Author's Note: I'm back! My day job is done for the summer, it seems. And I finished my newest book, so that's a load off! I am so sorry it took so long, but I have worked so much overtime the last couple of months, I am too exhausted to write by the time I get home and my book had priority.

But Chapter 21 is finally here and I won't take a month for Chapter 22, I promise! (and yes, I'll be back to my other FB story soon)

Chapter 21- Internal Warfare

It was another two weeks before Laura could leave the hospital. Every day, Tina and Queenie came to visit once Laura had woken up. Queenie told her all about the rumors that were running through MACUSA. Most speculated that Laura had lost her arm while some believed Laura was faking her injury.

She wished she was faking.

The pain was generally tolerable, though from time to time it was still excruciating. Her right arm was almost useless. No one could figure out what spell was used and Horas wasn't talking. So Laura was stuck.

Knowing her father as she did, she assumed that if there even was a counter curse, it was difficult to do.

Laura wanted to go back to work so bad. She was itching to sit at her desk and track down more dark wizards.

But Graves wouldn't allow it.

Not yet.

She couldn't prove herself field ready yet, but she also couldn't even do simple spells around her house. Laura worked and worked, using her left hand to do things such as move a paper across her desk or transfigure a cup. Things she learned at Hogwarts.

Thus far, Laura had made a right utter mess of her flat and most of her teacups were not enough cup, but something else, so she was quickly running out of cups.

After Graves visited her in the hospital, she didn't see him again. But Tina and Queenie visited her every day until she left. After that, they came by her flat whenever they could. She had yet to see Dougal. He had written to her a couple of times, but was making excuses for why he couldn't visit.

It wasn't helping her mood.

"It's useless!" Laura complained to Tina and Queenie one Saturday in the beginning of May. It had been almost two weeks since she left the hospital.

Both women tried to smile, but they failed at it. Laura loved them both, but they were bad at comforting others.

"It just takes time, Laura. You remember what it was like when you first used magic?" Queenie said, trying to help.

Laura huffed. "This is different. I can feel the magic coursing through me, but I can't do anything!"

Tina and Queenie exchanged a look.

"What's that for?" Laura asked, noticing the look between the sisters.

"Well," Tina began slowly.

"We're just worried, sugar," Queenie said. "You know what happens when magic gets repressed," Tina finished.

A darkness settled in Laura's living room. She did know what happened. Repressed magic was never a good thing. Obscurials. It was dangerous to repress your magic, whether by choice or circumstance.

As if on cue, a wave of static went through her hair. Laura shook her head, wishing it away and away it went.

"You'll get it back," Queenie said in a quiet voice, almost afraid of the magic in her. "You will."

Laura wished it was that easy. But she gave the sisters what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

They didn't look assured.

A few days later, Laura was able to lift a paper and move it across the room. A week later, she could mostly change a book into a cup. The cup tasted like paper, however. And had a leather exterior.

Eighteen days after leaving the hospital, Laura wrote to Graves to request the ability to return to work. He sent her an owl at the end of the day to tell her he'd think about it.

Laura wished she knew his home address so she could knock down his door and show him she could do enough work to warrant returning to her desk. Instead, she sent him an owl back telling him she'd be back at work the next day.

She hardly slept, worrying about returning to work, especially without permission. But she was going to do it.

She had to do it.

Laura was getting better at making a quill write for her. It was still a bit sloppy, but generally readable. Going back to work would help her get better, she was sure of it.

Unable to sleep, Laura climbed out of bed early and set about getting ready. She dressed carefully and precisely, choosing a nice outfit that was both confident and professional, yet still her. Getting dressed with only one hand was difficult, but Laura was learning. Doing her hair was even harder. Laura brushed it flat, wishing she could do something else. Her hair was growing, because of her repressed magic. It had gotten better since her magic was getting better with her left hand, but…still. It was almost to the nape of her neck, longer than she had had it in years.

Frowning at herself in the mirror, Laura shook her head at herself. Even her bangs were getting too long. Laura sighed and looked away.

As she headed into the kitchen to make tea, her right arm brushed the doorway and she cringed, pausing a moment to catch her breath.

She wished her arm was paralyzed. She wished she couldn't feel anything.

But she felt it all.

The pain was still constant. Easier to manage, so long as she didn't swipe a doorway, but still painful.

Taking a deep breath, Laura pushed on. While her water boiled, she took her pain pills. Magic didn't help. Potions didn't help. So far, only muggle medicine seemed to bring her relief, if only for a few hours.

She didn't want Graves to know that, however. She wasn't quite sure how anyone at MACUSA would react to her taking muggle medication.

Before she knew it, it was time to go. But she stayed rooted in her kitchen. Her tea was gone and her breakfast was eaten, but Laura couldn't move towards the door.

There was a dread in her chest. Her right arm hung useless at her side. She was beginning to get the slightest touch of movement in her fingers, but it wasn't enough.

She wasn't enough.

