely in black tendrils, nothing but her small feet, hands, face, and one shoulder uncovered. She watched him solemnly as he approached.
He tried to say her name, but nothing came out.
She continued to study him, bright blue eyes sad and forlorn. Reaching out one hand, she tugged on a tendril of black, sending a shivering synaptic ripple down it, branching out into the next, and the next in the great network of black. Eyes still on him, she flicked it, as if demonstrating.
"So you see," she said. "It is mine. I can't give it away. I can't let it go."
Again, he tried to speak.
Again, nothing.
Luna shook her head. As he watched, a black ribbon slithered further up her neck. "So you see. It's mine. I belong to it. It is part of me. I can't let it go."
And that too was like a song, slow and baleful.
He held up the pearl, like a prize. But she still shook her head.
"You can't. I'm sorry."
He came closer, close enough to touch. Close enough to see the myriad of blues in her eyes, close enough to tough her fly-away hair. Close. Not close enough.
This time, when he opened his mouth to speak, the words did come.
"Do you want it?"
He spoke into the shell of her ear, that small, imperfect circle, with its perfect missing lobe. And he couldn't see her face now, but he knew she closed her eyes when she let out that small shudder.
And:—
"No. Not like this."
He almost wished he could shut out the choked sob that followed that sentence. "Let me help you."
She was shaking violently now, the black web encasing her vibrating. He slipped the pearl around her neck. It glowed brightly, white but not white, but every color, but black and grey, but blue and green, but red and yellow, but clear. As he drew back fractionally, his lips were allowed to graze her cheek. Close. Not close enough.
His gaze dropped to her shoulder, creamy white exposed through ribbons of black. He touched the uprising of bone, the way it bled into the inky tendrils encircling her frame. He grasped the black in his hands, tugged at it, exposing another inch of white flesh. He loosened it more, and some of the black from her neck fell away. And more. The black hung limp from her body.
He pulled. Ripped. Shredded. She trembled.
The pearl glowed.
"Everyone stand back."
Along with Standish, the orderlies, and the rest of the GET, Melrough took a large step back as the GET wizard who had spoken took stance in front of the door. As they all watched, the GET wizard drew his wand from his sleeve, narrowed his eyes at the door, and raised his wand.
He was about to utter an incantation when, from the other side of the closed door, there was the unmistakable sound of a vast absorption of energy, and the tiny sliver of a gap between the door and the floor glowed bright white. A man's voice shouted over the roar.
And then stopped. The light under the door went out. And, quite suddenly, everything went eerily still.
Seconds ticked by while Melrough and the rest of the group listened for any signs of movement from inside the room. But there was nothing, only an eerie silence.
Standish was the first to recover.
"Open that damn door, now," he snapped. "Open it!"
The GET wizard did not have to be told twice. This time when he raised his wand, he delivered the spell to the door in two swift motions.
There was a loud crack, like the sound of a firecracker, as the yellow spell hit the door and the magical barriers protecting it. The door cracked in a jagged line down the center, and it made a thunk as it was broken from its hinges.
Unable to stop himself, Melrough sucked in a quick, gasping breath. For the last few minutes, he'd been trying desperately not to reveal how anxious he was; now, it seemed like a lost cause. Too many thoughts were racing about in his brain to leave room for caring about appearances. Severus had only been in that room for ten minutes—thirteen tops—while the GET had tried various methods of opening the door. Hadn't he said the procedure would take twenty? At least? There was no way he would have managed to complete it. And that flash of light—what had that been? Severus hadn't mentioned any outbursts of energy as a result of the technique. Something had gone wrong. Something had gone horribly, terribly wrong—
"Melrough!"
He jumped as Standish sharply called out his name. Fearfully, he diverted his attention to the department director, feeling his stomach flutter unpleasantly.
But Standish wasn't looking at him; like everyone else, he was staring intently at the door, face set in a grim expression.
"Draw your wand."
Hand shaking slightly, Melrough slipped his wand from the pocket of his robe; he held it at the ready dutifully, swallowing hard.
Standish glanced around at the GET, meeting eyes with the leader, who had taken up stance by the broken door. The two wizards nodded at each other.
The second spell landed on the door broke it solidly in two; it fell inward, and no sooner did it clatter to the floor than the entire GET team, followed closely by Standish, swooped inside.
Melrough stood in the dark, silent hallway for a few seconds, breathing shallowly. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself.
Then, taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, and followed them all through the doorway, prepared for the worst.
But not prepared, it seemed, for the scene that awaited him.
He entered the room to find the entire GET standing in a wide semi-circle around the bed, wands half-way raised, expressions a mixture of uncertain and bewildered. Out of the corner of his eye, Melrough saw Standish, wand hanging loosely in his hand at his side, mouth open in a cartoonish gape.
Melrough couldn't blame him.
For there, sitting upright in the hospital bed, was Luna Lovegood, looking as bright, cheery and refreshed—positively rosy. She sat there, in her shapeless, oversiszed white gown, beaming at them all and holding a finger to her lips. As Melrough looked, he saw a the glint of a small, hematite-like object on a chain dangling from her neck.
And next to her, slumped over in a chair, his head and arms resting on the bed, was Severus Snape. Out cold.
And, as they all stood around the unlikely pair, gaping in stunned silence, Luna let out an almost inaudible giggle.
She began to hum.