June 18th, 1894 — Padmore Park, Hogsmeade

It was an act of desperation that saw Dory take to his broom when he ought to have been sleeping. The evening out was enjoyable enough, but he missed the thrill of dancing, of seeing a woman's face flush with his quietly murmured flirtatious comments. There were too few opportunities to flirt around the refreshment tables and even fewer opportunities to flirt whilst limping around the edges of the ballroom. How was he to even entertain the idea of finding a wife when he couldn't adequately participate in all of society's events?

Which saw him hovering less than six feet above the shoreline as he flew the perimeter of the lake. His leg screamed with the tension of maintaining balance, but at least here he could do something, he could find enjoyment in a past time again. The dragon had taken so much more than a bite of his leg — Winnie, his confidence, his ability to walk without a cane — that he refused to give it this, too. Even if the very act would see him biting back groans of pain later when he soaked in his bath.

After his third lap around, Dory landed in a familiar clearing and collapsed heavily onto the damp sand. Five minutes. He'd rest for five minutes and then he'd fly home.

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Mabel Brighton

  

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beautiful set by lady

Mabel had fallen into somewhat of a routine the past few months. Since the dragon attack on London, she nearly quit being a mediwitch. Catastrophes simply drained her of all ability to think at the end of the day. When she was assigned to stay at the hospital, she enjoyed the rush, going from patient to patient to make sure they were tended to. Triage, on the other hand…when it was just her out in the field dealing with a catastrophe; she needed to be with a team. Operating solo - even the idea of it - made her want to burst into tears.

Today, for instance. She’d finished her shift, tired, sore and feeling absolutely drained of any magic. Her solace was that shifting into an animagus required little effort on her part. Apparating back into Hogsmeade drained her even further, but she shifted easily and when her paws hit the ground, felt the wind, there was nothing left but to run.

Her mind went blank, and she let herself enjoy the trip. She didn’t think. Just ran, and ran until she felt her paws aching. When she opened her eyes, she seemed to come back to her senses. And immediately regretted where she had ended up. But she didn’t have time to think of what to do next. In the distance, a figure collapsed on the beach. Alarm coursed through her and Mabel quickly shifted back. “Excuse me! Hello there, are you okay?” She called, quickly running over to the figure. She stopped dead when she saw who it was.

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This stretch of sand was supposed to be empty, Dory thought sourly to himself from his flopped position. The white hot pain pulsing through his leg prevented him from sitting up to wave off the would be good samaritan. He thought to call back at least, to perhaps reduce some of the woman's panic. However, by the time he'd figured out what to say he realized he knew the woman rushing over to him and his mouth remained firmly shut.

Maple.

Their friendship was another victim of his sour moods, for Dory couldn't stomach her guilt and she couldn't tolerate his constant refusals for help. He grew irritable within hours of waking up from the healing done on his leg, the weight of all he'd lost an almost instantly debilitating burden. That irritability had cost him more relationships than he'd thought possible.

"I'm fine, Mabel." Dory muttered once she was within earshot. "Just needed a break." The broom carelessly tossed besides him was evidence of just what he needed a break from. "What are you doing out so late?"

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beautiful set by lady

She’d fallen to her knees beside him by the time he’d answered - she couldn’t just leave him be right after she’d seen he was in some sort of distress. “You clearly are not,” She replied immediately, her tone biting. She did see his broom lying a few feet away, which meant he was telling the truth; however that left the question of why in God’s name he would be out flying if he was this tired that needing a break translated as lying almost face down in the sand.

Her hands fluttered over him, searching for any sign of injury. “I had a long day. Needed to run it off.” She was reluctant to disclose any more than that. The loss of Dory in her life did not do much to make her more open about her life. “Where does it hurt?” She pursed her lips. Where was likely obvious, and quite frankly she was expecting the type of response she might get to a question like that.

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By the time he rolled over to be on his back, Dory had schooled his look of annoyance into something (he hoped) was a more neutral (if not plain) expression. He didn't have the energy to argue with her tonight, nor did he truly wish to any other night. Losing her had broken his heart the first time, the second time stung. Dory didn't wish to discover that the third would bring.

