Chapter Fourteen: The Carpal Tunnel of Love

"Your boyfriend didn't look pleased to see you with me."

As Rosalind was scribbling away her notes on a roll of parchment chewing away at an apple, a purple interdepartmental memo fluttered onto her desk, marked urgent:

Dear Officer Rosalind,

I had a strange visitor this morning. I'd like to speak with you right away.

Adriana Holmes

"What's that?" Draco asked, looking over the shoulder.

"It's from the werewolf victim. She needs to talk to us," Rosalind replied. "When do you think we should head over?"

Draco glanced at his watch. "The sooner the better. I'll go notify Bowen and we'll leave." Moments later Draco nodded to her and she grabbed onto his arm tightly, holding her breath, Apparating to St. Mungo's hospital.

The atmosphere was rushed and bleak; not even the Welcome Witch was even smiling. Healers were being followed by anxious assistants, who were being harassed by even more anxious family members of patients. To the left were the stairs for the Creature Induced Injuries division and they headed to the first floor. A door with a paper nameplate reading A. Holmes was on their right, and seeing that the Head Healer was nowhere around, they let themselves in.

Adriana was unrecognizable: patches of hair were missing, her nails hardened into a decaying, ugly yellow, and her face was pockmarked with scars-she was looking more like an animal. She recognized her visitors however and made an attempt at a small smile.

"Hello Adriana," Rosalind greeted kindly. "How are you feeling?"

She huffed out some air, moving a frazzled strand of hair from her face. "I would be lying if I said I felt good."

"What's wrong?" Rosalind asked as she stomped on Draco's toe when he opened his mouth.

"I don't really know honestly," she rubbed her forehead with a mangy hand. "I swear I had a visitor this morning but the Healers kept telling me I didn't. But she was so clear and visible, I know I couldn't have possibly made it all up." Her brows knitted together, piecing together her morning. "It was that same girl I saw at the village before I was attacked. She had long dirty blonde curly hair with a bow in it. She spoke in a soft voice, I feel like she was asking me to do something. But then..." She rubbed her temple, struggling to recollect her thoughts. "Everything went white. I remember feeling lightheaded, like I was in a trance. Next thing I knew the Healer's assistants were telling me my body levels were through the roof as if I was under a lot of stress. I told them what happened but they insisted no one was here."

Draco and Rosalind glanced at each other. He tightened his lips and bit his tongue, letting her continue.

"How long was she in here for?" she asked slowly. "Do you remember any other details such as the time she was here, what she was wearing, specific words she could've said?"

"I'm not too sure," she said with a sigh. "Probably an hour before I wrote to you. She looked like she hadn't changed her clothes for days, she said something about being able to help me but I told her no. Then everything went white."

Rosalind crossed her arms, stroking her chin. "Is it alright if I inspect you for a moment?" The young girl nodded. She approached her carefully, examining her head and torso. Her head was clean, but there was a faint scratch on the right side of her chest-signs of magic.

"Shit," Rosalind said as she rubbed the area. Adriana winced in pain. "You've been hit with a faulty Memory Charm. Whoever did it either cracked under pressure or has never done it before."

"What makes you so sure?" Draco asked skeptically.

"I'm quite adept at Memory Charms," she answered darkly. "You always want to strike as close to the head as possible-the cerebrum actually, because the brain deals with memory. If you do it right the target won't remember the last half an hour of their lives or more."

Adriana's eyes widened. "I had my memory altered? But why?"

"You must have given her an unexpected answer, or maybe someone was coming into the room and she panicked," Rosalind replied. "Don't worry, it wasn't your fault, you have nothing to worry about," she added when her face paled in horror. "The Healers will take care of you." Draco left to speak with the Head Healer while Rosalind stayed behind to calm the girl down. "You did the right thing by asking us to talk to you," she reassured her. "Thank you for trusting us."

Adriana smiled half-heartedly. "Thank you for believing me. I was starting to think I was going mad."

