Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Graces Malfoy and Thomas Higgs who are my own. I do not claim ownership of the characters or the settings within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story.
Author's notes: A huge thank you to my beta Denarii for editing and my best friend Aleah for reading it over. Also thank you to my reader noone297 for all the help on the French portion!
Special thanks to bridget237, superscarface83, bageltiger, bekkivobekki, noone297,GTH,guest, manoirmalfoys, Blue Luver5000 and chloe413 for the reviews!
Also, this is the same day as chapter 48 which morphs into Monday in the end. This is also the last chapter with Graces hurt.
Chapter 49
Dr. Harris stared at his reflection in the large mirror. He still had large bags under his eyes and his skin seemed paler than before, but he felt better. He felt clean, something he wasn't used to after days spent dirty. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and felt an overwhelming sense of relief at not smelling stale blood. Part of him wanted to stay in the bathroom, just to have a moment more of peace. He had stood in the shower as long as possible for that same reason. Even when the water turned freezing cold, he welcomed it.
Maybe he was being a coward, but he didn't want to go back out there just yet. The thought of curling up in a ball and sleeping on the floor of the bathroom seemed like a keen idea at the moment. He was alone and finally had the time to think through all that was going on, to digest more of the reality he had just come to know, but he found himself not wanting to. He didn't want to think about anything, because he knew the moment he really understood he would break down.
The book Neville had brought for him stood next to the used razor teasing him with its leather cover. He wondered what he was going to read about. He had only seen a small glimpse of this world and already he judged it lacking. It lacked in compassion, justice, tolerance and God knows what else. It lacked. Any society that could put this kind of burden on children must be lacking. He was afraid to read the book Neville had brought him, scared to know what he would be leaving Graces in when he left. This was supposedly just a warning, but he had a feeling that what he was going to be reading about in that book was going to be far worse.
You're such a coward. You don't want to know what horrible things are going on, so you're going to choose to remain ignorant while those children are living it.
It was with this thought raging inside his head that Dr. Harris opened the book and began to read. He stared at the first few pages dedicated to the memory of those that had died in what they called "The First Wizarding War". Pages and pages of names all written down delicately, a quiet reminder of loss. It reminded him of another book he had read, a book that was written about Auschwitz. That book, like this one, had also had a long list of names at the end.
Dr. Harris looked up at the door for a moment to ensure he still had his privacy and began reading.
Long past are the days when we would wonder if our spouse would come home or if our children were safe playing in their own garden. We no longer look at our neighbors and worry over what is hidden under their left arm, and yet The First Wizarding War touches us everyday. We no longer live in fear, but live in memory: memory of what that kind of fear was like and memory of the ones that were taken from us too early. No wizarding family can claim they did not feel the loss of a member because of the cruelty of Lord Voldemort also known as He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named.
I will start by saying I am writing this book to discuss not only the Wizarding War, but the injustices done by our own Ministry during it. I realize that many of my readers will not agree with my opinions, but I feel that they should be heard. I believe our Ministry committed war crimes against muggles. By not allowing the non-magical community to have information on what was happening we left them vulnerable to the attacks that occurred. The blood spilled in the muggle world is splashed onto our Ministry's doorstep.
"Muggle," Dr. Harris whispered, looking up and staring at himself in the mirror. That was him, people like him, regu—non-magical people. They were being killed as well? And this ministry, the magical one, didn't allow them to know? All of the sudden Dr. Harris' mind went to the bridge that collapsed. There was no reason for that bridge to just go down like that. None. He sat there wondering if maybe this world had something to do with the bridge collapsing in his world.
Dr. Harris kept that in mind as he read more. He read about how Lord Voldemort took advantage of the wizarding world's divide by infiltrating the Ministry and how his rebellion brought all kinds of terrors to muggles, muggleborn and any wizard, witch or creature that dared to defy him. He felt like each sentence of this book brought him deeper into a reality that didn't seem all real. Goblins, giants, trolls, werewolves, dementors, his head was spinning with words of creatures that also not only existed, but were very much a part of this world and it seemed a part of his world.
The symptoms of dementors… it resonated hard with him. Since July there had been this unseasonal mist. He had had dozens of patients coming in from suicide attempts. He couldn't go a week in the ER without bandaging up a wrist. Was this it? Were these dementor things back with this dark lord? Were they in the muggle world? A chill had settled in his bones at the thought. Creatures beyond the horror films he had grown up watching were involved in this war, and not the side that seemed to be good.
He flipped through the book some more, his stomach tightening as he read bits of words here and there: torture, massacre, genocide, missing, screams. Each page seemed to have more and more horrors. He knew war was awful, but this wasn't war. This was something different, something indescribable.
The last portion of the book was an index of all the people fighting. Dr. Harris looked up at the door for a moment and then began to turn the pages to M. There he was, Lucius Malfoy. Even in the photo he looked smug. He sat at a table in what appeared to be a courtroom and smirked as the verdict was given. Dr. Harris questioned whether he wanted to read this man's bio. He felt like this was possibly an invasion of Graces' and Draco's privacy. He sat there for a few moments playing with the edge of the page, every once in a while catching a few words here and there: killed, tortured, manipulated, lead, corrupted.
