#we must protec baby cinnamon roll Anne

[kaidynsarell]

🦋🫧Sanguinis et Omnium Fractorum🫧🦋

Chapter 3-Of Cracks and Fine Lies

🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋🫧🦋

Pairing- Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating - This story is rated overall 🔞(ch 3 is SFW)

Tags- Discussions of terminal Illness, self-harm.

The full chapter can be found below the cut(3.5k words

Ongoing Fic

Chapters 1-6 Are available on WP and AO3

The walls of the Great Hall did not find Clara amongst the throng of students that breakfasted the following morning. Nor was she found amongst those whose aching heads still lingered beneath the bedclothes to coax every morsel of sleep from ticking hands. Instead, the soles of her overly scuffed boots clipped hurried footsteps toward the Hospital Wing. Echoing noisily against the flagstones in the near-deserted corridors, to be witnessed only by the numerous moving portraits and the occasional ghost.

The nightmare was not new, nor were the headaches that accompanied them. Though they'd both worsened in recent years.

It was a parasite that had clung to the edges of her consciousness as long as memory had lived within her mind. Always the same confused mass of distorted images lingering in the dark corners of her dreams, only to show its face when she was least prepared.

Each time left her just as terrified as the last, and each time left her just as confused.

Between that and the wash of scarlet-stained memories from Fifth year, a carefully regulated regimen of Dreamless Sleep Draughts via Nurse Blainey had become her only solace from an otherwise steady flow of nightmares.

Even so, the potion was not readily available.

Difficult to brew and disastrous to get wrong, the potion required ingredients that were not only highly regulated but also incredibly expensive, and a severe lack of galleons did not lend to obtaining the precious vials of swirling indigo and cerulean.

She'd been forced to forego the potions during the summer holidays, resigned to what sleep she could achieve with her Grandmother's chamomile tea and fresh bundles of lavender. It wasn't much, but if Clara couldn't find love tucked between the careful stitches in her clothing, she would find it curled within the steam and brushed across the hand-painted peonies that decorated the delicate porcelain in shades of the palest pink.

The tea had never helped the nightmares much, but she'd told Gran it did, if only because it had made the older woman smile. Maybe if Clara had said it enough, she could have convinced herself of it as well.

She'd lied every night until the last cup of tea Gran had made her, just weeks before the start of term. The delicate pink peonies had shattered in shards of glass across the kitchen floor before Beatrice Elmore fell to the ground, and only the swirls of wood grain had tasted the chamomile that dripped from the fragments.

There was no enemy- no goblin or Dark Wizard from whom she could exact revenge- just an old woman's heart counting the last of its beats. Clara couldn't destroy time or old age, and as she'd learned with Professor Fig, no spell could reverse death.

Clara didn't drink tea anymore.

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Frosted glass muted the shafts of early morning sunlight, breaking through the windows to wash over the soft green and blue linens and kiss the wooden arches of the peaked ceiling.

The flagstones were chipped here, spiderwebbed with cracks, and crumbled along the corners. It was odd to have floors in such disrepair. Clara might have suspected they belonged to the dungeons or a secret passage.

She would not have expected the Hospital Wing.

Then again, no one visited this room because they were completely whole. They were all a little cracked and crumbling.

Perhaps the castle could sense it.

Nurse Blainey was not in the room.

Instead, a young woman perched on the edge of the bed closest to the nurse's office—where Clara could make out the faint murmur of voices from behind the closed door. Gentle hints of auburn ignited in the soft light and curled amid the darker waves of cinnamon brown that framed the woman's thin face, and Clara could just make out the light sprinkling of freckles that had never counted as many as her brother's.

Confusion poked at the place she kept her worry, and only the stabbing pain behind her eyes distracted her from the rush of cold weightlessness that accompanied the uneven slamming against her ribs. All thoughts of Dreamless Sleep Draught momentarily banished to the corners of her consciousness.

Anne shouldn’t be here

The brunette had all but refused to go to a hospital since before the end of Fifth year- since the Healers had given up on her, and hope had burned to destruction in Sebastian's hands. Ominis had nearly been on his knees before she had allowed him to hire a Home Care Mediwitch who could check in each week to monitor her condition and replenish the stock of potions that fought and often failed to mitigate her symptoms fully.

If Anne had come to Nurse Blainey willingly... if she'd felt she needed to come... Clara frowned and stepped over the cracked stone, trying and failing to resist the implications surging ahead at breakneck speed to threaten her overwhelm.

