Pansy woke with a start, a face full of pillow and a head full of questions. Her heart raced as though she had been chased out of sleep by some unseen pursuer, snapping at her heels, getting ever closer. She groaned and rubbed at her face as she waited for the adrenaline to ease out of her system. After five minutes, she felt as agitated as before. She glanced out the window, watching as the rain left tears on the glass. She knew how the weather felt as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye. It rolled down puffy cheeks, following the track of so many from the night before. It had been at least six months since she had dealt with anyone recognising her or her last name since her name change. She should have been used to it, but it still stung. Swinging her legs out of bed, she shed her clothes before jumping into the shower.
The grey September light washed the room, leaving her feeling numb and empty. Even as the hot water soothed her aching muscles, she felt cold inside as though she had been turned inside out and worn as a hat. She shivered and scrubbed her skin until she was pink and sore then let the water flow through her hair.
Knowing that the day was going to be a long one, she took an extra moment to massage her scalp with the shampoo instead of just rubbing it in. The firm pressure on her head seemed to ease some of the tension, and she sighed. Shifts started again today, which meant twelve long hours in St Mungos. All she wanted to do was cry, but she was all cried out. The massaged scalp helped her feel somewhat more human as she rinsed off and stepped out. She shivered in the chilled air as she wrapped herself in a towel, missing the luxuriously soft ones she used to have when she lived with her parents. These muggle towels felt rough against her skin, probably exactly what she deserved, however.
She padded quietly back into the other room to dress, running her wand through her hair, instantly drying it into her trademark long bob. After sliding on her scrubs, she headed towards the little kitchenette. If there was a day that needed coffee, it was today.
Coffee made, she sat down at the counter, jumping when an owl landed on the window sill outside. She held her hand to her chest for a moment as she tried to recover her runaway pulse. Pushing the window open, the tawny hopped in, a small, damp pile of letters bound together in red ribbon. The owl disappeared back into the wet morning as she closed the window behind it.
She released the pile from their bindings as she studied the handwriting. One was from her mother, the long elegant script recognisable on the pale lavender envelope. She tossed it onto the worktop unopened, no doubt she was trying to convince her to give up her childish ambition of becoming a healer and to join them in France. Most of her letters went along the same route.
A white letter from Italy -that would be Blaise. She wondered how the Italian auror was getting on. He had wanted to join the force for as long as they had been friends but knew that the British ministry would never have him.
A red envelope and a leaflet for Janus Galloglass magical mirrors remained. She snorted at the junk mail, throwing it onto the counter before turning her attention to the envelope. Its vermillion parchment was well made and thick. She frowned as she slid it out. The letter inside was of the same thick, heavy page. She unfolded it and stared at the short missive before her hand started to shake.
Howl at the Moon with Longbottom again, and I'll show you what a real predator can do miss Parkinson…
The silver writing jumped out at her as though glaring with intention. Her blood froze in her veins, her heart no longer able to pump the heat as it stuttered. She dropped the page onto the work bar and stared as her brain tried to catch up despite the lack of blood and air.
They knew… about Longbottom… her real name, even where she lived. She covered her mouth to stifle a cry as a sob threatened to escape.
She swallowed thickly as she tried to breath and blink against the tears. Her knees threatened to buckle as the red envelope marred the neutral tones of her flat. Her first instinct was to burn it. Before it became a conscious thought, she had her wand in her hand and pointed. She glared at the ugly red envelope as the rest of the room disappeared. She opened her mouth to cast the spell but stopped. The Aurors should see it. But then they'd know about Neville. The sudden chill of fear was overwhelmed by frustration and anger.
Whoever was doing this knew that she wanted to keep Neville's secret, and the phrasing of the letter meant she would be unable to show it to anyone without them jumping to the correct conclusions. They knew that this would be for her eyes only.
"Fuck," she muttered with feeling, her voice shaking as she clung to the work surface. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the rising panic threatened to suffocate her.
