Maura Riley stood in front of the ornately carved door at the end of the dimly-lit corridor on the fifth floor of St. Mungo’s. She felt immobile, her arms nearly pinned in place, unable to begin the simple movement of knocking on the door as she read the nameplate in front of her eyes: Helaine McKeeven, Healer-in-Chief. Maura had never before had reason to enter the Healer-in-Chief’s private office, preferring to keep her interaction with the dour woman to a minimum, but there was no ignoring the terse summons she had been given this morning almost immediately upon her arrival. The pace of her day had been frantic, with several admissions including a critical case from Hogwarts, and Maura had not had time to worry about what might have prompted the request for a meeting until this very moment.

Maura took a deep breath to gather her courage, but as she raised her hand to knock, the door was thrown open and she took a quick step backwards, an involuntary whimper of fear escaping her. She felt strong hands grab her arms to steady her and she looked up to see Christien McKeeven, Helaine’s son.

“Mum’s in a right temper today,” he said conspiratorially.

Maura felt her stomach constrict at his words, but managed an unconcerned smile. “When isn’t she?”

Christien looked down at her and even though he wasn’t unusually tall for a wizard, Maura still felt diminished by their difference in height.

“Urgh, Maura,” he said suddenly, startling her from her preoccupied thoughts. “What’s that awful smell?”

“Oh, no,” Maura said, giving herself a cursory once-over and noticing a stain on her robes that her earlier, hastily-applied cleansing charm had missed. “It was the Appley brothers,” she explained, gathering the folds of fabric between her hands and scrubbing futilely at the blotch. “They found their grandmother’s wand this morning - managed to put vomiting hexes on each other before she could stop them."

“Never a dull moment in the paediatric ward, is there?” he said.

Maura shrugged, smiling wryly, and felt a section of her hair dislodge itself from the loose coil she always wore. She lifted the wavy, golden-brown length from her shoulder and as she tucked it back into place, she caught a whiff of something foul. Maura sighed. Those little terrors had splattered her head to toe before she could manage to remove the hex and she hadn’t the time to repair the damage now.

"You don’t want to go in there reeking of vomit, " Christien said. “Turn around.”

Maura turned in place and he withdrew the comb from the bunch of hair at the nape of her neck. She trembled slightly as Christien gently carded his fingers through the long strands.

"It's hard to reach every spot when you have that much hair," he said.

She closed her eyes, enjoying both the warm sensation of his cleansing charm and the simple physical nearness of him. It had been too long since they had stood together like this...as equals, as fellow Healers; not Maura as damaged victim and Christien as her rescuer.

When he had finished, she twisted her hair back up into the loose knot she customarily wore and turned to face him.

“Thanks.”

“Maura,” he said, his normally placid voice quivering slightly. “Will you meet me when you’re finished in there?”

She searched Christien’s face; the face that was nearly as familiar to her as her own, all sharp angles and long nose and crystalline grey eyes. She recognized the look he was giving her now, an expression of mingled false nonchalance and concern, and her apprehension increased suddenly. She swallowed against a knot in her throat.

“What’s going on, Chris?”

“Just...” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll wait for you, okay? We can talk then.” He brushed past her and Maura turned to watch him make his way down the corridor towards the staff room, walking so quickly that his robes were nearly a green blur.

Just get it over with, she thought, raising a shaking hand to knock on the door.

"Enter," said a precise and clipped voice.

Maura couldn't quite bring herself to walk directly into the room. She opened the door a crack to see Healer-in-Chief McKeeven standing ramrod straight behind her desk, arms crossed tightly across her chest, her expression severe. She was wearing the burgundy robes that reflected her position. Her white, close-cropped hair and steely grey eyes gave her an air of absolute power and authority. Christien had inherited his mother’s eyes, but Helaine’s eyes held none of her son’s warmth.

"You wanted to see me?" Maura said, stumbling slightly at the threshold to the room.

"Yes, Maura, sit down,” Helaine said, indicating a chair in front of her desk with an impatient wave of her hand.