The brunette's head tilted slightly at her appearance, eyebrows squished at the center. "I didn't think I'd see you until tom...tomorrow."

The words wobbled at the precipice, close to falling. The little smile Anne had worn clenched at the corners, twisted to a grimace, and Clara didn't miss the slight flexion of her spine or the near-unconscious guarding of her abdomen. "Anne, is everything...has something happened? Do I need to get Ominis?"

"No....no, I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Fine.

Fine was a relative term.

Fine ignored the half-dug grave that clawed at her bones and waited to drag her under the dirt to lay alongside her parents. Fine ignored the skull that could be seen beneath paper-thin skin and the plum-dark bruises maintaining a permanent residence under her eyes. Fine ignored the curse barnacled to her cells, leeching what little life remained in her blood.

Fine was the lie Clara told herself over and over in the hope she might one day believe it.

Almost as quickly as it had started, Anne's grimace softened, tipped up, and curled at the corners. Her smile was nearly a perfect mirror of Sebastian's, in how it crinkled over her entire face, but more so in how it masked the pain that lingered beneath the surface.

Anne shifted her weight on the mattress. "I...I've been in contact with a Healer from St Mungo's, actually."

The words hardly had time to register coherently in Clara's mind before the click of a lock, and the scraping of wood over stone interrupted the flicker of her surprise, and Nurse Blainey's office door was pushed open.

Clara didn't recognize the man who stepped from within.

Tall and thin, he had hair the color of cornsilk and a haughty expression that might have rivaled the worst of Ominis' ill-tempered moods. Polished shoes clipped purposeful steps over the cracked floor with the precision of a metronome. Though the effect was somewhat lost in the slight sway of his hips. His gaze hovered over Clara for half a beat; the little flare of his nostrils and tightening of his lips were the only acknowledgments he'd seen her before his cold gray eyes shifted down to the clipboard and pad of documents extracted from inside a pristine leather satchel.

If the brunette had noticed his overly stiff posture, she gave no indication, tilting her head to the man who now stood only a few paces from them. "This is Healer Fawley. He's from a branch of St. Mungo's Spell Damage Department–Experimental Research and Development. We've been in contact recently, and ...well..." She trailed off and gestured vaguely for the man to continue.

Healer Fawley did not look as he spoke, his voice as clipped and sharp as his footsteps. "Our department studies the nature and progression of rare and unseen afflictions. Given the nature, and frankly the rarity of Miss Sallow's curse-"

Rarity.

It was another word that ignored the truth of Anne's condition. The curse was unheard of by any of the Healers assigned to her case and nowhere to be found in the nearly two years Sebastian had spent pouring indefatigably over every text he could pilfer from the restricted section.

"-We reached out some weeks ago in the hopes she might allow us to study it further, utilizing some methods we are in the early process of developing."

Study it? Clara blinked between the Healer, still pointedly fixed on his notes, and the brunette still perched on the edge of the bed. "Do you... do you mean to say you might...that you could find...?"

The word felt taboo against her tongue, and it died behind her teeth, but hope tasted like honey and lingered where the words could not be spoken.

Anne's lips turned down. "A cure isn't likely."

"Oh." Hope was fickle. Too sweet, and bitter dripped down to smother it. She should have known better, and crescents dug scarlet against her skin.

Distraction.

Healer Fawley's gaze snapped abruptly to Clara at the motion. Cold grey to her blue and flicked down to where her fingernails dug against the fragile skin at her wrist. Brows twitched together. It was gone as quickly as it had come, and his gaze returned to the clipboard as he spoke. "I am sorry I cannot assure a better outcome, but I will not make false promises."

Anne shivered despite the late summer heat but appeared otherwise unperturbed. Terminal had become a far too familiar concept. If not by way of the Healers, who'd failed to find a solution, then by way of Solomon, who had rejected all attempts to the contrary and repeatedly insisted on acceptance of the inevitable.

"We are hopeful, however, that it may offer some insight into other lesser-known curses and afflictions that still puzzle wizardkind. Though, if we make any progress or find anything promising that may aid Miss Sallow's condition, she will be the first to know."

Anne shrugged, a slight movement barely noticeable beneath her thick sweater and woolen scarf. "Provided they keep the tests minimally invasive and continue to meet me here rather than at St. Mungos, I've agreed to help."

