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Chapter 35 - Thursday, July 5, 2007
A letter from St Mungos gives Neville a terrible feeling...
Hope you enjoy it!
I know I said in the past two chapters that it was a year in their life, but I couldn't postpone this chapter any longer...
Come say Hello to Frank Sr and Alice Longbottom
Wizard Jobs moodboard ☆ Mediwitch
A mediwizard/mediwitch is the wizarding equivalent to a medic. Mediwizards work at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Mediwizards are also field doctors and they tend to injuries at events such as Quidditch Games, Magical Tournaments and other Wizarding Events.
| Curse Breaker | Auror | Mediwizrd
Requested by @eliza-yaxley. (I'm so sorry for the long delay,dear.)
Request?
🌸No one is too old for fairytales!
I BELIEVE IN FAIRY TALES!🌸
Basic and Advanced Healing
Healing classes give training in Healing of every kind. This includes medical spells, potions, charms, procedures, etc, as well as ways to respond to situations requiring such magic.
Basic Healing I trains students on how to respond to emergency situations. It also teaches them magic to use during such situations. In other words, it is more of the “first aid” type Healing, which could be used by more than Healers and Mediwixes - in fact, it can be used by anyone in any field that could result in injuries.
Basic Healing II is slightly more advanced. It goes deeper into specifically magical injuries, caused by creatures, plants, or other beings, and how to treat them. It is still mostly focused on repairing minor injuries, such as broken bones, concussions, minor jinxes, cuts, etc. It focuses most on medical spells rather than potions.
Basic Healing III is the most in-depth look at medical potions. It teaches the properties of common plants and creatures used in such potions, as well as specific recipes. It trains students on how to create potions under pressure and time restraints, and forces them to learn to clear their heads during emergencies.
Advanced Healing I is where students begin their Mediwix training. They begin an internship with the Ilvermorny nursing staff (who are unfortunately busy) and work alongside them in their Healing. During their class period, they Heal those in need, and if there is no one in need, the school nurses will teach them more about Healing.
The end of Advanced Healing II results in the Mediwix Certification of the student. They have a part-time internships with Mediwix departments of magical hospitals across the continent (rotating every year). They take the Floo to these hospitals during their designated time, and are on call during weekends.
Required materials:
Healing 101 by A.N. Marrow Gray’s Anatomy by Henry Gray Medical Draughts, Drafts, and Concoctions by Freidian Rogers Size 2 Pewter cauldron Protective medical scrubs (for Advanced Healing only)
~Prefect Selwyn
Image Source. This post was made under the assumption that Mediwixes are the wizarding equivalent of EMTs and paramedics.
Fic Rec #52
Cause and Effect by Vexel
Hermione x James Potter
James Potter had a plan, an ingenius one in fact: graduate from Hogwarts, become an Auror, marry Lily Evans and live happily ever after. Easy, right? Well it was until a certain Hermione Granger decided to show up and toss James’ plan right out the Hospital Wing’s door…
COMPLETE: Chapters: 1 - Words: 16,073
Maybe Snape never acknowleged it, but she always seemed to be good at potions. Hermione Granger would be a decent mediwitch or pharmacist....I guess.
Home Sweet Home
Could you PLEASE do an angsty/emotional headcanon where Severus just had a huge fight with the reader and he hears they're now in the hospital wing because they were in a fight with some death eaters and left for dead afterwards? (preferrably without anybody actually dying)
“Get out!” Severus snarls, dropping a book heavily onto the table. It doesn’t escape your notice how his hand shakes, as though it’s itching to hold a wand and make a number of choice movements.
“Fine!” you shout back. “See how you like being alone with your bloody stoic misery! You can send me an owl when you finally grow up!”
You see the look in his eyes, the wide, fearful shock as he watches you go, slamming the door behind you. He didn’t think you’d take his bluff seriously, but you’re tired of his shit. He needs to sort things out instead of dragging you into the same arguments over and over again.
He hates himself, you know. He’ll hate himself more now that you’ve left.
‘GOOD,’ you think vindictively to yourself, not caring that it’s the middle of the night and you’re only a few blocks from the line of pubs on Imbibery Avenue.
After all, you’ve got your wand, and you know you’re not a looker on your better days.
And today is not a better day at all.