Not yet.

Laura sank down to the floor, sobs wracking her body as she let it out. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. Why did she have to be born to Gray Goyle and Elladora Black? Why couldn't she have been born a Graves or a Potter or just a regular, kind family?

Why did she have to suffer?

She sat on the floor of her kitchen for well over an hour, going between crying and sitting in silence. It had been an awful long time since Laura had last had a good cry.

It was, in fact, quite cathartic.

But also quite draining.

Laura lay back on the floor, staring up at the off white ceiling. She placed her Auror hat on her chest, crushing it to her body, wishing that it alone would give her her power back.

A knock on her door made Laura sit up straight. She stared through the living room to the door, trying to make herself see through the door.

The person knocked again.

Begrudgingly, Laura pushed herself up from the floor, dusting off her hat on her coat and setting it on the counter. After pulling her wand out and holding it in her left hand, she slowly made her way through her living room, curious as to who might be at her door at 9am on a Tuesday morning.

"Who is it?" she called out once she reached the door.

"Open the door, Laura," the voice called back. That voice.

His voice.

Putting her wand in her coat, Laura quickly opened the door and came face to face with Percival Graves. Laura gulped nervously.

"Sir," she greeted him, her eyes searching his face in concern.

"You're late," he said gruffly, pushing past her while avoiding her right arm.

Laura tried not to yelp as her boss entered her flat. This is highly inappropriate, she thought to herself as she shut the door.

"I'm late?" she questioned. Laura leaned back against her door, trying to hide the lameness of her arm, but Graves was already staring at it.

He looked up at her eyes. "You said you were returning to work this morning. You were not at work this morning." It was simple statement, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice.

She gulped again. "I uh, I," she stumbled over her words, trying to find some answer that wouldn't make her look pathetic.

"You were struck by an unknown curse. That you're even alive is a miracle, Laura. You don't have to rush back," Graves said kindly.

Huffing, Laura shook her head. "You don't understand," she said, suddenly angry. She tried to push the anger down, but once it was up, it was up. It's ugly head rearing up to cause trouble. "You can't possibly understand." There was a strong bitterness to her voice.

"No, Laura, I don't," Graves said. He looked at her with such kindness.

It made her sick to her stomach.

"I have to go back," she whispered, pushing that anger back down. It was dangerous to combine anger with repressed magic. She didn't want to hurt Graves.

Graves crossed the short distance between them and began to reach his hand up, but dropped it back down. He smiled softly, trying to cover up his indecision. "You will. You will, but if you rush it, you'll end your career. You know that."

She stared into his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes that were enticing her to disaster; those eyes that made her think such dirty thoughts.

The young woman shook her head again. "I'll be in tomorrow."

Final. Settled.

Graves cocked an eyebrow and nodded. "I'll expect you at 8am."

Final. Settled.

They stood there for a moment more, staring at each other, waiting. Waiting for what?

"Can I leave now?" he asked, motioning to the door behind her.

A blush crept up her neck. Laura moved away from the door, nodding. "Yes, of course. Apologies."

"8am, Laura," he told her again as he opened the door. He gave her one last look of meaning that Laura couldn't decipher and then left, shutting the door behind him.

She waited a few minutes before she sighed loudly and crumpled to her knees, this time in half excitement and half fury at herself.

After eating a second breakfast, Laura returned to her attempts of magic. With her determination, she managed to write her name quite neatly with her quill. And then she wrote Percival Graves' name.

And crossed it out.

Laura went to bed early, hoping to actually sleep. The next morning, she awoke and started a fresh new day, getting ready and setting herself to the task of actually walking out the door.

She didn't make it out of the kitchen again.

At 9:15am, Graves knocked on her door again. Again they spoke. Again she told him she'd be at work the next day.

"8am, Laura," he said before leaving, giving her an encouraging smile.

"8am, Graves," she answered, watching him go, knowing it was a lie.

They went through the same process day after day, with Laura making it a bit further each day. A week passed until finally, Laura left her flat. Once she was out the door, once she could smell fresh air, her feet kept moving until she found herself in front of the Woolworth Building. Looking up at the vast building, Laura smiled as she hadn't smiled in weeks.

This was home.

She entered the building and chose to take the stairs up to the office, relishing every step and ignoring all of the looks from her coworkers. This was where Laura was meant to be.

This was why she had suffered in her childhood, so she could work for the government and protect her people from her family and their friends. If she had to suffer to get to this place, then she would take it. Better her than someone else.

She could handle it.

She always had.

As she neared the Auror's office, Laura began to get nervous. Her footsteps slowed and she could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead under her hat brim. She pulled off her hat, secretly wiping her brow as she went.

"Good morning, Laura," Graves said, sliding past her almost still figure in the hallway. He was looking at his watch as he passed her. He paused and looked back at her surprised face. "7:51am. I'm impressed." He gave her a slight wink and continued to his office.

She smiled in relief.

This is where she was meant to be.