6
QUIRINUS was not sure how long he had stared absently up at the blindingly white ceiling, feeling numb. He felt his anger jump a level as he wondered what time Kya would be returning to see him. She had promised him that she'd come back, and she had never broken a promise to him.
The silence that lingered in the Hospital Wing was now deafening to his ears.
His only comfort was Toma, who had bitten him once when Kya had first set the Moke in his lap, but since then, the lizard seemed to have calmed significantly when it realized its master was going nowhere and was now curled into a ball in his lap. The effort to remain sitting upright against his pile of pillows at the bed's headboard nearly took all that it had within him.
A tired sigh escaped his cracked lips as his mind drifted to thoughts of Kya, still amazed that she was willing to stay by his side, despite what he'd done to her, and how foolish and careless he had been that night. He clutched onto Toma perhaps tighter than was comfortable for the Moke but considering he did not receive another bite to his thumb, he took that as a good sign that he felt no pain by the gesture and continued to hold the lizard whose life he had saved from his neighbor's unruly Kneazle.
Kya had been there that day, he remembered fondly. Holding Toma so tightly as he was now, was a failing attempt to control the violent trembling that threatened to overtake him. He silently readied himself for the moment that Kya would appear in the open doorway of the Hospital Wing. He didn't know how long he stared at the ceiling as the minutes passed.
He waited, the urge to hit something or kill someone pumping through him. Whenever he heard a noise outside in the hall just outside the hallway to the Hospital Wing and was not his Kya, he felt angry.
Where was she? Quirinus kept repeating it in his head over and over again waiting for an answer, but none came.
He tightened his hands into fists and clutched onto fistfuls of the heated blankets that Madame Pomfrey had draped over his lap in the hopes of making him more comfortable until his knuckles were tight and white with the effort.
Where. Was. Kya? It seemed an eternity before he heard the audible sound of footsteps approaching.
Catching his breath, he looked up hopefully and immediately felt his shoulders slump in defeat.
The person who entered the Hospital Wing and slowly approached his bedside with timidity was not who he had hoped to see. The boy, Harry Potter, stood awkwardly a few paces away from his hospital bed, his arms laden with a pile of sweets.
The first-year Gryffindor student was currently eyeing Quirinius Quirinus in a guarded manner, as though he were a wild animal that was bound and chained, and liable to lash out at any moment.
"Professor," the boy stammered nervously, his mouth going slightly slack in surprise as the child's catlike green eyes rested on the horrific scar that his own hands had a hand in creating on the right side of his face.
Pun intended, Quirinus bitterly supposed and felt annoyance flare within him. Where was Kya?
His blood pumped furiously in his veins. It was the only question he wanted an answer to and did not want to spend a moment alone with Potter and be reminded of his egregious failure to the Dark Lord, what he had given up. "Come in, Potter, don't skulk in the shadows," he snapped, his annoyance flaring to life within his veins, wishing it were Kya instead.
"Y—you're alive?" the boy whispered hoarsely in disbelief as though he could not believe what his own eyes were seeing, still eyeing Quirinus as though he were some fascinating magical creature behind bars of a cage in a menagerie.
Quirinus stiffened and nodded. "Yes, boy," he confirmed dryly. "I am…alive, are you surprised?" he grunted gruffly, keeping his face sharply fixated on the front so he could see the damage he had caused. He wanted Potter to get a good look at his face.
Harry awkwardly approached the bedside, and it was then that he noticed how gaunt and drawn the left side of his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's face was.
Professor Quirrell looked timid, scared, even, hiding behind his surly attitude.
It was obvious to Harry that something was troubling him. He was looking annoyed at Harry's intrusion. Quirinus's brow was creased with deep lines. Professor Quirrell was gravely worried about something.
For a moment, he wondered if it was the pretty witch he had met the other night outside of the Hospital Wing making him fret.
"The other students say that I should hate you, sir, for…for what happened with the Philosopher's Stone," Harry mumbled, suddenly too timid to meet the much older wizard's gaze, though he felt Quirinus's piercing black eyes on him threatening to burn a hole through his heart. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he continued.
"Yes, you should," Quirinus agreed in a flat voice, lowering his gaze and giving Toma's head an affectionate pat, wanting nothing more than to get this conversation with the boy over with, and for Kya to appear by his side.
But Potter showed no visible signs of wanting to leave his bedside for the moment, and thus it was that he had no other choice but to accept the fact that for now, the boy was his current company whether he liked it or not.
Harry paused for a moment and then forged ahead.
"I guess…with everything that happened, sir, I should. Part of me thinks that they have a point, Professor." He breathed out an almost defeated sigh, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment as he took off his glasses and pinched at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, as though fighting off the beginnings of a splitting headache before slipping his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and turning to look at Quirinus. "But…no matter what they say, I can't do it."
Quirinus frowned, the edges of his mouth pinching and turning downward as he raised his brow and looked at the boy, wondering where the boy was going with this visit.