Before Dr. Harris could catch anymore words or even decide whether to read the section there was a violent banging on the bathroom door and an unfamiliar voice demanding he come out. Dr. Harris frowned, but quietly put the book down with his clothes and walked over to the door. Immediately when he finished unlocking the door it was thrown open and a short, heart-faced man was glaring at him.
"Good morning," Dr. Harris greeted, looking down at this new man.
"It's afternoon," the short man pointed out moving around him and pushing him out of the doorway and into the room towards Graces' bed where Draco, Snape and another school-aged boy stood.
"Hard to tell when you're being kept in a dungeon," Dr. Harris shrugged, sidestepping the man's second push. "I don't believe there is any need to be aggressive, is there?" he asked politely stopping in the middle of the room and looking down.
A sharp blow to his middle answered his question. Dr. Harris bend down grunting in pain as his abdomen throbbed mercilessly.
"There isn't a need." Dr. Harris didn't need to look up to know the other man was smiling. He could hear it in his voice. This maniacal sadistic happiness that dripped out of his words and into the air. "Stand up," the man ordered, placing the end of his wand against Dr. Harris' adams apple and forcefully jabbing him.
Dr. Harris did as he was instructed and moved slowly backward. His new captor seemed to be enjoying himself. His dark green eyes danced jubilantly as Dr. Harris' skin prickled in trepidation. Dr. Harris did as he was instructed and took a seat beside Graces. He looked over to Snape silently asking the question of what was going on, but the tall lanky man didn't even seem to acknowledge that he was there.
"Shall we begin then?" the man said cheerfully, moving to take Graces' blanket off of her.
"I would like Nott to leave," Graces stipulated, stopping the exam. "He is not welcome to be in here for this."
The man stared at Graces for a few moments, but didn't send the other boy out. Instead he violently tore the covers off her, exposing her to the room.
"Hey!" Dr. Harris bellowed, grabbing the sheets back and throwing them on. "If she doesn't want him in the room, then he leaves! Get him out!"
"It isn't an odd request, Rookwood," Snape drawled, stopping the man from using whatever spell was on his lips.
"Are you siding with the muggle?" Rookwood asked dangerously, lowering his wand and glaring at Snape.
"I am siding with the young witch in the bed." Snape sneered. "She doesn't want her ex in the room and I agree that it is inappropriate." Nott opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Snape turned to him. His face darkened menacingly at the young boy about to talk back. "When the healer is finished I will notify you."
Nott looked over to the healer, but when he saw that the other man was not going to fight for his presence in the room he stormed out. Dr. Harris was still standing in front of Graces when the healer turned his gaze back onto him.
"Do I need to move you?"
Dr. Harris took a step to the side and watched the man bend over Graces. None of this seemed right. The healer didn't seem at all concerned with Graces' injuries, just amused as though the sight of her abdomen sewn together was merely a funny trick and not at all serious. Graces seemed to notice this as well, her eyes followed the healers' waiting for him to make a move.
"How did you keep her from bleeding to death if you were not able to use blood replenishers?" Rookwood asked, looking over at Snape.
"Draco supplied her with his own blood."
"I was told muggle blood was brought in."
"That doesn't mean it was used," Snape pointed out curtly. "Mr. Malfoy did not allow any of the blood to get even near her."
"Isn't that good for you," the healer smiled, running a long finger down Graces' jaw line. "Merlin knows what would have happened if he had allowed it." Graces didn't respond. She just glared coldly at the healer and waited for him to continue. "I'm going to do a few spells that will tell me everything you have been given in the past few days," the man went on flourishing his wand, and then looking up in the air as tiny gold letters appeared in front of him.
"Alcohol, interesting."
"It is completely in the realm of restrictions," Draco pointed out, moving his hand to his sister's.
"It is," the healer clipped, looking over at their hands intertwined. "Miss Malfoy, are you aware your bones have healed together incorrectly?"
"She's been told," Dr. Harris announced, moving closer to Graces and watching the man in front of him with a disturbed look.
"Why didn't you reset the bones?" the healer asked casually. "Or at least put her arm back in it's socket? Resetting an arm isn't difficult."
"The patient declined medical treatment," Dr. Harris clipped. "She wanted to wait for a healer. Which is understandable. Especially considering she is allotted nothing for pain," Dr. Harris added bitterly.
The healer stared at him for a moment, evaluating him slowly, before a sinister smile formed in the corner of his mouth.
"Well, she wanted to wait for a healer and now I am here. Reset her bones."
"What?" Dr. Harris asked, feeling as though the floor had fallen out from underneath him as the room filled with sounds of outcries. Even Snape was a part of the clamour saying that it was unnecessary.
"Reset her bones," the devil repeated, sitting happily on Graces' bed waiting for his entertainment to begin.
Dr. Harris didn't even have the chance to say anything before Draco stepped in.
"Listen here, Rookwood, and listen carefully. Right now you may be on top and we may just be toys for you to play with, but think for a moment. What are you going to do when we are the ones back on the top? When I am the one favored by our Lord."
