Roots

09:00

The days aren't - blurring together, necessarily, but it's starting to feel dangerously close.

Harriet starts her rounds absurdly early on Wednesday - mostly because Severus leaves absurdly early, and she'd rather distract herself with her patients than sit around in a room agonizing - wondering if he's safe.  Plus - her patients are starting to get as antsy as she is - impossible not to be, really - and they'll be distracting each other with this, and hopefully, it'll help them all -

Not crawl out of their own skin.  As much as possible, anyway.

There have been some positive changes, besides - despite, well, everything - and with Frankie in particular.  Frankie's mum and dad have been allowed to move into Frankie's room - she's improved so much, there's no discoloration left but the barest tinge around her lips, eyes and nose - and she hasn't sneezed sparks in over twelve hours.  Her braids have been done again, too - by her mum, much neater.  Harriet still checks in on Wednesday - still does it quite early - can't help herself, though, really, at this point, it's not necessary.  But - it's just nice - in all this mess - to know at least one little girl is getting better.

It's while she's in Frankie's room - all of them chuckling at some joke Frankie's dad has made - Harriet honestly can't remember it even minutes later, though maybe she'll remember it someday - when it happens.  The pounding on the door.  Frantic - rapid - making them all flinch - making poor Frankie clutch her blankets high to her chin. 

And, of course, the panicked shouts of: "Potter!"

Appleton's voice.  Loud - grating - she winces before she can stop herself, and Frankie and her family stare at her, fear beginning to bleed into their expressions.  She swallows.  Holds herself as upright as she possibly can.

"Excuse me," she says - forces her voice steady.  "I'll check in later."

Looks are exchanged - Harriet turns her back on it - can't let herself dwell on it.  Exits the room - her temper already beginning to fray - to find Appleton leaning against the wall - pale but for his reddened nose - his eyes wide and wild and glassy -

Her stomach sinks.

"I need you to check my temperature," he rasps at her - spittle flying from his lips - and Harriet - well.  Thank Merlin she's already got one layer of protective charms on - though it doesn't stop her from shrinking back the slightest bit - from reinforcing them - she scowls right back at his immediate glare.

"I'm following protocol," she snaps - points her wand at his forehead.  The light materializes - and Appleton's expression melts into a horror much deeper than the kind she'd seen in the faces of Frankie and her family.  Her own blood pauses for more than a moment in her veins -

Red.  So very, very red.

"Second floor," she says after a strained silence - her voice comes a little rough.  Appleton recoils -

"But - "

"Do not make me Stun you," she adds - keeps her wand aloft.  Pointed straight at him.  She's heard - through snatches of conversation with her colleagues in the hallways, though she's yet to deal with it herself - that a few infected patients had tried to resist being taken to the second floor - though no one's actually died yet, and Severus is still working on an antidote - and he's possibly the most gifted Potions Master on the planet - a few of them, apparently, had screamed about it being a death sentence.  Just going there.  Being trapped there.  Fearing being buried there.  She hasn't heard of it happening from another Healer yet - but Appleton's been bloody terrified all along.  And Harriet's tried very hard not to judge him - she's tried to give him grace - but if he pushes now, she'll hex him.  She won't hesitate.  She'll hex him if he makes her do so -

But he sags - after a moment that nearly stretches too long.  His chin tips down.  He sniffles.

"Okay," he rasps.  "Okay."

She sees him to the lifts - enters alongside him - despite the way the hairs on the back of her neck are lifted - her blood rushing through her body and ringing in her ears.  Adds a third layer of protective charms - just in case.  Appleton ignores it this time - tucks himself into one corner of the rickety box, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.  His hands are shaking - visibly, almost violently, in his armpits.  Fear.  People are afraid.  Outside St. Mungo's.  Inside.  Everywhere.

It must be why.  It must be intended.  It might even be enjoyed.

Harriet swallows again.  Keeps her eyes pointed straight ahead of herself.