"Why?" he grunted, the question leaving his lips out of morbid curiosity, despite his best efforts to contain it, it still slipped out and hung in the air for Potter to hear it.
Harry hesitated for a moment and looked deeply into his former teacher's eyes.
"I asked Professor Dumbledore why you were alive after the feast, sir. He…er…" he trailed off and suddenly looked uncomfortable and awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the next. "He says the only reason that you weren't killed down below after Voldemort fled your body was…love," he whispered, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks as his tone lowered an octave and he whispered the word love like it was a dirty little secret.
He bit down his bottom lip and nervously lifted his gaze to Quirinus, seemingly intently studying his face for any signs of danger, trying to gauge a reaction out of his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His jaw clenched and Quirinus's eyes turned steely.
"The topic of my relationship with Kya Ericksen is not open for discussion," he answered cooly. "But since we're on the subject, what else did he tell you of my association with Kya? What did Professor Dumbledore say to you, Potter, tell me," he barked at Potter in a surprisingly gruff voice that did not at all sound like himself, though inwardly, he was shocked and embarrassed.
For a moment, he became convinced that Master was speaking, not him.
Apparently, the knowledge that thoughts of Kya, and how much she cared for him, had saved his life and prevented him from being killed when Potter placed his hands on the right side of his face had been common knowledge with the Hogwarts Headmaster, and also not private, becoming a topic for conversation.
Harry grimaced. He could tell his comment had struck a nerve.
He had not intended to cause Professor Quirrell any distress and immediately began to try to correct his mistake.
"N-nothing," he stammered, hoping he had not crossed some invisible line just now by asking Dumbledore. "F-forgive me, sir, I didn't mean to pry into your life, it's just…I didn't understand how you could still be alive, sir. I, ah, was curious. And I wanted to see you before we leave for the end of the summer holiday, Professor, to tell you that I don't think what happened to you was your fault. I could see you trying to resist Voldemort's efforts to control you, sir."
He shot his soon-to-be-former teacher a nervous smile that told Quirinus that he was trying his best and that he hoped Quirinus would agree to meet him halfway.
Quirinus grunted by way of response and cast Harry Potter a curious glance from the corner of his eye.
"Why are you here, Potter?" he questioned in a flat voice, steeling himself and preparing for the answer that he had expected. That the boy had come to gloat, to laugh at his triumph, to get a good look at the monstrous scar he'd created and braced himself for the boy to erupt into laughter. Merlin's beard, but his heart was racing.
He frowned as he watched Potter's expression change only slightly. The boy awkwardly straightened his back and folded his hands tighter over themselves, almost as if the little Gryffindor lion were embarrassed and Harry was not sure what to say.
Harry flinched as he came to understand that he had not thought this out at all.
Well, of course, Professor Quirrell would ask him that, what else was he thinking his teacher would say?
To be quite honest with himself, he was not sure why he had come. He knew he had wanted to see Professor Quirrell again once he'd gotten word the man had survived the strange magic that had saved his life down in the underground chamber, which by all accounts, according to Professor Snape and McGonagall that he had overheard discussing in the hallway shortly before he'd been discharged from the Hospital Wing, should have killed him, but it did not.
No other answer would come up as he racked his brain for an answer, hoping to supplicate his professor's curiosity as he quickly came to understand that Professor Quirrell did not want his company and was in no mood for a visit. Was it to ask him questions? No. He frowned slightly. Harry knew that was the last thing the wizard needed right now. He thought for a moment, furrowing his brows in intense concentration. Maybe…he was here to help him, in what way, he did not know.
All he knew was that he was tired of the way the other students talked about him, as they had during the end-of-year feast as if he were a monster, a hellish demon who had been in complete and utter control of his own actions when he hadn't. He had been a pawn of Voldemort's.
Harry was convinced that what Professor Quirrell had done, wasn't his fault. He returned his steady and unyielding gaze back to the older wizard in front of him and tried to smile.
Harry hesitated at the blank look on Professor Quirrell's expression, though he thought he saw a flicker of red dart through the man's eyes and flinched at the shocking look.
He wondered for a moment if Professor Quirrell wasn't sure himself whether he wanted to live or die.
"I'm not sure, sir," he mumbled, his hesitant smile returning. "Maybe…maybe I just wanted to tell you that…whatever happens next for you, I hope that it's going to be okay," he said quietly. "I hope that you won't get in trouble for what happened. A-anyways, what I guess I'm trying to tell you is that…I hope there's no one waiting to punish you. The Dark Lord is gone from your body now, you can move on with your life. You can…" Harry paused, trying to search his mind for what his teacher might want to do with his newfound freedom now that Lord Voldemort wasn't a parasite to his body anymore, but came up short. "I don't know, spend the summer recovering. Maybe travel, but don't go back to Albania again, Professor."
Harry gave a nervous chuckle but thanks to his growing nerves, it sounded more like a fitful sigh.