The carpeting was so thick in the office that the sound of Maura’s footfalls was swallowed up as she approached the desk. She sank into the chair, but was forced to sit straight backed; it was hard wood, without any comfortable contours, plainly intended for sitting at attention, not leisure.

Helaine regarded her without a word, towering over her, making Maura feel more decreased in stature than ever. She finally settled herself behind her desk, steepled her fingers and peered closely at Maura, who resisted the urge to squirm in her seat like a guilty schoolgirl.

Maura hated making direct eye contact, especially when she felt vulnerable,as she did now, sitting with her back to the door. She searched the austere room for anything to rest her eyes on, anything that would hint at the humanity beneath Helaine’s cool facade. There were no mementos on the bookshelves, only neatly arranged volumes. No photos sat on the desk, just a container of quills and a tightly rolled scroll in the exact center of the desktop. Maura focused her attention there, certain that her life was about to change and the scroll held all the secrets.

Helaine unfurled the parchment slowly and read in silence for a few moments that seemed like hours to Maura. She fixed Maura with an unwavering stare.

"Katie Bell, a Hogwarts student, was brought to St. Mungo's yesterday following initial stabilization at the school infirmary. You're familiar with the particulars of her case?"

Maura frowned, uncertain what direction the conversation was taking. "In general, yes. I saw her briefly and reviewed her chart when she arrived but she was transferred from my ward within the hour."

She omitted the part where she had sobbed in the corridor afterwards. The memory of her own attack was still so close to the surface, even seven years later, and she never knew what would trigger a flashback. Fortunately, no one had been around to witness her shameful lack of professional reserve.

"Yesterday I had an owl from Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts...your old school, isn’t it, Maura?”

Maura nodded again, still unable to meet Helaine’s eyes. She studied her hands instead with their ragged fingernails, quivering with a fine tremor. She clenched them together tightly.

“He has requested a Healer be assigned to Hogwarts for the remainder of term, both to assist the matron and to be on site should any other incidents take place."

"They're expecting another attack?"

"I'm sure it's only a precautionary measure. Now, if I may continue," Helaine said pointedly, clearing her throat. "The Governing Council met this morning to choose the most appropriate candidate for this temporary position..."

Maura refused to listen to the rest of Helaine's announcement, her mind beginning to feverishly bargain with the fates.

Please, please, let it be Christien. He's going to Hogwarts and I'll assume the Bell girl's care in his absence. That’s why he wants to talk to me. That’s why he was here. It’s the only explanation that isn't completely humiliating.

"...of course, you'll still be on staff here. You will continue to attend monthly briefings and you may be summoned via tracer for emergencies."

Maura reached for the parchment Helaine was now holding out to her, willing her hands to stop shaking.

"All the information you'll need is there," Helaine continued. "Staff members, student enrollment, infirmary procedures..."

Maura scanned the staff list at the top of the scroll. So many familiar names there. So many of her former professors still on staff, their faces coming to her mind as she read: Minerva McGonagall, all compressed lips and foreboding manner when Maura failed yet again to transfigure the simplest object; Horace Slughorn, still Potions Master.

She stopped abruptly at the name of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor: Severus Snape. The name was vaguely familiar to Maura and she whispered it, trying to force the memory forward. Something in the sibilance of the syllables caused her to feel a sudden giddy rush of excitement and an almost simultaneous jolt of pure fear. Dazed, she looked up to find Helaine staring quizzically at her.

"You've gone completely white," Helaine said, a spasm of impatience crossing her face before the familiar hard expression returned. "I had no idea you would take the news this badly."

Maura asked the first question that came to her mind. “This decision is final?”

“It is, Maura. Healer Rhodes will be assuming charge of the pediatric ward in your absence.”

“How long do I have left?”

Helaine laughed mirthlessly. "Really, Maura. You make this assignment sound nearly as inviting as a lifetime sentence at Azkaban. It's a tremendous opportunity. You'll be on staff with some of the most renowned witches and wizards in Britain and you'll be working side by side with Poppy Pomfrey, as competent a matron as I've ever known..."

Poppy Pomfrey. Another familiar name. She had been matron during Maura’s own school years and matron when Maura had been so ill in her second year. It was largely due to her influence that Maura had even pursued a career as a Healer; now she was returning as her colleague.

