Necessary Monsters

Chapter 4

Summary:
"I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it."
"You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

Post to the dragon infested wilds of northeastern Peru is not always possible, and what birds do manage it are never timely. Which is why Felix does not read Rita Skeeter's article on Juniper Windsong* until several months after his graduation. "From Cursebreaker to Quidditch Darling: A Witch of Many Hats" declares the headline, set above a photograph of an awkwardly smiling Juniper. She's giving the camera a surprised sort of half-wave, as though only aware of its presence a second before the flash. So far, Felix has done a successful job putting his crush on his school friend from his mind, aided by the million and one things he has to learn about his new and dangerous job. But something about the picture-Juniper's expression touches that part of him still nursing a soft spot for her. He severs the photograph from the article with his wand, tucking it carefully into a trouser pocket. And for the next three years, that's where it stays; his only aid in recalling her face with the precise detail he craves more and more frequently.

The body on the hospital bed has the same features, slightly aged. But Felix cannot reconcile it with the Juniper he knows. There's no sign of life in her, beyond the incessant twitching of her fingers. Closer inspection reveals her myriad tiny cuts to be deeper than Felix initially realised. The wounds, while magically sealed, are puckered and raised. He knows each one will leave a small scar.

And her face. Her face is entirely expressionless. It reminds Felix of the mannequins at the hospital's entrance. No one could confuse her condition with merely sleeping.

How long he stands by the bed minutely inspecting each injured part of Juniper, Felix isn't sure. His brain is strangely detached, as if it's reached the limit of what it can process in one day and has recused itself from any further analysis. Felix can't really blame it. In the span of one morning, he's fallen from exuberant high-spirits through various layers of unexpected terror before bottoming out in wretched guilt. Now, with no action left to keep up momentum, the rapid rush of conflicting emotion burns out, leaving numb exhaustion in its wake.

Only when his knees start to feel shaky once more does Felix remember the thing he's leaning against is a chair, and he drops into it. It's a comfortable, winged armchair, most unlike the hard, wooden chairs Madam Pomfrey conjures for guest use in the Hogwart's Hospital Wing. He wonders briefly if all the rooms in St Mungos are equally accommodating or if it indicates this patient's need for more regular supervision.

Felix sinks deeper into the cushions gratefully. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, or the fact that he's been denied furniture this comfortable for years, but drowsiness begins to trickle through his limbs enticingly. Keeping his eyes open is suddenly a herculean task...

Felix only knows he's fallen asleep when the soft click of the hidden door unlocking wakes him. Disoriented, he struggles from the chair, fumbling for his wand. But the witch who enters, a short, curly-haired woman in lime-green robes, says "Dragon-Heart String," promptly before he's able to pull it from his pocket.

"You're awake this time." the healer observes crisply, striding to the bedside table. "Good. I was beginning to worry you'd been cursed as well."

Felix makes rather more production than necessary stowing his wand back into his rumpled robes, surreptitiously wiping sleep from his eyes and giving the heat in his face time to cool. When he turns back to the bed, the healer is running her wand over Juniper's chest slowly, the wood just brushing the white sheet. The wand tip glows a deep, pulsing red and the healer nods once as if in confirmation.