The Art of Dying

Chapter Six: Losing Her Head

Erica was not alone when she woke, but that was not the thing that surprised her. Rather, it was who accompanied her at her bedside that held that particular honour. It was not Avery, as she would have expected, or even her father, the very thought of which terrified her.

Instead, it was Yaxley.

He was sat on a low stool instead of on the edge of her bed as Avery and her father were like to do, and he had Cas, her owl, on his knee, smoothing down her feathers idly with the back of his hand. There was something strange that she couldn't place on the look on his face though, which could have almost been concern on any other, but instead seemed to just be a twisted imitation of it.

There were two things that she did not fail to miss though. One, quite importantly, was that he had not noticed that she was awake yet. The other, less importantly but nearly as interesting, was that he was still wearing the robes he had worn at the Ministry, which meant that not as much time had passed as she had previously suspected, especially considering she was still wearing the dress she had worn then, though somebody had at least thought to take off her sandals before tucking her into bed. She had a feeling that one wasn't Yaxley, which also meant someone else had been here.

It was as she was continuing to piece together just what had happened after she passed out at the Ministry that Yaxley spoke up, having obviously figured out she was awake by this point.

"You had a relapse due to the stress of being at the Ministry, and the anxiety that seeing Potter again provoked," he spoke quietly, but the sound was still harsh on Erica's sensitive ears, and she flinched back into the pillows slightly, scrunching her eyes closed until the pain passed.

Once it did she opened them again, and turned her intent gaze upon him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Still he made no motion to get up, or to harm her, only sat there, stroking Cas and watching her back with just as much intensity.

"I'm supposed to be getting better," she whispered, shifting against the pillows until she was supported with her back against the headboard, relieved when she found the strength hadn't completely been sapped from her bones, meaning that she was still nowhere near as bad as before- at least, not yet.

"That's what we all thought, until Narcissa and Severus analysed you again," Yaxley paused in his stroking and Cas immediately fluttered over to Erica's side.

She smiled slightly when she received a nip to the finger, but made no move to stroke her as Yaxley had been doing as she waited for him to continue.

"It is believed now that you have always had this illness, but the Dark Lord's actions and your time spent here simply... sped it up," he frowned slightly, seeming to think of the best way to put it, and that's when Erica got it. That's when she understand why it was Yaxley here, and not any of the others.

"I'm dying, aren't I?" she said it with no expression, no infliction in her tone, and he smiled slightly at that, giving her the tiniest nod. "Explain."

"Have you noticed that you got ill a lot as a child?" he started, and at her nod he continued. "You've probably always been drawn to the theoretical aspects of magic as well, despite being intelligent enough to be able to do the practical, and you always think of the quickest way to win a fight, the way to use the least magic and to not wear yourself out."

Erica stayed silent, but she had a feeling she knew where he was going with this now, and her hands curled into the bedsheets.

"It is my belief that you've spent the end of every year you have spent at Hogwarts in the Hospital Wing?" At her nod, he once more continued on. "It is also said that you suffer from magical exhaustion a lot, and that you almost died of it at the end of your second-year, though you made a surprising recovery. You nearly collapsed after adapting Parseltongue to speak to a dragon during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament even though it should not have drained you of that much magic, and you sleep often and long, and find yourself wearier than most, more lethargic than you would like."