Noyade | Rabastan Lestrange [2] ✔︎

46 | LOVE

It took more than a month for Rabastan to ask to see Phoenix. Regulus had visited him in the two weeks prior to Rodolphus telling the young witch about his decision and had reported on his well-being. According to him Rabastan was feeling better after having been transferred to the psych ward of St. Mungos and was regaining his passion for reading. His recovery was moving at a very slow pace and Phoenix new that he could have a relapse at any time but she was still glad he was getting better, even if it was with baby steps.

Rodolphus had told her by letter that Rabastan wished her to be in one of his therapy sessions. When she had read the letter in the Common Room she had let out a little squeak at finally being allowed to see him. She hadn't yet figured out how to go about his mental state but the thing she had figured out was that she wanted to be there for him. At least as soon as he allowed her to.

With the letter still in her hand, she had sprinted up the stairs to the boys' dormitories earning protests from several of her male housemates and had told her brother the news. Against her expectations, he had reacted with more concern about her being ready than excitement. In the end, it hadn't changed a thing, however, as Phoenix had confirmed the invitation and was waiting at St. Mungos one week later.

Her hands were tingling with nervousness and excitement. It had been more than a month since she'd seen Rabastan. Everybody told her he was feeling better but she just couldn't help the small pinprick of fear of seeing him unwell. Upon her arrival, Rodolphus had informed her about his condition. Apparently he was suffering from an illness called depression and they were still trying to find the right formula for his medication, which was why it was possible that he would act a little strangely. It was hard to get a grasp on what the term depression meant since there were no broken bones or malfunctioning organs to prove that he was sick. While she had already heard of the illness she knew that particularly her mother and father viewed it as nothing but a person simulating to be unwell while there was nothing wrong with them at all. But Phoenix had seen first-hand how depression had affected Rabastan and despite not knowing exactly what it was, she gathered that it was worse than any broken bone.

When she finally was allowed into a small room with two sofas and an armchair, Phoenix had wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her shoulders up. Hesitantly she allowed her eyes to rise from the floor. She barely took in the plain white walls and the furniture in the room before her gaze landed on Rabastan and remained there. His white hair had grown slightly and he pushed it out of his eyes as he stared at her with his lips slightly parted. He looked different than the last time she had seen him. In contrast, she even dared to say he looked well. The dark patches under his eyes were gone and there was a slight red colour to his cheek as if he had just run through the whole wing of the hospital.

Even a small smile tugged at his lips as he got up and crossed the room with a few strides, pulling her into his arms. His grip was strong and confident. For a moment she allowed herself to lean against him and wrap her arms around his torso. If she closed her eyes it almost felt like she had travelled one year back in time – back to when they had still been together.

When they pulled apart she finally became aware that there was a third person in the room. A young healer with red hair was sitting one of the sofas and studied them, writing down something on a sheet of parchment. Instinctively, she stepped away from Rabastan and said, "Excuse me. I'm Phoenix Black."

"I gathered," the young man answered with a smile and got up, extending his hand towards her. "My name is Healer Johnson. I'll be supervising today's therapy session."

Phoenix nodded, shaking his hand and then following his offer to take a seat on the other sofa. Rabastan sat down little ways from her with the small smile still on his lips. Despite the fact that they were sitting in the psych ward of St. Mungos, Phoenix felt her heart take a leap. He was smiling again. Maybe the little knowledge the wizarding community possessed on mental illness was still enough to get him back to a better place. It had to be enough.