The last time Sandy had been in the cells on Level 2 he had examined Mortimer Gamp. Today he swapped one mad man for another. He let the hitwizards examine his healer's bag. He showed them his hospital identification. They took time. Sandy gulped. He was here at short notice. The other healer was sick. He had been sent instead. Sandy was wearing his green healer's robes. They had a fine gold band now. He was the Deputy Head Healer. He helped Andy with running the hospital. Sandy was patient. He was sweating though. The hitwizards gave him his bag back. They took him to the cell. "Do you want him restrained?" They asked. Sandy stopped. He looked at the cell door. He shook his head. The door opened.

The days of the week had not meant much to Lawrence for years, what with living in Azkaban and then his unpredictable life since. Locked up on Level 2, he hadn’t seen the outside world for over a month, save for the magical windows he passed on the way to the interview rooms. There were routines on Level 2 though, such as the times the hitwizard stationed outside his cell at all times changed over in the morning, the time the little light in his cell extinguished for the night. He could always tell when it was Friday or Saturday night and the Law Enforcement Patrol were busy with the drunks. They were noisy nights. Then there were the days he could take a shower. These came roughly once a week, but were always unexpectedly presented on the days he was to expect a healer.

Lawrence’s curly hair was now past his shoulders, brown streaked with grey. It took a while to dry but at least it smelled better for the wash. Everything he wore and the sheets for the primitive bed in the cell smelled of the same acerbic herbs. It was a better situation than Azkaban had afforded at the start, so he didn’t complain.

The healer from St Mungo’s who had seen him since the first morning here had been a box ticker. She was thorough, had prescribed useful potions, but when Lawrence had pressed her for questions in return for hers she’d dithered. Despite her oath to treat him as any other, he could tell she was increasingly uncomfortable as more was disclosed. Her last visit had been cursory at best, and he had not fought for longer. What was the point, after all?

When his cell door creaked open, he at first thought he had predicted incorrectly about a visit from St Mungo’s, because the female healer wasn’t the one stepping in, and then Lawrence sat up with a start. It was a healer, but not one he anticipated would ever visit. He thought Sandy would do anything to get out of this duty.
“Where’s the usual one?” Lawrence asked, leaning over to see if she was following Misslethorpe in.

"G-g-good morning M-m-Mister Mu-Musgrave." The previous time Sandy and Lawrence were close Lawrence was violent. He pointed his wand to Sandy's head. He obliviated Andy. Maybe Sandy should ask the hitwizard to restrain Lawrence. He had been stuck to the bed so Sandy could treat him. This was a bad thought. He should have found someone to come. He was pretending not to show how scared he was. But he was stammering. "She is not well. She splinched. We p-put her t-together last night." It was never nice to work on healers. He hoped she made a full recovery. He did not know what had happened. Sandy did not want to believe what another colleague said. That she would splinch to get out of coming here. "She is off w-work. I am H-healer Misslethorpe. I-I d-don't know if you r-remember me."

Lawrence knew exactly who Sandy was, but by introducing himself like that, it was a clear message Aubrey was not going to lie outright about knowing Lawrence. Surely the hitwizards knew they were both at school together, in the same year? There were enough people in the building who either worked with Lawrence or were close relatives of those, so they were running out of suitable minders without connections. Maybe there were only a few spell damage healers at the hospital who would agree to come.

From the way Misslethorpe was stuttering, it was obvious he was crapping himself about the visit. Lawrence may have felt remorse about how he had treated Sandy, considering Misslethorpe had saved his life and could have left him to die, but he was on his guard now.

“Unfortunate.” Lawrence replied, eyeing Sandy suspiciously. His healer’s robes showed rank now. He was too unfamiliar with the uniform patterns these days to know what it suggested. With rank came responsibility...

The door creaked shut again, and the cell felt crowded with two extra bodies inside. A hitwizard who resembled Lawrence’s old colleague, Clyde[1] with a shiny bald head and the build of a rugby player stood in the corner, watching healer and prisoner. Watching without really seeing - waiting for any sign that Lawrence would resist or threaten.

