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Being a healer-in-training was far from the easiest job, with the sheer amount of gore and mental warfare you were forced to witness, but you found it immensely rewarding. Seeing the joy on relatives' faces when their loved one woke up, or the sense of accomplishment when a patient walked on their own again, all made every second of pain and anguish worth it. You had seen death, yes, but you had also seen life in all of its rawest and most celebratory forms. As it went, you could not picture yourself working another job anytime soon. You simply couldn't wait to complete your training and progress from being the one to change potion IVs and administer ointments, to being the one who made the diagnosis and performed the complicated healing magic. For now, though, you had to settle for the rookie work, silently observing the qualified professionals and practicing on fake conjured patients.
Everyone had to start somewhere.
Thus, your evening shift was plotting on like any other, going in between your assigned patients to check they had taken their potions and eaten, performing a simple wound healing spell here and there. Your next evaluation was not for another three weeks, so you were not yet stressed. But it did make you confused when the director of the hospital pulled you aside as you exited a patient's room. Chief Healer Owlforth had never personally spoken to you before: all your evaluations were performed by the senior healers, excluding the one currently training you.
"Healer L/N," he spoke calmly, half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. His silky white wizard robes billowed around him. "May you come with me to my office?"
Your breath hitched, trying to scan your brain for any major fuck-up you had recently committed.
"You're not in trouble," he reassured, sensing your worry.
The tension in your muscles dissipated, and you asked, "What's going on, sir?"
"I'm afraid you will have to wait until we are there. This is an especially private matter," he said, beginning to move in the direction of his office. You followed suit, confusion tickling in your mind.
"I'm really not in trouble?"
"Helga, no," he chuckled, but you noted his dry and discerning energy, "What we are about to discuss loosely pertains to your excellent performance, in fact."
"Oh, I see," you mumbled, unsure what to make of the situation, "Thank you."
After what felt like an eternity, he opened the door to his office, where two of the senior healers were sat talking to three aurors. What in Azkaban were aurors doing at St Mungo's? Their presence at the hospital usually only meant one thing: damn near irreversible curses and injuries having befallen some unlucky people. One of the present senior healers was your mentor, Healer Thompson, a stern but well-meaning woman in her forties. The other was a younger man that you had only crossed paths with once or twice (he worked in the dark magic department, which you were yet to train in), but you knew his name to be Healer Moonstone.
"Healer L/N, please take a seat," Chief Healer Owlforth said calmly, moving to sit at his desk. You did as requested, occupying the empty space next to Thompson. "We have just admitted a particularly severe and sensitive case, one that requires the utmost confidentiality, and you were suggested as the most trustworthy healer-in-training to handle the patient from day to day."
You glanced around the room to see that everyone had fallen silent and had their eyes pinned on you.
"Naturally, Healers Thompson, Moonstone and myself will perform the majority of the healing, but we do not have the time to handle the smaller tasks, hence why we needed a reliable apprentice such as yourself on board as well."
One of the aurors piped up, an unnerving man with a fake eye that appeared to move of its own accord, "This is top secret, you understand? Don't go home chattin' about this with your family and friends."
"Yes, as Auror Moody has emphasised, no one can know," Owlforth continued, "You will be required to sign an NDA, as this patient is under witness protection. And we also need you to be aware that taking on this patient has the potential of putting you in danger, as well."
Your brain struggled to process the onload of information, but as it slowly pieced the puzzle together, you felt the strangest feeling of excitement: you had been the one selected for this case; not Ophelia, not Hamish - you. Danger be damned. That was when you realised everyone was waiting for you to say something, and you rushed to clear your throat. "Yes— yes, of course."
"So, you're on board?" Owlforth asked.
You nodded firmly, "Yes, sir." You had become a healer precisely because you were willing to sacrifice so much for the lives of other people.
Documents were soon brought out, and you quickly read through them before picking up the provided quill, only to realise there was no ink pot.