Professor Quirrell's face remained impassive and blank just like Professor Snape's tended to, which made it almost impossible to tell what his former teacher was thinking or feeling, but Harry was determined to give it one more go to say what was on his mind. What he'd come to see him for.
"Professor Dumbledore said something about there's talk of giving you an Order of Merlin, Second Class. I—I don't know what that means, but, well…" Here, Harry frowned. "You did, er, sort of try to kill me, Professor, sir. But…nobody blames you, for what you did, and I hope it helps if you know that I don't, either, sir," he said softly, cringing the moment the words left his mouth.
He knew his words were not entirely true, but at an emotionally loaded moment such as this one, they seemed like the right ones to use at this given moment. He thought it might help Quirinus, at least, perhaps come to terms with what had happened.
Harry grimaced and bit down on his bottom lip as his former teacher was looking admittedly shocked at his words, admittedly less so than Harry had expected Professor Quirrell to be, and his expression showcased nausea that his stomach was feeling. The man looked like death was preferable to hearing his heartfelt words of forgiveness. Harry sighed and turned on his heels to leave.
"Well, I-I should go finish packing the rest of my stuff, sir. I hope to see you sometime soon. I hope that you get better, Professor, and I hope that Dumbledore lets you come back to teach Muggle Studies. You—you could, you know. Now that Lord Voldemort isn't a threat to you anymore. If you wanted."
Harry did not turn around to see the pain that burned deep in Quirinus's eyes, devouring, sharp, and earnest.
For a moment, Harry thought that he and his former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor were similar, in a way, and before he could stop himself from saying it, the words were ripped from his lips, seemingly not of their own accord.
"I heard you, sir. Calling her name. Down…below, in—in the chamber, after Lord Voldemort fled, Professor. Y-you...you care for her. I think...maybe, i-if she wants to help you, sir, you should let her, er, take care of you for a while. No one should have to be alone." Harry, taken aback by his own words, shook his head and did not know whether to continue treading down this path.
He had not intended to tell Professor Quirrell that shortly before he himself had lost consciousness, he'd heard Quirinus a few feet away from him, after he had screamed himself hoarse, muttering to himself, and he had spoken a witch's name. He had told no one of this, not even Dumbledore. For the time being, it was his greatest kept secret.
But something in him felt wrong about lying to Professor Quirrell about it, and he felt compelled to come clean and tell the truth in the hopes it would help him heal faster or at least come to a mutual understanding with one another.
Harry hesitantly lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Professor Quirrell.
For the first time in the year since knowing his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, there was not a trace of timidity or fear on the man's face.
He was instead now staring at Harry with the same level of intensity that Harry thought he could barely stand when he revealed to him in front of the Mirror of Erised that his stutter was gone, that he was a host to Lord Voldemort all this time, he had shot him such a withering look of intense hatred and something else at the time, something that Harry thought akin to a struggling plea for help as if Professor Quirrell were waging war for control of his own body with Voldemort and was losing the fight.
The intense stare with which Professor Quirrell was gracing him made Harry instantly want to look away.
But he couldn't. Instead, he was stricken with a strange morbid curiosity.
Professor Quirrell without his timid nature and to hear that he was stuttering less should have been a good sign, but Harry instead felt as though something important from the wizard had been torn away.
"You…you care for her, sir? The—the pretty witch, she—she said she was a Healer? Sort of like a—a Muggle doctor?" he asked, flinching the moment the words left his mouth and he internally slapped himself for crossing that invisible boundary.
The man was his teacher, he did not need to pry into Professor Quirrell's personal life.
The edges of Professor Quirrell's lips twitched, and he grimaced as the gesture struck a damaged nerve on the right side of his face. He let out a hiss through clenched teeth and when he tried to sneer, it almost reminded Harry of a naked man trying to cover himself. When Professor Quirrell spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"She is, boy," he murmured quietly, and Harry was surprised to see the look of affection brimming within the wizard's black eyes and his previously hardened expression softened somewhat. Harry let out a breath he did not even know that he had been holding and felt some of the tension that had settled within his shoulders instantly dissipate. With painstaking slowness, Quirinus lifted his gaze to Harry and fixed the eleven-year-old wizard with a pointed stare that immediately made Harry feel uncomfortable, as though the man were burning a hole straight through him and could see his heart.
Harry racked his brain for something to say to the wizard and thought for a moment.
"She—she must be very special to you, Professor. I was too afraid to help you, down below, a-after Voldemort left your body, b-but…I've seen the way that she cared for you, earlier. She didn't hesitate, even when Madame Pomfrey was too nervous to. I was too…too selfish, sir. I could have helped you, but I didn't." Harry blushed and looked down at his hands and wrung them painfully together, suddenly timid, and unable to look Professor Quirrell in the eyes, though he felt the burn of the wizard's gaze on him. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "But your friend, Kya, I think her name is, she's…the opposite of that. Selfless."