Clara frowned. Leave it to Anne to refuse to enter a hospital when it came to saving her own life, only to leap at the opportunity as soon as it meant she might help someone else by doing so. Salazar Slytherin would be rolling in his grave. Though she supposed that was Anne. The brunette favored pity even less than Clara did. She'd had more years for it to sour. But this? What Fawley was asking for didn't smell like pity. Anne wasn't being worried and fussed over. The Healers weren't even focused on saving her; if anything, she was helping them.

"Elias?" Nurse Blainey was a small woman, barely taller than Clara, but years of looking after the health of rambunctious students had given her a presence that was hard to ignore. She bustled from her office; a thick folder clutched between her fingers. "Are you sure these are all the documents you'll need on Miss Sallow?"

Fawley took the folder without looking and nodded once- a short, curt motion. "Yes, Thank You, Noreen."

The nurse frowned. "I'm afraid they are somewhat out of date; perhaps you shou-"

"No." Fawley must have reviewed his notes at least a dozen times since leaving the nurse's office, but his eyes were locked, once again, on the document even as his hand snapped up to bat the question away.

Nurse Blainey raised her eyebrows, arms folded across her chest. The irritation spread so thickly over her features that Clara might have run a finger through it and licked away the frosting. "Very well. Do you require further assistance, Healer Fawley?"

Clara did not miss the shift in the nurse's tone, nor did Fawley, whose jaw had tensed slightly the curt addition of the title.

The man swallowed, glanced at the clock beside the door, and then at the petite woman. "These tests will be adequate for now. Thank you, Nurse Blainey. I would, however, like to gather a few vials of Miss Sallow's blood. If you'd be so kind as to collect those for me, I would greatly appreciate it. My skills in that area have grown somewhat lax in recent years."

Nurse Blainey huffed through her nose but otherwise did not respond. Instead, she glanced at Anne, who nodded her consent and pushed her sleeve up.

As though to mirror the cracks below their boots, the stark blue of Anne's veins traced spiderwebs under translucent skin. The thin woman didn't finch as the nurse made a small cut just below the junction of her elbow and siphoned the stream garnet into two glass vials.

Clara watched as Healer Fawley carefully secured the vials in an inner pouch of his satchel and fell into a brief discussion with the Hogwarts nurse.

"I will be seeing you tomorrow, won't I?" Something bumped Clara's shoulder, snapping her attention from where the vial of Anne's blood had disappeared into the Healer's bag.

"What?"

The brunette had stood from the bed and arched an eyebrow at the slightly shorter woman. "Tomorrow? It's Saturday. You're both still coming for dinner, aren't you?"

Understanding flooded spaces left by her confusion, and Clara nodded her agreement before her attention was again drawn to Healer Fawley. His face had taken on an air of bored disinterest, and his eyes darted in a steady triangle- from his notes to Nurse Blainey and up to the clock with near-dizzying repetition.

Anne chuckled softly and slid a thin arm through Clara's. She smelled sweet, like caramel, vanilla, and the dustings of baker's sugar that often adorned her freckles or the spaces between her knuckles. "The thing is-" she continued, head bent to Clara's ear "-I've not told Omi about this yet."

It was Clara's turn to raise her eyebrows.

Anne grimaced and looked down. "I didn't want to worry him. You know how he can get."

Any further discussion on the matter was interrupted as Healer Fawley abruptly tore himself away from Nurse Blainey's conversation. "Again, Thank You, Noreen. Miss Sallow, I will contact you shortly with plans for our next meeting."

Then Clara watched as the tall man turned on his heel and strode from the Hospital Wing. The sharp, methodical clip of his footsteps faltered only once when the toe of his polished boot caught the crumpled edge of a flagstone. He stumbled for a moment and disappeared down the hallway.

Nurse Blainey sighed and turned to the other two witches. "Miss Elmore, I'll see you in my office now, and Miss Sallow, you are welcome to use my fireplace to get back home if you'd rather not traverse the grounds to the apparition boundaries. I imagine you'd be quite exhausted walking that far."