"Blood signature," Auror Moody grunted, "Start writing. It might sting a bit."
This was an extremely serious case, you noted, but you were already determined and committed, so did as instructed and felt a burning sensation on the back of your left hand as you signed your name. You handed the NDA over, wondering if you were allowed to heal the small wound or not.
"Go ahead and heal it," Owlforth said quickly, "This is not torture."
Relieved, you pulled out your wand as one of the other aurors began speaking. "The patient's name is Regulus Black, an eighteen-year-old male. You may know him from school."
You did indeed, he had been in your year, in fact. You had never spoken to him, and hardly had any classes together, but everyone knew of the noble Black house. The last you heard of Regulus, he was a death eater, so why was he under witness protection?
"Mr Black, while formerly serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, recently risked his life to aid our side in the brewing war. While he has not been conscious to tell us so, we have substantial reason to believe he has been using his proximity to You-Know-Who to aid in his destruction for some time now. Therefore, the Ministry has granted him amnesty. While we will not divulge exactly what he has done, we will tell you that it is imperative that the wizarding public believes him to be dead, as You-Know-Who will absolutely try to kill him if he believes him to be alive."
"I see," you replied quietly.
"As it stands, we do not know if he will wake up," your mentor, Healer Thompson, spoke up for the first time, "But given the vital knowledge he likely has, we must do everything in our power to give him the best possible chance of recovery."
"Yes, ma'am," you said, mustering every ounce of confidence and courage within you, "I will do my very best."
***
The hospital room you were led to thereafter lay behind a concealed door in a lesser used wing. Inside, however, was a set-up you were used to seeing: clean white bedsheets, pouches of sustaining potions, and a shimmering golden thread blooming from his body that thrummed with each and every heartbeat. You easily ignored the scenery of the room in favour of the intriguing patient: Regulus looked a lot different from the last time you saw him. His cheeks were more sallowed, and there were dark bags under his eyes. From the looks of it, he hadn't had a haircut in a while, either.
Your gaze trailed along the healed scars on his body, knowing all too well that while he may look fine on the outside now, the story within him would be vastly different.
"What injuries and curses are we dealing with?"
"Inferni attack," Healer Moonstone replied, "Plus some other minor issues. But the dark magic that inferni exude has taken a toll on his body."
You hummed. You had never treated an inferni victim before: it was the kind of magic most healers only ever read about. "What's the usual survival rate of inferni attacks?"
"We have... little to no data on it," he said slowly, "Most people who die of inferni attacks don't have someone to seek help immediately."
"And Mr Black did?"
Moonstone nodded, "His house elf."
You were more than curious as towards why Regulus was attacked by inferni, but you knew that information would not be divulged: Moonstone likely didn't know it either. The aurors would only have shared information necessary for treatment, so you were left with no choice but to swallow your questions.
"Your task will be simple," the senior healer began, "Make sure his potion IV is never empty, and regularly check his vitals."
"Yes, sir."
"As this is our first time dealing with an inferni attack, we aren't sure what kind of symptoms he will exhibit," he continued, "Keep an eye out for anything alarming."
And you did over the course of the next few days. A large portion of your previous patients had been reassigned to other training healers, as they wanted your primary focus to be Regulus. He was an unpredictable case lapsing uncharted territory— as far as anyone knew, his condition could drastically change in a matter of seconds. As a result, you were given a charm that would summon Owlforth, Moonstone and Thompson specifically immediately if anything happened.
But nothing noteworthy did for a few days. Regulus appeared to be peacefully in a coma, doing nothing more than occasionally twitching. You were grateful for the opportunity to prove yourself as a healer, you just hadn't expected such a serious case to be so... boring. He was like any of your other patients in comas, only you didn't have to linger in their rooms so much. With your already lacking social life, you had become quite lonely in the absence of human interaction, which caused you to start talking to either yourself or Regulus— you weren't sure which. And you couldn't remember when it started either, but by now it was a habit for you to enter his room and begin chatting.
