My first fic, so please be audacious, scandalous, snotty, and snarky. Oh yeah, feel free to review as well.
Like everyone else using this site, I don't own crap- although unlike many, I don't really want to.
I guess that I should send out a thank-you note to Fin Ravel, considering that The Art Portfolio kind of inspired this (The whole idea about something like an accident occurring, except this may or may not be an accident.). If you had just updated, I might not have written this!
The moonlight cast a sharp relief against the scars roping about her arms. Gods, how long has it been? Some were still scabbing, and others weren't even that far along. She shut the windows and the light filtering through the stained glass immediately changed the room from a dank, cold nightmare into a simple living space. "No use thinking about the past, eh?" She pulled on a cotton kimono that smelled lightly of wood and smoke, then poured herself a drink and curled up in a low sitting chair.
Xiomara!
Yes, she knew what was coming next: a wave of guilt for drinking like this, another glance at her mutilated arms and body, and worst of all, the crying will set in. Of everything that she had to weather, the worst was flooding the room with useless tears and wasting tissue. She was Xiomara Hooch, one of the greatest athletes in professional Quidditch! Wouldn't one believe that after all of her years of sweat and blood that her skin would have grown thicker? She looked up on the wall and blinked through her tears to glare at her rather extensive trophy case before slinging her drink through the glass case surrounding her long dead past.
Xiomara!
Oh, stop it! There was really no point to be admonished; she had already saturated her torso with salty water, she already pulled the bottom part of her kimono to the side to expose the burns and gashes to a bleak and depressing present, and she had already started to pace the room, wondering why she kept doing this every night.
Like every other night, she retrieved the knife resting on her bedside table and contemplated giving herself one final scar, and like every other night she just opened another wound on her arm and allowed herself to bleed all over the floor. She sucked on the new cut and when the bleeding slowed she sat back in her chair with a sigh and another drink.
A knock.
She looked up from her well of sorrows with a renewed interest based partially in fear.
Another knock.
"Hold on!" She cried as she threw a rag over the puddle of blood and finished her drink with a cough. "I'm coming!"
She straightened her kimono and checked for traces of blood before sighing and cracking the door open. "May I come in?"
"Yes, of course!" Xiomara cried as she opened the door for the Headmaster. "I'll admit that it is a bit late, but you are welcome here at any time, Sir!"
"That is what I was hoping that you would say, Xiomara. On the way here I worried that my presence would not be desired."
"No, never!" She bustled into the kitchen and put tea on the stove, then popped her head out and said "Fancy some tea, or perhaps something a bit stronger?" while gesturing towards a seat, taking great care that her sleeve didn't fly up.
"Tea would be perfect, Xiomara." Albus walked towards a comfortable chair, but noticed the bloody rag on the floor and immediately turned around and walked to the kitchen. "I believe that you told me that you didn't cut yourself anymore."
"This time was a freak accident, I swear!" Xiomara said. "Really Albus, it happened three years ago- I'm over it entirely!"
He swept to her side and caught her left hand in his, then slid the smooth cloth away, exposing her fresh cut. "I don't want you to hurt yourself. It doesn't relieve the pain, and it only makes it harder for your friends and family to cope."
She dropped her head and stepped into his embrace "I know, Albus." She started to cry again, but this time there was a beacon of hope in the form of one of her closest friends to give her strength and inner resolve. Who was she kidding? She was a lost lamb in a dark wood, and no one could help her.
After she calmed down, they both enjoyed a cup of tea and engaged in small talk for at least an hour at the small table sitting near her stove. Albus then quieted and a somber note crept into his voice. "Xiomara, I don't know how to tell you this," Here it comes, she was fired. "I realize that this will be quite a shock and that you may be upset with me afterwards, but I feel that you should hear this from a friend… in advance." Not fired yet; incompetent and in need of R and R in St. Mungo's? He took a deep breath, the normally unnoticeable lines on his forehead sticking out like streaks of dark paint. "Igor Karkaroff's giving a demonstration next week and will be arriving in three days."
She felt a lead knife drop through her gut and she was ready to bolt. Igor Karkaroff will be here? That- that thing? How dare he return to Hogwarts! "Karkaroff?" She feigned indifference as razors pulsated through her veins. "How long will he be staying, did you say?"