The lift doors pop open - Harriet guides Appleton out carefully - he's still able to walk on his own, of course, though she knows without asking he hasn't ejected the mist yet, which means he's not at all deteriorated at this point.  For all the outright terror surrounding this floor - for all the dread of the unknown - she'd expected rushing chaos, and she's greeted with - well, nothing.  She doesn't see anyone - frankly, she doesn't see anything - just - closed doors - a few carts of bedpans.  The only thing that is even the slightest bit off - and it could be in her head - or a trick of the light - or something else unreal - there seems to be - a red quality to the air around them.  She discards it as quickly as she notices it - lifts her wand to send a Patronus out - seeking support - unwilling, really, to just abandon Appleton here alone for someone to find.  Not when it's - quiet and still like this.  But - perhaps they have some kind of tracking charm on the lifts - Selwyn appears reasonably quickly.  Before she can even begin to form the spell.  He comes rushing down the corridor from the left - sees her first - stops in his tracks for just a moment, so abruptly, his heels squeal against the floor beneath them.  His eyes widen, too, and, for once, he abandons his strict professionalism:

"Fuck."

"It's not me," Harriet says quickly - gestures to Appleton sagged against the wall behind her.  Selwyn - it's a little fucked up, how spectacularly he relaxes once he knows - well.  That she's in the clear.  For now, anyway.  Not a little - it's definitely fucked up - she knows why, of course.  It's not really about her - it's about Severus - it's about Selwyn worrying about Severus's focus.  Which is a little absurd, given - well, everything -

"Appleton," Selwyn says - gestures him forward.  "We'll find you a room - "

Appleton hesitates - not long enough for either Harriet to warn him again or Selwyn to warn him a first time - trips forward, nearly knocking into Harriet's shoulder as he passes her - she steps aside quickly to avoid physical contact. 

Selwyn nods back at her as he goes.  Harriet slips back into the lift - shuts her eyes for a moment before pressing a button at random to go back up.

--

11:00

This time, Harriet isn't drawn to the first floor by commotion.  She's called - via a memo that accosts her while she's just wrapping up a check in on Mrs. Thistle - who, like Frankie, is also improving nicely.  She excuses herself out into the corridor to read it, the older witch waving her away, a pleased little smile on her face after having received such a positive check up.

The memo is very vague - just: Come to the first floor.  No signature.  Annoying - but it's also not the first time she's been summoned by someone nameless since she started at St. Mungo's.  And - every time she's been summoned by someone nameless, it has been a true emergency - so she doesn't dither.  She drags herself to the first floor - stares at the button for the second floor in the lift the entire trip down - and finds Ron waiting for her in the waiting room - probably purposely standing away from the rest of the Aurors, all of whom ignore them both when they come together and hug - exactly in the way they probably shouldn't, what with everything going on.

"Are you okay?" Ron asks into her hair before they break apart again - Harriet nods, pushing him further away when he goes - it'd been foolish, really, to allow it at all.  She hadn't been thinking.  "Gin?"

"She's okay.  Just worried," Harriet steps away from him more when he doesn't retreat enough.  "Are you okay?  'Mione said you're - "

"Yeah," Ron runs his hands through his hair - leaves it standing on end in the wake of his fingers.  "Yeah - I.  I'm okay.  Bloke's fucked, whoever he is."

"How d'you know it's a bloke?"

Ron makes a face.  Shrugs.  "Feels like a bloke," he mutters, glancing away.  "Look, I just - mum's having kittens about Gin being in here.  And you, too, of course - but you're a Healer.  You'll - look after her, yeah?"

Harriet would bet a significant portion of her Gringott's vault that Molly, at present, is doing more than just having kittens - but she's not going to say it with Ron's face that bloody haggard.  He looks as bad as he did, almost, during the worst days of the war - that horrible, prolonged winter camping trip that had nearly fractured their relationship clean in two.  She reaches forward instead - squeezes Ron's wrist gently.

"'Course," she says quietly. 

"We'll catch him," Ron adds - doesn't sound quite convinced of his own words.  "And - well, I've heard Dumbledore and Snape are - "

"They'll figure it out," Harriet finishes for him when he breaks off.  Ron nods - twists his wrist to squeeze her arm back.

"Yeah," he croaks.  They look at each other in silence before they part again.  Harriet refuses to call it a helpless look - because it isn't.  It isn't.