"Good morning, Mr Black," you greeted the unconscious male, making a beeline to change his potion pouch, "Did you sleep okay?" You chuckled at your own joke— a depressing fact you did not wish to acknowledge. "I didn't. Neighbour's toddler won't stop screaming bloody murder at two in the morning."
Regulus remained unresponsive.
"Terrible twos, as they say," you continued, "At least, my mum always says that. I should probably pay her a visit soon."
You secured the new batch of potion in place, and began checking the important things like his temperature.
"I hope you know I won't get a day off for the foreseeable future because of you," you said, pretending to be irritated, "At the very least, I'm getting compensated generously. Otherwise I wouldn't even consider it." A lie, but it didn't matter.
A sigh escaped you.
"You better wake up soon. You're very important, apparently. Does that make me important by association? Ah, not that it matters. I need to change your bedsheets later, which will be a bit of a task. Gonna have to levitate you and shit."
Merlin, you were going crazy.
***
"Do you remember me from school?" you asked another day, studying the unchanging man, "We never spoke to each other, but I'm not sure you ever spoke to anyone, really. I didn't either, to be fair."
As usual, no response.
"We had transfiguration together in fourth and fifth, I think, and DADA in first, but other than that, I think our timetables were pretty dissimilar," you rambled on, "That, and you were a Slytherin. Your house never really mixed with the rest of us."
You paused for a moment, weighing the silence in the air.
"I just wonder if you ever even noticed me. I wouldn't be offended if you didn't— I made every effort to be as invisible as possible. But, you never know. I always noticed you, I think maybe loners tend to notice each other. Or maybe that was just me. Of course, your brother forced you to be at least known by association."
***
Another week passed.
"Have the Ministry not told your family you're alive?" you pondered aloud, "I mean, for all I know, your parents maybe dead... but Sirius is alive, isn't he? Shouldn't he know? What about your house elf? Surely you must have cousins."
You analysed his resting figure, a scrutinising but considerate haze coating your irises.
"I guess it's safer for them if they don't know. And maybe you're not close with any of them. It's not any of my business, regardless."
The thrumming of his heartbeat throughout the shimmering golden thread always mesmerised you, and today was no different.
"I finally get time off in a couple days," you said calmly, "Your condition appears to be stable, so they've deemed it okay to lessen the supervision. Don't worry, Senior Healers Thompson and Moonstone will regularly check on you."
You continued to gaze at his features, wondering if he had always been so handsome, or if you had just never noticed.
"I'm gonna visit my mum while I'm gone."
***
When you returned from your three days off, you felt rejuvenated and eager to see Regulus again, even if he was merely an unresponsive vessel. You wanted to share with him everything you had gotten up to in your time gone, though it was remarkably depressing that you had no one else to tell.
What you did not expect was this.
Regulus Black was convulsing on his bed in a seizure-like manner, surrounded by Owlforth, Thompson and Moonstone who hurriedly uttered charms. The air in the room was full of anxiety and panic, and your body sprang to life as you moved to join them.
"What's going on?" you asked.
"He started having these seizures a day after you left," Moonstone answered, sweat beads formed on his brow, "They're getting harder and harder to control."
"We don't know why they're only starting now," Owlforth said.
"Shit," you murmured, too inexperienced to aid with their enchantments, but compassionate enough to grab Regulus' hand and speak softly, "Come on, Regulus, you can see this through. You have to. I haven't even told you about my time off yet."
And just like that, he stopped convulsing, calming to the usual resting position you were accustomed to seeing.
At first, you worried that his body had given up altogether, but a simple glance at his heartbeat told you that wasn't the case.
"Curious," Owlforth muttered, "The stopping of the seizures is usually much more gradual."
It was strange, you thought, but you were grateful Regulus was okay.
***
You had been back for five days, and you were yet to see another seizure from Regulus, making you wonder what on Earth had transpired while you were away. Had they not been diligent with his upkeep? That didn't make sense: his survival was far too important.
