False Facades

Chapter Two

Misunderstandings

Her eyes fluttered open with uncertainty. She immediately found the other occupant of the room, the woman. Her breathing quickened as her panic grew; the woman was here to finish it. She was here on his behalf, she was here to--

"Dear," Marie gently prodded, "are you all right?"

Despite her elevating pain, the girl crawled over to the corner of the bed and placed herself in a fetal position. "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, don't hurt me," she muttered in quick repetition.

"I…I wouldn't hurt you. Are you okay, do you need something?"

"Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, don't hurt me."

Marie's hand found its way to her mouth as she stared on in shock. There was obviously something horribly wrong here…she had to do something. The poor child had to be helped.

"Harold," she called out as she quickly fled the room, "Harold, where are you?"

Her husband hobbled out of their bedroom and immediately steadied his wife. "Marie, what's wrong?"

"The girl," she responded breathlessly, "there is something wrong with the girl."

Harold led Marie back to their son's room and he saw the child himself for the first time in a two days. They had reported the incident to the sheriff, but nothing had come of it. He took down the report and promised to call back with any findings, but so far, nothing had come up. The girl was still nameless, and had stayed unconscious since her first night with them.

He saw with alarm that she was rocking herself back and forth, incoherently rambling nonsense. He approached her and reached a hand out to calm her, but received the opposite affect.

When she felt something touch her, she knew that it was over, that they were finally going to kill her. She let out an earsplitting scream that ceased to desist for several minutes.

Husband and wife stared at each other helplessly as the girl screamed and cried simultaneously. Marie's eyes filled with tears, Harold's took on a newfound distress.

"Harold, we need to take her to a hospital," Marie called out over the noise.

He nodded in silent agreement. There had been no acute need to go to the hospital previously; they had never once taken their own child to the hospital, only to the doctor's office for the usual check-ups. Marie had seen to the girl's needs to the best of her ability, which seemed to be working, until now. The fever had broke, but now appeared to be back.

Harold bent down and tentatively picked up the girl, praying that she would not again begin her screams of desolation. He nearly sighed in relief in the knowledge that she had once again lost consciousness, until he at once reminded himself that this was not at all a good sign.

He led Marie at a hastened pace to their steadfast truck that had seen them faithfully through so many years. He carefully slid the girl into the passenger's seat and then scooted her over so that she resided in the middle. Marie crawled up beside her and helplessly pressed a cool cloth to the girl's forehead.

Harold drug himself up to the driver's seat, and threw the truck into gear. He steered out of the long and narrow driveway and drove safely and slowly down the road; however, once realizing for the first time that the girl could be in mortal danger, he jammed down on the accelerator.

The girl whimpered hopelessly in her obvious chambers of horror.

-------

"Mr. Potter, please take a seat."

Harry whirled around and glared at his mentor murderously. "I will do as I please," he responded with discontentment.

Albus Dumbledore sighed at the sight and rubbed his weary eyes, the years had clearly taken their toll on his dedicated cheerfulness. "Harry," he said with an unusual familiarity, "please calm yourself. I understand your position on the situation--"

"You understand nothing. If you had the slightest inkling of my 'situation' you would not keep me here as a prisoner."

"You are not a prisoner, Harry, and I am not your enemy. My efforts to keep you within the walls of Hogwarts are for your own safety." He paused for a moment and then added quietly, "As well as that of Miss Weasley's."

Harry's glare deepened, "You don't have the right to even mention her. Not after what you did."

"I did not do--"

"Yes you did! If it weren't for you and all your plans, Ginny would still be here! Instead I don't even know if she is alive." Looking at his one-time hero in nothing short of disgust, Harry turned on his heel and stalked out of the large office without so much as waiting for any kind of response. In his mind, Dumbledore was not worthy of his faith, time, or anything of the kind.

He had to leave. There must be some way out of this school. Dumbledore had seen to it that Harry was magically bound here…Well, not for long he wouldn't be. If it required going to Hell and back, Harry would find a way out of here. He would find a way to her, because he knew with all his heart that she would do the exact same for him.

Picking up to a sprinting speed, he raced out of the school and onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Gaining faith and momentum, he ran full-force at the Forbidden Forrest…only to have himself propelled backwards by an invisible shield that only applied to three other people at the school.

