get out [h. granger]

three

Shyla waited patiently, though she was exhausted after only half as much sleep as usual, for the ward's healer to unlock the door. Healer Smythe smiled at Shyla, excitement glimmering in her brown eyes. The past week had been full of changes for Shyla. Ever since her aunt and uncle had come to visit her at the hospital, things had begun to shift in her favor, the most monumental of which was her transfer to the long-term resident's ward.

It was incredibly satisfying to not be labeled as "dangerous" by the hospital's staff, if only in the technical sense. Shyla was sure that there was still plenty of hospital staff who considered her dangerous, but she couldn't see that changing any time soon.

The healer of the long-term care ward was peppy and motherly. She was babbling on and on to Healer Smythe about something Shyla didn't know enough about to follow the conversation. The door unlocked with a tap of the healer's wand and swung open.

"Here you are, Shyla," Healer Smythe said, gesturing to an empty bed second from the right. "This will be your new bed."

It looked just like the one she had been in previously. The only difference was the two beds beside her, only one of them occupied. To her left was a man who stared blankly up at the ceiling, completely unaware (or at the very least, doing his best to be) of the happenings around him.

"Shyla, this is Mr. Bode," the Healer introduced. "And over here—oh, dear. Gilderoy's wandered off somewhere."

Shyla and Healer Smythe both watched with amusement as the healer hurried back out into the corridor. Healer Smythe turned back to Shyla.

"Listen, Shyla, it's not my place to say anything, but if you're uncomfortable with what your aunt and uncle are suggesting for you..." Healer Smythe trailed off. "Just let me know."

Shyla pursed her lips. On one hand, she had no interest in marrying Draco Malfoy. She had met the boy once when he was six and she was seven. He had been snobbish, stuck up, prat at the time and she couldn't really imagine that it had got much better. And Shyla wasn't stupid. She knew what her aunt really wanted out of her.

She knew who Lord Voldemort was and she had a pretty good idea of who would be aligned with him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Marienne wanted Shyla to join.

Shyla wasn't particularly interested in serving anyone. She had spent most of her life prisoner, if only to a hospital bed and her own weaknesses. She wasn't leaping at the opportunity for yet another person to control her every action.

But for freedom... well, Shyla would probably do anything to get her freedom. And if Lord Voldemort was the one, through whatever means, offering that to her, she wasn't going to say no.

"Thank you for your concern," Shyla finally said. "That matter is between myself and my family."

Healer Smythe smiled slightly. She turned just as the door opened. "Oh look, Healer Finwick's brought Gilderoy back," Healer Smythe said, a grin tracing over her lips. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Shyla. Healer Finwick will take care of you for now."

Shyla couldn't help but be slightly disturbed by the implications behind Healer Smythe's mischievous grin. "Bye, Healer Smythe."

As Healer Smythe left the room, Healer Finwick entered, a middle-aged blonde man following her in. Closely behind then came four teenagers. Shyla's previously disinterested state was completely gone. She leaned back on the bed, observing the four teens. She recognized the boy with glasses as Harry Potter from the Daily Prophet. The redheaded boy and girl looked to be siblings. The fourth girl had curly hair and was staring at who Shyla could only assume to be Gilderoy like she had seen a particularly disturbing ghost. 

"Ah, hello!" Gilderoy said brightly to Shyla. "Are you here for an autograph too?"

Shyla blinked at him, incredibly tempted to be snipish. She decided that she would have to live next to him until June, at the very least. "No," she said simply, biting her lip ever so slightly to stop herself from smirking at the man. "I live here."

The redheaded boy snorted into the back of his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. "How do you put up with him next to you?" he asked Shyla. 

Shyla smiled thinly. "I've only been here for about ten minutes, that's how," she said. "Do you know him?"

The redheaded boy grinned and nudged the girl with curly hair beside him, who flushed crimson and looked anywhere but Gilderoy. "He was our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor a few years ago."

"You're Hogwarts students?" Shyla asked, a new spark of excitement lighting in her eyes. The girl with curly hair nodded brightly, seemingly glad to be distracted by Gilderoy. "Wow," Shyla sighed dreamily. "What's it like?"

The girl with curly hair beamed at Shyla. "It's amazing, honestly. There's so much to learn, so much complex magic all around the corridors. Obviously, it has its downsides, but it's so amazing to see all of that every day!"

The redheaded boy snorted again. "Of course, you'd be excited about the magic part, Hermione. The food is where the real magic of Hogwarts is."

"Hermione?" Shyla asked curiously. "Is that your name?"

Hermione nodded her head of curly hair. "Yes, I'm Hermione."

Shyla smiled the most genuine smile she had in years. "That's a pretty name."

And Hermione blushed crimson all over again. 

Shyla turned away from their conversation, having interrupted them long enough. She turned to her set of coloring pencils and the piece of parchment she had been working on before she had been moved to the new ward. Her thoughts far away, she turned towards the paper, her nimble hand drawing whatever it pleased. 

It had been so long since she had been around anyone her age. The encounter with Hermione and her friends had been like a hit of a drug that Shyla had been denied for years. She felt a sudden, urgent desire to become part of their world. She wanted to feel the magic in the corridors of Hogwarts with Hermione. She wanted to taste the magical food with the redheaded boy. She wanted to be at Hogwarts so bad it hurt. It was an aching in her chest that tightened its grip around her heart and pulled as taut as it could.

And it was then that she made up her mind. It didn't matter what her Aunt Marienne wanted. It wouldn't matter what she would have to do, so long as she could end up at Hogwarts with the pretty girl with curly hair—the same face that had ended up sketched out on her piece of parchment. 

a/n: shorter chapter, but lots of important things are starting to take place! Just to be clear, Shyla is being presented as very morally grey. she's not opposed to doing bad things to get what she wants but she's also not actively doing any of those things. no spoilers, but this probably won't be the case forever ;)

(and no, she's not just going to join the "good" guys after like a week or something. this is about exploring giving in to other people's judgments about your character. for shyla, that means giving in to the idea that she is destined for evil.)