Your usual schedule of five days on, two days off in the span of a week had resumed, and you were finishing the last of your tasks before you said farewell to Regulus. Whatever caused his seizures, you hoped sincerely would not return.
But then Healer Thompson was stood at your door on your second day off with furrowed brows and pursed lips. "He's started having seizures again," she said, "They only seem to happen when you're not there."
Your mouth parted, but no words came out.
"We need to test if it's you that prevents them."
Bringing yourself together, you nodded firmly, and grabbed your jacket.
The second you arrived at Regulus' bedside, the other healers stepped back and stopped performing their charms, observing you silently to see what would happen. You gulped, feeling the pressure put on your shoulders, but didn't let it show. You took the patient's hand in yours, and began speaking softly.
"It's okay, Regulus, I'm here," you said, "You're gonna get through this, and I'll tell you all about what I've been doing."
And sure enough, his body calmed almost instantly.
***
"We suspect that your energy is direct competition for the dark magic residing in him," Moonstone explained as you sat in Owlforth's office, "Your magic is so pure and powerful that it fights the darkness just by your presence alone."
"And for that reason, we believe that if you perform the dark magic removal spell, it will work," Owlforth continued, "The rest of us have remained unsuccessful, but we think that you might have differing results."
"But, that's—"
"An incredibly complicated charm, I know," the chief healer sighed, "But if anyone can do it, it's you."
Silence befell the room: a lingering, heavy kind that pressed on your chest and tickled your nerves. Nothing would ever be soothing about the clean white walls throughout the hospital, but usually it was scenery that drove you forward and pushed you to succeed. Now, it felt like they were inching closer to you, daring you to breathe shallow and let fear consume you. Your fist clenched into a tight ball, the walls scaring away with it, and you looked Owlforth dead in the eye. "I can do it."
A glint flickered in his spectacles.
***
You wasted no time in practicing the spell, muttering it until your vocal cords hurt and the Latin felt meaningless to you. Waving your wand until your hand cramped up and you had to switch to the other one, channelling every ounce of magic that thrummed through your veins. It was not until Owlforth and Moonstone had declared your performance as perfect as possible on a conjured patient did you let your arms drop, eyes glancing towards Thompson who gazed at you with quiet approval.
"Better not waste any time," you said, your voice distorted by your sore throat.
And so there you were, stood beside Regulus Black with your mentors nearby, letting the cool breeze from the cracked window flutter on to your cheeks. It did little to calm your nerves, but your nerves were no match for your sheer determination. You had grown to care for the man in the time you had been taking care of him, and you desperately wanted him to wake up.
Inhaling deeply through your nose, you steadied yourself, holding your wand in position as you closed your eyes. Only warmth and compassion filled you as you began murmuring in Latin, the words fused to your memory in a way that had them rolling off your tongue like you were born to say them. At first, the room remained unchanged, a stillness shadowing the anxious breaths of the healers. A pang of disappointment at failure struck you, sticking to the hairs on your skin and making it crawl with shame.
Then, shimmering blue light cascaded from your palms, creeping towards Regulus, opulent in its approach. Mesmerised, you observed as the glitter hovered above his body in swirls and spirals. Black specks started to escape Regulus, soon becoming full swarms of magic that brought with them an unsettling and uneasy presence. You stood your ground firmly, allowing more of your own power to flow from your hands, glueing itself to the dark magic. The quantity of specks leaving Regulus became more sparse, and you watched in amazement as your blue light absorbed them, before disappearing into thin air, as if nothing happened.
Nobody said a thing, eyes pinned to the patient, wondering what would happen next.
"I think you did i-" Owlforth began to say, but he was cut off by coughing.
A soft gasp left your worn throat as Regulus' eyes shot open, grey and calculating irises orienting themselves so they could analyse the situation. He was awake, he was alive, he was— you had done it.