The heavy silence that fell between them the moment the words were out of his mouth was entirely too much for Harry as it stretched beyond the point of comfort. Without another word, he turned on his heels and fled from the Hospital Wing, and in his haste to flee from his former professor's bedside, he nearly barreled straight into the chest of Professor McGonagall.
Harry jumped back and apologized with a pink blush covering his face but did not stop.
Minerva called out over her shoulder as she strode into the room for the Potter boy to take better care and watch his steps, but as she calmly and confidently approached her colleague's bedside, her expression softened somewhat.
Her green eyes behind the lenses of her spectacles were glassy and distant. Her wand dominant hand was curled so tightly around the handle of her wand as she waved it to conjure a chair which she sat down in by his bedside had gone white with the effort to maintain a firm grip on her wand.
She raised her wand against and closed the door to the Hospital Wing with her magic, casting a nonverbal Muffliato around the perimeter of the Hospital Wing to ensure their conversation wasn't overheard.
Quirinus furrowed his brows into a frown as a strange hot fire seed of anger welled in his stomach upon seeing his favorite former teacher now seated by his bedside. Perhaps it was the look of pity in the Transfiguration Professor's eyes, but he knew that he did not want her pity. All he wanted was Kya to reappear and to sit by his side, for the witch to keep her promise to him, that she would not leave him, no matter what. He growled, feeling his anger jump a level as Professor McGonagall steadily lifted her gaze and looked at him, and all he could envision instead was his Kya in that chair instead.
Minerva proceeded to eye Quirinius indignantly with furrowed brows as she gave her wand a rap and conjured a small tray of what looked like Cauldron Cakes and two jugs and a tin decanter of what smelled like iced pumpkin juice.
"Eat something, Quirinus, to regain your strength. Your friend would like to see you eating again, I am sure. You will waste away otherwise."
Quirinus's ears perked up at hearing the faint warbling note of fear in the Transfiguration Professor's voice and he stiffened, gnashing his teeth at the realization that she was afraid of him. He stiffened and felt a horrible bitterness seep into his stomach and shook his head, refusing his former teacher and colleague's offer.
"No thank you, Professor. I've no appetite," he replied stiffly as he ducked his head in shame.
Minerva frowned when Quirinus did not reply immediately and sighed in frustration and rose her eyebrows at her colleague.
"Is this silent treatment from you what I and the other staff who worked to save your life the sort of thanks that we can expect from you, Quirinius?" she asked, looking hurt.
Perhaps it was seeing the obvious pity burgeoning within the Transfiguration Professor's catlike green eyes that caused a shift within his countenance, or perhaps it was his annoyance was reaching its peak at Kya's extended absence, he wanted her here by his side. Whatever his reasons, he felt his temper swell and he felt his right eye give a spasmodic little twitch and he scoffed and flung venom at Professor McGonagall in a moment of self-loathing and pity.
"Saving it, Minerva, or ruining my life?" he questioned the much-older witch, his tone livid with blame as he regarded Professor McGonagall with obvious scorn.
Minerva's frown deepened as she quirked a brow at him. "I would say that you've done a remarkable job of the latter yourself, Quirinus," she snapped back as she lowered her eyes at her former student and colleague, regarding him spitefully.
"I had no choice, Minerva!" Quirinus yelled, though his voice was hoarse and his throat raw from how much he had screamed within the last twenty-four hours, unable to bear the pain from his cursed wounds. His fingernails raked down the length of his purple silken pyjama pants as he struggled to sit upright, glaring at the Transfiguration Professor as he did so. He was grateful that Minerva made no move to help him at all, he could do it on his own and did not want the older woman's pity or help.
"I fought my master the best that I could. I know that I made a mistake, that Kya has been my torment for these last few years, is that what you would hear from me? I should not have left her that night, I should have listened and stayed. I did not mean for any of this to happen, but I was not strong enough, and now this?" he shouted, gesturing angrily towards the ruined half of his face with a shaking finger. "You should have left me down in that chamber to die, Professor, it would have been preferable to this than to live and see all of my mistakes thrown back into my face like this, I did not ask for Kya to come back, I do not want her to see me…like this," he spat bitterly, warm water welling in his eyes as he sniffed and sharply turned his head away, refusing to let his colleague and once-favorite teacher when he had been a student here at Hogwarts see his tears fall.
He heard Professor McGonagall sigh tiredly. "Kya would not have wanted that for you, I do not think the poor dear would have wanted you to be alone, Quirinus, dear," she muttered quietly. "We called for her because Albus surmised that she was the reason that you are still alive. Your wounds will take upwards of at least a year to recover fully from. It's entirely too long to spend alone, Professor."
She sincerely hoped that Quirinus would see the logic in Albus's decision.
Quirinus gaped in disbelief at his colleague, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of the Transfiguration Professor's mouth.
"That—that was not for you or for Dumbledore to decide, Minerva! You had no right to call Kya here, to see me like this, either of you!" he shouted hoarsely, trying to sound intimidating, though his voice sounded little more than a raspy croak.
