Entry 01: Behind Hidden Masks (3/?)
Title: Behind Hidden Masks
Entry Number: 01
Author: mihnn
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG13
Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort
Spoiler Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1760
The woman frowned before handing the letter back to Hermione. "Follow me."
Apprehensively, Hermione took the letter before placing it in the pocket of her robes and doing as she was told. When Arthur had given her the name of his contact at St Mungo's she had expected the face of someone friendly and welcoming. Instead, she was met with a sour-faced Healer who didn't seem to have anything but impatience along the length of her tall, lean body. Hermione frowned herself as she observed the dark haired woman she followed. She never expected Arthur Weasley to be friends with anyone who seemed so unlike him. She would have believed that friendship to be doomed from the start since one party would be a Muggle-loving joker who enjoyed taking apart Muggle objects so he could see how they worked, while the other was a stern Healer who seemed more surly than compassionate.
It had been quite a long time since Hermione had entered St. Mungo's. The last time she entered the building was to visit poor Arthur Weasley who had survived a severe snake attack. It was on that same visit when she discovered the sad fate that had befallen Neville’s parents. The magical hospital was not a place that she associated good memories with.
The hospital had not changed that much since she had last explored the place. The walls were the same shade of white, the waiting rooms seemed just as miserable and the hallways longer than what they needed to be. The only difference Hermione could see was in the uniforms worn by the Healers. While before their robes had been immaculately white, now Hermione could see a band of read in the form of a badge right above their left breasts.
"Those badges," Hermione began as she observed a few Healers as they walked passed her. "What are they?"
The woman, Mrs Pemble, gave the Healers a cursory glance before saying curtly, "Only registered Healers are given those."
"Registered Healers?"
Hermione chose to ignore the low, annoyed breath Mrs Pemble let out. "After the return of You-Know-Who the Ministry thought it fitting to register all Healers. Those who have been registered get a badge to say that they have been approved by the Ministry."
Hermione's glance fell on another group of Healers, especially on the one without a badge. The woman seemed to be saying goodbye to those who surrounded her. "I see," Hermione mumbled to herself. "What about those who didn't get approved?"
"They will be, unfortunately, dismissed from their duties."
"Dismissed? What criteria does the Ministry base on the decision to fire Healers when they're already qualified?"
Mrs Pemble stopped walking, abruptly causing Hermione to halt just as suddenly. "Ms Granger, as interesting as it is to tell you information on the hiring of staff, didn't you want to come here to learn other information? Especially that which pertains to healing rather than bureaucratic administration work?"
"I-"
"I am unavailable to instruct you on all you need to know, which is why I have procured you a Junior Healer, someone who will gladly answer any and all questions you might have." She stepped aside and gestured to the door she had been standing in front of. Hermione couldn't help but be less surprised by the dismissal. Still, there was no reason why the woman need be rude. Nodding somewhat appreciatively, Hermione said what her parents had always taught her to say in such a situation, if she was momentarily thinking that such a sentiment might go unnoticed.
"Thank you."
Ms Pemble smiled, if not completely unkindly. "Have a good day, Ms Granger." Without another word the brief friendly demeanour was replaced by the sour-faced expression that she was first met with before leaving hurriedly. Hermione finally recognised it for what her expression really was: battle armour.
* * *
For as long as he could remember Draco had never been the cause of his Godfather's disappointment, that honour had gone to Longbottom. From the moment the cowering Gryffindor entered the Potions classroom up until the moment he magically injured someone and was forced out of that same classroom, Severus Snape's usually inexpressive features would form a frown. Draco had always found that expression hilarious... until now.
"You are positive that they didn't see your face?"
Draco shook his head before he made his way to his chest of drawers. Pulling open the bottom most drawer, he rummaged through his neatly folded clothes before he pulled back his hand with the mask he had worn that night. He showed it to his Godfather, rotating it so he could see the flap at the back.
"It covered my face completely. It even covered my hair."
Severus Snape stared at the white porcelain mask with narrowed eyes. Then with a swift movement he was on his feet and standing beside his Godson, his arm shooting out fast to take the mask into his own hands.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" he hissed. He shoved the mask close to Draco's surprised face as his teeth gritted in a controlled sneer. "Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord would do if he found this mask among your possessions?"