With shaky hands, she lowered her wand and picked up the letter again, making sure to only touch the edges. She pushed it back into the envelope and moved silently to her bedside table, sliding the message into the drawer, and closed it again, almost as quickly.
She stood and walked away, hoping to forget about the letter, but she could feel it like a raging fire behind her.
It was no use, she couldn't be in the same room as it, not yet. She looked around for her coat and bag. Her bag had been where she had left it, but her jacket was nowhere to be seen. She rolled her eyes. This was not going to be a good day.
"Well, someone looks like they got trampled by an Erumpent herd this morning!" came the remark from behind her. Pansy rolled her eyes and glared. "Oh come on Parky, You know that look has never worked on me!" Millicent said as she sidled up next to her at the counter.
"That's only because you've never given me cause to hurt you, until now…" She muttered quietly as she filled out the chart in front of her.
"Awww, did someone get up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning?" The woman pouted insincerely next to her.
"Please, stop," Pansy begged, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Are you alright?" Millicent asked again, this time she could hear the sincerity. She turned her eyes to the woman, her dark eyes watching her intently.
"I'm just having a bad day, and would very much like for it to be over," She said, turning back to the filing cabinet to grab another file.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"Nothing, I don't want to talk about it," Pansy shook her head. The pain behind her eyes was building to a crescendo
"Well, this might cheer you up, a new healer has just joined the Dai Llewellyn ward," The brunette enthused. She grinned with mischief. "And he's well…" She nodded enthusiastically.
"You are not setting me up with another healer!"
"But why not?" She asked innocently. "You all work strange hours, share a dark sense of humour and have loads to talk about,"
"Mills, please. When you set me up with Paul, all we did was talk shop-all night. Hearing about Burrowbugs and earworms, strangely evapourates any amorous intentions, even if I could chop up potion ingredients on his stomach!"
"Poor Paul, I was sure you'd get on really well,"
"No, Mills, I'm not going through that again!
"Healer Proctor?" A voice called from the door of the ward. Pansy turned around.
"Yes?" She snapped, looking around impatiently. If she had anyone else in here that had splinched themselves whilst drunk, she'd slice them to pieces herself.
"I…I have a delivery for you…" the orderly stammered, his eyes wide in fear.
"A delivery?" she frowned, turning her full attention the man in front of her.
"Flowers. For you, Healer Proctor," he explained, handing over a large bouquet that had been hidden previously by the door.
They were a beautiful bouquet. However, Pansy had never been fond of roses, their smell always seemed too artificial. Also, everyone got roses, it was hardly original.
"Thank you," She said absently as she looked at the flowers, not noticing the man virtually run from the ward.
"You should have said you had a beau, I wouldn't have invited Owens down,"
"Who?" She said distracted, a frown tugging at her lips.
"Owens? The new Healer on Dai Llewellyn?" Millicent explained with a shake of her dark curls. "Now come on! Who's sending you flowers?" she gushed as she reached for the card.
Pansy snatched it away before she could reach. The red card with the golden filigree brought back unpleasant memories as she opened it. She let out a sigh of relief and then frustration as she read the card.
Pansy, I can't stop thinking about you. Please have dinner with me, RW
With a shake of her head, she rolled her eyes and passed the note to her friend.
"RW? Is that who I think it is?" Her friend asked, the smile dropping from her face.
"The very same," Pansy said, admiring the flowers. The thought was touching but… There were too many roses. It summed up everything about their relationship. Ron was in love with being in love with her. He never seemed to see her.
Pansy frowned. She would have been more impressed had he remembered what her favourite flowers were.
"I thought you were shot of him?" Millicent asked reading and rereading the card.
"I bumped into him, and it looks like I've stirred things up again." She looked around the room for somewhere to keep them, not that she wanted them.
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, I'm not that hungry," She smirked, and Millie laughed, bumping into her shoulder in a playful gesture as they both laughed.
"I meant the flowers,"
Pansy looked at them again and grinned.
"I'm going to donate them to someone who will be able to appreciate them," She nodded with determination as she rushed out of the ward.