He exhaled a shaking breath and un-clenched his fists and tried to will his body to relax somewhat, though it took a great deal of effort on his part, and he sincerely hoped that Minerva would not notice.
However, rarely did anything slip past the keen and intelligent older witch.
Minerva's eyes narrowed as she noticed, much to Quirinus's chagrin and hurt.
He curled his shaking hands into fists to prevent himself from striking out at something in an uncharacteristic moment of violence as the hot fire seed of anger swelled within him and erupted like a solar flare as his temper threatened to implode.
The closest thing to him at this moment would be Toma, and he would never dare hurt the Moke.
The lizard was easily his closest companion, save for Kya. He regretfully closed his eyes and willed his temper to cool a moment, and once he felt the worst of the dark tempest of thoughts in his mind clear, only then did he open his eyes and look once more at Minerva.
"Considering our previous conversation, Minerva, I-I highly doubt that she's going to w-want to stay with me," he whispered, shamefaced, and suddenly could not bear to look Professor McGonagall in her eyes and see the scrutiny in them.
He gritted his teeth and sharply turned his head to the left. He felt ashamed for how he'd behaved towards her earlier.
He did not want to linger on the fear in the witch's eyes, and he especially did not want Professor McGonagall to know exactly what had transpired between himself and Kya Ericksen, and the more private intimate conversation they had shared.
Quirinus stifled a groan that threatened to escape at the back of his throat the moment her eyes instantly snapped upon her keen eyes like that of a cat caught hearing the defeat in his tone and she looked up with narrowed eyes, surprise etched all over her face. Her mouth went slightly slack in surprise and her eyebrows rose as she stared at Quirinus Quirinus in interest.
"What did you do, Quirinus, dear? What happened?" she demanded, seriously, though her tone wasn't judgmental.
"N-nothing," he snapped. The nervous wizard stammered over his words and scooped up Toma in his arms, ignoring the flick of its tongue that Moke lizard gave off, an indication that he was not particularly interested in being held, though the moment he held him securely in his arms, he felt Toma relax. He was grateful for the distraction, as he found Professor McGonagall's intense gaze too unnerving for his liking.
Though when she remained silent for a moment, he raised his head out of curiosity to see Minerva regarding him with a saddened look. It was almost as if she were disappointed in him like she knew something of himself that Quirinus had yet to discover.
It unnerved him and stuffed the chills down his throat. It shamed Quirinus to admit that Kya was right.
He was grateful that she had brought Toma with her, as having his Moke here with him made him feel a bit more at ease. He nearly jumped when Minerva spoke up.
"Tell me that you did not," she remarked flatly, letting out a dense and aggravated breath. "Tell me, Quirinus, dear, that you did not lose your temper with the one young woman in your life whom you seem to trust above all others, the one woman whose only purpose in this life right now is to be that she seems to want to help you," she bemoaned in exasperation.
"You would truly drive away out of your life without giving her a second chance? But why?" she questioned, a pleading lilt to her tone. "I do not presume to understand this behavior, Quirinus, so please…help me. Why?" she pleaded desperately.
Quirinus only eyed Professor McGonagall in response. The man's stare was utterly piercing, yet his stomach churned with dread.
He did not confirm his colleague's assumptions that something had happened between himself and Kya, but his cold silence did not confirm them either.
Of course, Minerva was correct, and he knew that she knew it by the look on her face.
His lack of response immediately caused Professor McGonagall to rethink her phrasing. "Forgive me, Quirinus, dear," she pleaded. "I did not mean to cast any aspirations against your character, or Miss Ericksen's," Professor McGonagall hastily apologized. "It was not my intent to suggest that the two of you…" Her cheeks reddened with utter embarrassment.
She was mortified at her inability to find the right words, all the while Quirinus remained unmoving.
"As I told Potter when he came to see me, the details of my relationship with Kya is not a topic open to discussion. With anyone," he added with emphasis.
Professor McGonagall offered a sympathetic nod. "Forgive me for prying, dear," she asked, becoming silent and pensive, studying the floor beneath her feet in far too engrossed a manner.
When she looked up, Quirinus was taken aback by the sudden look of eagerness that rested on the elderly witch's lined and careworn features. She spoke softly.
"In addition to coming to check on you this evening, I confess I had another matter entirely on my mind, Quirinus. Professor Dumbledore wishes me to inform you that Professor Firethorn is retiring his post as Muggle Studies Professor when you assumed the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts the last year. In time, once you've adequately recovered from the worst of your injuries, if you are amenable to Dumbledore's request, he would see your position reinstated, dear."
She allowed the faint ghost of a smile to flit across her features at the look of shock and surprise on Quirinus's face upon his mind registering her words.
It was clear by the way his brows furrowed in confusion that this was the last thing he had been expecting to hear from her this evening.