And they'll see each other again very soon.

--

14:00

Harriet checks in with Ginny during her afternoon break - finds her folding a bunch of her papers into little origami cranes - a visibly growing pile of them accumulating around her crossed legs on the mattress - and stops in her tracks, horrified -

"Those aren't patient notes, are they?"

"No!  I made sure - it's just your notes on scheduling and room assignments - I'll put them right later, I swear!" Ginny says - too quickly - shoves some of the little cranes off the end of the mattress and out of sight.  Harriet watches them go, scowling.  "I'm just bored, Harrie - and I can't stop thinking about Draco - "

"Yes, alright," Harriet says - waves off more words and apologies.  She gets it, she does - it's just - fuck.  This is her space.  "See that you do put them right - I bloody need those."

"Yeah, yes - of course," Ginny's not rolling her eyes, at least, and she doesn't sound annoyed or impatient - but still.  Harriet eyes her - eyes the remaining unfolded papers stacked neatly beside her - as she crosses to slump into her office chair.  Ginny waits for her to settle before adding: "Have you seen Snape today?"

"Not since this morning," Harriet lets her head loll backwards - looks a the ceiling.  "Did see Ron - he stopped in downstairs - your mum's worried."

"'Course my mum's worried," Ginny's grumbling a bit now - Harriet opens one eye to look at her.  "She hates Draco, too - once we're out of here, she'll probably wring my neck - "

Harriet - isn't quite sure she can disagree with that.  Hums a bit - closes her eyes again, folding her hands over her stomach.  Molly - hasn't said anything about Severus the way she knows Ginny's heard an earful about Malfoy - but Harriet's caught enough worried looks from her to know that she's just that - worried.  About Severus.  As if Severus would ever do anything to hurt her - Harriet, in a very distant way, gets it - but still.  Still.  And Malfoy -

"As if it matters," Ginny adds - her voice a bit thicker.  "He could be dying - "

She breaks off entirely.  Sniffles. 

"Severus isn't going to let that happen," Harriet says - again - firmly - quietly, gently.  She's not trying to be hurtful - certainly not dismissive - it's just.  Repeating it.  To help Ginny believe it.  To help Ginny to know it - the way Harriet does.  Plus - she'd really rather Ginny not cry again.  She'd - developed a rather powerful aversion to that back in second year.  Ginny crying - it's never good.  Never.

Still - Ginny sniffles again.  Shuffles around.  When Harriet looks again, she's laid herself down on her side - her back to Harriet - her hair spread across the pillow, reaching towards Harriet, blood-like - and pulled the covers up to her ears.  Harriet looks away again quickly - she already feels like shit.  She doesn't need to feel any shittier.

--

16:00

Severus tracks her down just after her first quick loo break of the afternoon - and it's jarring, to see him when there's still sunlight bleeding inside through the windows.  Which is fucked - because they do not have a routine - it's only been a couple of days - and they'll never have a routine for this because a routine would mean this has been prolonged, and Severus - he isn't going to let that happen.  He isn't.

He tugs her into a broom closet - doesn't bother lighting the space - holds her face between his hands - kisses her in the dark.

Says against her mouth: "I won't be back up tonight."

"Oh," Harriet whispers - it's not a surprise - frankly, it's a surprise he's slept with her the nights he has already - though she's been trying not to think of it that way.  But - of course - especially if they're in the middle of a brew - fucking of course he'd eventually have to stay up - stay down there - working on it.  The word comes punched out - comes nervous and small - she's immediately embarrassed, but Severus squeezes her arms gently.  Pulls her right into his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin - his palm presses gently over her hair.

"I'm close," he says - softly, his breath warm on her ear.  She shudders a little despite herself - especially when he follows it up with the lightest kiss on her temple.  "I'm close - this will be over soon."