The two former classmates exchanged a look, and Lawrence broke eye contact, indicating submission enough for Misslethorpe to do his job. At least he knew Sandy was a decent healer.

1.	August 1997 Be Here Now

Sandy took a deep breath. He put his brown healer's bag on the little bed. Lawrence looked ok. A lot more healthy than last time. Then he had a hole in his stomach. He was recovering from pneumonia. Lawrence now was not really thin. He did not look truly healthy but he did not look dead. Sandy did not think he got much exercise. It was hard to remember they had been friends. The choices they made in their twenties made their lives. He had admired Lawrence when they were at school. He was pureblood too. But Lawrence was never stuck up.

"I w-will perform a basic examination." Sandy said. He willed his stutter away. This was a script. "Please sit." He took a deep breath. He stood before Lawrence. He tried not to look at him. He reached out his hands. They shook a bit. He touched Lawrence's head with his fingertips. His hair was damp. He felt around his head. He was glad he could not see lice. There were bumps. The notes said there would be. Lawrence had 'accidents'. Apparently. Sandy was not sure how he felt about that. He had smashed a bottle of potion on Lawrence's head once. That had been an 'accident' too...

"Right." Sandy said. "N-now look up at m-me." He shined his wand gently. He froze. Lawrence was a prisoner. He still looked dangerous. Even if the guards hurt him. Even if he did not have a wand. Sandy took a deep breath. He had to look at Lawrence's eyes. He looked very tired. His eyes were bloodshot. He shone his wand away and back. "Hmm."

Lawrence was already sat, and gave Sandy a raised eyebrow for the request. Misslethorpe was frightened. Nobody had been particularly frightened of Lawrence in the weeks since his arrival. Since being disarmed, and observed in such a terrible state of health, he’d just been presented with contempt, lack of respect and a little pity. The other healer had been nervous, but not in the same way Sandy was. Lawrence could feel his fingertips shaking against his head as the healer reached out to touch him. He drew in a sharp breath as Sandy pressed over a more recent lump, and flinched away instinctively.

“… look up at m-me.” The prisoner followed instruction, raising his hazel gaze to his former schoolmate’s. Sandy had always had narrow eyes, under thick brown eyebrows. It had only added to the sly stereotype of being in Slytherin. The height difference, Sandy towering over him sat on the low bed, gave Misslethorpe dominance in the body language, even if he didn’t want to claim it. It must only have been seconds, but it felt longer that the two of them stared. How can you fear me now? Lawrence thought, Surely you can see I am beaten?

Sandy’s wand moved, and Lawrence narrowed his eyes in response to the light. Misslethorpe appeared to want to do this by the book, but Lawrence did not want to let the opportunity to source information from a new source. He saw such a limited circle of people.
“How did she splinch?” He asked. He was a human, with a curious nature and a healer splinching was odd. It almost sounded like a semi-plausible excuse to change healer.

Sandy put his wand away. He gulped. He tried really hard to imagine this was just any patient. This was not a wizard who threatened him. This was not the wizard who said he owned Sandy. Not his blackmailer. It did not count now. Sandy was a healer and he made his oath. If Lawrence told anyone. Well he would be over. Over in the next cell.
"She got a f-fright when she apparated." Sandy answered. He looked at Lawrence's face and neck. He pressed his fingertips into his skin. His hands were still shaky. He looked up behind at the depressing cell wall. He tried to think about the notes from the other healer. He took his wand out again. "Open wide. Say ahh." He bend over. Lawrence had lost some teeth. Azkaban dentists were not good.

“Ahh.” Lawrence obliged. He frowned at the explanation about the splinching. Just ‘a fright’ not any qualification of what caused it. Then, lies sometimes had detail. It seemed almost too convenient and explanation to dispense of the other healer.

