| Details for Trauma Practice |
| Summary: | Samira tells Hephaesta about her future plans, and Phae inadvertently provides her an opportunity to get her foot in the door. |
| Date: | 15 September, 1939 |
| Location: | Hogwarts Workshop and Hospital Wing |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!
In the period between the last classes of the day and dinner, the hammering of metal emanating from the workshop becomes a muted echo in the corridor outside. It is a near-certain sign that the room is being used by one of the few souls to avail herself of its resources. Behind the closed door, Hephaesta Mulciber tinkers away at a brass casing, directing a levitated hammer with her wand.
Samira pokes her head into the workshop to peer around hopefully. Catching sight of the genius hard at work, Samira's impish smile brightens. Slipping into the workshop, she closes the door behind her with care. "Knew I'd find you here." Coming to stand at Hephaesta's side, she grins up at the slightly older girl. "I've figured out what I might like to do after Hogwarts."
Hephaesta pauses in her hammering, glancing over to the girl at her side. Her eyes bulge owlishly, magnified by the lenses of her Site-Rite Goggles. She blinks and pulls the goggles up to her forehead. "Oh, hello Samira. Sorry, the hammer was loud. You said something about after Hogwarts?"
Samira giggles impishly as she peers up at goggle-faced Phae. Nodding, she says, "Yes. Our last conversation. It kept returning to me. But, I think I've figured it out. At least one possibility. Because, I don't want to just be a dancer. I expect more of myself. Perhaps I will still perform, but I also want to be a healer. A trauma healer."
"Like a mediwitch?" Phae nods, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "You have to be really good to get a job like that. I have a cousin who is a Healer. She's not in Trauma, but she's brilliant." She gives Samira a smile. "But I'm sure you could do it, if you set your mind to it."
"Thanks. I know I will because it's what /I/ want to do. Not even Necromancy gives such true influence over life and death. To learn how to pull people away from the edge of death? That fascinates me. Is such magic taught here for N.E.W.Ts?" Samira tilts her head, peering up at Phae.
Hephaesta ponders that for a moment. "I've never really thought about it, but I don't think so. I suppose Madam Spleen might teach some healing spells to her Student Aides. That would make sense, at least for the older students. You should consider asking to be her Aide."
"See? This is why I like you so much. So clever. I think I will do that. But, it also means I need to start putting real effort into the classes that matter. The ones I will need to take as N.E.W.T.s." Reaching up, she brushes a couple of loose strands of hair from Hephaesta's face. "Also, this way if you ever get hurt, I can make you whole again."
Hephaesta's cheeks warm a little as Samira's fingers touch her face. "I'm not going to get h-…" A loud KA-CRACK interrupts her as her levitating hammer comes down not on the metal she'd been working, but on the little engine that the metal was intended to cover. Sparks fly and some smoking piece of debris sails through the hair, bouncing off of the side of Phae's skull. She stumbles, her braced leg ruining her balance, and she begins to topple.
Samira flinches at the sparks and debris. But, as Hephaesta loses her balance, Samira snags her by the wrist an pulls her back. Her impulse might have overcompensated and she ends up pulling a bit too hard. But, as small and slender as she might look, Samira is a sturdy little thing. Still holding Phae by the wrist, Samira slips an arm around Hephaesta's waist to hold her tight against herself (for support). "Are you alright?" Samira watches Hephaesta carefully.
Hephaesta squeaks as she is pulled back to some semblence of balance. For a moment, her eyes cast about, disoriented. But as she comes to realise she is in Samira's embrace, her face burns and she turns away in embarrassment. "I'm fine," she says curtly, pulling away and averting her eyes. In the torchlight, something glistens in her hair. Something wet.
Samira lets Hephaesta pull away, but keeps a firm hold on her wrist. Eyes narrowed slightly, she reaches up to take a gentle hold on Hephaesta's chin so that she can tilt the other girl's head, if permitted. "You're bleeding." All relaxed amusement has vanished from Samira's gaze and manner. Her eyes seem sharp. "This is why I wish I knew trauma spells. But come. I'm taking you to the infirmary. Can we leave the workshop as it is?"
