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who: rahim and victoire / @nchanting

where: st. mungo’s

His status as a Healer had been enough that the security guards had let Rahim move unheeded through the wards. How easy it had been made it feel like more of a trangression. A betrayal. He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t assigned here, that was for sure, but more than that, seeing Neville Longbottom’s chest rise and fall made him feel cold inside. Though part of him wanted to be relieved at the sight of him still alive, the other part was thinking that if the man was just dead, this would be over. Rahim would have peace.

He should be dead. Rahim’s curse would have killed him, if not for Lydia Longbottom. So now he knew that he was capable of it. His father knew it. And Bellatrix, too. The shudder that should have come before, at seeing the not-quite-dead-at-his-hands body in the hospital bed, was here at that. Her moments of clear-minded sanity were more off-putting than anything else, and he could see the sharp glint in the whites of her eyes in his memory now. She’d said she was proud of him. It still made him feel sick. But there’d been worse orders to come. Finish the job. She’d been right - it had been easy for him to get here, a Healer in a hospital, Healing robes the camouflage of a killer. No better infiltration of St. Mungo’s existed. You’ve already done it, he reminded himself again. His hands picked up Longbottom’s chart, just for something to do, for a reason, if anyone walked by, to be standing here, struck motionless as if Rahim was the one who’d been struck by a curse. He would have killed him before. He could have. He did. And Professor Longbottom was even more defenceness now than before.

In fact, from where Rahim was standing, he looked dead already. It was like permission. Like it was fait accompli. There was nobody to save Neville, no Lily Potter blazing down a path of fiery retribution to still his hand. She hated him already, wanted him dead, as he now knew without a doubt - nothing would change that. This wouldn’t change that. There was nothing to stop him this time. Except ... he was still wearing his Healing robes.

#i. threads #i. victoire weasley #i. victoire weasley ( 002 )#don't need to match this. i babbled.

@nchanting: VICTOIRE WEASLEY LOCATION: ST MUNGO’S

He wasn’t good with new people - or possibly people at all. Now that Rahim was no longer a trainee, he’d hoped to be allowed to work alone more often. Instead, he’d been stuck with a new mentor as he worked towards being granted Senior Healer status. A Weasley, of all people. And this Weasley in particular, who he had his own reasons for disliking. Rahim would almost prefer to be working with Dove Longbottom - almost. “Healer Weasley,” he greeted, maintaining his removed politeness as he loitered outside her door. Rahim did that a lot at St. Mungo’s, standing in doorways, only committing halfway. “I’ve been continuing Madam Nettle’s round of treatment as you instructed. Using the method advanced by ...”

My mother. Rahim wrestled with the competing urges of longing and resentment; upon meeting Victoire’s eyes again, resentment won out. “Your former mentor,” he said instead, bitterness hidden behind a mask of cold neutrality. “Her healing seems to be progressing quickly. You were right. It wasn’t Scrofungulus. The fungus was only her attempt to hide what she’s been up. She’s almost certainly been using dark magic. Should I make a report?” Rahim asked carefully, aware of the dangerous position he was in. Policy was uncertain on that front; St. Mungo’s had a tendency to ask no questions, but things were changing. There was a war brewing. He knew that all too well.

#i. threads #i. victoire weasley #i. victoire weasley ( 001 )

@dovelongb: DOVE LONGBOTTOM LOCATION: ST. MUNGO’S

He’d always felt on edge around the Longbottom family. Stuck to his usual tactics of retreat, avoid. Dove was different. He’d had to build up a tolerance just because he saw her so often - this hospital had been their warzone for years now. Maybe even longer than that, since before either of them had been born, when his grandparents had struck the first blow, a blow so sickening that even the thought of Ward 49 made him want to recoil, unable to face her. But he couldn’t.

Because Dove was the kind of person you had to build a tolerance for in general. He couldn’t give her an inch of ground. “You’re staring. It’s like you’re trying to cast a wandless Incendio on me,” he said, forcing himself to turn around to face her. He did feel safer that way; sensing her eyes on his back had been unsettling. “Something you needed? Did you want me to consult on a case?” he asked, with a challenging hint of irony. He knew he was the last person Dove Longbottom would ever come to for help. This was something different. His frame tensed, preparing himself for whatever attack might come. In the hospital, she was presumably limited to only verbal - but from Dove, even that could be sharp enough to draw blood.

#i. threads #i. dove longbottom #i. dove longbottom ( 001 )

@cfdiggorys: Z DIGGORY LOCATION: DIAGON ALLEY LIBRARY

The pile of healing textbooks in his hands were too heavy. Rahim impatiently cast a hovering charm on them so they rose from his grip and floated behind him instead. He found the study rooms at St. Mungo’s typically ... uncomfortable, and though it was disloyal, he’d rather put off going home as long as possible. It was easier to read here, anyway, where he would not be disturbed - that, he told himself, was the real reason. He headed for the language section and was unsurprised to see Z there, looking through the collection. They often met here, and not always by accident. “Find anything interesting?” Rahim asked in greeting, releasing the hover charm on his books; they thudded onto a nearby table with a bang.

“Remind me to show you my family’s library sometime. They took most of what we had before.” They being the Ministry and we really meaning his grandparents: Rahim had never been apart of before, but he’d picked up his father’s way of referring to the past, as if it was something that had been taken directly from the two of them, something they still had to be bitter over. “But we still have a lot of texts that ... well, let’s say I doubt you’d be able to find them here,” he finished neutrally. The key subject of most of the texts they had left were dark magic, something Rahim felt vaguely averse towards, but he knew it interested Z.