So far, this story has been published for a little over a month and we already have over 4,500 views from over 1,300 visitors! I can't tell you how much I look forward to the responses that I get from writing this story. While I don't get reviews from every person that reads (I try not to take this personally, as I myself don't leave reviews for every story I read.) the numbers are there. I enjoy seeing everyone who reviews, follows, and/or favorites - you are my people. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. It is what motivates me to continue to write, as well as explore other ideas that pop into my head. I currently have another Dramione that has struck me after having a bizarre dream. While it was crazy because of the people in the actual dream, it was an enticing plot. Soon enough I will have enough of a story line to start posting.
Shout out to my reviewers for Chapter 7 -
LillsBills - Your review truly brightened my day. I hope I continue to keep you hooked.
Green Eyed Lana Lee - I am so sorry to hear what you are going through! I am glad that I can help in some way. This is definitely crazy. It seems easy to fall into the hype but I am trying to keep a level head.
oOoOo
It was shortly after Hermione finished her second cup of coffee that another owl swooped in, landing on her lightly colored granite island. The jet-black owl a stark contrast to its new background, its piercing yellow eyes trained on her.
Hesitantly, she reached to remove the rolled parchment from its ties. Without breaking eye contact with the bird, she fumbled until she felt the rim of the blue bowl sitting on her countertop. Snatching up one of the owl treats that resided in the bowl, she offered it up to the imposing bird. The owl took the treat happily, not moving from her spot, giving Hermione the chance to remove the letter. When the bird still didn't move, its intentions were clear.
"Alright then. Guess you are waiting on a reply." Hermione spoke to the owl while scanning the parchment for any foul play. When nothing was found, she unrolled the parchment to find handwriting she was unfamiliar with.
Hermione,
I read the article. Tracey and Potter did Draco justice. If you would be willing, could you keep me abreast with any leads you may receive? I would be deeply appreciative. Please don't mind Melisandre, she isn't the brightest owl. If she hasn't left, tell her to return home.
Sincerely,
Theo Nott
'Interesting. Wasn't expecting that.' She couldn't help thinking to herself. Looking back at her feathered guest, she chuckled to see the bird had settled in on her countertop. 'Clearly, he was right about her.' She had never met an owl that wasn't exceptionally smart or cognizant. Reaching behind her, she grabbed the quill and a piece of spare parchment from the basket on the built-in desk.
Good Morning Theo, she penned.
I would be more than happy to inform you of any information that I receive. I am a Healer in the Experimental Medicine Department at St Mungo's, so please don't be alarmed if you see one of their delivery owls. I can imagine that wouldn't be a welcomed sight, unless you were expecting it.
And you were spot on with Melisandre. She is currently molting on my kitchen island. If you don't mind me being blunt, what is wrong with the poor bird?
Hermione
"Melisandre?" If a bird could look annoyed for being interrupted, this one did. "Can you please take this back to Theo? I'd appreciate it." She felt like she was dealing with a child, she could have sworn the temperamental bird just rolled its eyes! But Melisandre stuck out her claw with the letter ties nonetheless and gave a hoot.
"How about two treats then?" Hermione couldn't believe that she was trying to bargain with the bird. Melisandre let out a far kinder call before taking her treats and leaving through the still open window.
"Sphinx, that had to be the strangest owl I have ever met." Hermione spoke as she stared at the place the owl had disappeared. Turning her attention from the garden and trees that the kitchen window faced, she tried to find the cat she had spoken too. Finding her familiar sprawled in a patch of sun to her left, she got off her stool to crouch down and scratch the exposed belly. "Be a good girl, Sphinx. Time to see if Sean Finnegan decided to grace me with his presence once again."
Heading to her floo, she threw in the powder, stating her destination, and was on her way to work.
Somedays were more monotonous than others. Unless something truly extraordinary came up, her focus stayed on 6 patients of approximately 25 that were currently residents of the ward, or Sean Finnegan. No one else had the patience to deal with his antics, so she was his unofficial healer. All in all, her case load was pretty consistent.
She had originally trained as an Emergency Healer, until she met the boy who would become her first Experimental Medicine patient, Jonas Millwag. Jonas was 9 years old when he came through the doors of St. Mungo's with his parents. He had been jinxed by his brother, a second-year home for the winter holidays. It was just supposed to be a voice softening charm.
What had complicated things was that Jonas' accidental magic lashed out and interrupted the spell as his brother cast it. This caused Jonas to have a permanently soft voice that got softer the angrier he got. When the Charm Reversal Department couldn't figure it out, Hermione decided to take matters into her own hands to try and solve it. It had taken many sleepless nights and failed attempts, but Jonas went to Hogwarts this past September, completely cured of his infliction.
Her dedication during the thirteen months it took to find and create a reversal, caught the attention of the Department of Experimental Medicine Chief Healer and the ward's executives. She was happy to accept the offered position, not to mention the regular schedule and pay increase that came with it.
Dropping by her office first, she grabbed the case files and treatment plans for her patients before making her rounds. She enjoyed seeing her patients every day, seeing if her ideas for treatments made any impact. She reveled in the difficult task of researching many different reactions to create a solution for each individual case. Her friends had chuckled when she told them about the job, they knew she would enjoy herself, especially all of the rare tomes available to her through the St. Mungo's' Research Library.
