Chapter Thirty-Five: Sleepwalking Past Hope
Chapter title taken from the HIM song.
"Today we begin the path to self-healing."
"What a load of rubbish." An exasperated Daphne threw the Prophet onto the table with the rest of her documents, her lips pursing. "They can't possibly believe that he died by your hand. Their only concern is their reputation." She took a sip of her tea, the china clinking against her rings. "What are you going to do in the meantime?"
"See the shrink," Rosalind laughed, setting down her cup. "So I don't lose my mind any more than I already have."
"The one at the Ministry? I didn't even know it was an option," she said with a raised brow.
"Neither did I but my suspension letter did say I can use the resources during this time," she responded with a yawn. "And it'll give me something to do. I can't go anywhere without getting bothered. It's so weird." It has been several days since her interrogation, and Rosalind couldn't go for a walk without being hounded by either journalists or being stared at by passerby.
"Well you know you can stay here to get away from it all at any time." She placed her hand on Rosalind's knee, grinning. "This will all blow over eventually. After that you can continue your rendezvous with Draco."
"There is no rendezvous with anyone thank you very much," she retorted with an eye roll, face flushing. "We're just...good friends."
"Friends who snog on occasion?" Daphne laughed. "You can't possibly deny you have feelings for him."
She shrugged, taking a bite of biscuit. "I plead the fifth."
"C'mon Rose, give it a go already," she continued. "Stop kicking yourself over what happened with George. You weren't right for each other no matter how nice he was to you."
"I know." Rosalind took another biscuit, avoiding her best friend's gaze. "I guess I've run out of excuses."
"I've known Draco since we were children. He has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you, let alone opened up to them."
"Not even Astoria?" she asked, surprised.
"Not even Astoria."
"Oh." She fixated on the documents on the table, sipping her tea slowly. "He makes it sound like they're expected to marry."
"They're each other's defaults," Daphne said with an eye roll of her own. "It's a smart match but they don't love each other. Besides, she's not his type."
"What's her type?"
"Tall, rugged, and on the run," she laughed. "Her and Dolohov have been seeing each other for years."
Tiny footsteps distracted them, a sleepy Ares dragging a book and his favorite teddy bear, attempting to climb onto the couch by himself. "Mummy," he said rubbing his eyes. "Can you read me a story?"
"Of course my love," Daphne said as she sat him in his lap. "Which one?"
"The fountain," he said pointing to the middle of his book.
"What's that?" Rosalind asked, craning her neck to glance at the cover.
"The Tales of Beedle the Bard? You've never read them? They're wizard fairy tales."
Rosalind shook her head. "I grew up hearing about La Llorona and La Siguanaba and El Cipitio." When Daphne raised her brow, she explained, "La Llorona and La Siguanaba are cursed women, and El Cipitio is a young boy with a big hat and big belly that likes to throw rocks at pretty girls."
They laughed, Daphne sliding the book between them as Ares sat on his mother's lap, his legs over Rosalind's. "You'd like this one. It's about three witches and a Muggle knight who take destiny into their own hands." She grinned, the three of them squeezing onto the large couch as Daphne read the story, Rosalind pondering Daphne's words.
His tall, broad body was leaning against the pillar in the atrium, an elegant pocket watch counting down the seconds as he watched the woman approach him, her thick curls bouncing with every step. She smiled broadly upon seeing him, pulling him into a tight embrace, causing a strange tug in his chest.
"You did your hair today," he observed, pocketing his watch.
"I put in an effort every once in a while," Rosalind smiled as she took a seat in the cafe, two cups of tea steaming before them. "Don't look so surprised."
"Surprised isn't the word I'd use," he said, taking a sip. "I'll save that for tonight."
"What's tonight?"
"I'm taking you to dinner."
Rosalind's eyes fluttered in surprise, her lips curling into another smile. "It's a date."
