ELISABETH crinkled her nose as the heels of her shoes made an audible clacking sound against the polished linoleum tile beneath her feet as she was escorted by Healer Smithwick, a middle-aged wizard with dark hair that was beginning to streak gray at the temples, and the ward's most experienced Senior Healer, to Quirinus's room.
Professor Dumbledore had graciously arranged for Quirinus to recover in a room of his own following the next few days until he was well enough to be given discharge paperwork. She would be filling that out for him. She pulled a face as she looked on either side of the long hallway at the various portraits, founders, and Healers of St. Mungo's, all of whom were ogling her curiously as she passed.
She had never particularly enjoyed coming here, despite it being a place of last visit to the institution had been following Father's death when the unpleasant wizard had passed away after taking six Stunning Spells straight to his chest at the age of sixty-four. She had not mourned the man and had watched coldly from the entryway of his room as he had taken his last breath and died. Elisabeth had hoped that she would never have to set foot here again, but now, here she was, trailing closely behind the wizard and struggling to keep up with the older wizard's surprisingly leggy strides.
As she walked hurriedly down the cold hallway, she reached out to touch the walls. She was so enraptured by the portraits, despite her dislike for St. Mungo's in general, that she accidentally ran straight into the back of Healer Smithwick as he had come to a full stop.
She jumped back and mumbled an apology under her breath with a light pink blush speckling its way along her face as she waited for Quirinus's assigned Healer to speak to her. The older man's face was wrinkled, tired, and careworn, and showed the exhaustion he'd not allow his body to feel for several hours yet. A pang of sympathy wormed way through her heart. she felt desperation tug at her heart.
"H-how bad is it, sir, please?" she spoke in a hushed voice that was barely above a whisper.
She was not sure she wanted to know the answer, thinking that the Healer's expression spoke for him as a cloud of remorse settled over his features as he shot her an apologetic look.
He pulled a face and sighed. "The mark on his face is permanent, Miss Raywood, I must warn you, it is not pleasant. Though I hope, in time, with the help of frequent applications of Dittany, it will reduce the scarring, though there is no permanent fixture for the man's face, as these are Dark, cursed wounds."
Elisabeth swallowed a lump in her throat, and when she did, it felt like she was swallowing knives. She felt her cheeks start to burn, though she forced herself to try to remain calm and collected. She knew that even if he were unconscious when she went in to visit him, Quirinus would be able to sense her stress and it would likely impede his body's ability to heal.
"I-I understand," she managed to gasp out, though she felt the burn of the older man's gaze threatening to burn a hole in the side of her skull as she sharply turned her head away.
She really wanted a moment to herself to collect her thoughts but she had come to see Quirinus.
It was thoughts of her former friend that gave her the courage to speak.
"I—I still need to see him." Elisabeth was unable to keep the note of desperation out of her voice.
The Healer's lips curled upwards in a soft sympathetic smile as he offered her a curt nod.
"But of course, Miss Raywood. I will allow it. Please follow me." He motioned for her to follow him inside as he opened the door and stepped back to allow her to enter first.
The room was swathed in shadow and the curtains at the window were drawn shut, blocking out any of the light from coming through. The Healer gave a sharp rap of his wand and instantaneously, the hospital room flooded with light that was almost blinding.
Elisabeth was so taken aback by the harrowing white light that she had to raise an arm in front of her face to shield her vision as black spots crept into the sides of her vision.
When the giddiness danced away, she lowered her arm and her nervous dark eyes made a quick scan of the large room. She spotted Quirinus under the blankets, on his back, his eyes were closed. He seemed to be sleeping. Both of his wrists were magically handcuffed to the bed and an empty glass rested on a small wooden nightstand.
As she gingerly crept forward for a closer look, her nose caught the unmistakable stench of a Sleeping Draught. He was out cold and would be for a good long while yet.
Elisabeth perched herself on the edge of the bed and inhaled a sharp breath that pained her lungs and held it as her eyes rested on the man's face. She felt all the blood drain from her face as she took her first good look at the right side of the poor wizard's face and instantly felt bile rise in the back of her throat. She thought she was going to be horribly sick.
Her first thought of poor Quirinus Quirrell was that the wizard was wearing a mask, one of those realistic rubber ones that looked like human flesh that Muggle children wore on Halloween.
But his face was no mask.
The mark that covered the right side of his face was unfortunately very real. It began at the edge of his forehead and caught at the right side of Quirinus's nose, and then the edge of his lips, and then snaked its way back up around his ear. The entire right side of his face had been disfigured.
Elisabeth's next thought was of a brand, this burn scar. A muscle in his jaw twitched and even unconscious in his sleep, the wizard moaned in pain. She grimaced. Any movement of his facial muscles had to hurt. She hardly recognized her old friend's profile anymore.
Warm water began to brim in her eyes and she furiously blinked back, refusing to let them fall. She did not want the Healer assigned to Quirinus to see her like this at her most vulnerable.
