Content warning: mention of domestic violence
I wrote to a secretary at the Ministry of Magic that night. It wasn't surprising that they couldn't put me in touch with Harry Potter right away. Even though he was an Auror now, he was still incredibly famous. So they got me in touch with the next best thing: Ron Weasley.
Ron was surprisingly glad to hear from me. It seemed he remembered the days I spent sneaking him sweets in the hospital wing fondly. 'We've been thinking of expanding Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to America. What do you think about that? Reckon Americans could use a good laugh', he had written.
He also was kind enough to include Harry's address. I hadn't told Ron what I needed to speak with him for; I only hinted that it was administrative business related to my profession, which wasn't entirely false.
Dear Harry Potter,
I hope this owl finds you and your family well. I'm not sure if you remember me, but I was a year below you at Hogwarts. You might recall I was Madam Pomfrey's assistant in the hospital wing.
I've been a full-time healer specializing in Dark Magic rehabilitation for almost eleven years now. The job has its troubles, as I've seen many terrible things beyond just curses and boils... namely, those who have gotten too close to the Dark Arts and paid the price for it. But someone's got to help them, and frankly I've always sort of had a soft spot for damaged people. I make it my aim never to discriminate- as healer does not equal judge.
I suppose this is my long-winded explanation for the reason I'm sending this letter to you. I'm writing on behalf of a patient of mine. They are suffering from the long-term effects of the Dark Mark. I've made it my mission to remove it. No one has ever successfully removed it, I know, but I fear if nothing is done, my patient will die of infection within the next five years.
I'm sure by now you've likely guessed that the patient is Draco Malfoy. I sincerely hope you haven't stopped reading this letter. The two of you have a complicated past that I cannot begin to understand, but please hear me out when I say that Draco is not what the Ministry of Magic thinks he is. He wants the Mark removed. He's wanted it removed for a very, very long time now. And I guess now I'm pleading to you with all the humility in my body to speak to the Ministry and inform them that Draco is not as deserving of his punishment as they once thought he was.
Please forgive me if this is presumptuous to ask of you. I admittedly was not present during the War and know next to nothing of the Ministry's judicial system. At the end of the day, I am only a healer.
Kindly,
Dr. Erica Thorncroft
The letter took about thirteen drafts before I wrote one I was finally content with. I sent it at the local owl post office rather nervously, knowing that it would likely be a few days before I received a reply.
I re-read the letter in my head as I sat in my living room picking at a salad I didn't really want to eat. I had signed the letter with my maiden name. I'd better get used to using it. The fact that I even took Len's last name at all was antiquated and ridiculous- I had even used my maiden name on my child's birth certificate.
"I stopped at the post office on the way home."
I snapped to attention. Len had entered the living room with a bundle of mail tucked under his arm. He held up a crisp white envelope. "Why is Harry Potter writing to you?" He asked. Even in the states, people knew who Harry was. I could see jealousy in Len's eyes.
I got out of my seat and approached Len. "It's private." I took the letter from his hand and was appalled to find that it had already been opened.
"I would prefer it if you did not open my mail," I said calmly, tucking the letter into the band of my skirt. It was important that I keep a level head and not get mad. Getting mad would only make him mad.
Len looked at me with a disgruntled expression. "Is it because you didn't want me to find these?"
He tossed the stack of blank divorce papers onto the coffee table. They landed with a dull thud that I felt all the way down to my toes.
My mouth dried. "When were you going to tell me?" Len demanded. I glanced at his hands to make sure they weren't near anything breakable. A lamp, a clock, some silverware-
"I was waiting for the right time," I croaked. I knew my wand was on the dining room table behind me. If I made a dash for it right now, he would stop me, for sure.
"Please, let's not do this right now. You'll wake her up-"
Len snarled, "Oh, yeah, our fucking daughter. You know she looks nothing like me, right? You're the doctor. Explain to me how the hell two brown haired people had a kid with platinum blonde hair."
My legs were starting to feel like they were going to lock up from fear. I watched Len's hands carefully. They were doing that tensing thing, where they opened and closed, like he was getting ready to hit something.
Get to your wand. Get to your wand and get out of here right now.
Len had never hurt me directly. He preferred to take his anger out on objects. But still. There was always that fear that one day he would go too far; and right now, he looked madder than I had ever seen him.
"I know you fucking cheated on me with one of your patients," he growled. "Now tell me. Who the fuck is Draco Malfoy?"
Len stepped towards me- and that was my trigger to turn and bolt. There was a loud crash as I ran into the table, knocking over dishes to frantically grope for my wand, followed by Len's booming footsteps coming closer, closer-
"Immobulus!"
I said the word so fast that I was afraid the spell wouldn't work, and I braced myself. But Len was stuck in place, frozen in a terrifying position.
"Oh, god," I exhaled a shaky breath. My chest was beginning to ache from my pounding heart. "What have I done-"
It was against the law to use magic on a spouse, and I had just broken that rule. But I made sure to research that law thoroughly, and was aware of one exception. You could use magic against a spouse in self defense. And by the look of Len's flexed hands, hands that were outstretched not for an object, but for me this time, I knew I had made the right call.
I hated seeing him like this. Warped by his own anger. A part of me felt responsible, a little guilty, even, because I did cheat and so I thought I deserved it.
But my daughter- my sweet four year old child- she did nothing to deserve a father like this. I thought for the longest time I could change Len. But you can't change people unless they want it themselves.
I stepped towards Len's frozen snarl, my blood racing from adrenaline. "Sorry," I said, knowing he could hear me behind those glassy eyes. "But I can't live like this. I still want to believe you have good in you. If you want to prove me right, you'll sign the papers."
I rushed to the bedroom and packed a bag. I didn't really think about what I was grabbing- I just knew I had to take the Ring of Ataraxy.
The countdown of the immobulus charm was in the forefront of my mind as I ran to Artemis's room.
Eight minutes. I have eight minutes until the spell wears off.
"Mum?"
My daughter's half-British half-American voice stirred from her bed. It seemed like she was already awake. I grabbed clothes from her dresser in fistfuls and stuffed them into the bag. "I know it's late, but we're going to take a little trip."
I helped her out of bed and put on her coat. She sleepily blinked her green eyes. "Are we going to grandma and grandpa's?" she asked.
"No," I said, taking her hand tightly. I reached for the portkey in my pocket. "We're going farther away."
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The Healer II- The Patient (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)
Fanfiction8 years have passed since Erica and Draco said goodbye at Hogwarts. Erica now works in New York City as a healer that specializes in Dark Magic. One night, she receives a mysterious letter begging her to take a portkey to France. It's life or death...