Rosalind patted her shoulder. "You're not mad, you're perfectly fine." She smiled at the girl, departing with Draco upon the arrival of the Healers.

"That went better than I presumed it would," he admitted. "She seems to like you more than me."

"That's because I approach her better." Rosalind retorted. A pulsing in her pocket interrupted her, burning her sides. She rummaged through the small batch of coins she had, pulling out the Galleon Hermione gave her with a message etched on the edges. There was a meeting at the Burrow at seven o'clock.

"You alright?" Malfoy asked in response to her puzzled face.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Want to stop by the cafe?" she asked. "I'm starving."

Draco nodded his approval and they headed to the top floor, every floor more frazzled than the last. Misery trailed behind them like a parasite.

"What do you want?" he asked as they waited in line.

"I don't know, a sandwich probably," she said, scanning the menu. She had lost her appetite. They ordered their food as Rosalind left to grab them a table, bumping into a tall lanky man beside her, almost spilling his tea.

"Oh drat," the young man said in his friendly voice. "I didn't even see you there."

"George?" Rosalind asked with a laugh, giving him a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"One of my regular customers has come down with a case of dragon pox," he said lifting up a box of remedial tea. "I was stopping by to pay her a visit."

"That's sweet of you," she said as he bowed his head.

Draco appeared by her side, food in hand. "Food's ready," he said, nodding his head at the only table for two. He glanced up at George, whose posture immediately stiffened. "What are you doing here, Weasley?"

"That is none of your business Malfoy," he replied coldly. "I didn't expect to see you here either."

Draco sat down, waiting for Rosalind to join him. George stayed put, unhurried to leave. She could feel their glares piercing her, waiting for her next move.

"Well I hope she feels better," she said to George in a false cheery tone, slowly making her way to the table with a clear of her throat. "I have to get back to work."

"Yeah, so do I." George's face stiffened. "See you tonight." He left without another word, leaving Rosalind with a pang of guilt in her stomach.

She joined Draco, chewing on her food slowly as she processed their morning. Who would want to speak to Adriana, and why did they perform a Memory Charm on her? "What was that about?" she finally asked.

"What was what about?" he replied nonchalantly.

"I could feel you both glaring daggers at each other."

Draco grinned. "Your boyfriend didn't seem pleased to see you with me."

"You weren't exactly welcoming," she observed.

"Neither were you, you basically asked him to leave," he smirked between sips of tea. Rosalind opened her mouth in annoyance before Draco continued. "And you already know the bloke doesn't like me so that didn't help."

Rosalind frowned. "That's not true, we're working and I'm in work mode right now."

"Right." He took another sip, still smirking, the cheap china clinking against the saucer. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already told you he doesn't want you around me."

Rosalind crossed her arms, glaring at her partner. "He didn't. He knows we work together."

"So that's why you acted so awkwardly before he left? Because he's so understanding of the situation? He couldn't even tell you were upset."

"What's it matter to you?" she scowled. "This doesn't concern you."

Draco grinned, setting down his tea cup. "What affects you does affect me. That's part of working together. And don't change the subject because you're upset I'm starting to get to know you."

Rosalind rolled her eyes before slipping a laugh. "Stop being an ass. You don't know everything about me."

Draco returned her laugh. "Please. I probably know more about you than he does."

Rosalind threw a crumpet at him, face flushing. "Can we stop talking about my personal life? We need to get you a girlfriend so I can start making fun of you too."

"So you're official now?" he asked with a dry laugh.

"No we're just friends-"

"-who snog, right." He pulled some Galleons from his pocket to pay for their meals, the pair Apparating back to the Ministry.

Rosalind sighed into her rickety desk, shoving all thoughts of what Draco had told her to the back of her head and instead focusing on the conversation they had with Adriana. She wrote in her report almost verbatim what she had disclosed, including the bit when she concluded she had been hit with a faulty Memory Charm. She rubbed her temple with her quill, remembering how Draco hypothesized that certain people could be targeted, like Squibs, and laughing at how ridiculous it sounded at the time.