Hephaesta blinks is surprise at Samira's sudden forceful demeanour, too stunned to pull away from her grip. She lifts a hand to touch her own head, wincing and pulling her fingers away to see the tips stained red. "Oh." She seems a little confused, and rather fascinated with the sight of her own blood. "I…the workshop?" She looks over at her ruined engine, and gives a despairing moan. "I need to clean…" She looks about for her wand, dropped when she stumbled.
"Later. As long as leaving it won't explode the castle, I'm taking you to Madam Spleen. Let's go," Samira tugs on Hephaesta's wrist, gentle but firm. She isn't leaving much room for debate or argument.
"But my wand," Phae protests weakly as she hobbles after Samira, casting her eyes back in search of it. The small explosion, the blood, her embarrassment at it all — she's left a bit stunned, and in no condition to resist.
Samira had started to lead Phae away, but at Phae's weak protest, she pauses. Casting her eyes across the Workshop, she spots the wand. She flits away from Phae's side for but a moment. "I've got it for you," says Samira stepping close at Phae's side. Taking her hand in a gentle, but firm grip, she leads the dazed Ravenclaw out of the workshop.
Hephaesta limps into the Hospital Wing — click, whirr…click, whirr… — her wrist in Samira's hand. Her other hand is held to the side of her head. The clockwork sound of her arrival alerts Madam Spleen, who is accustomed to occasionally tending to the disabled girl's special needs.
The nurse steps out of her office with a warm smile, which quickly turns to a concerned frown at the sight of the two students. "Help her to the bed," Madam Spleen orders Samira, gesturing to the nearest unoccupied hospital bed. As she fetches a potion bottle from a cabinet, she inquires, "What happened, dearies?"
"A hammer dropped into the wrong place and exploded. She stumbled and has blood now." Her words hold a bit more of her Egyptian accent than usual. Slipping an arm around Hephaesta's waist, Samira guides her gently to the unoccupied hospital bed. She looks up at Hepheasta with concern hidden behind that subtle sharpness in her eyes.
Phae quickly adds, "It was a simple accident. I promise. I wasn't doing anything dangerous, Madam Spleen."
Madam Spleen gives Hephaesta a knowing smile. "Mmmhmm. Just like how you weren't doing anything dangerous when you burned your eyebrow off? Or when you broke your arm retrieving that metal owl of yours?" Phae's ashamed blush brings a compassionate smile from the nurse. "There, there. Let me have a look at your head." She gently tilts Phae's head, waving her wand to clean away the excess blood so she can look at the wound. "Thank you for bringing her, Miss Prince. Those stairs are difficult enough for our Miss Mulciber without needing to contend with a head injury as well."
Samira keeps close at Phae's bedside. "It was a strange coincidence. We had just been speaking of injuries and my interest in perhaps becoming a healer of trauma." The girl's dark gaze lingers on Phae's injury, keen to watch Madam Spleen work.
"I was…distracted," Hephaesta mumbles, unconsciously seeking Samira's hand.
Madam Spleen nods in understanding. "Sometimes subtle suggestions have a way of becoming reality. Watch closely, dear, if you mean to be a Healer someday." She directs her wand at the wound again, tracing a basic back and forth movement with the tip, not unlike a simple stitch. "Episkey!" With the incantation, the cut in Phae's scalp pulled itself shut. "There. It wasn't very deep at all. Still, I want you to apply this twice a day until the scar is gone." She dabs a bit of thick gel from the potion bottle onto the closed-up wound, rubbing it in with a fingertip.
Samira's sharp gaze remains fixed upon Madam Spleen's work, but feeling Hephaesta's hand seeking hers, she takes it in a firm hold. Her thumb brushes gently across the top of Phae's hand. "I would have taken a class in Healing Magic this year had I not left the Heka School of Ancient Magic. If I were to serve as your student aid, would you teach me, Madam Spleen?"
Hephaesta touches the spot on her head, and almost looks disappointed when her fingers come away untouched by blood.
Madam Spleen stoppers the potion phial, pressing it into Phae's hand. But her eyes are fixed on Samira now. "If you proved to me that you could handle it. Healing magic is advanced material, young lady. It puts the health of other people in your hands — sometimes even their lives. You would need to show me that you have the skill, compassion, and responsibility to be entrusted with that duty."