"Mr Black," the chief healer said calmly, clearing his throat and acting the epitome of composure and professionalism. But through that façade, you could see the tremble of his wrinkled hands, and that was when you confirmed what you had suspected.
No one had thought Regulus would make it.
"Where am I?" the hoarse, parched voice replied. Whether it sounded similar to his voice in school, you did not know: you had never so much as exchanged words with him.
"St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Owlforth replied smoothly, "You have been in a coma for a few weeks."
A groan rumbled from Regulus' chest as he closed his eyes again, lifting a weak hand to rest on his forehead. "Fuck," he said finally, "Where's Krea— my house elf?"
"After reporting your activities and injuries, he disappeared. We haven't seen him since."
Regulus appeared relieved at that answer, but then stilled, "Am I being arrested?"
Owlforth shook his head, looking around as if to signal that everyone else should leave. That was when Regulus' eyes landed on you, and his brow creased in vague recognition.
"We went to Hogwarts together," he noted, voice hoarse, making you pause in your departure.
You nodded, glancing at Owlforth one last time before leaving along with Moonstone and Thompson.
***
The next hour or so passed slowly, tending to other patients while pretending like you were not overjoyed at your accomplishment — after all, you could not tell anyone. Not even your family could know what a huge step you had made in your healing career.
But you were also anxious as to how Regulus was doing now. While you still hardly knew the man, you had naturally grown to care for him, even if he would never return that care. You could barely focus on the potion IV replacements you were performing, running on autopilot as your mind ticked away. The relief— like taking off high heels at the end of the night— trickled through you when you sensed the call to Regulus' room.
In a flash, you were there, grateful that Regulus seemed to still be perfectly alive.
"You can take it from here, Healer L/N," Owlforth spoke calmly, before making a swift departure.
Routine was something you came to cherish as a healer: your trained response to every situation vital towards no hesitation and efficient yet high quality care. Typically you would spring into action, knowing exactly what to do and what to say.
But you had not been trained for this situation. Your actions and words fell short as Regulus' cold grey eyes scanned you meticulously, likely noting your partly opened mouth. Thankfully, he broke the silence.
"What was your name?" he asked.
It was no shock he did not recall you: your family were insignificant halfbloods, and you never made an effort to stand out in school. Regulus had moved differently, not in that he put any effort into being noticed, but rather the opposite— trying desperately to escape the constant gaze that came with his noble house. Not out of lack of pride, but as if he was always up to something and did not wish to be caught. You now realised that was indeed true.
"L/N," you spoke, voice coming out strangled, "Y/N L/N."
He hummed, "I don't think I ever knew that."
You said nothing.
"But I remember your face. Vaguely."
You nodded, scouring your brain for a task that you should be completing as a healer, but kept shooting blanks until your eyes landed on his potion IV. With quick but shaky moves, you began replacing it, eyes pinned on to the transparent pouch.
Regulus watched you. "You seem to be quite important here."
"Um..." you faltered, "Not really, well, maybe now, I guess..."
"You were the only one able to save me."
You paused. It had not occurred to you that Owlforth would divulge that information.
"Thank you," his words were calm, calculated, but still with a hint of sincerity that he had never been known to muster.
"Of course," you pulled yourself together, "It's my job."
Silence sat for a couple beats.
"You must be hungry," you said, rushed, as it was a thought that was occurring to you much later than was professional.
He nodded, "Famished, actually."
"What would you like? I'm afraid we've no Michelin star restaurant but some of the meals really hit the spot on an empty stomach."
Ever so slightly, the corners of his lips tugged upwards, and your heart flipped. "What's a Michelin star?"
"Oh," you realised, "The best muggle restaurants get Michelin stars."
He tilted his head, "You muggle-born?"
You noticed how he didn't say mudblood. "Uh, no, but my mum is."
He hummed, again, "Do they by any chance serve a roast dinner?"
"Not today, I'm afraid," you sighed, "But we do have grilled chicken with sauté potatoes and vegetables."