"Do we have access to the reports from other recent attacks?" she asked a busy Draco who was pouring over his own notes.

He looked up, removing the quill from his mouth. "Yes. Just go to the file room. You can find anything in there if you look hard enough. Why?"

"Because," Rosalind's chair screeched as she scooted closer to him. "Remember when you said whoever is attacking these people could be targeting them for a reason? What if they're looking for very specific people, like the poor or Squibs?"

Draco raised his eyebrow. "Are you saying werewolves are attacking Squibs to make them feel like they're part of the wizarding world?"

"Yes," Rosalind whispered. "And what if they helped that night we were in Azkaban?"

Draco looked unconvinced. "Death Eaters don't see werewolves as equals. They're not branded with the Dark Mark."

"But maybe someone else does," she pressed. "Maybe someone else is trying to send a message-and maybe that's why your father didn't escape."

Draco gave her a long, hard look. "You think my father stayed behind because he knew of a plan but didn't agree with its message?" He asked in a harsh tone.

"Well...is it possible?" she asked hesitantly, hoping she hadn't crossed the line.

Draco pondered it over for a moment, his pale eyes staring at her. "I suppose it could be. Unless he had another plan in mind."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Who knows." He stared at his notes, shifting his body away from her.

Rosalind sighed, leaning back into her chair. She wished Draco was more enthusiastic about her theory but understood that speaking about his father was a touchy subject. She waited for him to start up another conversation but it never came, so she set off for the filing room by herself. A bored looking wizard was at the door, quill and parchment in hand.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a dry voice, without glancing at her.

"Can I please take a look at the reports for the recent creature attacks? It's urgent."

"I'm sure it's very urgent," he replied sarcastically, pushing the parchment towards her. "Write your name and badge number along with the files you're requesting."

"Well you see that's part of the problem," she said innocently, positioning herself closer to him. "I don't know exactly when they're from. Is there any way I can go back there for just five minutes? I promise I'll put them back."

The wizard eyed her with a thin brow. "You're not authorized to do so."

"C'mon," she groaned. "I just need a few things." The wizard wouldn't budge. She dropped her voice to a whisper as he continued to shake his head, muttering about no authorization. "Imperio."

His eyes glazed over, a gleeful smile overcoming his face. "Please, help yourself."

Rosalind grinned and went to work, ignoring the pang of guilt in her chest. She thumbed through several files, pulling out photographs of gruesome scenes: several young men and women with their faces ripped off, wrecked to pieces with brute force. No, that wasn't what she was looking for. There was another file that contained a map of criminal activity in the last year. Inside it contained a list of the wizards, witches and Muggles alike who had reported strange activity or sounds of an ambush in their area. She tucked the reports into the same file, leaving in a rush before anyone could walk by.

Draco glanced over her desk with an inquiring look on his face. "What's that?"

"Research," she said simply, spreading the maps and photographs. Arrows squirmed around the edges of the pages, notes that others had left snaked their way around the border, begging to be read. It looked like whoever had last seen the file was on to something: Muggles were being attacked to be killed, yet wizards were being attacked to be kept alive. Rosalind tapped her toe on the cold floor, scratching away at a roll of parchment beside her. There had to be a connection-she was onto something, but couldn't quite describe it.

Draco snapped his notebook shut as screeching chairs signaled the end of their shift, tucking it neatly into a briefcase. "See you tomorrow, Morana. Take it easy with your little friend." He departed with a smirk on his face.
_*_*_

Rosalind walked home alone, enjoying the crisp air and warm sunlight. She trotted through the cobbled street of Diagon Alley and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a small urge creeping inside her to step inside. George was obviously irked about what happened at St. Mungo's but it probably was best to not bother him at work. Maybe she could catch him early at the Burrow instead.

"Hello dearie you're early!" an enthusiastic Mrs. Weasley greeted her. "Come on in, Harry, Ron and Hermione are already here as well." She walked into the dining room where the Golden Trio were seated, in the middle of a heated quidditch debate. "Go on, make yourself at home." She smiled warmly and left for the kitchen to finish dinner.