After finishing her rounds and speaking to the nursing staff, she returned to her office to see a black blob of feathers on her chair. Approaching the blob with caution, she used her top-most file to reach out and nudge the mass, keeping an extended distance between her and her office chair. Melisandre, clearly not enthused about being poked, jumped back up to a standing position, put out at being woken up. Without preemption, she stuck out her leg to pass over the letter. Hermione took the letter and watched to see what the owl would do next. Melisandre didn't disappoint, the owl moved from her leather office chair to her small blue fabric loveseat, only to fall forward once more, not moving. She couldn't help but snort in amusement at the owl's behavior. Theo had truly found a unique owl.
Reclaiming her chair, she opened the letter.
Hermione,
I apologize for her behavior. Believe it or not, she's always been a bit odd. She used to cause a stir at the Slytherin table when she would arrive, just to eat directly off my plate. No letter to deliver. Her antics made the tougher days more comical.
Thank you for informing me of the owls. Congratulations for working in Experimental Medicine. I can imagine that is a competitive position, and what I do know of you, seems like an ideal profession for you. I myself work at Gringotts, as a Curse Breaker. Good things can come from questionable knowledge, especially learned at the elbow of the people doing the cursing. So, if you ever need a dark arts curse specialist, you know who to ask.
-Theo
Hermione had to laugh at the letter. From what she had witnessed this far, she could see Melisandre making herself comfortable, eating with the humans. Pulling what she needed from her draw, she penned him back a letter.
Theo,
Weren't you in Slytherin? Because that was positively Hufflepuff for offering. Though I greatly appreciate the information and offer, and plan to take you up on that. I actually have a case currently that I could use some insight on. If you'd be willing, could we get together this week to discuss? The basis is involuntary self-harm, stronger than a compulsory charm.
Talking about antics, I have never known an owl that sleeps face down. Which is what she is doing currently. Hence the St. Mungo's owl who delivered this missive. I imagine that Melisandre will depart when she is done with her nap.
If you don't mind me asking, do you know how I can get in touch with Tansy? I haven't heard from her in a couple days and want to make sure to keep her informed as well. I hope your day is going well.
Hermione
Calling over one of the department's owls, she sent off her reply. This was turning out to be an interesting day.
oOoOo
Draco could feel the blood collecting at the entrances to the new cuts. S-C-U-M. He traced the letters in his mind as they were etched into his skin. The knife hitting and skipping over his prominent ribs. He was surprised that he could even bleed. It had been several days without water. Whether through his occasional measly rations or his wake-up call choking him as it got into his open mouth.
He knew that his magic was all that was keeping him alive. While the magic suppressing bracelet on his ankle prevented him from lashing out, it allowed his magic to flow throughout his body. He could feel it. Weak as it was. Trying to heal him however it could.
Suddenly, the ropes that were supporting him released him, dropping him to the floor. His knees smashing into the concrete, his body pitching over to land mostly on his left side. Seeing as he had been dangling from what he could only imagine was the ceiling, his legs stretched out behind him, the top of his bare feet resting on the concrete surface, there was no chance of him catching himself, even if he had the strength.
The chill from the floor was seeping into his exposed flesh. Draco realized with trepidation that there were two sets of footsteps approaching him. Being disoriented to begin with didn't help matters when a voice whispered in his right ear. "Don't plan on leaving here alive." And a fist slammed down on the side of his head.
Manic laughter filled the room as a foot connected with his back, flaying him out on his stomach. Another came down on his ankle, shattering it. The pain was intense, not allowing him to focus on anything by the sharp, shooting pain radiating from his lower leg.
Swift kicks came in quick succession. Over and over. Focused on his torso and arms. He knew, just knew, that the comment made to him was truth. It was in that moment that he started to lose hope. Lose his will to survive. They weren't going to be humane; they were going to make this as arduous as possible.
He knew from previous treatment like this to keep his hands tucked in as much as possible. He knew that many of his fingers were broken and a few missing the tip and nail. He was sure his middle finger on his right hand had atrophied. One of the first bones broken in his confinement, he no longer had feeling in that finger. His pointer and ring fingers could still feel it, identifying that it was at least still there.
Someone lit what he knew to be a cigarette. He knew what was coming next, as the lit cigarette was pressed into his exposed arms. Repetitively.
Draco was resigned to the brutality that was committed against him. When he first found himself in this position, he regaled it to his time as a Death Eater. That this was the payback for the shitty person he was, and the horrible things he thought he had to do. But after so long, it was clear that this wasn't a family member avenging the wronged person. This was sadism.
It was starting to eat away at his resolve. He had no one. His father was in Azkaban and his mother, gone. He pissed Theo off, his one remaining friend. What was the point of fighting this if no one cared you came out the other side? If he was going to die, it might as well be on his terms. Closing his eyes in the darkness, he tried to relax among the hits and burns his body was still taking. Accepting his fate. It was then that the welcomed darkness descended, aided by a well-aimed kick to the back of the head.
oOoOo
Don't throw tomatoes (Eek!) Please review and let me know what you think. As always, please review, follow and favorite.
Always,
Clara