With a returned sigh, he said, "That'll do, then. Thank you."
"No worries. I'll be back as quick as I can."
***
"You must be curious," Regulus spoke a few days later, sat up in his bed as you checked his vitals.
"Hm?" you replied absently.
"As to why I'm declared dead."
"Oh," you paused, "I suppose I am. Thought it would be insensitive to ask."
He shrugged, "You're the only person I see."
Stepping back, you pondered his situation. It was true that you were the only person he ever saw, as your superiors had not been back since he woke up. That being said, the aurors were due to arrive today and question him, and you could tell that the prospect of it was weighing down on him: the sullen, black eyebags you had known him to have had returned, and whenever you glanced away you would catch a scowl on his face.
"Well, why are you declared dead?"
"I know He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's secret," he said solemnly.
You said nothing, waiting for him to go on.
"He cannot be killed," he continued, "At least not as things currently are."
Grimacing, you muttered, "That doesn't surprise me."
A soft, empty chuckle emerged from Regulus. "Indeed. It will also be of no surprise that he used one of the darkest forms of magic to achieve immortality."
"I'm afraid I'm not that well-versed on dark magic yet."
"Horcruxes," he said simply, "Almost no witch or wizard knows about them. It took me a while to figure it out."
"Shit," you murmured, "What are they?"
"He splits his soul and places part of it in an object. It's an evil act that necessitates murder."
"Oh. Did you find one?"
He nodded, "Although I am unsure as to how many more there are, let alone their whereabouts."
"I see," you shifted on your feet, "And You-Know-Who knows you know?"
"He thinks I knew before I died."
"Are we sure he believes you dead?"
"That's the one thing we can be sure of. He is far too egotistical to believe his defences would not have killed me."
Your hand moved before your mind could compute, reaching for Regulus' hand to take it in a warm hold, squeezing ever so gently, as if he were so frail he would shattered like a china doll. When you realised your actions, you froze, quickly choosing to pull away and apologise. But, before you could, he was returning the grasp, gracing you with the tiniest smile that had you feeling a melodious swirl of nerves and euphoria.
It was hard not to like having him all to yourself.
***
While you had expected that the aurors would arrange going into hiding for Regulus, you could not deny the hurt it caused you. Not even you would be allowed to contact him once he was cleared to leave the hospital, as nothing could put his safety in jeopardy - and for how long, no one knew. It could be years before you would see his face again.
Maybe it was your lack of friendships, or lack of previous romantic experience, or both that had you reeling at the thought of losing someone you hardly knew, but it did not matter. Regulus would heal and leave, and probably forget about you altogether. Even though, as the next week passed, you grew closer.
"You got an O in herbology?" he scoffed, "No one gets an O in herbology."
You rolled your eyes, "Well, I did, along with Gertrude Newteye, and a couple others, I think."
"Yes, you were friends with Newteye, weren't you?"
You shrugged, "We were friendly. Anyway, I thought you were a straight O student?"
"In everything but herbology."
"Failed?"
Regulus deadpanned you, "An E, but thanks."
A smile crept on to your face, as it often did around him, "That's still a lot better than most."
"Indeed, but my parents remained to be livid."
"Mhm, how dare you only exceed expectations in herbology?"
Then he laughed. It sounded scratchy, like he had not used that part of his voice box in a long time, and he probably hadn't. Your eyes lit up at the sound, watching the curve of his lips as he felt at least some ounce of happiness.
"I didn't know you could laugh," you said, not as a light-hearted jab, but softly, delicately, like you were scared he would never laugh again.
His laughter ceased, and his grey eyes locked on to yours, "Neither did I."
***
"I cannot believe we never spoke in school," Regulus remarked a few days later.
"Probably for the best. You would have hated me."
"I find that hard to believe."
You raised an eyebrow at him, "Your delusion fascinates me. I have always been decidedly against muggle-born discrimination. That, and I'm not noble house pure-blood royalty."