He tolerated her fussing, shifting when required and biting back a grimace when she neared his leg. "It's no more pain than it usually is. I will be fine in a few minutes, just needed to rest a minute before I headed home." At this point, Dory might risk apparating to get home without flying. Though, he certainly wouldn't do so in front of Maple.

"Seems like we're all having long days lately." He then added quietly.

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beautiful set by lady

Pressing her lips together, Mabel decided she was entirely set upon keeping this a clean interaction; so clean it was almost clinical. No sentiment. No feelings. No trips down memory lane if she could help it. No more pain than it usually is. Which mean he was in pain almost all the time. She almost huffed out a breath at that, out of the sheer cluelessness of not knowing how else to react. Even so, he didn’t have any external injuries that she could tell. But she wouldn’t be a good healer if she didn’t at least check.

So without so much as a by-your-leave, Mabel took out her wand and drew it through the air. The familiar whirring of a diagnostic spell saw a chart bloom to life in front of her, it’s soft glow throwing their surroundings into relief. Ignoring that, she read the chart. It was one of the more simple diagnostic spells that she had at her disposal, though no less effective. It told her what she needed to know, which was that there were no internal injuries she needed to be worried about and that he was indeed correct. Fine then.

Sighing she let the chart hover over him and sat back on the sand to finally address his comment with a simple, “Yes.” Then, because the healer side of her couldn’t be shut off by sheer force of will: “When you get home you should soak in a hot bath.”

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"A hot bath doesn't do as much as the healers suggest it might." Dory commented without considering the potential negative impact of his criticism. He had simply grown so weary of the same ideas that all provided minimal relief from the ache that wouldn't leave him. Hot baths, rest, elevation, even mild pain tonics only took the smallest edge off, and after months of hearing the same thing he merely had little patience left for the empty words. Then, without considering again, he added offhandedly, "Opium - dangerous as it is - that helps a bit more."

He looked at her then - really looked for what felt like the first time in years. She seemed colder now, or perhaps just more tired, but she remained just as beautiful under soft light as she used to. He frowned then, that familiar ache of missing her suddenly roaring its ugly head as fiercely as the dragon had. That wasn't a road they could go down again, not with how disastrous the ending had been last time. Not when he'd already permanently lost Winnie too.

"I'm sorry." Dory then said, his frown deep and his expression sincere. "I didn't mean that as an insult to your healing skills."

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beautiful set by lady

Perhaps the Mabel of two years ago might have flinched at his biting response. Now, she just clenched her jaw and forced herself to tamp down any immediate reaction she might have had. Especially at his comment about opium. He was the one with the chronic pain, not her; and it wasn’t the first time she’d been snapped at by a patient. Dory had always been quite abrasive, and she’d always been fair at countering his occasional roughness.

“Very well,” She said, a neutral expression carefully placed over her features as she regarded him. “As long as you moderate yourself. Just be careful.” It was what she would say to any other patient, delivered with the exact same light but firm caution.

She waved her wand over him once more to make the diagnostic disappear before catching his apologetic gaze. “Quite alright, it’s not the worst thing I’ve heard today.” And that was really putting it mildly. “If you’re alright then, I can be on my way and leave you be.” Storing her wand back in her sleeve, she stood back up and brushed herself off.

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   Dorian Fisk

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There was an urge to explain the opium comment further, to put himself in a better light than the one he'd foolishly painted himself in. However, she was speaking with such finality, already pushing herself to stand and leave, that he kept his thoughts to himself. She needn't know how easily he could've succumbed to addiction had Nemo not arrived in his constant miserable drunken state. She needn't know anything beyond his biting words and muttered apologies, beautiful or not.

But, Merlin did he miss her.

Or, perhaps worse, he missed having someone.