Samira's gaze lingers for a moment on Phae as she looks at her hand almost with disappointment. Glancing back up at Madam Spleen, she says, "Mm. I suppose the best way to show you, would be for you to observe for yourself whether I am suited to the work. Perhaps I could serve as an aid for a week on a trial basis?"
Hephaesta nods in agreement with Samira. "She was very firm in seeing that I came here straight away, Madam. It was quite responsible."
Madam Spleen smiles patiently. "If you wish to be a Student Aide, you must submit a letter of interest with the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore." After a beat, she adds, "But I am always in need of extra assistance. Now then, Miss Mulciber, stay here as long as you need to feel steady. We don't want you getting woozy on the stairs." She gives the girls a smile and bustles back toward her office.
Samira nods when instructed submit a letter of interest. Something she had not known. Once Madam Spleen has bustled off, Samira sits down at Hephaesta's side and slips an arm around her waist. "I half wonder if you dropped the hammer on purpose to get me here," says Samira, peering up at Phae wih a bit of a grin.
Hephaesta arches a skeptical eyebrow at Samira. "I'm flattered that you think my grasp of physics is so absolute that I could predict precisely necessary force to break off that piece of the engine at a velocity that would give me a superficial, and at just the right trajectory to avoid my eyes." She sighs and lowers her eyes abashedly. "Thank you for bringing me here. I'm sorry that I ruined our conversation."
Samira's laughter is impish as she squeezes Phae around the waist. "No. It was serendipity. I was able to speak with Madam Spleen. /And/ it has confirmed for me how much I want to learn such magic." Head tilted, she brushes a few strands of hair from Hephaesta's eyes and her dark gaze lingers where Madam Spleen applied the gel.
Hephaesta sighs softly, perhaps with an iota of disappointment that Samira didn't actually think she was that smart. "Well, then it was worth a bit of pain if it helped you decide your future." She tilts her head into Samira's fingers, smiling at the other girl. "I'm glad we've become friends. It's always hard for me. I think I've made a friend, but then it turned out they were just interested in my inventions. As soon as they are no longer novelties to them, they drift away."
"Mm. As much as your inventions interest me, it is the mind behind them that fascinates. And I am pleased as well we are friends. You are unique of everyone I've met here," says Samira with a softer smile than usual.
Hephaesta beams happily, her confidence fully renewed. "You're very unique as well. Not to mention that you're full of surprises. I would not have imagined you'd want to be a Healer, for instance. What made you decide that it would be the path for you?"
"Death interests me. True power over death is impossible, but healing spells allows you some influence." Samira's smile is a bit too wide as she watches Hephaesta.
Hephaesta blinks, once again caught off guard by Samira's occasionally macabre words. "I…suppose so. But isn't the idea to have influence over life? Not death?" Phae's trepidation is palpable — she is unaccustomed to this visceral subject matter.
Samira's laughter is full of wicked mirth at Hephaesta's reaction. "If you control light, you can also control shadow. But, you cannot control light with shadow. Healing magic is far more powerful than Necromancy in that sense. Which is why it interests me more."
Hephaesta perks a little, trying to contain her smirk. "Actually, one cannot control shadow, as shadow does not actually exist except as a concept. Darkness is nothing more than an absence of light. Perhaps the same could be said of death; that is is merely the absence of life." Her mouth twists to the side as she ponders. "Though, that is probably an inaccurate analogy, as the presence of ghosts could imply an afterlife. Though, an afterlife isn't necessarily the same thing as death. Perhaps the very concept of death is a flawed notion…" The Ravenclaw's mind starts to wander off without Samira.
"This is why you are unique of anyone I've met. You are the only one to make me feel warm. At ease. Even if I can't quite keep up with you, my clever Phae." Samira removes the arm from around Phae's waist only to drape it around her shoulders.
The closeness brings Phae back from her mental derailment, and she turns her head to look over at Samira. "Warm? How do I make you feel warm?"
"Inside." Samira shrugs a bit, gazing off across the infirmary. "It's so cold here. The Slytherin common room is like a sunken ship and I always feel cold. I've felt its edge inside and out. But when I'm with you, at least inside it isn't so much."