Rookwood smiled and stood up placing his cold hand on Draco's cheek.
"Oh, son," he chuckled. "You don't even realize it's over. You and your family are done. Our Lord is just letting you dangle on a string for his cats to play with. You are not going to succeed and when you don't that string will be cut." Draco didn't flinch from the man's words. He stood as a pillar before him waiting for him to reconsider. He stared at Rookwood's malicious eyes and with his own told a story of sheer hatred. Rookwood could decide to still hurt Graces, but with that decision meant that Draco would tear him limb from limb once he was back in the Lord's good graces.
"It's your funeral, Rookwood," Draco whispered darkly.
The healer smiled and with his wand moved Draco out of the way.
"Muggle, begin."
Dr. Harris looked at Graces sitting in the bed, wiggling as though she thought there was a possibility she could get away herself. He watched as she moved the tubes attached to her, as her black and blue side of the face became more prominent as the rest of her skin turned sallow. She was scared, trapped and desperate. He knew the pain had not left her. Not really. The alcohol had dulled it, clouded her senses to what she was feeling, but she could feel the echos. She was hurt. A hurt child, desperate to not feel that hurt again. Not be helpless as someone tortured her.
"No," Dr. Harris defied strongly.
"Excuse me?"
"No. I refuse. I am not going to be apart of this girl's torture."
"You're going to do what I tell you to do," Rookwood hissed
"I don't make bargains with the devil," Dr. Harris spat.
"Some of us in this room may be willing to damn themselves for the sake of having a few more breaths of air." Dr. Harris continued looking over at Snape. "But I am not. No one is taking my soul from me. I will not hurt this girl."
Dr. Harris knew what this was. This was his last stand, the last thing he would ever do. Men like this killed and hurt for fun, for their own sick pleasure. He had a choice. He could do as he was told and like a coward pray that it would allow him his life or he could resolve to be the man he wanted and in this last act die the man he wanted to be. He stood before the beast in front of him ready for what was to come. Rookwood raised a curious eyebrow at Dr. Harris' resolve, but after a moment smiled.
"You know what the best part of being magical is?" He asked politely, twirling his wand. "You don't have to take no for an answer." Dr. Harris felt the blood in his veins vibrate as the dark wood pointed to his chest. "Crucio."
Dr. Harris didn't even have the chance to move away before he was hit and pain consumed him entirely. He screamed out as hot invisible knives dragged through his skin, tearing him apart and yet leaving him intact. He thrashed along the floor, screaming and trying to cling to something. Graces voice screamed for his torture to stop. Draco held her back, but he didn't see it for long. Soon he was away, away from all of it.
He didn't know pain like this could exist, pain so intense that it lit up the world in white. He thought pain like this would be dark or red, but it was just blazing light. He longed for the dark. The dark was quiet, peaceful… ending.
"Are we done?" Rookwood asked, lowering his wand and ending the spell. "Are we ready to comply?"
"Primum non nocere. Primum non nocere." Harris tried to hold onto those words, they were everything. First, do no harm. He had vowed this. It wasn't even a part of the oath, that's a misconception. His Hippocratic oath had never entailed 'do no harm'. No, he took this upon himself. He vowed to himself that he would do no harm to his patients. Oaths were supposed to be hard. You make them so that in instances like this they will serve as a life jacket in a dangerous sea. This was the kind of man he wanted to be, the kind of man he swore himself to be. "Just. Kill. Me," he panted, looking up from the floor. "Kill me."
"Such dramatics." Rookwood tutted, turning to Graces. "You didn't start begging for death 'til the fifth crucio. Maybe you should show the muggle how it's done?"
"No, please," Dr. Harris rasped. "Leave her alone. Just-just leave her alone. Look at her," Harris pleaded. "If you hurt her anymore you could kill her. Please, please stop."
"You want me to stop?" Harris nodded and sputtered out a begging sob. "Then do as I say."
"I won't," Dr. Harris choked. "I won't."
"Severus, you really should have trained him better. I would think that after so much time you would have trained him better than this."
Snape looked sideways over at his colleague, but continued to just stand there with a bored expression.
"I never was one for pets," he muttered under his breath irritatedly.
"They aren't so bad once you teach them obedience," Rookwood offered, drawing his wand on Dr. Harris again. "Imperio."
Draco moved closer to his sister as Rookwood placed Harris under the Imperius curse. He didn't know exactly what the Death Eater was going to have the muggle do, but he knew it was going to harm Graces in some way. Harris had made it obvious what would truly torture him and Rookwood was not one to miss an opportunity. His hand tightened around his own wand as Rookwood leaned in and whispered something in Harris' ear.
"Draco," Graces whimpered, moving closer into his chest as Dr. Harris' blank eyes turned to her.
"It's going to be okay," the blond boy lied, tightening his grip on the handle of his wand and waiting for Harris to make the first move.
"Don't hurt him," Graces breathed.
Draco frowned at his sister's statement and looked over at her for a moment unable to believe what she had asked. And it was then, in that moment, that the muggle lunged for his throat.