"I hope your evening improves." He didn't try to rise, didn't try to protest her leaving. Not when he was in the midst of realizing the sort of miserable bastard he'd become. "I will be fine. Even if not, it wouldn't be your problem." He'd lay here for minutes, hours, days, before admitting that his leg was too painful to stand on. That he wasn't sure if he could stomach the broom ride home without vomiting. "Please, get home safely."

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beautiful set by lady

Neutral expression be hanged. Looking down at Dory lying there as if he was getting ready to make this place his new home, Mabel had to suppress another grimace. He looked rather pitiful, but she knew his pride would be wounded if she said anything of the kind. Mabel tried to avoid being affected by him, but her body was not getting the message. She could feel the need to reach out and embrace him curling in her stomach. Wanting to comfort him.

Days where she was even able to do that were long gone, likely not to resurface ever again. She clenched her jaw again, pushing that feeling down, down and even further down. “It would be my problem since I’m assuming I’m the only person who knows where you are right now.” She pointed out. She took an oath as a healer to never leave someone in need. And here she was, knowing he was obviously in need of something, and wanting nothing more than to leave.

Because one look around them and she realized exactly where they were. What had occurred the last time the both of them were here, alone.

Sighing, she dug in her pocket to bring out her kit and unshrink it. Mabel kneeled down again to riffle through the bag’s contents. “Here.” She set two potions down for him. “This one’s for pain, this one’s for any nausea that the first one might cause and I’m not leaving until I see you down both of them.” Again, she was only staying because it was her duty as a healer to see this through. That was all.

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   Dorian Fisk

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Dory knew her well enough to know she spoke true about the potions; he recognized the writing and color of the bottles easily enough that even if he doubted her he would be convinced by those. Still, he made no move to drink the potion down. Not because he didn't want her to leave, but because when he did he'd have to. He'd have to leave and go home to the empty house that was never meant to be empty. It was the same reason he had been forcing himself out constantly, why he was smiling through the pain at the ditzy faced debutantes.

He was tired of feeling alone.

"Map - Mabel." Dory corrected, looking from her back to the potions again, too embarrassed at the slip of familiarity to maintain her gaze. "I will take them when I sit up, alright?" He tried to negotiate, as he couldn't take the nausea one lying down or it would come back up almost instantly. And, try as he might, he wasn't ready to sit up and face her and all the rest yet. "It'll only be a few more minutes until I'm able to. You don't have to wait — shouldn't wait, if your day has been as long as you've made it seem."

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   Mabel Brighton

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beautiful set by lady

She’d stiffened when he almost let slip her nickname. She hadn’t heard that in a while, and had gotten used to not hearing it. Pursing her lips, Mabel fought between wanting to protest and force him to drink them now, or give in and leave. Perhaps if it had been earlier in the day she might have had more fight in her but right now, the soft surface of her bed was calling to her. The exhaustion was beginning to settle deep, and she could feel her body start to protest even as she shifted her weight. “Alright.” She finally gave in, reaching to close her bag, shrink it back and stow it away in her cloak.

Mabel looked at him, for a few moments longer before taking a breath. “Promise me that you’ll take them.” She said - demanded, even. It wasn’t forced or filled with exasperation now; mostly she wanted to make sure Dory knew how serious she was. Then she’d leave.

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"I promise." Dory agreed. He would be a fool not to take the potions, as they were likely the only way he would survive the journey back home without falling from his broom again. The severity of his exhaustion wasn't something he would share though, not when she was agreeing to leave the danger of the woods for the security of her house.

He laid there as she packed up her belongings and forced himself up to his elbows when she was finally making steps to go. Then, in a sincere tone, he said, "Thank you, Mabel. I appreciate your help."

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beautiful set by lady

The way he was laying, she still had the urge to coax him to get up. But they didn’t have that kind of friendship anymore. Pursing her lips, Mabel surveyed him for a few seconds, wondering what else she might say to him. But instead, she merely nodded. “Get home safe,” She murmured, adjusting her robes before she turned and transformed. Once her paws hit the forest floor, she darted away and hoped that she might never return back to this place again.

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   Dorian Fisk

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