He drug himself up from the ground and cursed loudly at his stupidity. Of course, something like that wouldn't work, but he was growing desperate, and anxious people are rarely known for being wise. He gave an animalistic growl and glared at his invisible foe.

Staggering back to the school, he found that it was time for extreme measures. He had sworn that he would do whatever it took to get out of Hogwarts, and if that meant dealing with the proverbial devil, then he would.

Harry raced down the stairs and into the dungeons of the school. He found the Slytherin quarters with practiced ease and waited outside the portrait until an unsuspecting first year strolled by.

"You," he snarled, as he grabbed the boy by his green and silver robes, "open up the portrait."

The boy regarded Harry fearfully, as well he should have. He nodded quickly and rubbed the nonexistent bruises that he was sure that Harry Potter had placed there. With a shaky voice, he said the password and allowed the enemy of his house into their headquarters.

Harry sauntered into the Common Room and sounds of indigence and shock were immediately heard. He ignored the protests to his presence and made his way over to the fire where he grabbed Draco Malfoy by the shoulder and pulled him up.

"I need to talk to you."

Draco's mouth fell open. "Now see here, Potter--"

Harry roughly shoved Malfoy towards the hallway. "I wasn't asking."

Draco took out his wand and gave a meaningful gaze around the room as he led his adversary back out into the hallway in which from he came. Smirks were seen around the room, Malfoy would take care of Potter for having the sheer gall of coming into the snake's lair.

Once away from prying eyes, Malfoy pocketed his wand. "Subtle, Potter, way to keep things quiet. What the hell do you want?"

"Sorry," Harry apologized flippantly. "I didn't have time to continue with the ridiculous means of communication that you decided upon. I need to get out of here."

"I cannot help you there, I'm as trapped here as you."

"You could leave if you wanted."

Draco seemed hesitant. "Yes…I suppose I could. But to what purpose? If I did leave, I would be good as dead. I, unlike you, value my life and do not care to waste it upon reckless action."

"I need to speak with your father. Arrange it."

"Has that scar finally interfered with your brain, Potter? You seem to forget that I put up with you for reasons other than your outstanding personality."

Harry's fist clenched of its own accord. "If you care for her at all, you will help me."

Draco appeared pensive for a moment. "I…" He ran a hand through his hair, "I'll set it up. But first you have to tell me why you need to talk to him."

"Because he can lead me to Voldemort," Harry answered nonchalantly.

"You do realize you're going to get yourself killed, right? How in the fuck do you expect You-Know-Who to help you do anything other than meet your parents?"

"Don't concern yourself; just find a way for your father to meet me on Hogwarts grounds."

"Fine, not like I care if you die, less competition that way anyway."

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Marie sat silently in the waiting room chair. It had been two hours since they had raced down the hallway with the girl, and still no news. The Emergency Room was a surprisingly busy place; no one had so much as talked to her since she had come.

At last, a nurse made her way over to the elderly woman. "I am sorry about the disorganization of all this," the nurse said with a cheerful smile that did not belong in the halls of despair. "Things have just been crazy tonight; we didn't even get a chance to take down the patient's name…so if you could please just fill this out for me now, and bring it to the Nurse's Station when you're done."

Marie looked down at the chart filled with questions that she was unable to answer, beginning with name of patient.

"You are," the nurse presumed, "the mother of the patient, correct?"

"No," Marie responded automatically.

The nurse appeared alarmed, "They told me that she's a minor though…we need one of her parent's here, for authorization to proceed with care taking. If a legal guardian is not here then we'll have to release her."

Marie gasped at this possibility; they were not going to help the girl! In her panic, she did something grossly out of her character…she lied. "Her father is here. He just went down to get some coffee; he'll be back in a minute."

The nurse smiled comfortingly, "Good. Just make sure that he fills this out when he comes back then. And we'll need a copy of your insurance card."

"Of course," Marie muttered as she lost herself in planning. They needed proof of insurance for the girl…

She spotted Harold as he walked through the double doors, and went to a near sprint to get to him. "Harold," she hissed, "They need a present parent and an insurance card to treat the girl."

A strained look came across his features, "That's horrible. What'll happen to her?"

"I…I told them that you were…her father."

"You lied?"

Marie looked down at the floor, "It was for a good cause. But, the insurance…"

He appeared perplexed for a moment before allowing a small smile. "Alex," he stated simply.

"Alex?" she repeated, not comprehending why her husband would bring up their son with such ill-timing.