Draco frowned. "How would he know? You taught me Occlumency well. I wouldn't have survived for so long if I wasn't able to control my thoughts."
Snape's expression took on a sense of deadly calm. "Then you're a fool to think that." He tossed the mask onto the writing desk next to him in disgust. "Do you think that the Dark Lord wouldn't send someone to keep an eye on you, to search through your things?" He grabbed onto the front of Draco's robes and yanked him forward until their noses nearly touched. "If you knew what was good for you, you would have gotten rid of it." He let go of the lapels of Draco's robes with a slight shove. "And the next time the Dark Lord gives you an assignment, do it."
Draco staggered back before he righted himself up quickly, his own sneer twisting his lips. "I have wards protecting my room."
Snape looked unimpressed. "Wards that I could easily penetrate."
"The wards can only be changed by a true Malfoy. You can only come in here because I want you to. Besides," Draco continued softly, "I wish to do what the Dark Lord commands."
The way Snape looked at him didn't surprise Draco greatly. It was obvious that the former Potions Master didn't believe him in the slightest. "Then I suppose you would be successful with your next assignment."
Draco paled. "You knew?"
The older wizard didn't answer, instead choosing to take leisurely steps around Draco's bedroom before his glance fell on miscellaneous items around the room with no particular interest. "You are indeed fortunate to be a member of a family that has always been quite... useful." Snape paused, his gaze narrowing at the large bookcase a few steps away. "The Dark Lord needs a Malfoy if his future goals are to be realised. Your father held all of the Dark Lord's hopes until he proved to be a disappointment. It is now up to you to raise the Malfoy family line to its previous status." Snape stopped before the bookcase as his eyes studied the titles in barely concealed interest. "It appears that you will not be able to do that without a mask."
"I..." Draco paused. He knew he should have burned the mask the moment he had come back to the Manor, but something inside him had stopped him from furthering his initial intent. There was something about wearing a mask that was very much liberating. A Glamour Charm could wane the moment a person's concentration wavered, Polyjuice Potion, though effective, was limited with the need for rare ingredients and an amazingly long time to brew correctly. Draco didn't know what it was, but he rather liked the idea that no one could see his face, that not a person could see his expressions and know immediately what was in his thoughts. After living all his life as someone being watched constantly, both for the good and the bad, the concept of a mask was awfully satisfying. It was an exciting concept to be nameless and fearless.
Snape's gaze narrowed when he observed Draco's eyes land on the mask. "If you are going to continue with this fool's errand and keep the useless thing, then I would suggest you transfigure it. Turn it into something mundane and boring." He looked around until his eyes fell on a picture frame that housed a moving image of his father, his mother and himself on his first day of Hogwarts. "And useless," he said in a bored tone.
Draco mentally berated himself for his stupidity. Why hadn’t he thought of that? It was true that when the mask wasn't on his person, it was in his home that was already protected with many ancient enchantments, but that did not mean he had to be reckless about it.
"And if you are intending to continue down this insane road that Potter currently travels..." Snape looked at Draco sternly. "I suggest you be a bit more intelligent about it."
Draco blanched. "Potter?" he snapped in disgust. "You think I'm like Potter?"
Snape simply blinked at him. "Do you know of anyone else who has such an interest in playing the hero?"
Draco's lips twisted into a grimace. "Don't compare me to Potter. I'm nothing like him."
"No matter." Snape stood up swiftly, his spine arrogantly straight. "Be that as it may, it would do you no good to brandish a wand that is inherently yours."
Draco sighed. "How am I supposed to do what I have to without a wand?"
"I didn't say not to use a wand, Draco. You must pay attention." The older wizard started towards the door, his words all but lazily stated. "Your family does not bury the dead with their wands, do they?"
"No," Draco mumbled thoughtfully, the intention of his guest finally making some semblance of sense to him. "Their wands are displayed in the Malfoy family vault."
Snape nodded. "You should be able to find one that is... satisfactory. Wands of a certain lineage usually are similar, after all."
Draco watched him leave in silence as he thought of all the wands that had once belonged to his ancestors that could possibly be used. Surely there was at least one that was as suitable as his Hawthorn.