"Quirinus? Can you hear me?" she asked softly, reaching for one of his hands and holding it gently, despite the rational side of her brain screaming at her not to.
How would this look if he were to wake and find a witch who was now by rights a stranger to him sitting on the edge of his bed and holding his hand? But it could not be helped now.
She looked to Healer Smithwick and spoke in a dry voice that did not sound like her tone at all.
"When will he wake, Healer Smithwick? Will he be strong enough to allow me to take him home via Side-Along Apparition? Is there any immediate danger if I take him home now, sir?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the Healer and looking back towards Quirinus then. She thought she saw his eyes behind closed lids give a twitch but the man did not wake.
The Healer nodded. She let out a breath she had not even realized she was holding as the wizard gave his consent. Though he was keen to offer her advice while he still could.
"You must be prepared, my dear. His recovery will be a trying time, for you, especially as well as for Quirinus. When he was admitted and his memory modified, we allowed him to believe that his burns came from an ill-tempered Hungarian Horntail," he quietly explained, the edges of his lips twitching. "If I may speak candidly with you, I am amazed that he even survived such extensive injuries, Miss Raywood. That mark on his face will need regular applications of a poultice applied every three to four hours for the next eight weeks. I will send a jar home with you, you may pick it up from our Welcome Witch at the receptionist's desk downstairs in the lobby before you leave. I will tell Jenna to have it ready for you. I recommend that you not allow Quirinus to be delved into too much anxiety while he heals. Too much stress is taxation on the body and can impede the healing process. I also advise that he be given a relatively bland diet for the next few days. Soups, a good chicken broth, perhaps some iced pumpkin juice, the like, they would go a long way in settling his stomach as there is no telling what he will tolerate when he wakes," he said gravely.
She nodded, grateful for the experienced Healer's advice. "Thank you, sir. I will take care of him."
Elisabeth swallowed and was relieved when the Healer excused himself to see to the rest of his rounds. Only when the door shut quietly behind him did she turn back around to face Quirinus.
She exhaled a shaky breath and spoke, hoping that somehow, he could hear. "Quirinus, I….what was I supposed to have done?" she whispered, asking the unconscious wizard her question in a hushed voice. She was, of course, referring to that ill-fated night where they had rowed in his backyard underneath his mother's favorite gnarled old willow tree, before she had Disapparated, nearly in tears. "I didn't want to leave you, but you gave me no choice. I-I couldn't watch you destroy yourself like that anymore."
Elisabeth squeezed onto Quirinus's hand, a part of her hoping that the wizard would sense her presence and wake, wanting nothing more than for him to squeeze it back, but he did not.
More wretched hot tears came to her eyes and a wave of sadness and guilt racked through her body just then. She had truly not believed that the two of them could rekindle what she had thought they had lost, not with Professor Dumbledore revealing the man's mind had been Obliviated, he'd have no memory of her at all.
He will not be the same, she tried to scold herself.
"I'm sorry, Quirinus. For…for all of it, but...you'll be alright now. I'm going to look after you, and even if you don't remember me, I remember you, my friend," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She sighed and continued to hold onto the man's hand, hating the constant feeling of fear that was causing her chest to tighten painfully.
You don't have a choice. You promised his Headmaster that you would do this. Use the fact the man lost his memory of you and put it behind you. Start over. It's not like we were ever together.
A horrible abrupt bitterness seeped its way into the pit of her churning stomach and wormed its way up her heart and into her throat. She tasted bile but forced herself to swallow it back down. Elisabeth shuddered slightly. With deep slow breaths, the witch attempted to slow down her pounding heart as it throbbed relentlessly against her rib-cage, though it was easier said than done. She wondered what the coming weeks of remaining by the wizard's side would bring, and she wondered what she might have done to handle the situation in his backyard that horrible night differently, but nothing came to mind.
You left him that night because you had to. Quirinus left you with no other choice but to leave him. He didn't want to listen to you, and he's more than suffered for that, a dark voice chimed a warning bell in the back of her mind. Her eyes widened. Now be strong. For you. For him. He's counting on you.
The voice in the darkest recesses of her mind spoke coldly to her. The words were aimed rather viciously at herself. In the past, it was how she used to survive the worst of Father's abuse.
When it got too rough to cope, she would force herself to grow up. To stop being so weak.
It was eventually how she had convinced herself to run away from home and free herself of the wicked man's influence. She could not stay and watch as her father destroyed himself by giving himself completely over to the Dark Lord's supporters, even branding his inner left forearm with the Dark Mark.
Just as she had not been able to stay and watch Quirinus's defeat, now it seemed, both men had suffered at the cruelty and malice of the Dark Lord.
Now, she hoped her inner strength and stubbornness would be enough and would see her through this.
She looked back down at Quirinus who thankfully was still sleeping peacefully. She hoped the wizard was not in any pain at all. Elisabeth nodded slowly to herself.
I have to take care of him, she thought as she nodded. At the very least, the witch thought the beginnings of understanding were beginning to form slowly in her brain.
She knew what he needed, and how best she would help him heal.