"We still have Alex on our insurance; we'll tell them that that is the girl's name. Alex is a girl's name too, right?"

"Yes," Marie agreed, feeling a weight being lifted off her shoulders, "it is."

Harold gave his wife's hand a reassuring squeeze before grabbing the clipboard and lying on every single question without a trace of guilt.

He walked the papers up to the Nurses Station along with his insurance card. She ran the information through the computer without any indication of a problem until she reached the insurance company.

"It says here that one Alexander Collins is on your insurance plan with the listed age of nineteen."

Harold swallowed. "Her name is Alexandra, it was a mix-up…and we never told you her age. She appears young for her age," he gave a smile that he didn't feel; "it's something that she is constantly complaining of. Best not to bring it up with her, it isn't the quickest way to get on her good side."

The nurse laughed good-naturedly, "Of course. I'll keep it quiet then. If you'll just have a seat over there, someone will be out momentarily to speak with you."

After waiting another twenty minutes with his impatient wife, Harold finally spotted a doctor making his way towards them. Marie grabbed his hand as the tired young man stood uneasily in front of them.

"Are you here for an Alexandria Collins?"

"Yes," they responded simultaneously.

He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. "If you'll please come with me."

They were led down a white hallway until they reached an office door. "I thought this conversation would be better suited in my office," he explained as he opened the door and motioned them in.

Harold and Marie took their respective seats as the doctor collapsed back into his own behind the large oak desk.

"Your daughter," he began, "was suffering from extensive internal bleeding. It's a wonder that she's still alive, really."

Marie's eyes closed in relief, "She is alive then?"

The doctor allowed a small smile, "Yes, she is. However," he pulled out a series of x-ray photographs, "as you can see here she had multiple injuries. As I stated previously, her internal bleeding was the most severe thing. Her right shoulder was dislocated, and several of her cuts are infected and, quite frankly, alarming. She has wide-ranging bruising and swelling on the back of her head that could have easily developed into a concussion. As she remains unconscious I will have to ask you, how did she come by these injuries?"

They looked at each other and remained silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"She," Harold finally said, "she…took a fall."

"What sort of fall?"

"From…our barn. She was on an unsteady ladder that collapsed on her."

"Her injures appeared to be advanced. May I inquire as to why you did not feel the need to bring her in until now?"

Marie began to cry, which only furthered the doctor's suspicions. "I didn't think that she was that badly hurt," she said frantically. "I'm sorry…so sorry."

Harold patted his wife's back as the doctor leaned back in his chair and felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy for Alexandria Collins.

Marie got her emotions under control and peered up at the doctor who was at least thirty years her junior with a pitiful helplessness. "Can we see her?"

"I'm afraid not," he responded coolly. "She is in Recovery at the moment and we do not allow any visitors to patients until they are stabilized. If you'll go back out into the waiting room I'll send someone to notify you when you may see her."

They stood and left the office without protest. Once they were gone, Dr. Morrison picked up his phone and called down to the ER office. "Nurse," he ordered, "please ensure that Alexandria Collins parents do not leave the waiting room."

-------

The now off-duty doctor sat by his patient's bed with an unprecedented amount of curiosity. It wasn't often that he felt the need to talk to anyone that he treated anymore than absolutely necessary.

He watched with relief as her large brown eyes opened and looked at him with nothing short of fright. Poor girl, he thought, of course she was terrified.

"Alexandria," he addressed gently.

She stared on blankly.

He turned to face her more clearly. "Alexandria," he said louder.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm Dr. Morrison; I treated you here at St. John's Hospital. Can you answer a few questions for me?"

She nodded mutely.

He began what was under most circumstances the nurse's duty for any patients with stated head injures. "Can you tell me the date?"

She seemed thoughtful, and then alarmed. "No."

"Can you tell me your name?"

From recent memory she answered, "Alexandria?"

"And your last name?"

"I…don't know."

"Where do you live?"

She began crying and merely shook her head to indicate a negative response.

"Alexandria, what is the last thing that you remember?"

"I don't know," she cried pitifully. "I…" she grew suddenly pale. She tried to back away from him, but failed, as there was nowhere to go. "Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me." He looked on wonderingly as she continued to cry.

Dr. Morrison walked out of the solitary room and straight to the nearest desk. He looked meaningfully at a nameless nurse, "I need you to get the police on the line for me."

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