She was happy she could bring good news and continued on, extending the rest of Albus's generous offer, assuming the Wizengamot did not condemn him to spend the rest of his life behind bars in either Azkaban Prison or in a high-security secluded ward of St. Mungo's for the mentally insane.
"I do not deserve your kindness after what I have done, Minerva. You and Dumbledore should not have saved me." Quirinus felt his words catch in his throat and fought the urge to wring his hands out of a nervous and old habit. "I-I don't deserve it, I know that, b-but I want you to know that I'm truly grateful for it. If I am fully recovered, n-not to mention free following the start of next term, I would be delighted to resume my old post. I accept Dumbledore's offer."
He ducked his head and absently stroked Toma's back, his words spent and his throat sore and hoarse. "Kya, Minerva, what of her? Would she be able to find work if she were to stay with me? I cannot leave her behind again, I-I will not do that to her." he asked after a moment.
Panic hotter than Fiendfyre flared to life inside of Quirinus, briefly stamping down the elation that he felt at the notion of returning to Hogwarts to teach Muggle Studies again, a topic he excelled at, considering his mother had been a Muggle, but returning without his best friend by his side, what would become of Kya if he were to leave her again.
Minerva nodded. She was quick to sense the man's distress and attempted to diffuse the sense of panic and defeat she sensed within Quirinus.
"Of course, dear, of course. You of all people should know that we care for our own here. Just the other morning over breakfast, Poppy was telling me that she can no longer function adequately enough as the sole Head Matron of this Hospital Wing, the duties are proving to be too much for her to handle on her own, and she could benefit from another person to help her ensure the Hospital Wing's effectiveness," she sighed, pausing to look around before returning her eyes back to Quirinus. "It was my hope that perhaps…if she did not wish to remain in Denmark if she did not want to find work within St. Mungo's, that Healer Ericksen would consider taking on the role of Assistant Head Matron here in the Hospital Wing and work alongside Poppy with the eventual likely outcome being that she would take over the position from Poppy when the day comes if she retires if Miss Ericksen wants it. I merely thought that if she's to stay with you in your home while you recover, dear, perhaps you could convince her—"
But Minerva did not get a chance to finish her thought as Quirinus rested his head back against the pillows and forced out a dry bark of laughter that sounded more like a wheeze.
"Minerva, what you ask of me, of Kya, is impossible. She—she would surely never agree to this. N-not after e-everything that I have done..."
But Minerva was already shaking her head vehemently, in disagreement with Quirinus's argument, sending his words away.
"You do not know the witch's desires, Quirinus, until you speak with her regarding the matter. You should consider yourself grateful, my dear, for the opportunity that life has given to you. Kya is a gift to you," she stated calmly and matter-of-factly as she rose to her feet and waved her wand, causing the chair she had been vacating to vanish and she paused for a moment to smooth a crease in her dark green, emerald velvet robes. "Life is offering you a second chance, my dear. It has treated you cruelly for so many years and took everything you valued from you. Perhaps...perhaps now life has seen fit to give something back," she said, furrowing her brows in contemplative thought as a placid expression rested on her serene features. "You could still have the life for yourself that you told me once you wanted. A witch who understands you. Kya seems to, dear. You are currently the only one standing in your way of achieving your life's dream," she pointed out bluntly. "There are things that we have no right to question in our lives," she said solemnly, lifting her chin as she stared at him. "Your friend's reemergence into your life is one of them." Professor McGonagall began to walk away, sensing Quirinus's fatigue and that he needed to rest, though before she could step out into the hall, he called out to her again.
"I—I cannot give Kya anything, Minerva," he stammered, beginning to sound like his old self again.
He had been stuttering less, which Minerva had taken to mean a potentially good sign, hoping that perhaps not fumbling over his words would instill some much-needed confidence in the former brilliant Ravenclaw, however, she could tell that the timid wizard's anxiety was close to imploding.
His body had tensed, every cord pulled taut across his lean form, and the expression on his face was one of painful denial. He looked as though he were refusing to accept her words as the truth.
"She can't stay, Minerva. She…she should not." Fear had turned his voice into a fiery whiplash of anger that startled Minerva. "I cannot give Kya anything. I cannot give her hope or whatever it is that you and Dumbledore seem to think that I could give the witch. There is nothing for her if she stays here in England with me, Minerva, can't you see? She would stand a better chance in hell!" he growled angrily through clenched teeth, and for a moment, he felt his anger swell as his eyes began to change shape and color, flicking for just a fraction of a second from their usual black to red. The words were ripped from him before Quirinus even realized what he was saying. They came from the poisoned darkness that still festered deep within him, and they rang with an undeniable truth.
Minerva stared blankly at Quirinus for a moment and then she frowned. She cocked her head to the side.
"You will do what you must for the sake of your own recovery, Quirinus. And for your friend. I sense that Kya, the witch suffers her own hurts that she hides deep within herself. Severus senses it. She hides from something, from someone," she added, her green eyes alight with insight and intrigue.