Draco tried vainly to fight the man off of him as he heard Graces' screams. But the older man was stronger and continued to strangle him on the ground completely helpless to stop himself. It didn't matter how hard Draco hit him, or that his fingers had dug so violently into his arm that his whole nail bed had disappeared into his flesh, Dr. Harris didn't/couldn't stop because he wasn't really there. The edges around Draco's eyes began to go black and he could feel himself beginning to fall away.
"Stay down," Snape growled, holding his shoulder down with one hand. Draco looked around to see where Harris was and panicked when he saw the older man pinning his sister down to the castle floor. "I said stay down," Snape snarled, pushing Draco down so hard his head hit the stone floor. "Rookwood, that is enough. Remove the spell."
The healer laughed, but flicked his wand ending the spell. Draco watched as Dr. Harris came back to himself and stared wide-eyed at Graces beneath him, whimpering in pain. The doctor quickly let go of her arms that he was pinning and hurriedly began checking her abdomen and ribs.
"How's your breathing?" he asked desperately, placing his ear on her chest and listening. Graces just continued to sob on the floor, she shook her head and just sobbed. "Oh my god, what have I done? I couldn't stop. God forgive me I—"
"You were choking her brother, so she fell off the bed to stop you," Rookwood sang. "It was a very daring move on her part. Too bad she didn't grab her wand first or she could have stopped you. Unfortunately for her she didn't," the healer sighed. "She doesn't seem to have much fight in her without her wand. It took you two seconds to overpower her and pin her to the ground."
"She's hurt!" Dr, Harris exclaimed, picking Graces up carefully and placing her on the bed. His hands moving around wildly as he stabilized her. "Anyone can overpower a hurt child. You-you monster. You—"
"I wasn't the one hurting her," Rookwood reminded. "You hurt her."
"YOU MADE ME!" Dr. Harris screamed, whirling around. "I would have never." Draco watched as the physician put a trembling hand over his mouth to keep from getting sick and looked away. He had performed that spell. He had taken away someone's ability to control themselves. "You possessed me," Dr. Harris choked. "You possessed me. Like a demon winding in my skin."
"I did," the healer acknowledged, casually walking forward. "And I can do it all again." Dr. Harris took a step back as the man drew closer. "I can make you do unspeakable things to this girl and I will if you don't start following orders."
"You feel bad because you threw her to the ground and pinned her so she couldn't move? That's nothing," Rookwood laughed. "Some men aren't creative. They use their fists to hurt an individual with no mind to the other tools around them and others… well, others have more imagination. Can you guess which one I am, Dr. Harris?"
"I have an idea," Dr. Harris acknowledged lowly.
"Good," Rookwood smiled, "Then you will reset her bones."
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"It's going to be okay," Draco murmured, his hot breath tickling the side of Graces' head as she nestled against his neck.
"I know."
"It's just going to hurt," Draco repeated. "You're not in any real danger. It will just hurt. The muggle wanted to do this the other day, remember? It's just going to hurt."
"She shouldn't have to go through this hurt," Dr. Harris said hollowly. "This shouldn't be happening."
"Well, it is, isn't it," Draco snapped. "It's happening, so you better do a damn good job."
Graces closed her eyes as Draco pressed her closer to his chest. She really wasn't that frightened, not with Draco holding her close. She felt safe and at ease despite what was about to happen. Draco was holding her and she was confident that Harris would know what he was doing.
"He'll do a good job," Graces assured. "He's a good doctor. He'll do a good job. He won't do me harm."
Graces' silver eyes met Harris in that last statement and she offered him a weak smile which he couldn't seem to bring himself to return. He opened his mouth and Graces knew another apology was on his lips, but she shook her head and refused to take it.
"It won't kill you," Dr. Harris promised. "You've already survived the worst, Graces. You can do this easy." Graces nodded and took a deep breath. She tried to put herself far away from what was about to begin. She thought of nights outside the manor playing quidditch, her and her mom shopping, her father and her watching the quidditch matches and him reminding her to behave like a lady. "One... two..." Neville. "Three."
Graces muffled her scream against her brother's shirt as her arm was popped back into it's socket. It hurt. It definitely hurt, but it was nothing really compared to what she had felt. She began to wonder if she would ever view pain the same again. Were her days of innocence over? Could she ever go back to how she felt before. She knew pain now. She could feel that knowledge in more than just her bones, it was in her heart.
"I'm just going to bandage this up against you," Dr. Harris informed, wrapping her arm in a sling. "Hey." Graces looked up at Dr. Harris' kind face and waited for him to say more. "You are doing so great right now, Graces. You're such a brave girl."
Graces let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and nodded. It was such a patronizing thing for him to say. She felt like a child who just was patted on the head for allowing a cut to be fixed. She wasn't a child anymore. At least no one really treated her like one any longer.
Maybe that's it, Graces thought. Maybe I don't want to be an adult.
Graces closed her eyes as Dr. Harris started resetting other bones. It was grueling, non-stop agony. It took him a long time to fix her fingers because they needed to be re-broken and the same went for her upper arm. It wasn't until the doctor got to her hips and leg that begging had become her main source of communication, but the Death Eaters in the room didn't seem to care. Rookwood insisted it be done.