Anne nodded, and they followed the petite woman

Her office existed in shades of chestnut and bronze. Bookshelves filled with charts, well-worn medical texts, and various anatomical models that moved and stretched as though to mirror living counterparts lined one wall. Locked cabinets filled with brightly colored potions- Wiggenwelds, Skele-gro, Pepper up, and several others were crammed against one another. And still, another wall was hung with certificates of licensure featuring the crossed wand and bone of St. Mungo's and additional anatomical drawings and diagrams. What books were not on the shelves had found themselves on the large mahogany desk at the center of the room and rested amongst stacks of student files that had not yet received proper documentation of recent visits.

With a little huff, the nurse settled behind her desk and pulled one of the unfinished files toward her.

Anne stepped to the fireplace and gathered a small handful of Floo powder from the pewter bowl in the bracket affixed to the wall. "Thank you again, Nurse Blainey. I do appreciate your allowing me to use your ward."

"Of course, my dear. You're welcome anytime." The nurse's eyes remained on the file in front of her, but the corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile.

Clara was wrapped in a sweet-smelling hug that might have crushed the breath from her lungs had Anne's body not been so frail, and the brunette vanished amid a rush of green flames.

The smooth cherrywood box scraped across the desk before the wash of green light vanished from the room. Slightly larger than Clara's palm and charmed to only open at her or Nurse Blainey's touch, Clara could already picture the five small vials, each slightly larger than her pinky finger and swirling with the tell-tale indigo and cerulean of Dreamless Sleep Draught.

"The nightmares have still not improved; I take it?"

She didn't question how Nurse Blainey had known. Showing up to her office first thing in the morning, before classes had even begun, must have been enough of an indication. Clara shifted on her feet, clenched her fingernails against the indentations on the underside of her wrist, and locked them against her skin. With the distraction of Anne no longer present, restless desire crushed between her knuckles and ached to uncurl her bones and stretch them out to snatch the square of cherrywood from the mahogany.

The break over the summer holidays had done little to temper her desire for the little swirling vials, and now that shattered peonies dripped with chamomile had joined the images of her nightmares, she hated how much more she wanted it.

Rest.

Peace.

Escape.

Clenched tighter, Clara felt the little 'pop' and sting as the skin broke beneath her fingernails.

Pain.

Distraction.

Control.

"No, they haven't."

She didn't feel pity knit beneath the nurse's furrowed brow as much as flickers of concern that tugged at the corners of her lips and darted her gaze between Clara's face and the small box perched on her desk. "Very well, do you remember the directions?

She forced her eyes away from the cherrywood to where Nurse Blainey sat behind her desk and rattled off the list she'd been instructed to memorize and required to recite every month with each new box of the precious liquid: "Do not exceed more than five vials every thirty days. Do not exceed more than one vial every three days. Do not take while under the influence of alcohol or combine with substances containing valerian root, and I'm to tell you straight away if I have any abrupt headaches or changes in vision."

Nurse Blainey nodded slowly, brown eyes locked against Clara's blue with a curious intensity. "Excellent, Miss Elmore. I trust you remember and understand the risks, and you will follow those instructions?"

Death.

That was the risk she'd been warned of repeatedly. Or rather, a state of unconsciousness so complete it would be impossible to wake. Students weren't given vials to use at their own discretion, but as Professor Black had put it, Clara was the Hero of Hogwarts. Surely she could be trusted with something like this, and undeserving of the title or not, she'd be hard-pressed to reject one of the few things that had offered relief from the nightmares.

Clara nodded.

She wasn't surprised when the nurse stood and, with a flick of her wand, a series of colorful glowing orbs appeared around Clara's head. It was a simple vital systems charm- one Clara could have conjured herself. The brown that had been so focused against blue shifted to the hovering orbs. Holding her wand aloft, Nurse Blainey began using her other hand to manipulate the orbs with quick, precise motions. "I take it you are still interested in continuing to assist me this term?"

It was not a question, though the upward inflection in the woman's voice begged a response, and Clara nodded her agreement. Once again, focused on the cherrywood box and the sharp sting against her wrist.

The glowing orbs dissipated, and Nuse Blainey pushed the box toward Clara. "I'll speak with Professor Weasley and Professor Sharp to arrange it into your timetable, and we'll be in contact shortly. Otherwise, I'll expect you back in thirty days with any vials you may have remaining."

Impatience tied strings to eager fingertips and leapt them forward to curl around the cherrywood. Another nod and assurance that Clara would adhere to the terms of her prescription and the sound of her boots tapped across the cracks and out to the corridor.

Clara already knew she wouldn't have any of the vials left when she returned in thirty days.

She never did.