Entry Number: 01
Author: mihnn
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG13
Genre: Angst, Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort
Spoiler Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1760
The woman frowned before handing the letter back to Hermione. "Follow me."
Apprehensively, Hermione took the letter before placing it in the pocket of her robes and doing as she was told. When Arthur had given her the name of his contact at St Mungo's she had expected the face of someone friendly and welcoming. Instead, she was met with a sour-faced Healer who didn't seem to have anything but impatience along the length of her tall, lean body. Hermione frowned herself as she observed the dark haired woman she followed. She never expected Arthur Weasley to be friends with anyone who seemed so unlike him. She would have believed that friendship to be doomed from the start since one party would be a Muggle-loving joker who enjoyed taking apart Muggle objects so he could see how they worked, while the other was a stern Healer who seemed more surly than compassionate.
It had been quite a long time since Hermione had entered St. Mungo's. The last time she entered the building was to visit poor Arthur Weasley who had survived a severe snake attack. It was on that same visit when she discovered the sad fate that had befallen Neville’s parents. The magical hospital was not a place that she associated good memories with.
The hospital had not changed that much since she had last explored the place. The walls were the same shade of white, the waiting rooms seemed just as miserable and the hallways longer than what they needed to be. The only difference Hermione could see was in the uniforms worn by the Healers. While before their robes had been immaculately white, now Hermione could see a band of read in the form of a badge right above their left breasts.
"Those badges," Hermione began as she observed a few Healers as they walked passed her. "What are they?"
The woman, Mrs Pemble, gave the Healers a cursory glance before saying curtly, "Only registered Healers are given those."
"Registered Healers?"
Hermione chose to ignore the low, annoyed breath Mrs Pemble let out. "After the return of You-Know-Who the Ministry thought it fitting to register all Healers. Those who have been registered get a badge to say that they have been approved by the Ministry."
Hermione's glance fell on another group of Healers, especially on the one without a badge. The woman seemed to be saying goodbye to those who surrounded her. "I see," Hermione mumbled to herself. "What about those who didn't get approved?"
"They will be, unfortunately, dismissed from their duties."
"Dismissed? What criteria does the Ministry base on the decision to fire Healers when they're already qualified?"
Mrs Pemble stopped walking, abruptly causing Hermione to halt just as suddenly. "Ms Granger, as interesting as it is to tell you information on the hiring of staff, didn't you want to come here to learn other information? Especially that which pertains to healing rather than bureaucratic administration work?"
"I-"
"I am unavailable to instruct you on all you need to know, which is why I have procured you a Junior Healer, someone who will gladly answer any and all questions you might have." She stepped aside and gestured to the door she had been standing in front of. Hermione couldn't help but be less surprised by the dismissal. Still, there was no reason why the woman need be rude. Nodding somewhat appreciatively, Hermione said what her parents had always taught her to say in such a situation, if she was momentarily thinking that such a sentiment might go unnoticed.
"Thank you."
Ms Pemble smiled, if not completely unkindly. "Have a good day, Ms Granger." Without another word the brief friendly demeanour was replaced by the sour-faced expression that she was first met with before leaving hurriedly. Hermione finally recognised it for what her expression really was: battle armour.
* * *
For as long as he could remember Draco had never been the cause of his Godfather's disappointment, that honour had gone to Longbottom. From the moment the cowering Gryffindor entered the Potions classroom up until the moment he magically injured someone and was forced out of that same classroom, Severus Snape's usually inexpressive features would form a frown. Draco had always found that expression hilarious... until now.
"You are positive that they didn't see your face?"
Draco shook his head before he made his way to his chest of drawers. Pulling open the bottom most drawer, he rummaged through his neatly folded clothes before he pulled back his hand with the mask he had worn that night. He showed it to his Godfather, rotating it so he could see the flap at the back.
"It covered my face completely. It even covered my hair."
Severus Snape stared at the white porcelain mask with narrowed eyes. Then with a swift movement he was on his feet and standing beside his Godson, his arm shooting out fast to take the mask into his own hands.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" he hissed. He shoved the mask close to Draco's surprised face as his teeth gritted in a controlled sneer. "Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord would do if he found this mask among your possessions?"
