Tainted Love

The First Letter

IRIS

It was so expansive, corridors and cabinets and cauldrons piled high on top of each other, teetering back and forth under the fragile strength of Sticking Charms.

Blue, too. No light got down here, so MACUSA had made some fake windows. There was no scenery behind them -- just beams that were meant to mimic the midday sun. They felt more like doomsday warnings.

Iris supposed it made sense that the room was larger than the one in London. More people worked in the Potions Department at MACUSA than had worked in almost the entire Department of Mysteries at the Ministry.

But it hadn't felt so large before she left. She hadn't felt so small. Like a tiny cog in a big machine, one that would easily grind on without her.

They worked in teams of fifteen, headed by a manager, sectioned off to their own corners of the office depending on their tasks. Today, they were brewing Anti-Paralysis potions. St. Joseph's was running low.

Iris wasn't even mixing anything -- her job on the assembly line was just to watch for the potion to turn white and put a single drop of lavender essence in it before sending it to the girl next to her to add more Aconite Fluid. It was mind-numbing.

She remembered days like this before she left, days where she was bored. She'd always hope that the people around her ended up being people she knew, people who would chat to her and exchange stories as they brewed.

Now, she hoped everyone around her would be quiet. It would be too much to have to pretend that she was fine and happy, especially in light of recent events.

She looked up, watching the swarms of people go about their individual tasks. It was very efficient -- MACUSA was known for its efficiency in a way that the British Ministry wasn't. Perhaps that's why Iris had been sent to London. She was always getting in trouble for taking her time, trying to add flair to her methodology.

She didn't get in trouble anymore, though. They barely noticed her at all. Why would they?

Just before leaving, she remembered feeling chronically listless, bored of repetitive tasks that all seemed to go towards the same ends. It had taken years to get to that point, though. This time, it had only taken weeks before the burnout resumed.

It was better working with just one person -- and not just because she had been in love with Draco. They had had their share of terrible days, arguments and silent treatments and bending over unintelligible scrolls.

But they had always been doing things, getting them done. Draco was so smart, so precise. From the first day, Iris had wanted to be as good as him. Better. He had pushed her, made her work harder than she had ever worked before -- made her like it. It was satisfying, the work, even when it was just research or poring over the mirrors.

The potion in front of her turned white and she let a drop of lavender into it before pushing it to the girl next to her. She hoped all the paralyzed people at St. Joseph's would enjoy feeling their limbs again. She couldn't picture them. Everything was so disconnected. For all Iris knew, the potions she was making ended up in some back corner, some old closet.

It wasn't just Draco -- it was Daisy, too. Iris would've felt it with anyone. When there was only one other person in the room, the work she did meant much more. It was important. She was needed. She was not needed here.

A bell rang on the ceiling to signal the end of the day. It seemed a little bit apocalyptic. Iris cast a Congealing Charm on the potion in front of her, freezing its properties until they could resume work the next day. It was lucky that she was doing Anti-Paralysis -- some of the other units would have to work overtime until they could get to a stopping point.