Weasley Twins - A Fate You Can't Escape

Chapter 141 - Motels and Mind Healers

I don't move back in with Charlie.  I can't go back to that house without Teddy.  It's too much.  Instead I get a cheap room at a Muggle motel.  It's a bit gross and dingy, but it could be worse.  Once again, I'm starting over with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever is left in my vault.  Which after a visit to the bank, I learn is very little.  Apparently since we were married, Amycus used his access to my money and nearly drained it.  I try not to be upset about his lack of foresight on the matter.

So here I am, grinding espresso at a muggle coffee shop.  It is the closest thing I could find to brewing potions that I am "qualified" for.  I am still wandless as well.  The aurors found the remains of my wand in the cottage, snapped clean in two.  They said it looked intentional, but I have trouble believing that Amycus would purposefully snap my wand.  It must have been an accident.  

But until I can save enough to purchase a new one, I have to do things the muggle way.  I hand the woman with a sour face her decaf soy latte, grimacing when she pointedly takes a sip in front of me, testing it before walking away.  With a smirk, she pivots an leaves, apparently finding the beverage acceptable.  I roll my eyes and grab a nearby rag to wipe up a bit of ground espresso off the counter.

I have an appointment at St Mungos in an hour, so I have to cut my shift a bit short.  It's one of my many appointments with the mind healers.  They still can't seem to figure out what's wrong with me.  I keep telling them I'm fine.  It's an exhausting situation.

I hang my apron in the back, storing my name tag in my cubby before grabbing my purse and keys.  I bid my new coworkers farewell and head out to catch a muggle bus closer to the wizard hospital.  Once I step off the public transit, I still have to walk a few block before I reach the charmed building.  I sigh as I clamber up the front steps, wandering what idiot put steps at the entrance to a hospital.  There's not a ramp in sight.  At least muggles try to be considerate of these types of things.  Meanwhile wizards decide moving staircases are the move, making it hard for fully functioning legs to use, much less anyone with any difficulties.

I slip in through the doors, giving my name to the man at the desk before heading upstairs to my healer's office.  He's in a meeting with someone else when I arrive, so I have to wait outside for a bit until he's ready.

Eventually the door opens and a tall man with long black hair slips out.  A few more minutes and Healer Peterson sticks his head out.  

"Ready Hazel?"

"More ready than you."  I grumble, grabbing my purse up off the floor and entering his office.  I sit down in the big comfy chair meant for his patients and wait for him to pull out my file.  

"So how are we feeling this week?"  He asks with a warm smile.  Do these people even go through proper psychiatric training?  He's proven rather unhelpful so far.

"Angry, poor, and tired."  I snap, crossing both my arms and my legs.

"And what have you been doing to fix these things?"  He asks, and I want to punch him in the face.

"Brooding, working, and sleeping on a really uncomfortable motel bed."

"That seems to be a bit of a lackluster plan."  He notes, scribbling it down.

"Well, you seem to be providing a bit of lackluster help."  I retort.  He sniffs, looking a bit offended and doing a terrible job at covering it up.

"And what do you think I should be doing to help you?"  Again with the turning it back on me.

"I don't know.  Maybe helping me process my traumas instead of asking me questions that my coworkers ask me every day?"  I suggest dryly.

"Process your traumas?"  He repeats skeptically.  

"Ugh, nevermind."  I snort, unfolding myself to stand.  "I'm leaving."

"But the session isn't over!"  He protests, standing as well.

"Yes it is."  I call over my shoulder as I leave, letting the door slam shut behind me.  Maybe I should try to see a muggle therapist.  I've heard that they're a lot better at this kid of stuff.

Instead of heading back the my depressing motel room, I decide to head to Diagon Alley.  It would be nice to pay Eric a visit.  After taking yet another bus, I walk the rest of the way to the leaky cauldron and enter through the brick wall.  

I walk down the street, making sure I don't go anywhere near the joke shop.  I'm not in the mood to see a giant copy of the man who killed my husband.  I'm going to have to see him next week anyway for the trial.  This time the roles will be reversed though, and he'll be the one on the stand. 

I stop in front of Eric's shop, watching him through the window for a moment before I enter.  The bell jangles loudly, announcing my presence and causing me to flinch.

"Hazel!"  Eric grins at me as he hands a customer their change.  "I'm so glad you stopped by!  I've missed you!"

"Oh, yeah, I've missed you too."  I force a smile in return.  I hate that it feels like the same one I give my rude customers at the café.  

"How have you been?"  I nearly roll my eyes, thinking of the mind healer.

"Fine."  I shrug, not wanting to get into it.

"Liar."  He accuses, but doesn't push.  "Want to help me with some brewing?"

"Merlin yes."  I sigh, a real smile tugging at the corners of my lips.  We slip into his brewing studio where three cauldrons are already simmering.  The one on the end catches my attention though.  That smell.  That smell of home.

"What's that?"  I ask, pointing to it.

"Oh, that's amortentia.  I don't sell it to the public, but I got an order from the Department of Ministries."  He says, "I'm surprised you didn't recognize it."

"I..."  I don't have a coherent thought.  Amortentia.  But no, it would have worn off by now.  It only lasts a short time before needing to be re-dosed.  And it's been way longer.  But what if... What if my alterations...?

"Is there a reversal?"  I ask, peering down at the simmering liquid.

"No.  It wears off so fast that there isn't need."  He replies, eyes narrowing.

"Would it be hard to come up with one?"  My brain is already speeding through the ingredients and the counters.

"Probably not, but like I said it's not really needed."  He stands behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder.  "Hazel, what's going on?"

"I want to try to make one."  I declare.  "Will you help me?"

"Sure, but why?" 

I open my mouth, trying to find the words.  They seem to get stuck in my throat.  

"Please?"  Is the only word I manage.  He nods, understanding enough.

"Then let's get to work."