"I know," Harriet breathes back - because he's said it, and she knows he's never seen the point of sugarcoating or lying - that's part of the reason he's frankly not allowed near patient families in particular - he's too blunt.  She curls her fingers into his robes - tips her head back to kiss him again, mashing their noses together in the process - nearly knocking her glasses clear off her face in the process - 

She means for it to be brief - she does.  She'd started out seeking comfort - just that - not - well, anything else.  Certainly not anything - that maybe pushes boundaries.  And that is how it starts - almost perfectly innocent.  Except then it keeps going - and she doesn't stop herself from running her hands down his ribs - and Severus responds when he probably shouldn't - spreads one hand open at the very base of her spine - dangerously close to the top of her arse - and Harriet's lips part - and maybe it's an accident - maybe it's on purpose - but then their tongues are in each other's mouths - and Severus is outright palming her arse for the first time ever - and his hand is so large and so warm - and Harriet - she can't stop herself from moaning - and -

He doesn't just withdraw - he rips himself away, knocking what must be his elbow against the door, the thud particularly loud in the shadows of the broom closet.  Harriet whines a bit before she can stop herself - and Severus lets out a ragged breath in response -

"I'm sorry," she says hoarsely.  "I'm sorry - I didn't mean - "

Severus huffs - soft.  "Don't apologize for my inexcusable lack of control."

Harriet blinks rapidly.  "I - "

"I don't know what it is - perhaps sharing your bed," he goes on before she can - fumble through words she can't quite grasp - and he sounds almost thoughtful, though his voice is lower - rougher - than she thinks she's ever heard it.  She can't quite see his face - but his eyes, somehow, are brighter than they've ever been - and staring right at her, even through the dark.  "It gets worse with each second I'm not touching you."

"O - oh."

Harriet's not quite ashamed of the fact that she squeaks a little.  Well - her face is definitely hot - but, well.  Her pulse pounds in her chest - at her throat -

The pause stretches for a moment.  Their breathing is - rather loud.

"Does it horrify you?" he asks quietly - and she reacts so immediately - so indignantly - anyone in the corridor outside must hear:

"Of course not!"

Severus is quiet for another beat.  When he steps forward, he crowds right into her space again - grips her chin tightly, lifting her face back to his.  His thumb brushes across her lips - it takes everything she has not to bloody lick it -

"When this is over," he murmurs, "I will have you."

"Yeah," she whispers back.  "Yeah, you will."

--

20:00

It takes - quite a bit to shake that encounter off - but she manages it.  Somehow.  She gets through the remainder of her rotation - has dinner with Ginny - manages to be completely normal.  She also lingers in her own office rather than go back to Severus's - it's just - well, it's a rather cold office, and she'd rather be here with Ginny than alone down there worrying about him.  She can tell - Ginny doesn't need to say it - that the feeling is shared - Ginny had probably felt that way last night, too, though, selfishly, Harriet can't bring herself to regret not being here.  Can't regret being with him. 

They wind up curling up on the mattress together quite early, all things considered - it's not unfamiliar.  After the war - after everything - when they'd first decided to share a flat - well, there'd been nights they'd both woken up screaming - and each of those nights, the other had come to just - be there.  Spooning together now - it's almost enough that the prickling beneath Harriet's skin goes away.  Almost.  But not quite enough.  She doesn't doubt Ginny's thinking the same thing.  It would be better - it would be best - to know that Malfoy - that Severus - that everyone - will be alright at the end of this.  It would be infinitely better.

--

23:00

She wakes to - the quietest little knock on the office door.

Her first thought - groggy - confused - with Ginny snoring into her left shoulder - is - Severus?  That it's him outside, trying not to startle them - that something's changed - that maybe things are getting better downstairs - that maybe this latest brew is it - he's solved it. 

Her second thought - Severus doesn't knock softly.  He doesn't waste time in that way.  He just doesn't.

It can't be him.

Harriet rolls off the mattress a little - lazily - regardless - still half asleep - her eyes almost-stuck shut.  She pushes Ginny away when she moans a complaint - the other witch huddles deeper beneath the few blankets - lets loose another soft snore.  Harriet ignores her - crosses the room - her wand abandoned on the bed behind her.  Later, probably, she'll kick herself for it - later, probably, she'll be horrified at herself - her own stupidity - but not in the moment.  In the moment, it doesn't occur to her.  She opens the door, picking at some of the sleep still lodged in her left eye -

Freezes solid when she finds Mrs. Thistle on the other side, swaying on her feet in the reaching shadows.