His lips pursed, "Yes. I was quite the conceited prick, wasn't I?"
"Was?" you teased, relishing in the way his expression morphed into shock.
"You wound me."
"No, I heal you."
"Touché," he murmured, "I'm almost back to full health."
At those words, the atmosphere in the room shifted some place gloomier, a density lingering in the air that you were both yet to voice, but you wondered if he even felt it. Regardless, he noticed the manner in which you withdrew, eyeing you curiously.
"Why, don't you want me healthy?" he tried to joke, an already foreign concept to him.
"Of course I want you healthy."
He sighed, "If it makes you feel any better, I don't wish to go into hiding."
"Does anyone?"
"Fair point," he glanced around the room, as if checking there was no one else there, not that there ever was, "I... you're the first real friend I've ever had. I'm going to miss you." There was a discomfort in his tone, reflecting the habits of a man who had been raised to suppress emotion and hide vulnerability.
"I'm going to miss you too," you replied, trying to fight off the tears pricking at your eyes, when you had no right to be upset.
But Regulus was nothing if not observant: he noticed every single one of your mood shifts. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not," you said quickly, clearing your throat and standing up straight, not wanting him to see how easily you had become attached to him.
He did not push further, but part of you wished he would.
***
It was the last time you would enter that secret hospital room, one miserable Monday, and a gloominess had hung over you throughout the morning. You had been faking smiles at patients for hours, bracing yourself for the final steps towards Regulus. Now, the moment was upon you, and your heart sank at the sight of the man dressed up for the first time in weeks. It did not shock you that he had a dress shirt on, sleek and peeking out from under his black knitted jumper. He was achingly handsome, and you found yourself basking in the way his grey eyes glinted at the sight of you.
But this was not an intimate moment, for aurors were present in the room.
"We're about ready to set off," Auror Moody grunted, his rolling eye stilling to focus on you, "This should go without saying, but you can't make any contact with anyone until we give you the all-clear."
Regulus nodded, his gaze set on you, "May I have a moment alone with her?"
Moody looked between the two of you, before nodding, and leading the other auror out the room. Beats of silence ticked by, words unspoken lingering in the air like a crushing weight.
"Be safe, yeah?" you murmured, but your words did little to lift the atmosphere.
"Of course," he answered.
"I... I got you something," you said, reaching into the pocket of your robes, "Just to... I don't know... remember me by."
You presented him with the silver and green cufflinks, delicate and small, yet every bit representative of the man before you. He picked them up carefully, a small smile creeping on to his face, "I could never forget you."
Your eyes met the floor, embarrassment washing over you.
"I'll see you soon, yeah?" he said gently, and after your nod, he left the room, leaving behind more questions than answers.
"I love you," you murmured, too late for him to hear.
***
The remainder of the Summer was long, repetitive, and draining— you barely noticed when the leaves turned to brown and the temperature dropped. Day by day, you worked on autopilot, giving smiles that never met your eyes, and providing care that was a matter of routine and muscle memory. Your next assessment had gone very well, but not even that could lighten your mood, as you transferred to the next department to further your healing training. It would not be long before you picked the branch of magic you would specialise in: you already knew what it would be. In fact, it was the department you were now training in.
Healer Moonstone had given you a warm welcome when you transferred, saying he expected great things from you. Hamish had overheard this statement, and seemed quite bereaved, but not even his grumbling as he left for Accident & Emergency could improve your mood. Soon, your new routine became just as monotone and dull as the last, as much as your new colleague tried to make you smile.
"There's my favourite coworker!" he beamed as you arrived for the day, tugging off your coat. "How have you been?"
"Fine," you sighed, "You?"
"Amazing now that you're here."
He made no effort to hide his interest in you, and you made no effort to hide your lack of interest in him. Whether he had picked up on your blatant hints, you were unsure, because he never stopped.