"He will be here for nine days." He moved to the seat next to her and directed her attention to his eyes. "I couldn't refuse him; I tried as hard as I could."
She rested her head against his shoulder and beat back tears. "I know you did." She paused to finish her tea. "I think that I would like to be alone for a bit, if you don't mind."
"Will you be more comfortable in the castle? It may be safer there."
"I'm sure that it will be."
"Please, Xiomara- promise me that you'll keep your head."
"I will, Albus."
With that, Albus reluctantly made his leave with one final hug and good-bye. He then ran back into her house and grabbed the blood stained knife. "It's not that I don't trust you; I don't trust you when you're drunk, and you most assuredly will give it your all to try and drown your troubles in the bottle." Damn him for knowing her so well!
"Don't worry, Albus! I have completely come to terms with what happened!" The door closed and she was left alone with memories and an open bottle. What else was she to do? She wouldn't be able to sleep, and she didn't have her trusty old Mac the Knife to make it all better. "I don't care at all about what happened, not one bit…"
The next morning Xiomara woke with a terrible hangover and an empty bottle of liquor pressed against her chest. There was broken glass everywhere, so she assumed that she had another look at her grotesque form. The damage extended beyond smashing glasses to pulverizing old photographs and breaking cabinets. She cleaned up the entire mess with a wave of her wand, grabbed a clean set of robes, and took a shower.
While she finished toweling off she felt considerably better in both body and mind. Sure, she still had to deal with Karkaroff, but at least she felt slightly better prepared until she heard a knock.
She ran to the door, peered through the peekhole, and opened the door to allow Poppy Pomfrey inside. "Poppy, what a pleasant surprise it is to find you here on my front step!"
"Indeed," She carefully stepped over the threshold and stood next to a window with tightly drawn curtains. "Xiomara, I just heard about…" Her voice faded away with a note of uncertainty.
"Oh, about what?"
Poppy's eyes grew shaded and she examined the floor for a moment before looking back up and saying "I was there that night, you don't need to pretend."
Xiomara forced indifference through her teeth as she said "Oh, Poppy! I was there too, and I can assure you that his coming to Hogwarts won't have any affect on me whatsoever!" She strolled to her staircase and sat on the third step from the bottom. "That reminds me- one of my muscles is acting up, and don't give me that look!" she snapped at Poppy's disbelieving expression. "I've been exercising as much as ever and doing all of those stupid yoga poses you taught me but it's still swelling and giving me grief to the point of my considering what you said about it being magically affiliated as opposed to a simple sprain."
"How has it been affecting you?"
"Just pain and swelling so far, d'you think that it could be related to some sort of allergy to the medication you prescribed?"
"I doubt that it would be a reaction, considering that I've been giving you homeopathic drugs. What kind of pain?"
"The kind that hurts!" She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I was just asking- does it feel like there's an abscess of some kind beneath the skin, do you cramp up, is there scar tissue that is breaking down prematurely? The list goes on for some time."
"Hm…" She sucked on her lip and scratched her foot "I think that it has something to do with scabbing, but it kind of does feel like there may be an abscess of some kind."
"I would prefer to try and diagnose this in the Infirmary, unless you're not up for it."
"Don't be like that, Poppy." Xiomara stood and shook her head to relieve her ear canals of excess water.
"It's a standard question."
"I don't care."
Poppy smiled and led Xiomara to the Hospital Wing then asked "Xiomara, would you be more comfortable bunking with me?"
"Really, I'm fine. Albus also offered, but I think that I'll be better off in my little nest." She responded as she climbed onto a bed. "Can we close the curtain for this, please?"
The curtains closed with a wave of Poppy's wand after she retrieved a dolly of various vials and beakers filled with mysterious liquids. "Which muscle is this, did you say?"
"It's the same one as last time."
"Oh." She busied herself with her potions as Xiomara pulled her skirts off and let out a low whistle when she saw the damage. "It appears that you developed some kind of infection." She pointed out a red and swollen portion of her right inner thigh.
"How?"
"I don't know, maybe alcohol abuse?"
"Shut up."
"I'm serious; alcohol can have a severe detrimental affect on the medication I prescribed to you."
"Great." Xiomara lolled her head back and groaned.
"There's a simple solution, though I doubt that you would like it."
"Come on, there's a drink named after me! Did you know that?"