Minerva hesitated as she recalled passing by the young woman in the hallways just the other night and seeing the stricken look in the Danish witch's eyes. She'd seen the hurt welling behind Kya Ericksen's eyes.
Though what she was hiding from, whatever past traumatic experiences had shaped the twenty-five-year-old witch into the kind and caring soul she was today, she suspected that Quirinus would one day learn the truth for himself.
The two seemed to be kindred spirits, both of them had suffered for entirely too long with seemingly no end in sight. She wondered if perhaps that was why they had gravitated towards one another, as broken hearts had a way of finding one another when needed the most.
Finally, Minerva found the right words.
"I think that you should let her in. Forgive. Forgive yourself and her. You might find yourself surprised at how well it turns out for you, my dear. Miss Ericksen wishes to help you. So let her," she said, and without bothering to look back over her shoulder behind her to see his shocked expression, she left him alone to ponder her words.
He exhaled a shuddering breath and stared down at his hands, which had started to shake violently, and every time they did, it sent swells of pain up and down his body.
The way that he shook now made him furious, not out of anger with Minerva, which he was, but because of his weakness. He realized that Minerva was right. He could not recover fully without Kya's help.
The sound of his name being called pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, silently seething, and his heart was in his throat to find Kya lingering in the door, holding a tray of what looked like a steaming bowl of soup.
The delectable smell wafted through the air towards him, and he looked hopefully towards the bowl, sitting up straighter and trying to peer into it.
He couldn't be sure, but he thought the soup that Kya had brought him was onion soup, one of his favorites. His mouth began to water.
"Quirinius? The—the kitchens made you dinner. A-are you hungry?" she asked hesitantly, approaching his bedside cautiously and pausing to set down the heavily laden supper tray on the night table.
The way she said his name caused a strange seeping pressure in his chest and his body began to hum. He let himself smile wistfully.
She spoke to him like no one else in his life ever had, and the warmth that spiraled through his body whenever he was near Kya was intoxicating. It was one of the strongest feelings he'd ever encountered. Quirinus stiffened as he remembered he owed the witch an answer and looked away, so she did not see how he flushed.
"A-anything sounds appetizing, Kya," he started to say, his chest swelling with hope to see her perching at the edge of his bedside.
She did not have to be prompted to reach for his hand. Once Kya had ensured that Quirinus could sit upright and was strong enough to not need her assistance, she handed him the dinner the little house-elf from the kitchens had given to her earlier. The soup was hot and flavorful and brought Quirinus back to himself a little bit.
It was as he was in mid-bite that he noticed she had no bowl for herself. He lowered his spoon back to the bowl, looking weary.
"Y-you're not going to eat?" he questioned, doing his best not to sound hurt or offended if she wasn't.
In truth, he hoped that she would have eaten with him, for in his mind, he wanted her to be with him, always.
"I ate earlier," she noted, watching as he took another bite. "I'm not hungry now, Quirinus. Tomorrow, when I take you back home, I will make you breakfast and I would be more than happy to sit and eat with you, my friend. I know I had mentioned another three days or so before you could be discharged, but I am eager to get you home. I think that you will be more comfortable there, and…away from others," she said, watching him as he ate.
Worry wormed its way into the pit of his stomach as he watched his dearest friend frown and look away.
His stomach churned in apprehension, and he shoved aside his empty bowl, glad he had already eaten, as he was feeling rather full, if not a little bit sick to his stomach already.
In the years he had known Kya, she had never hesitated to tell him anything that was troubling her.
She never felt as though she had to conceal any part of her life from him, and he felt a sense of almost smug pride that she had come to him with anything.
So why? Why was she now choosing her words so carefully?
"Kya?" Quirinus spoke softly and with care so as to not come across as demanding or hurt. "What's wrong? H-has something…" He paused, so unsure of himself. "H-happened?" he asked, his stammer starting to return.
He looked at her with worry and concern, because for once, Kya looked away from him. Instead, she settled her gaze on one of the many beds that ran the length of the massive Hospital Wing, keeping whatever expression she wore out of his sight.
This was not a promising sign.
After several moments of silence, Kya finally found her voice.
"It's nothing, my friend. Nothing worth worrying over."
It was not her voice. It may have come from her lips, she may have formed the words, but her voice was too flat.
She spoke the words as if she were trying to keep whatever she was feeling out of her tone, out of sight, his sight.
Quirinus felt a rush of raw emotion hit him squarely in the chest: hurt, betrayal, confusion, and devastation. Kya was purposefully keeping something from him, something she had never done before. His eyes were wide, and his heart pounded violently.
She made to stand to take his bowl with the intent to head back to the kitchens, and as he watched her, he wanted his friend to remain close. The pressure in his chest built and his heart still pounded.
She tried to move away from him to take the bowls now that he had finished eating, but he leaned forward. Quirinus's back lifted from the bed as he grunted in pain as he struggled to follow his best friend out of the room.
Her hands moved to his arms, and she gingerly pushed him back down. She turned her face away.