"It can't be!" Dr. Harris bellowed. "I don't have the correct tools! She's healed too much. I have no idea what is going on there. I could permanently injure her if I re-broke it. She could never walk the same. If you send Snape to get me tools and—"
"I'll do whatever you need done," Rookwood offered, taking his wand out and coming near to the bed.
"Get away from her," Dr. Harris growled, his fingertips pressing on the man's chest. Rookwood glared at the muggle before pushing him out of the way and positioning one of his hands aggressively on Graces' thigh causing her to let out a yelp. Graces closed her eyes and waited for the spell that Rookwood had playing on his lips. She was under no delusions about what was going to happen. The healer was not going to be gentle like Harris, he was going to use the most painful spell he could. She gripped Draco tightly and tried to calm herself, already she was muttering nonsense prayers that she knew would be unanswered. Either the Gods were dead or they just didn't care.
But in the end it wasn't her screaming. It was Rookwood. Rookwood was on the floor of her room screaming as Dr. Harris tackled him to the ground and drove the odd butter knife he had used for her surgery into his side. The death eater shouted for help as Dr. Harris continued to ravage him like a rabid animal, but no help came. Snape seemed to be stunned by the sheer audacity of it all, and Draco didn't care to move a finger to help his sister's torturer. It wasn't until Rookwood screamed at Snape specifically that the potion master took out his wand and cruciated the doctor.
"STOP IT! STOP IT!" Graces screamed above Harris' cries, but Snape pretended not to hear her pleas and continued.
"Graces, there is nothing we can do for the muggle," Draco hissed, putting his hand over her mouth. "Be silent. He dug his own grave."
"Draco, get off the bed and be useful," Snape ordered, nodding his head to Rookwood.
Draco gave Graces a severe glare before releasing his hold on her mouth to help the man bleeding on the floor. The world around her began to spin out of control. Graces could feel the bile bubbling up in her chest as Dr. Harris' screams continued to echo through the room. She closed her eyes to try and get a hold of herself. If she couldn't see the world moving around her maybe the dizziness she was experiencing would come to a halt. But it didn't. Instead she found herself vomiting off the side of her bed, feeling as though she were going to fall head first into the ground.
Maybe it was this disorientation that caused her next actions. This insanity that was beginning to develop in her head from the screams. Either way when she saw Rookwood stand and point his wand to the muggle she found her own wand in her hand pointed at him.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"Zere we go. Zat's right. Time to wake up, ma chérie."
"Mum?"
"No, pas maman," a gentle voice whispered, while a soft hand brushed around her cheek. "Réveillez-vous. Up-up. Mum," the woman scoffed. "Do I sound like your maman?"
Graces slowly peeled her eyes open at the woman's voice. It had been so long since she had felt warm and at ease waking up from sleep that it took her longer to actually wake. Her lids were sore, but not with bruising pain like she had felt for the past few days, just tender at being used. They demanded more rest.
"You can rest after I examine you," the voice smiled. "Zis should not take long."
Graces opened her eyes and looked up to see her primary healer sitting on her bed.
"Guérisseuse Durand, bonjour," Graces greeted in surprise.
"Bonjour." The healer smiled. "May I finish examining you?"
Graces nodded her head hesitantly and slowly sat up in the bed. She stared at her legs and arms. All now perfectly healed. She had no idea what day it was, or how long she had been out, but it appeared that she had been fully healed in the time she was sleeping. Hesitantly she reached to lift her shirt, but before she could see her abdomen the healer had kindly taken her hand.
"Uh-uh," the woman tutted. "Not everyfing can be healed so quickly. Some sings take time. Do not worry, Graces. Professor Snape has assured me he will be able to heal your scarring in time." Graces let her hands drop to her side and Mrs. Durand smiled. "Your face is completely healed," she informed happily, taking a mirror and showing Graces. "Like it was never touched."
Graces brought a shaking hand up to her cheek. It didn't seem real. She looked exactly the same. There were no scars, discoloration, bruising, nothing. She looked untouched as the healer said and yet, she knew she was touched. She stared at her reflection and closed one eye. And there she was in darkness with only a small fraction of light. Her proof that she had in fact been touched.
The healer carefully took the mirror out of Graces' hand and tilted her chin so the blonde was looking at her.
"What do you see?"
"The collar of your uniform and-and the ends of your silver hair," Graces breathed, closing her eyes completely.
"Not my face? Or my shoulder? Only ze bottom inside corner?"
"Yes," Graces rasped, closing her eyes tighter.
"And when you have bof ze eyes open?"
"I don't want to do this." Graces whimpered. "I can't."
"It is already done," Durand clipped. "Now answer ze question."
Graces opened her eyes and stared at the woman in front of her. "I can see you, but everything on the left is-is gone."
"Everyfing? You are sure?"
"I can only see the inner part," Graces sniffed. "That's it."
"Zen zat is not everyfing," the healer pointed out, handing Graces a handkerchief. "Come-come Graces, I will not have zis. No more tears. We shall replace the eye. You will have full vision after—"
"No."
"Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit?" the healer asked, astonished.
"I said no," Graces repeated, wiping her face clean from tears. "I will not have a fake eye. No."
Madam Durand placed her hands in her lap quietly and stared at Graces sadly.
"I cannot repair your eye, my darling. I tried. I sink I must have worked on it for two hours as you slept. It cannot be fixed. Your—comment dit-on rétine?—is almost fully detached and irreparable. I have strengvened what I could, so no more damage will come, but… zis will be ze most sight you could have out of zat eye."
"I know," Graces swallowed. "But I will not have a fake eye. I'll be called Mad-Eye Malfoy if word ever got out." Graces sniffed back a sob, but continued on. "And no one must ever know. People will be able to tell if I had a fake eye. I'll be seen as weak."
"Many advances have been made since Monsieur Moody lost his eye," the healer argued. "I can have one made that looks exactly the same."
"No," Graces whispered, turning away. "You will not take my eye and you will tell no one."
"I have known you your whole life," the healer insisted, turning Graces' face back to her. "I brought you into zis world and—"
"Severus Snape brought me into this world," Graces corrected angrily. "I do not want to talk about this."
"Fine," the older woman forfeited frostily. "Zen what do you wish to talk about?"
Graces took a moment to try to process everything going on around her and then realized what the real question was hanging in the air.
"Why are you here?" she asked slowly. "You weren't supposed to come yet."
"What do you remember?"
"I don't know. It's all… fuzzy," Graces breathed, thinking back.
"Do you remember raising your wand against healer Rookwood?" Graces nodded. "He almost beat you to deaf after. You're lucky you have such a protective brozer and zat your godfazer was zere to protect you as well."
"Snape protected me?" Graces frowned.
"He did. He also ensured zat you would be made well right away."
"How?"
"I do not know zis. All I know is I was owled by Severus and I came right away. You can imagine my shock at seeing you."
"Where's Draco?" Graces asked looking around the room.
"He is sleeping. He had suffered some minor injuries from ze fight."
"And-and Dr. Harris?"
"Ze muggle?" Madam Durand frowned. Graces nodded and waited on baited breath for the healer to answer, but the woman just stared at her quizzically.
"Is he alive?" Graces asked.
"Who knows," the woman shrugged. "He was barely alive when I got here. Stupid muggle, attacking a wizard."
"You have no idea what happened to him? Graces asked desperately. "None? Do you know if Snape took him or if Rookwood did?"
"I know not," the healer clipped. "And I don't sink you should be concerning yourself with such soughts. Now, dormez. All will be better with new light. You sleep."
"No! I want to know if Dr. Harris is alright. I want to know if—"
"Look at me," the witch snarled, grabbing Graces by the shoulder and shaking her. "Forget ze muggle. He never existed. I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me zis. I am going to leave here and convince myself it is all the potions I gave you talking. Because I want to believe you are not foolish enough to be caring about some filfy muggle." Graces nodded her head nervously and allowed the healer to lay her down on the pillow. "You're a good girl, Graces. A sweet and kind girl, but do not forget who and where you are. Not ever. Not for one moment, because ze last time you forgot it almost cost you your life and your brother his sanity."
Graces nodded apprehensively at the woman's words and didn't argue when she began tucking her into the bed. She kept her mouth closed and her eyes down, but in her mind she was not submissive. She was not going to forget about Harris. She just couldn't. Not after… not after everything.
"Ze muggle is not your concern," the healer continued on gently. "Go to sleep. Rest and get better. Be fankful, Graces. You're alive."
I'm alive because of him…
"I am writing to your school. I don't want you to be in class until Wednesday. Your body still needs time to adjust."
"I've missed a week and a day already. I can't—"
"Please, I've heard of students here missing 'ole semesters," the healer scoffed. "You'll be fine. I am going to write to your school mediwitch saying you are sick and I want you to rest."
"Won't she wonder why I didn't go to her?"
"You're a Malfoy. I fink ze answer would be obvious." The healer smiled cockily as she placed a few vials of potion into her bag. "You only want the best. And I—" the slender woman gestured to herself, "—am ze best."
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"Thomas. Thomas, wake up." Thomas groaned and rolled away from the irritating noise beside his bed. "Thomas. Thomas, wake up."
The younger boy slowly came to and was immediately surprised to see Graces sitting on his bed in her dressing gown.
"G-graces? W-what are y-you d-doing he—"
"Shhh," Graces hushed angrily. "Do you want to wake your whole year up?"
Thomas shook his head and shyly looked around the room. He blushed red when he thought about what rumors could come from this, but kept his mouth shut and waited for Graces to continue.
"Thomas, I need a favor," Graces whispered. "May I use the portkey to your home?"
"W-what?" Thomas breathed. "W-why?"
"I really want to be with Octavian. I just want to hold him for a bit."
"A-are you w-w-well enough t-to l-leave?" Graces nodded hopefully at the question and Thomas found his hand being cupped desperately as she waited for an answer to her odd request. "I c-can bring him t-t-to you," he offered, hoping Graces would settle for that.