Hephaesta furrows her brow in a quizzical expression. But she nods, apparently accepting it. "I'm glad, then. I cannot imagine sleeping in the dungeon. I don't envy you at all. I wish I could show you Ravenclaw tower. We're so high up. Have you made any friends in Slytherin?"
"Oh yes. Quite a few. I'm not sure what they make of me yet. Ah, but one of them even asked me to 'date' them yesterday." Samira leans comfortably against Hephaesta's side as she runs a hand through her own wild, dark curls.
Hephaesta's eyes widen. "Really? Did you say yes? Who was it?" Phae isn't typically one to gossip. Though she also isn't one to have much investment in the lives of other students. Samira, however, has penetrated Phae's social bubble.
"Malfoy. Abraxas. And no, I didn't say yes. I-" Samira hesitates, not looking at Hephaesta. "He keeps asking me to dance for him. I love to dance, but the way he asks. It fills me with unease."
Hephaesta wrinkles her nose at the mention of Abraxas. "He wants you to dance for him? I don't blame you for saying no. He is so…" She frowns, searching for the right word. "Unpleasant." It doesn't quite convey the feeling, but Phae does at least try to speak politely.
"Mm. He can be pleasant sometimes. But, yes." Samira glances at Hephaesta. "If he ever bothers you, promise to let me know, yes?"
Hephaesta nods in agreement. "I don't think he would bother me. He seems to approve of pure-bloods. Besides, I doubt he even knows I exist. We don't really cross paths much. I've just heard the way he talks to people, and it makes me uncomfortable."
"Yes, being pure-bloods does seem to give us a few advantages. I think it is mostly my blood that has led most of the Slytherins to forgive my eccentricities, like talking to muggle born students. I mean, I don't seem particularly sympathetic towards them. I find them interesting. So, the snakes continue to welcome me as one of their own." Samira's hand slips from Phae's shoulder and now rests just behind her on the bed as the girl continues to lean in close.
"If you dated Abraxas Malfoy, I don't think you could get away with talking to the Muggle-born to easily," Hephaesta advises. "Though, if you want my opinion, I would avoid dating altogether. It's…problematic." She sighs softly, then quickly adds, "It's a distraction, really. We're here to learn, and we should be focused on that."
Samira grins a bit up at Hephaeasta. "That's what I told him. Not that I was here to learn, but that I didn't intend to date anyone." She runs a hand through her hair and adds, "If I did show such interest, I'm sure my father and my mother's family would both start trying to arrange suitable matches for me. That is a box of horrors I don't want to open."
"Arranged matches? Goodness, I don't think the Mulcibers have had an arranged marriage for a very long time. Though I have no doubt my mother would like to do just that for me." Phae sighs, rolling her eyes with her typical exasperation toward her mother. "Aren't you concerned that if you don't decide for yourself, that your family will try to decide for you? It might be more prudent to make the decision before they can. Not that you should be in any rush. You're only a Fifth Year, after all."
"Arranged matches are not so rare where I am from. And, my family has done everything it can to control me my whole life. I would be extremely surprised if they planned to leave this up to me as well. But, they can't force me. So I'm not worried. I'd still prefer to avoid dealing with it though." Samira is quiet for a moment, thoughtful before she adds with a grimace, "And I very much hope that Malfoy's interest doesn't reach my father's ears."
Hephaesta nods with some relief. "That's good. I would hate to think that they could make you. And really, it's better not to get distracted with all of that." She takes a deep breath. "I think I'm ready to go. It should be nearly dinner time. Would you…stay with me? On the stairs?" Her cheeks colour with embarrassment as she swallows her pride to ask for help.
"Mhm." Samira nods, smiling up at Hephaesta. "After all, we're eating dinner together, right?" Samira stands first, but facing Hephaesta, she reaches out for her hands.
Hephaesta giggles softly, feeling slightly conspiratorial about how they sit near each other so they can talk between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. She swivels her legs over to the edge of the bed, and takes Samira's hands to steady her as she stands. The moment her foot touches the floor, her leg brace begin to click and whirr, the complex mechanisms coming to life to help support her deformed limb. "Thank you," she says softly, doing her best to convey her gratitude at having a friend that neither judges nor pities her.