Hermione smiled and motioned for her to join them. Rosalind took a seat, smiling shyly, still intimidated by them. Harry and Ron gave her a friendly greeting before continuing their debate. Ginny soon joined them and she and Hermione were the odd ones out.

"I've been meaning to ask you, how was your date with George?" Hermione asked as the others blabbed on.

"It was good," she replied with a smile. "He took me to Hogwarts since someone informed him I've never been there before." She shot Hermione a playful look and she smiled knowingly. "It was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed it. We've been seeing each other a lot. He's a really sweet guy."

"So what's the problem?" she asked, sensing her uneasiness.

Rosalind shrugged. "There isn't. Well..." She sighed, glancing around at the others who were still heavily engaged in their conversation. "He knows I work with Draco but he acts so weird about it. He told me he doesn't like him and doesn't want me to be friends with him. We ran into him today at St. Mungo's and I think it upset him. I didn't really talk to him because I was already speaking with Draco about a patient we visited for one of our cases."

Hermione set her tea down, mulling over her words. "Well you do know why they don't like each other don't you? A Death Eater killed his twin brother."

"What? No I-he hasn't talked about him much actually," she admitted.

"Well maybe you two should get to know each other a little more rather than just physically," she said as Rosalind's face flushed.

"You're right," she said, face still burning. "But it's not like I had a choice to work with him, we were assigned to each other. I guess I don't know why I feel so guilty about it," she concluded.

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "I think he might have been a tad jealous he gets to spend so much time with you. You should talk to him, I'm sure he'll understand."

"I hope so," she said unconvinced.

A group of voices echoed by the door, and a flood of wizards took their places at the table. There were a few new faces, who Rosalind learned to be that of Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas. They gave her an amicable greeting, with Luna speaking to her about strange creatures called nargles.

"Good evening everyone," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice boomed throughout the room, immediately bringing it into silence. "We have much to discuss tonight. There was a recent breach of security at Azkaban, as some of our fellow members witnessed firsthand. There are no leads as of yet as to who or what caused it, except that it was likely not human." He scanned the room, taking in the stoic reactions. "If anyone has any information or theories, don't hesitate to come forward." Murmurs erupted, and several members voiced their opinions. An older witch argued that someone from the Ministry could have been involved but that was quickly shot down.

Rosalind cleared her throat, raising her hand. "I have a theory, sir." The Minister nodded, signaling her to speak. "I took some time today to look through several files of attacks in the area, particularly ones from magical creatures. The past few months upwards to the last year there has been a pattern of groups normally considered weak that have been targeted. I don't think that was an accident." She looked around, waiting for someone to yell out her idea was stupid but it didn't come. "A victim in one of my cases was attacked by a werewolf and had a strange visitor at St. Mungo's today that appears to have asked her to join something. She doesn't remember exactly because she was hit with a Memory Charm, but she remembered enough information that she had a vague description of her visitor. She also happens to be a Squib, and I think that could have been the reason why she was targeted. She was selected in a way, to possibly join something that is trying to send a message." Her palms began to sweat as the room listened intently.

"And what message would that be?" the Minister asked.

"Well magical creatures are not very high up in the social hierarchy. Werewolves worked with Death Eaters before but were not seen as equals, they were never branded the Dark Mark. What if-what if there is a group that is fed up? Tired of being seen as second-class, as not human enough or too animal-like?" She raised her shoulders as the room continued to stare at her in silence. She sighed. She shouldn't have said anything. No one cared about what she had to say-what was she thinking?

"What if they're working with the Death Eaters?" Dean Thomas piped in. "I don't think it's a coincidence that almost all of them escaped."