"No," Graces sighed. "No, I want to hold him in his nursery."
"I'll come with you then," Thomas compromised, moving to get out of the bed.
"Thomas," Graces hiccuped, stopping him from moving further. "You know I may never have this. The opportunity to wake up in the middle of the night, go into my sleeping child's nursery and quietly hold my dreaming child." The world stilled around them at Graces' words. "Please let me have this," Graces begged. "I just want to hold him; imagine what the future will be for him, what job he will have, who he will marry, what house he would be sorted into, who he will fall in love with and marry. I thought that I had all the time in the world. I would grow old, but-but now… Please let me have this."
"You're g-going t-to be f-fine, G-Graces," Thomas promised.
"I think we both know that's not true," Graces whispered pointedly.
Thomas stared at her for a moment. She was right. As much as he didn't want to accept it, she was right. There was a very good chance that the closest Graces would ever come to being a mother was being Octavian's godmother. He had always thought the Malfoys were untouchable, that Graces was stronger than any force against her, but after these last few days he knew that wasn't true. She was mortal just like everyone else he loved, and mortals died. Gingerly he took off his father's wedding band and handed it over to her.
"Just say ch-cherry b-blossems and you'll b-b-be in his r-room," he murmured, staring at the gold as it glinted in Graces hand. "The H-Hogwarts motto will b-bring you b-back."
Graces nodded and held the ring tight in her palm.
"Cherry blossoms," she whispered meeting Thomas' eyes evenly.
The next moment Graces found herself standing in Octavian's room. She looked around at the light blue walls that she had painted days ago and the toys she had meticulously picked out. It all seemed so long ago when in reality it had just happened. Quietly she made her way over to the crib and smiled at the sleeping child at the bottom. It was late and the whole Higgs mansion seemed to be asleep aside from the fire crackling in the background.
Graces checked the pocket of her robe to make sure the paper was still there and then silently tip toed out of Octavian's room and into the room beside it. The torch lights were all dimmed around the room as Alethea slept with books and papers spread out around her. Graces crept slowly over to the busy bed and debated once again whether she wanted to do this. She could leave now. She could go back to Hogwarts or do as she had told Thomas. She could be exactly who she was before this all began.
You know that's a lie.
"Alethea," Graces nudged. "Alethea, wake up."
"Graces?" Alethea asked, sitting up and reaching for her glasses. "What—Oh my god, is it Thomas?"
"No, no. Thomas is fine," Graces reassured, putting her hands on the older woman's shoulders to keep her from jumping out of the bed. "He's fine."
"Oh, thank god," Alethea breathed, sitting back against the headboard and clutching her chest. "I thought that perhaps—"
"No, he's fine."
Alethea nodded contently, before frowning and looking at Graces seated on her bed.
"Then what are you doing here?"
Graces hesitated for a moment and fiddled with the invisible ring on her finger.
"I was hoping you could help me use one of those... the muggle fire calling device. It-it starts with a T…"
"A telephone?" Alethea asked frowning. "You want to use a telephone." Graces nodded nervously and kept her eyes down. "What ever for?"
"I don't want to say."
Graces could feel Alethea's eyes on her, but kept her own averted. Her skin had begun to prickle with anticipation and her hands were clammy. She felt wrong, so very wrong.
"I have one. It's at the university where I work. Thomas setup a portkey so I could go there for work."
"I thought we agreed you would quit," Graces scowled.
"I didn't," Alethea clipped. "I've arranged it with the university I work with. I am no longer teaching, but I am still employed for research, curriculum development and they expect me to publish quite a bit more while I am gone."
"What did you tell them?" Graces asked suspiciously.
"The truth. That Octavian and Thomas' parents were killed and that I, being the only living family member, have inherited custody."
"You told them nothing else?" Graces prodded.
"I would prefer for the people I work with to not consider me mad," Alethea said frostily. "So no. I said nothing about this world. Draco gave me all the documents I needed so they people I work with would have no questions." Graces nodded and tried to will the sick feeling in her stomach that came with her brother's name away. "Do you need to use the telephone tonight?"
"Yes," Graces rasped. "Yes, tonight. Now."
"It's late, the person you may be calling could be—"
"I need to use it now," Graces insisted sternly. "It cannot wait."
The older woman stared at for perplexed for a few moments before nodding her head. Graces waited as the squib dressed and asked a house elf to stay with Octavian, the whole time she found herself pacing the floor of the hall, the thought still overwhelming in her mind to go back home.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Graces lied. "I just want to go."
A few moments later Graces got her wish and was standing in the office. The room was dark, but before she could take her wand out the older woman had flipped a switch.
"Oh, sorry," Alethea apologised. "I always forget that you all are so used to torch lights… These always seem to blind you for a few moments."
"Where's the telephone," Graces grumbled, rubbing her eye.
"It's right here. Do you know how to use it?" Graces shook her head. "This is the handset, you just put it up to your ear and dial the number of the person you want to call. You'll hear a ringing and then if they are home they will pick up their phone, that's been ringing from your call, and greet you." Graces moved closer and placed her ear near the "handset" she heard an odd droning tone, but decided not to ask. "Now you don't need to speak loudly," Alethea continued. "Just speak as though someone were across the table from you. Understand?"