It's jarring - how quickly her brain moves from sleep to waking.  Jarring - the flood of adrenaline - but not enough to stop her long - in fact, within a second or two, she's shoving Mrs. Thistle backwards with both hands - away - far away - from Ginny in the bed behind her.  Nearly everyone she's ever met - bar the Dursleys, the Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort himself - has complained about the way Harriet reacts to danger - has complained about her need to sacrifice her own body to protect others.  Throwing herself in the line of fire - once, closing her eyes and letting the Killing Curse hit her point blank.  Hermione - Ron - Ginny - Arthur and Molly Weasley - all of the Weasleys, frankly - Remus - Sirius - Severus - all of them, at one point or another, has screamed at her over it.  All of them, at one point or another, has begged her to just stop and think for once.

She can't really argue with their points - it's all very true - she is rather an idiot in this way.  But - she's not going to change.  She could waste her time trying, she supposes - except her mind always goes blank in the moment - her instinct, first and foremost and basest, to protect - everyone but herself.  To force herself to hesitate - wouldn't that be more dangerous?  To herself - to others?  These are the things she tells herself - there's probably some foolishness in there, too.

Still - Severus will probably hex her into oblivion when he finds out about this.  She's maybe a bit out of her mind at the moment - but she still knows that.  He'll be livid.  Possibly angrier with her than he's ever been.

Doesn't change anything, though.  It simply doesn't.

The corridor isn't as dark as the room - she can see enough of Mrs. Thistle's face to see how pale she is in the light from the flickering torches lining the walls on either side of them.  There's no red nose - her skin is white enough, she could be a ghost - solid enough beneath Harriet's hands that it's impossible, no matter the tricks Harriet's eyes would like to play.  She sways violently after Harriet pushes her a second time - not to try to knock her over, of course.  Not that.  To just - make her back up -

"Miss Potter," she rasps - slurs those two words spectacularly, making Harriet's stomach plunge into her feet.  "Miss Potter - I - "

She stops.  Swallows - convulsively - loudly - it seems to echo through the deserted corridor. 

And Harriet - sees it.  Somehow.  Sees it - and it makes her stomach lurch uncomfortably - it makes her heart stop in her chest - and however slowly it seems to happen, it's still too quick to do anything more than stare - stupidly.  Uselessly.

A bulge that crawls up Mrs. Thistle's throat.  A bulge - jutting out on either side - almost cartoonish.  It rises - rises - and Mrs. Thistle makes a horrible sound - her lips part - and -

She vomits.  Hard.  Violently.  Right across Harriet's chest.

--

She's in shock.  Maybe.

She truly does not know how she gets Mrs. Thistle to the lifts.  She doesn't.  One minute, they're staring at each other, stunned, in the middle of the corridor - red dripping down Mrs. Thistle's chin - a spreading stain sticking Harriet's t-shirt to her skin.  The next, Harriet's got Mrs. Thistle tightly by the arm, and the lift doors are rattling open in front of her.

She checks for a temperature with her hands because her wand is left behind - and she's not about to go back into the room with Ginny.  Not now.  She can't - she'd never endanger a patient or a patient's family - and, frankly, Ginny's one of her best friends, and she'd never - never ever.  She hadn't seen mist - but there'd been so much vomit - it's impossible to say.  It's impossible to say.  So much bloody red vomit - Harriet looks like she's just killed someone with a knife, probably.  Or a Sectumsempra -

Oh, fuck.  Severus.

The lift shudders to a stop too soon - and Harriet pushes Mrs. Thistle again - this time, out into the red-tinged second floor - and it can't be her imagination.  It can't.  That red.  Mrs. Thistle stumbles over her own feet - Harriet holds her upright.  Draws a ragged breath - looks down the corridor to the right - waiting -

Selwyn - looks horrified.  Openly - his eyes roving over Harriet - over the horrible mess down her front.  Over Mrs. Thistle - he flicks his wand at her, but Harriet already knows. 

More red.  So much red.

"Fuck," Selwyn whispers - ragged, this time.  For a moment, Harriet can do nothing but shut her eyes.