𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 . hp¹

.001

⋆ takes place during harry potter and the order of the phoenix ⋆

― ⋆⭒˙⭒⋆° ༶⭒⋆˙•°⋆⭒˙ ―

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

― ⋆⭒˙⭒⋆° ༶⭒⋆˙•°⋆⭒˙ ―

SHE HESITATED SLIGHTLY BEFORE KNOCKING AT THE DOOR― Arthur Weasley was a new patient. Apparently he had been bitten by some animal, she still was unaware what the creature exactly was. Instead of asking what the creature was, she had taken to studying him. He had slightly hunched shoulders and ginger hair which spiked at the top of his head. When he had first arrived, he was wearing a blood-stained checkered shirt and dark green pants. His robe had been discarded in the chaos of rushing him in. She had been in her room with one of the healers when the bloodied body of Arthur whizzed past them. The healer had immediately abandoned her post of helping the girl, to assist the other medi-witches in the upcoming poison extraction of the middle aged man.

The second time she had seen Arthur Weasley was when the healers had moved him into the room across from hers. She had overheard him excitedly speaking with one of the newer healers about a muggle way of treating wounds. Stitches. Later on in the day, one of the healers had come into her room to supply her the supper for this evening, a bland porridge with a side of peas and carrots, muttering angrily about an Arthur Weasley who had foolishly attempted to stitch together his wounds. The girl had given the older women an amused grin, her shoulders shaking with muted laughter as the healer scowled at her obvious amusement.

The third time she had seen Arthur Weasley was yesterday when she had knocked on his door, and with soft spoken words offered him a cup of chai (which had been later clarified as tea). When he called for her to come in, he had expected a healer with tousled hair and a small scowl imprinted on their face, not a small girl with bare feet and a patients robe. Her hair hung limply, framing her face in a sheltered way. The bright green of the St Mungo's robe clashed horribly with her tanned skin and the kettle she help in her slightly trembling hands was taped together in a miserable attempt of a repairing charm. However most noticeable, were the silver bands which were clasped around her wrists like iron shackles.

She seemed young. Too young to be burdened by the invisible yet horribly obvious weight that rested against her shoulders. So Arthur decided to do what he thought he did best, tell her about the muggle world. As the girl poured tea into a small cup which rested beside his bed, he dove into an incredibly inaccurate ( nevertheless entertaining ) explanation of the function of a matchstick, only to pause when she was about to leave the room.

' would you like a game of chess? '

――――――――――――――――――

IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE ARTHUR WEASLEY HAD BEEN ADMITTED TO ST MUNGOS― in those three days, her life had been nothing but joyous. Ranging from the chess competitions the girl never seemed to win, to the numerous cups of chai she would make for him, no matter the time. Arthur had grown to enjoy her presence, she was nothing short of delightful. There were times where he wished to ask why this was her place of residence, his curious nature pounding at the insides of his mind, yet the bitter words died at the edge of his tongue when he saw her hesitance to speak about herself. So with a small smile and a twitch of the eyebrow, he pushed his queries beneath him and gave her a comforting smile instead.