Draco grinned, handing a Galleon to the witch placing their sandwiches on their table and muttering his thanks. "Work has been interesting. Everyone's keen to know what the real story is with you and the other officers."
"What have you told them?" she asked mid bite of her turkey sandwich.
"That we haven't spoken so I don't know the details. But," he pointed to the copies of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly by them. "It's odd they didn't say why any of you were suspended."
"Well I wasn't interrogated like the other two were. They looked pretty rough when they came back from the interrogation room. Hadeon even gave me a cookie," she laughed dryly. "I don't know what he said to Johnny and Shelley but I don't think it's the same conversation he had with me."
"Why not?"
She motioned her fingers for him to lean closer to her, her voice low. "They know I used Dark Magic against Sal and that I wasn't trying to kill him. But it left traces and that's what they're upset about. Someone from the Prophet found out and they want to keep the story there. They don't care that they died."
Draco nodded, swallowing a lump of roast beef. "So the other two didn't do anything wrong?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so. But they're easy targets and caused a distraction from me."
"Why not sack you then?"
"And make it look like the Ministry has a rouge officer that killed a Muggle? They would have a field day and it'd be an admission of guilt. They want this hidden."
"Hmm." Draco took another bite. "You reckon Potter or the Minister know?"
Rosalind shrugged. "If Harry knew he'd tell Hermione and she'd go to Kingsley. I don't think that's something he stands for but who knows."
"So even if he died and you didn't curse him, nothing would have happened. But since the Prophet got wind of it-"
"Exactly." She nodded again. "They don't care about me either."
"Interesting." He stirred a lump of sugar in his tea as two wizards walked by them, ogling Rosalind. "You've become quite the overnight celebrity."
"I know," she rolled her eyes. "I liked it better when I was invisible."
"It'll blow over once the next big story comes out. Don't worry, I'll keep you distracted with my charm in the meantime," he grinned.
"Funny, Daphne said almost the same thing earlier," she said with a smile.
"Smart woman." He glanced at his pocket watch, his hand resting on top of hers, caressing the side of her hand. "Wear something nice tonight." He stood, pulling her close, the familiar scent of peppermint filling her nostrils.
She glanced up at him, inhaling his scent. "I'll see what I can do." They smiled for the last time, their fingers intertwined, watching one another head into separate directions.
Dr. Samira Najjad is a middle-aged witch, with kind eyes framed with fine lines of the years of laughter she has had. A half-blood witch who grew up with a healer mother and psychologist father, she saw first-hand the benefits of mental health and therapy and has advocated it for the wizarding community.
Immediately upon entering her office and inhaling the subtle scent of lavender, Rosalind felt a rush of emotions: anger, despair, joy, and intense grief, unable to control the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Welcome." Dr. Najjad's warm voice greeted her. "Please, take a seat." She motioned towards the leather chair, Rosalind sitting slowly. The doctor smiled at her as Rosalind attempted to compose herself, her chest heaving as more tears pooled from her eyes.
"What's happening to me?" she said softly, the bags under her eyes now red instead of their usual light purple. "Is this from the potion mentioned in the paperwork I filled out?"
Dr. Najjad nodded, pointing to the diffuser in the corner. "It's a potion concocted by my parents. It allows the intended recipient to feel what they have been suppressing in order to fully heal from their trauma." She handed Rosalind a tissue for her nose. "Everything you say to me will be kept confidential, unless you pose a threat to yourself or others. We take every session one step at a time. Do you have any questions?"
"H-how long will I feel like this?"
"Today will be the worst day," the doctor replied gently. "But you have already made the first step. You sought out help. Today we begin the path to self-healing."
Rosalind murmured her agreement, inhaling sharply, the grief and pain fading away from the realization her journey had already begun.
Rosalind is finally getting help - something I think everyone needs no matter how "normal" they think they are or how "small" their problems seem to be. Our next chapter will be a fun one, with Draco and Rosalind going on their first (!) official date. Thank you for reading!
Next chapter: Second Heartbeat