antebellum [t. riddle]

xviii.

november 1944
tw: discussion of substance abuse

"what substance was it?" the mediwitch asked. those were the exact words that she knew were true, but had been dreading to hear. "looks to me like you're going through withdrawal."

"are you muggle-born?" sicaria asked, but elaborated at the witches' confused expression. healer miranda her nametag said. she looked young, likely about thirty, and her long red hair was tied behind her head in a small knot. "it's just that magical substances and plants don't cause withdrawal symptoms. i was under the impression that withdrawal was a purely muggle-drug affliction." her voice was hoarse; she had thrown up twice since she woke up in the empty hospital ward.

the hogwarts hospital wing was not bad at all, to be completely honest. it was a rather large room with windows lining every wall. two rows of beds lined the walls, and the office in the back held all of the healing supplies, as well as housing the healing staff (all two of them). it wasn't blindingly disorienting a clinical like other hospitals she'd seen. it felt much more comforting to be in, even though the sunlight stabbed at her eyes through the many windows.

healer miranda smiled sympathetically, but shook her head. "no, but i work with muggles when school isn't in session. i'm a nurse for the british army; trust me, i know what withdrawal looks like. once the soldiers are told that they don't need morphine anymore, they go absolutely around the bend."

there were laws in america that banned witches and wizards from providing any magical aid in muggle conflicts. they knew that if magic was involved, the side that the wizards aligned with would win, but they did not want to place community support behind a specific cause. sicaria found that rather stupid, seeing as they could liberate auschwitz if they wanted to, but chose not to out of fear of political dissent. it was abhorrently selfish, but at the same time, the wizarding world had enough human rights problems to deal with on their own. she wondered if the british had similar laws, or if the healer just didn't care.

sicaria chuckled dryly at the british idiom. "is that what i'm doing? going around the bend?" she shifted her arm to sit over her eyes so that it would shield her from the bright sunlight seeping through the windows.

"no, but i do need to know what substance it is so that i can treat you best." healer miranda assumed the worst when three boys carried an unconscious girl into the hospital ward in the middle of the night. her apprehension only increased when they told her that they didn't know what had happened to her. she quickly ushered them out of the ward, assuring them that they could see her in the morning if she wanted to see them.

after looking at the diagnostics, she was almost immediately sure that she knew what was wrong with the child in front of her. she'd seen the same symptoms in so many other muggle patients.

sicaria hesitated. this woman is a medical professional, she can't tell my problems to anyone. "benzoylmethylecgonine."

the healer actually laughed, one that was joyous, not mocking, and it made sicaria more comfortable. "you could have just said cocaine, sweetheart. no need for the chemical structure, and i'm not going to judge you."

"feels less like a problem if i refer to it as a chemical and not a drug." this was the first time she described her drug use as a 'problem' to anyone.

"'problem,' eh? was this a relapse? or have you never had treatment?" there's that 'r' word again.

"i'm not addicted." she responded. she couldn't decide whether this was a lie or the truth. she wasn't addicted; not to cocaine at least. the nurse seemed to realize and didn't press further. "i'm not at risk of overdose, if that's what you're worried about."