"I understand…"
"Do you want me to dial for you?" Alethea offered, still staring curiously at the young girl beside her.
Graces was sure she understood, but at the same time she didn't really want to look foolish. She reached in her pocket and handed Alethea the numbers Dr. Harris had written down for her.
"Which one do you want me to dial?"
"The first one."
All of the sudden it all became real. Graces could feel her throat go dry as Alethea dialed the numbers into the phone. What if Dr. Harris didn't answer? What if he would never answer?
"No one's answering."
"What does that mean?" Graces asked, her voice becoming slightly raised. "What does that mean?"
"It could mean whoever you're calling isn't home. Or that they are asleep."
"Can you try it again?" Graces asked, moving over and taking the phone. "Can I try it again?" Graces didn't wait for the squib to answer. She began at once redialing the number. "Please answer," she prayed. "Please, please, please answer. What is this?" Graces demanded when an odd inhuman voice sounded over the speaker.
"That's a voicemail," Alethea explained, placing her hand on a button and making the phone go back to that odd droning sound. "I don't think you would want to leave one of those. It records messages for whoever you are calling if they can't answer the phone. Graces, who are you—"
"Don't touch me!" Graces screamed, ripping her shoulders away from the other woman and beginning to dial the phone number again. "He has to answer. He has to. Come on, Harris, answer. Answer!"
Each long ring felt like physical pain. Like her insides were being torn up from inside her.
"Hello?" A groggy voice answered. "Hello?"
And suddenly just like that the pain was gone. Graces heart skipped a beat as she heard the irritated voice of Dr. Harris on the other line. It was so unreal, for a moment she wondered if she was imagining it.
"Dr. Harris?" Graces breathed staring blankly forward.
"Yes, this is he. What time is it? Do you have any idea how late it is?"
"Are-are you well?" Graces asked a hint of desperation overtaking her voice.
"Yes..." Dr. Harris said slowly, the irritation in his voice diminishing. "Do I… do I know you? You sound familiar." Graces stood open mouthed listening to the other end of the phone. Listening to the man who saved her life breathe. "Who is this?"
"I-I'm no one. I'm so sorry for disturbing you." Graces blinked back the relieved tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes and tried to clear her throat so she didn't sound so choked up. "I just wanted to hear that you were well. And I have. You have a good life, Dr. Harris," she squeaked, her heart swelling in her chest with joy. Graces hurriedly wiped her tears away and tried to compose herself. "I wish you all the best. Good night."
"Wait, wait!" Graces stopped and kept the phone's head to her ear. "Are you okay? Do you need help?" Dr. Harris asked unsurely.
Graces stood there with the phone to her ear. This was her chance to ask for help. Dr. Harris had said he wanted to help her. He said he knew someone who would tear the earth apart to find her and help her. All she had to do was take this first step and ask for him to help her. He was a good man. She knew that and she trusted him. She just needed to ask.
How is he supposed to live through this? He tried to help you and almost got himself killed. He's alive in spite of you.
"Good night," she murmured, ignoring Dr. Harris' voice as it called out to her and placing the phone down.
"Graces?"
"I'm going to spend the evening with Octavian," Graces informed hollowly. "I'll take care of him tonight. You don't need to bother yourself with him."
Alethea had a million questions to ask, but before she could utter even one of them Graces was gone, leaving the older woman alone in her office to wonder.
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4th week of September
Chapter five, six, seven, and eight.
5th week of September
Chapter nine and ten and eleven 12 13
1st week of October
Chapter 14, 15,16, 17, (14,15,16,and 17 are the same day) 18, 19, 20,21, 22(20, 21 and 22 are the same day), 23, 24, 25, 26 (25 and 26 Saturday), 27 (Beginning of 27 is Sunday.)
Chapter 25 is when Graces went to the three Broomsticks and helped Hannah when she injured her hand. It is also the chapter that Katie Bell is cursed in.
2nd week of October
Chapter 27(Monday), 28(Tuesday), 29(Friday and Saturday), 30 and 31(Still Saturday), 32(Sunday), 33(Sunday and Monday)
31 is the Slytherin party in the woods after the game.
3rd week of October
Chapter 33, 34 (Tuesday and Wednesday), 35 (Thursday), 36 Friday Saturday and Ending Monday)
4th Week of October
Chapter 36 and 37 (Monday), (38 Tuesday)
5th week of October/ 1st week of November
Chapter 39 (Tuesday night and wednesday day and night this was the chapter Neville put the scales on Graces.)
Chapter 40- Thursday Halloween
Chapter 41- Friday- Bathroom scene with Hermione and Higgs ministry letter.
Chapter 42- still Friday night and then moves to Saturday morning.
1st week of November
Chapter 43 and 44 are Monday through Friday, with the funeral being on Friday morning and Graces meeting the Dark Lord with Thomas Friday night.
45 is still apart of Friday night.
Chapter 46 and 47 are Saturday.
Chapter 48 and 49 is Sunday morphing into Monday