"I'm sure that it's wonderful, but you'll simply have to stop drinking it."
"In the meantime?"
"I can try bleeding it- it's not like this cut's getting any better."
"So you're just going to reopen a wound that finally stopped oozing pus a month ago?"
"It was blood plasma, and yes. Oh, if I ever get my hands on that Igor Karkaroff, I swear that he'll regret ever setting foot in Europe, let alone school grounds!"
"I'm no Healer, but it seems that three years is more than enough for me to heal up."
"I don't know why it took so long for you to heal, unless you drank something…?"
"Oh, again with the drinking? Fine, I'm an alcoholic. When can I get this bled?"
In answer Poppy pulled a scalpel and a cotton swab soaked in anesthesia from her cart.
"Sure, you have everything right here. You can't give me a minute to prepare or anything- just go already!"
"It won't hurt at all." She swabbed the scar until the liquid glinted off of it like a snake's scales, then cut the warped tissue clean off and squeezed the wound until greenish pus ran into a waiting beaker. "Aren't you happy that I didn't just give you some potion? This will make you feel much better."
"Right." In truth, she did feel better- but she would never tell Poppy that. "Shouldn't you be wearing gloves?"
"Why? It's impossible for me to transfer any bacteria into your system."
"How?"
"Look at this." She shoved the vessel of pus under Xiomara's nose. "Pus is generally this color with the kind of infection you have, but the smell puzzles me. What I mean is, well, magic has to be involved with this smell."
"Not alcohol?" She joked. "That it?"
"No." Poppy disappeared to the bottom shelf of the cart and returned with another beaker filled with alcohol and a roll of gauze.
"I thought that alcohol was the problem."
"Very funny." She dressed the cut and opened the curtains after the other woman pulled her skirts back on.
"Thanks, Poppy."
"Listen, Xiomara. I want you to be careful."
"Poppy, I know! I've been over this a million times with a million other people, and I'll be fine!" She stormed out of the Infirmary and did broomstick exercises at a breakneck pace until that afternoon when Albus flagged her down.
"Practice makes perfect, as the old saying goes." He said as she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow.
"Practice improves on perfect."
Albus laughed, "Too true!" His voice grew serious "Have you decided what room you will be staying in?"
Xiomara knew that she should have taken a room in the castle, but her stubborn disposition and Poppy's words forced her to say "I decided that I'll be fine outside the castle."
"I would prefer it if you weren't alone and isolated."
"I would be just as alone and isolated in the castle, Albus."
"You know that that's not true." He admonished her.
"Yes it is- I would just lock the doors and windows and block the fireplace so well that even you wouldn't be able to get in."
He chuckled at that and proffered his arm "I believe that it's time for an afternoon meal."
"Oh, and I skipped breakfast, too!" Her stomach growled as she looped her arm into his and walked to the Great Hall for lunch.
When they sat at their seats, Albus immediately engaged Severus in what anyone who was unfamiliar with Albus would mistake for small talk, Xiomara immediately tore into her meal, but no one else seemed to want to eat or speak.
"What's the matter with everyone? Isn't it lunchtime?" At that, everyone tucked in and conversation exploded through the air.
"I heard that Igor Karkaroff is doing a demonstration in a few days." Auriga Sinistra said towards Xiomara.
"I heard that as well, I wonder what he'll be demonstrating." She battled down the wave of nausea that threatened to spill over her throat.
"He'll be giving a lecture involving interdisciplinary studies." Severus offered, "According to the mysterious leak from the Headmaster's office- but that can hardlybe correct, unless my source doesn't realize that it only takes a few hours to give a good lecture."
"Is he staying overnight?" Another voice added.
"I thought that it was a week."
"I suppose that you will all have to wait and find out at tonight's Staff Meeting, and until then it would be prudent of all of you to not mention this in front of the students." Albus interjected. After that, everyone returned to their previous conversations with the exception of Xiomara, who had finished her meal.
"Xiomara, I would like to finish our conversation at a later date."
"Yessir." She muttered through her teeth before stalking out of the Great Hall.
She spent the rest of the daylight hours on her broomstick, then went to bed a few minutes before sunset.
Okay, so this isn't the Great American novel. Come to think of it, it can't be because it's set in Europe! I would really appreciate reviews or some kind of feedback so I'll be better prepared for writing that Great American novel.