Draco frowned. "How would he know? You taught me Occlumency well. I wouldn't have survived for so long if I wasn't able to control my thoughts."
Snape's expression took on a sense of deadly calm. "Then you're a fool to think that." He tossed the mask onto the writing desk next to him in disgust. "Do you think that the Dark Lord wouldn't send someone to keep an eye on you, to search through your things?" He grabbed onto the front of Draco's robes and yanked him forward until their noses nearly touched. "If you knew what was good for you, you would have gotten rid of it." He let go of the lapels of Draco's robes with a slight shove. "And the next time the Dark Lord gives you an assignment, do it."
Draco staggered back before he righted himself up quickly, his own sneer twisting his lips. "I have wards protecting my room."
Snape looked unimpressed. "Wards that I could easily penetrate."
"The wards can only be changed by a true Malfoy. You can only come in here because I want you to. Besides," Draco continued softly, "I wish to do what the Dark Lord commands."
The way Snape looked at him didn't surprise Draco greatly. It was obvious that the former Potions Master didn't believe him in the slightest. "Then I suppose you would be successful with your next assignment."
Draco paled. "You knew?"
The older wizard didn't answer, instead choosing to take leisurely steps around Draco's bedroom before his glance fell on miscellaneous items around the room with no particular interest. "You are indeed fortunate to be a member of a family that has always been quite... useful." Snape paused, his gaze narrowing at the large bookcase a few steps away. "The Dark Lord needs a Malfoy if his future goals are to be realised. Your father held all of the Dark Lord's hopes until he proved to be a disappointment. It is now up to you to raise the Malfoy family line to its previous status." Snape stopped before the bookcase as his eyes studied the titles in barely concealed interest. "It appears that you will not be able to do that without a mask."
"I..." Draco paused. He knew he should have burned the mask the moment he had come back to the Manor, but something inside him had stopped him from furthering his initial intent. There was something about wearing a mask that was very much liberating. A Glamour Charm could wane the moment a person's concentration wavered, Polyjuice Potion, though effective, was limited with the need for rare ingredients and an amazingly long time to brew correctly. Draco didn't know what it was, but he rather liked the idea that no one could see his face, that not a person could see his expressions and know immediately what was in his thoughts. After living all his life as someone being watched constantly, both for the good and the bad, the concept of a mask was awfully satisfying. It was an exciting concept to be nameless and fearless.
Snape's gaze narrowed when he observed Draco's eyes land on the mask. "If you are going to continue with this fool's errand and keep the useless thing, then I would suggest you transfigure it. Turn it into something mundane and boring." He looked around until his eyes fell on a picture frame that housed a moving image of his father, his mother and himself on his first day of Hogwarts. "And useless," he said in a bored tone.
Draco mentally berated himself for his stupidity. Why hadn’t he thought of that? It was true that when the mask wasn't on his person, it was in his home that was already protected with many ancient enchantments, but that did not mean he had to be reckless about it.
"And if you are intending to continue down this insane road that Potter currently travels..." Snape looked at Draco sternly. "I suggest you be a bit more intelligent about it."
Draco blanched. "Potter?" he snapped in disgust. "You think I'm like Potter?"
Snape simply blinked at him. "Do you know of anyone else who has such an interest in playing the hero?"
Draco's lips twisted into a grimace. "Don't compare me to Potter. I'm nothing like him."
"No matter." Snape stood up swiftly, his spine arrogantly straight. "Be that as it may, it would do you no good to brandish a wand that is inherently yours."
Draco sighed. "How am I supposed to do what I have to without a wand?"
"I didn't say not to use a wand, Draco. You must pay attention." The older wizard started towards the door, his words all but lazily stated. "Your family does not bury the dead with their wands, do they?"
"No," Draco mumbled thoughtfully, the intention of his guest finally making some semblance of sense to him. "Their wands are displayed in the Malfoy family vault."
Snape nodded. "You should be able to find one that is... satisfactory. Wands of a certain lineage usually are similar, after all."
Draco watched him leave in silence as he thought of all the wands that had once belonged to his ancestors that could possibly be used. Surely there was at least one that was as suitable as his Hawthorn.