Daniel was a twenty-year-old Ilvermorny graduate of whom was working in the United Kingdom for a year to expand his specialisation in dark magic healing. He was, to put it simply, everything Regulus was not. He was loud, enthusiastic, open, and emotional. None were bad traits, but none were traits that you desired in romance, as it turned out. Maybe you would have given him a chance had you never met Regulus.
"Halloween's soon," he began talking as you made your way out the staff room, "You got any plans?"
"'M working," you replied. With no social life to speak of, you had not hesitated to offer for the holiday's night shift, which was always difficult to staff. Especially as there were always unique injuries and charm errors on the spooky night. You would likely be asked to help over in Accident & Emergency during the course of the evening.
"That's a shame, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go out with me."
You paused. While Daniel had made his affections for you clear as day, he had never actually asked you out, and though you knew the day was coming, you were still shocked. "Oh," you replied, unsure of what to say.
"When are you next free? This evening?"
"Thanks, Daniel, but I'm not interested," you said calmly, delicately.
Despite you never once returning his flirtations, the look on his face told you he was blindsided by your rejection.
"I see," he said awkwardly, eyes glancing around.
"Sorry."
"It's okay. I'll work harder."
You were not sure what he meant by that.
***
You cried before you left for your Halloween night shift: not because you were dreading the shift, not because something had happened, but because you missed Regulus with every fibre of your being. Every day you woke up with the deep regret that you had not told him your feelings— naïvely, you had thought you would get over them. If anything, they were getting more intense.
At work, your emotions pushed to the bottom, you were confused to see Daniel there pulling on his robes. He beamed when he saw you.
"I thought you weren't working."
"I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else."
"Daniel, I told you, I'm not interested."
"I know," he said, "So, if I can't make you interested in the next month, I'll back off."
You rolled your eyes, "It won't work."
Thunder cracked outside, the deep rumbling of a storm across the land. You were not someone to be scared of bad weather, but that night you felt a shiver run down your spine. Brushing it off, you proceeded with your usual tasks.
***
It was not long before you were called over to Accident & Emergency, as predicted. All sorts of mayhem was taking place in the waiting room: jumpscares gone wrong and costumes malfunctioning. You could only sigh as you sent off your patient, her eyeballs now firmly back in her sockets where they belonged. Before you fetched the next mishap, you ambled your way to the toilets, desperate for a moment of peace alongside a piss.
But when you turned the corner, you stopped dead in your tracks.
"Y/N, we need you, a whole new wave has just come in!" Daniel called from behind you, but you could not answer.
Before you stood the man you had longed to see in months, the reason you had been stuck in autopilot, the reason you could not return Daniel's interest.
You were crying before you could say anything, shocked to the core by the presence of Regulus Black, dressed in a black trench-coat.
"I missed you," he said quietly, and those words broke you. You hurtled towards him with such speed you nearly knocked him over when you wrapped your arms around him. He was quick to reciprocate your embrace, although his movements were awkward and ill-rehearsed.
"I've been so depressed without you," you said through sobs.
"Y/N? I said we need you!" came Daniel's voice as he rounded the corner, "I— oh..."
You could only guess that Regulus had graced your coworker with a stern glare, because a pattering of footsteps accompanied a nervous statement.
"I'll give you guys a moment."
The second he was gone, you asked, "Isn't it dangerous for you to be out of hiding?"
"Haven't you read the news?"
You shook your head, "I've been working."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone."
"He's dead?"
He shook his head, "I doubt that. But he's at least in a very weak and incapable state and will be for the foreseeable future."
"So you can come out of hiding?"
He nodded.
"Oh, thank Merlin!" you sobbed, hugging him tighter, "I thought I'd never get to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"That I love you," you spoke without hesitation, gazing at him, your eyes blurred with tears.
A kiss landed on your forehead, accompanied with his hands holding your head, as gentle as if you were a porcelain doll. "I love you, too."
Your hand lifted to touch his wrist, feeling the cold silver of his cufflinks. "You're wearing them," you choked.
"Every day," he said, "Every damned day."