"How long?" Maura asked again.

Helaine sighed. "They are expecting you Friday this week. Of course, the necessary paperwork will have to be filed with the Ministry and we will need to brief your replacement in the paediatric ward..."

Helaine’s voice continued rattling off procedures and policies but all Maura could hear was her own frantic thoughts. Four days. That was all the time she had to tie up loose ends at St. Mungo's before being shunted back to her old school.

Maura was only vaguely aware of Helaine wishing her good luck and coming around the desk to shake her hand crisply. She rose from the chair, her legs trembling from the force of emotions buffeting her. Ever since she had returned to work, her superiors hadn't quite known what to do with her, but never did Maura expect to be demoted and sent away. She was a fully-qualified Healer. She didn't belong at a school infirmary, especially not at her former school.

Maura walked blindly down the corridor, trailing one hand against the dark-paneled wood. Her head was swimming and she was concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, hoping to make it to the staff room before her legs gave out. She wanted to see Christien. Christien could straighten this out.

He was sitting at a small table in the staff room, holding a cup of tea but not drinking it, when Maura reached the doorway. He jumped up quickly when he saw her and took her arm, guiding her to the chair across from his.

Maura propped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.

“I’m being sent to Hogwarts,” she said, waiting for Christien’s response of disbelief and outrage.

“I know,” he said quietly. He reached across the table, gently pulled her hands away and grasped them in his own. “But you weren’t happy here anymore, Maura. You know you weren’t.”

She sagged slightly in her seat. It was true. She hadn’t been happy, not since her return, but leaving should have been her decision to make, not the Council’s.

“It really will be a wonderful opportunity for you,” Christien said, his voice taking on a note of forced enthusiasm. “A change of scenery is just what you've been needing."

"That's what you think?” Maura said, jerking her hands away and rising to her feet, anger giving her renewed energy. “Being chucked back to Hogwarts to administer Pepperup to a bunch of sniveling little brats is a 'wonderful opportunity?' I'll tell you what it is, Chris; it's a wonderful opportunity to get me out of the way for good, isn't it?"

"I had nothing to do with the Council's decision, Maura."

She stepped close to him, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "How long did you know about this? Why didn't you warn me?"

Christien stood and grasped both her arms tightly. "You're getting hysterical, Maura. Calm down."

Maura wrenched away violently. She could feel heat rising in her face and her heart thudding wildly in her chest. "Don't take that condescending tone with me, you arrogant bastard," she said. "I'm not a child."

She saw him shift his gaze over her shoulder and give a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

"Who are you looking at?" she demanded.

He looked back to her quickly. "Who...? Uh, no one, Maura."

Maura jerked her head around but saw only a brief swirl of robes disappearing around the corner. Everything began to click into place in her mind.

"You had nothing to do with the Council's decision, but Gwen is on the Council now, isn’t she? Well, how cozy for you both. Didn’t have the bollocks to end it yourself, did you? Oh, no, what would everyone think of you, ditching your mentally unstable girlfriend? But now," she said bitterly, "Now you can be shut of me and save face all at the same time. This must be the happiest day of your life."

Christien’s face was sorrowful as he wordlessly pulled Maura towards him. She resisted at first, fighting an internal battle between wanting to melt into his embrace and wanting to hit him as hard as she could, but she finally relented. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, realizing with a pang that it would be the last time she would stand this close to him. She would never again feel protected in the circle of his arms. His strong capable hands, now resting on her back, would never again soothe away her nightmares.

"I'm sorry, Maura. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It wasn't my fault, Chris."

"No one thinks it was."

"Then why am I being punished?"

Her vision was swimming with unshed tears and the glint of silver on her ring finger caught her attention. Maura pulled away from his embrace and wrenched the ring off. She held it out to him. He did not take his eyes from her hands.

“I want you to keep it,” he whispered.

“Why?” she asked bitterly. “As a souvenir? A little memento of everything I’ve lost?” She opened her hand and let the ring drop to the floor between them before turning and walking away from him.