"Not all of them did there was one who didn't-"

"Malfoy probably tipped someone off so they left him in there!" Dean retorted. "He's probably the dodgiest out of all of them I wouldn't be surprised if he was planning another war!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt raised his hand and Rosalind bit back her remark. He thanked Rosalind for her contribution, and continued speaking to the Order. Rosalind crossed her arms, letting out an annoyed grunt. Why the hell did she open her mouth? It was a stupid theory and she had no solid proof.

She barely ate, annoyed and embarrassed that Dean kid completely shut her down in front of everyone. George hadn't spoken to her yet either. He sat by his older brother Percy, who was droning on about a cauldron bottom essay he wrote several years ago.

Once dinner was over she helped Mrs. Weasley with the dishes and cleaned up the table, making small talk with the merry witch. Upon finishing the chores she said goodbye to the group, departing for the door. She had only taken a few steps when a longing voice spoke behind her.

"You didn't think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye did you?"

She scowled, facing him with a saddened expression on her face. "I didn't think you'd notice."

George frowned, taking a seat on the cobbled half wall. "I notice more than you realize."

"Like what?" she asked curiously.

"Like you don't think anyone takes you seriously."

She frowned, taking the seat next to him. "You got that right." She pinched the skin on her thumb, a nervous habit. "I don't like feeling like what I have to say doesn't matter."

George smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "You shouldn't. You're a beautiful and smart witch with a lot of potential. I'm sure your family is very proud of you."

"I'm not so sure about that," she said in a low voice, her breath stiffening. He gave her a concerned look as she avoided his gaze. "I don't have a family George, they're all gone. My parents-they died. A few years ago. The rest of my family disappeared during the civil war before I was born. So other than my sister I don't have anyone."

He held her tightly, stroking her head with a sympathetic look on his face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I should've asked sooner," he said, his eyes brimming with tenderness.

"Don't be, it's not something I talk about often." She tensed her jaw. "I don't really know how to bring it up."

Several moments passed them in silence. She held his hand, leaning her head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her forehead gently, wiping away a single tear. "I apologize about earlier today. I know I was being a git."

She smiled, glad he changed the subject. "It's alright. I know I didn't handle that too well. I was meaning to talk to you about that."

"About me acting like a git?" he asked playfully.

"No," she laughed. "About earlier at St. Mungo's. I thought you were mad at me."

George twisted his mouth, curling it into an awkward shape. "I wasn't angry. Not really." He hesitated, rubbing his nose in the process. "I was happy to see you but when I saw Malfoy there as well I became a bit jealous. I haven't felt that way in a long time."

"Why would you be jealous?" she asked. "It's not like he doesn't know about you."

"I dunno. I suppose I like you more than I thought." He rubbed her head, pulling her closer. "I haven't felt like that in a long time." He let out a long sigh, giving her a longing, sad smile. "I was in a relationship ages ago with someone I went to school with. I was heartbroken when it ended and I don't think I'm quite over it." He squeezed her hand, lost in thought. "I think I wanted her to be The One, which made the breakup that much harder."

Rosalind nodded, surprised he was opening up to her. "How do you feel about it now?"

"Honestly? A part of me is still hurt and I don't want to get hurt again."

"I understand," she nodded. "Kind of-I've only ever really had one relationship and it was awful. But because of it it I feel like I have no idea what to do when I like someone since I assume the worst."

"You won't have to worry about that with me," he grinned. "I like that we are taking things very slowly. There's no pressure to take it any further."

"I like it too," she whispered, his nose touching hers for a kiss. Her stomach lurched, her mind racing for the right words. She pulled away, averting her eyes to the garden gnomes tip-toeing around the yard. "There's a lot in my life that no one knows about and I've always been afraid of opening up about it because I think it'll drive them away."

He leaned his head away from her, swallowing her words. "We don't have to talk about the past. Not if you don't want to. We can take this as slow as we both need to."

Rosalind smiled in relief. "Thank you. I don't want to push you away."

"Nonsense," he grinned. She wrapped her arms around his torso with a smile painted on her face, her stomach filled with the uneasiness of the false confidence in his words.

Next chapter: Famous Last Words.