As you pass a couple of stumbling wizards, your anger is slowly replaced with caution. You’re alone and it’s late, which are two things that you’ve always been told are a bad combination. For a moment, your footsteps falter and you think of turning back. It’s not too late to admit your fault in the argument, to listen to him pour out his heart as he rests his head in your lap. But then you remember the look on his face when you had suggested that he speak with a professional about his nightmares- the disdain and loathing directed at you as though you’d just told him that he was defective and in need of fixing.
‘No. He can stew in his need to be right. Besides, my flat isn’t too far and I could do with a walk.’
You shiver in the frigid night air. You can just hide behind your bulky robes and your long hair and pretend to be a hag of no consequence, you tell yourself. Still, your mind can’t help but wander to imagining Severus curled up on the couch, his knees drawn up to his chin as he shakes silently with pain and self-hatred.
You turn a corner and realize that you’ve stepped into a dead-end alley.
Shit.
You’ve allowed yourself to be turned around because your traitorous mind is focused on him- a bastard who doesn’t deserve a lick of your sympathy, what with his utter refusal to even try a single session of therapy!
“Hello there, girly,” a gruff voice calls out behind you.
You turn to see a leering face with ruddy cheeks and matted hair. To his right and left are two others with similar predatory expressions.
“Hey lads, let’s have a bit o’ fun, yes?” the tall one says. “After all, no pure-blooded lady with a scrap of honor would be out at such a late hour.”
“Yeah, she’s obviously been hit by the ugly mudblood stick!” laughs the short, stumpy one, whose face reminds you of a rat with a pig’s nose.
There’s no time to pull your wand. A flash of red and yellow hits you across the face and all you can do is scream.
Everything explodes in pain, but even then, your last conscious thought is regret that you didn’t have a chance to give him a proper goodbye.
Severus tears into the Spell Damage ward with a look so frightening that the mediwitch at the front desk takes a step back in terror.
“Name?” A thickly-set older woman with a curl of white hair over one side of her forehead pulls out a clipboard and steps into his path.
“Snape. Severus.” He is trying to look past her, but she puts out an arm and blocks his way into the ward.
“Family and spouses only,” she says mildly, looking at his disheveled appearance with a faint sneer.
“I’m…she’s…important…to me…” Severus seems to deflate, his eyes flashing with fury.
“I’m sure she is,” the mediwitch replies flatly, “but you’re not allowed in unless she is conscious and gives her consent. As it is…she’s still in pretty bad shape.”
“I’m a Potions master! I work for Hogwarts and-I could…I…” he falters at the fierce look on the mediwitch’s face.
“You can wait over there,” she says, pointing to a dimly lit waiting room with sad-looking chairs.
Severus looks like he’s about to argue before his shoulders slump and he turns, defeated, to follow her directions. The seats are as uncomfortable as they look, and he shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting towards the hall of darkened rooms as though he might be able to see through the walls if he simply stares hard enough.
It isn’t until the next morning that he wakes up, his head tipped back against the wall, by a tapping on his shoulder.
“Here. You’ll need this.” The mediwitch, looking somehow less tired than he feels, is handing him a cup of very strong-smelling coffee. “Don’t worry. I haven’t put anything in it other than a very mild Pepperup potion. It adds to the bitterness, but I figured that someone like yourself wouldn’t mind.”
Severus takes the cup and stares down at the thick, dark-brown liquid with a grimace, but then he sniffs and downs the entire cup in one long gulp.
“She’s awake, and I told her that you were waiting here. Thought about kicking you out last night, but something tells me that she needs you more than you deserve. She’s in Room 2B.” With that, the mediwitch turns and walks back to the station without another word, leaving the doorway open for Severus to pass through into the ward.
He rises stiffly from his seat, brushing off his robes, as though it will make him look less scruffy and disheveled, moving with long strides towards the aformentioned doorway. He pauses in the doorway, looking in at the form lying tucked under starched white sheets, her head turned towards the window.
“Hey,” he says, because there’s nothing else that he can think to say that will break the terrible silence.
“Severus.” The sound of your voice is like a sigh, but you don’t turn your face towards him.
This, more than the bandages on your arms and the pad on one side of your head over your left ear, strapped down with gauze, fills him with dread.
“I…I should have found you in time…I…I came as soon as I-”
“I had you listed in the registrar as my next of kin. I know I didn’t ask you, but with my parents…gone…I…I needed someone…”
“They didn’t let me in because I wasn’t family.” He says the words as neutrally as possible, trying not to remind you of the loss you’re probably still feeling- your parents dead in a Death Eater attack only a few months earlier and your siblings far away in Germany and the States, respectively.