"You should sleep, Quirinus," she whispered, though his hands remained surprisingly firm on his shoulders.
Quirinus stiffened and he felt his fingertips flex and spasm. Kya reached up and touched his cheek, careful to mind his scars.
He tilted his head again and his black eyes darted across the witch's pale and beautiful perfect face.
"Stay," he said, and Kya's head turned to the door.
"I am going to go to sleep in my own room, Quirinus." His fingertips pressed harder at her words.
"Stay." Once again, his voice sounded reedy, almost hoarse. She examined his face with furrowed and confused eyebrows.
"Ok, Quirinus. I will stay if that's what you want," she smiled.
She gently ran her fingers over the top of his head, which was beginning to get rather prickly as his hair was starting to grow back.
She moved to conjure a sleeping bag with the intent to sleep on the floor, but in a bold move, he lifted his blanket. He wanted his friend closer. He wanted to feel her warmth against his coldness.
Kya hesitated again and her pretty pink tongue wet her lips. He blinked once as Kya crawled into his hospital bed with him. He pulled the blankets over her and wound his arms around her shoulders. Her head pressed to his chest. Her auburn hair smelled like peaches. He breathed in deeply, grateful that the witch did not shirk away from him, was not repulsed by his touch.
He was still bothered by whatever she was concealing from him but now was not the moment to broach the subject. He already was feeling fatigued. Her hand gripped onto his bicep, and she lay there silently.
Quirinus tightened his hold on Kya and breathed in her intoxicating scent more deeply.
"Go to sleep, Quirinus," Kya whispered. He simply was not tired. He waited for sleep to claim him, staring up at the ceiling.
A little smile came to his lips in the darkness. Even with the pain and discomfort, the tightness in his muscles, and the horrible burning feeling in his bones, he was overcome with a sense of joy that he had never experienced before.
It took Quirinus a moment to realize that what he felt now, with Kya in his arms, was contentment.
Kya fell asleep long before he did, but it was just before the sun came up. He was more than content to gaze at Kya's sleeping face as she nestled her head against his chest. Her peaceful expression made Quirinus smile.
He let his mind wander to what life would be like if his circumstances had been different for him. If he had listened to Kya and stayed that night and had not left her alone crying on his front porch steps for the Black Forest, what their lives would look like now. If they would be something more, something much more intimate. Lovers. Perhaps even married.
He felt that he could easily get used to Kya's gentle caring and concern that she seemed to exhibit for him and him alone, and Quirinus could not imagine anywhere could possibly feel more pleasant than lying nestled against him in the warm darkness entwined in the gentle witch's embrace.
Quirinus's thoughts drifted into dreams of her in the nearly happy fantasy of imagining taking Kya as his wife and he burrowed closer to the witch's warmth, and it did not take him long to slip into sleep. Kya's body unconsciously sensed Quirinus's nearness.
The witch gave out a content little sigh as he drew the Healer towards him in his sleep, so she was flush against his chest.
Kya did not resist, the little smile on her face lingering throughout the night that she slept in his arms.
CALLOUSED palms pushed against the doors to the Hospital Wing, and Auror Jack Brennan entered a different world. There they lay, the beautiful Danish witch, Kya Ericksen, stirring softly, her auburn hair a perfect wave of a sunset against the drab gray blankets of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's hospital bed.
And Jack Brennan saw the most peculiar image in the world, something he thought he would never see.
Nestled in her arms lay the bastard lunatic who had allowed the Dark Lord to assume full control of his body, and he clung to the witch as a boy would to his mother, like his twin boys Ollie and Dominic did to his wife, Alison, selfishly fencing her, absorbing the witch's radiance and heat for himself.
The witch's slender fingers stroked over his bald head, though if Jack squinted to see, he could see the beginning prickling of Quirinus Quirinus's hair already growing back.
Together, the Healer with a fiery spirit and beauty that rivaled the Veela in this world, and the timid and meek Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor looked too wrong. Yet, there they lay, looking unbelievably tranquil like the sea after a storm. It looked as though their very souls were making love, their deep sleep becoming their curtains from the prying eyes of the world around them. Together, they were best friends, perhaps even lovers, though just that notion that such a prized beauty as the Danish witch could harbor feelings for a weak man like Quirinus caused Jack Brennan's blood to boil within.
The two looked so begrudgingly perfect that it made Jack want to give everything to be in that state, regardless of if Alison ever were to find out of his growing desires for the beautiful witch.
He had not expected to find himself so captivated by the witch when he had arrived at her home in Denmark to collect her and escort her here to Hogwarts.
But since he had, she permeated his every thought.
He could think of nothing but her.
The Auror suppressed a breath when Kya's hand slowly stroked across the top of Quirinus's head, and before the beautiful witch could open her eyes at the perception of a man staring at her intimacy with the man in her arms, Jack Brennan crept out of the Hospital Wing, silent as a phantom and the darkness that engulfed the Hospital Wing of the school.