You turn to him, then. Your face is still very bruised, one eye swollen until it is nearly shut.
“I know. I look terrible. But..maybe, next time, you could be-” You shake your head gently, wincing at the motion. “I’m just being silly.”
“There won’t be a next time!” His hand is pressing gently over yours in an instant.
“You can’t protect me forever, Severus,” you say so softly that he leans forward, watching your lips move. “They still haven’t caught the ones that did this to me.”
“No…I…I want…” he runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it back and away from his long, angular face. “I’ve been a bastard. I have no right to ask such a thing of you, especially after…” He trails off, his eyes full of pain and self-loathing. “I want to protect you, goddamnit. It eats me up inside to know that you’re like this because of me.”
You let out a breathy chuckle, your body tensing at the pain that it brings you. “It wasn’t your fault that a bunch of rogue Death Eaters decided to rearrange my face. I should have Apparated home, but I needed to clear my head…and I was careless.”
“It is. Not. Your. Goddamn. Fault!” Severus is shaking with anger, not at you, but at the excuses for human beings who have placed you in such a state.
You laugh again, slightly more loudly, and wince at the effort.
“Well, at least they didn’t rape me,” you joke, as though this is something worth joking about. Your eyes dart away from him, and he knows that you are too afraid to look at his reaction- as though he would be pleased that you are not ruined in that way, at least.
He stiffens and tells himself that he won’t let out the sob of anguish that is threatening to escape his lips. He feels so utterly powerless, his scrawny body curling in on itself as the pain fills him.
“None of that matters, beyond my relief that you are still here with me, though you are well within your rights to drop me and ban me from your room after I’ve acted like such an utter shite.” He gently runs his hand down your arm in a comforting motion and you sigh, your face relaxing slightly at his touch.
“I’ve missed you,” you say, and it is then that he lets out that tiny cry of pain and relief and regret, his eyes glittering dangerously with unshed tears.
“I…missed you as well,” he says, bringing his nose down gently against your own, which has remarkably escaped unscathed. “May I…kiss you?”
“Please,” you whisper against his lips, “maybe it will make everything all better.”
Though he doubts that you’re being serious, he still obliges, kissing you softly at first, and then with a bit more pressure as you push back against him.
“There, all better,” you whisper, when he pulls back, his eyes filled with concern and anguish.
“Move in with me.” It’s not a command, though it sounds like one. It’s a plea, one that he is disguising by using every fiber of his being to control the quiver that threatens come out in his voice.
“Don’t just say that because of this,” you respond, opening your bruised eye a bit more than before and gesturing with one bandaged hand at your broken body.
“I’m not. I’ve been trying to force myself to ask you for months, honest.” He gives you a look, the serious one that shows that he is utterly committed to his word.
“You’re so adorable when you’re trying to be noble,” you reply with a weak smile. “Honestly, it should be illegal…in addition to when you do that thing you do with your voice.”
“What, do you mean this?” he lowers his voice until it is nearly dripping with sex and a small measure of hope.
“Maybe,” you reply, wincing again as you grin a bit more widely at his cheekiness. His lips mirror your smile ever so slightly as he takes joy in the happiness he’s provoked in you. “Now, there’s the Severus I know and love.”
“I love you…as well,” he says hurriedly, looking away with embarrassment.
“Do you really?” you say, your eyes fluttering slightly in their puffed-up sockets. It’s obvious that talking with him has exhausted you.
“I love you, no matter what, even if I am also a gigantic git on a regular basis,” he says, leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead gently. “Now, you need to rest or I shall go get Nurse Rachet out there to administer a Sleeping Drought.”
“Yes, doctor,” you say sardonically with a tiny yawn. “Stay with me, then, until I fall asleep. I…it makes me feel safe.”
“Anything,” he says, gently pulling a stray strand of hair back from your face.
He stays there, by your side, long after you’ve fallen asleep, his dark eyes watching you like a silent guardian.
He keeps his promise to protect you, and you keep your promise to move in with him if he really means it (which, of course, he does). Eventually, a few months after the incident, he tries out the “bloody therapy thing” that you had suggested earlier, finding it far more useful than he’d originally thought it would be. Everything isn’t better, and you still have moments of panic when you’re walking around town, Severus by your side, but he holds your hand and walks you through it, his voice calming you until you’re better.
Life will never be perfect, but you don’t need perfect, and neither does Severus. Healing is, after all, a process best undertaken with the one you love.