Sandy’s hands on the sides of his face had been shaky, cold and a little clammy. Were the nerves and the stammering because of his proximity to Lawrence or were they because he was here under duress? Lawrence hadn’t said anything about Sandy healing him after the fight in Hogsmeade, though he’d come close, he had not disclosed. He’d forced Misslethorpe to heal him the first time, and forced his hand the second time by almost dying on the kitchen floor in Oulton Broad. Lawrence could see the gold trim to Sandy’s robes in his peripheral vision as the healer prodded and poked at Lawrence. Had Andy sent him?

“I hope she recovers.” Lawrence replied as he was allowed to close his mouth again. He reached up slowly to rub the back of his neck, both out of discomfort and to try and diffuse the tense body language between them. “Aubrey, wasn’t it?” He asked Sandy, as if recalling his name from school days, “Didn’t you have a girl from Whitby way? How’s she doing?”

Sandy opened his bag. He made notes in a file. He tried not to look at Lawrence. He asked Sandy about Josie.
"She is fine." Sandy said. "Writes me the odd a-article." He put down the quill. "Your h-hand." He reached out Lawrence's right hand. He pressed his fingertips to Lawrence’s wrist. He looked at his pocketwatch. He took Lawrence's pulse. It was fast. Sandy could feel his own heart in his ears. Was Lawrence scared too? The other healer put a much lower number.

"Stand up." Sandy turned round. He saw the wizard by the door watching. It made him feel braver. "Stand on one leg. Close your eyes. The other. Good. Sit down." He ordered. This was just his job. An ordinary day. He made more notes. Now he felt better. "Andy is fine by the way." Sandy said boldly. "No thanks to you. You trying to kill her husband."

Lawrence let Misslethorpe go through the motions. He was here to do his job. Lawrence was glad that Josie was not out of the picture. She had aspirations to write and had been excellent company once he’d stopped insulting her that she was a rubbish nurse. He’d last seen her go off to interview Edwin about wanting to be Minister, and now he was Minister. He hoped it was bringing her success, because someone other than the former obliviator should be from that change in leadership.

Sandy’s news about Andy made the hitwizard by the door stand to attention. Lawrence willed himself to stay absolutely still in response. If he moved a whisker the bald bugger would probably wield a hex and claim it was in defence of the healer.

“I’m glad to hear.” Lawrence replied carefully, seeking the healer’s eyes, “the curse was not meant for him. He almost killed me once too, but I did not intend to return the favour.” At the time he’d been boiling for a fight with the older wizard, livid about how it had ended, but it was true he’d not meant to kill him, only even the score. It was only by the skill of St Mungo’s that he’d not made Andy a widow twice over. “It won’t change anything if you tell her.”

Sandy exhaled. He was tense still. But now he felt better. He had said his piece. He would say more if the guard was gone. Sandy turned over the notes. This was the real reason he had been sent. The other spell damage healer was good. But Sandy had more experience. He wanted to know more about how to heal people after dementors. Lawrence had spent weeks with dementors. "How are you feeling? Your physical health. Your mind?"

Misslethorpe backed down from defending the Head Healer. It was only to be expected, he often caved in a face-to-face dispute. Not that Lawrence put up a fight, just stated his case. He was tired of defending his poor decisions. His old school friend moved things on and the hitwizard by the door relaxed his weight back onto one foot.

“Like a caged animal,” Lawrence replied with an edge to his voice, “my whole life is under the microscope.”

He gripped the edge of the bed with his remaining hand and stared back at the hitwizard. How much was he actually listening to this? The former auror had no privacy, but he waived pretty much all his rights on arrest. Harper would correct him about that, assert he had many rights still and they were all worth defending. She believed he was worth defending though, so she might be excused from the definition of sanity.

“Stronger than I did when I arrived.” Lawrence replied flatly, realising Sandy wanted a less philosophical and more descriptive response. “Physically I don’t feel ill. It’s not like I’ve got a cold, but I don’t feel well, if that makes any sense.” He looked to Sandy and gave a deep sigh. “How’s my mind feeling? How do you think it’s feeling locked in four walls, knowing that anything I say has no benefit to me as I’m going to hell either way?” He gestured in exasperation with his arms.

"Whatever I say will just leave you to prescribe more ruddy chocolate, calming draught and if I’m very lucky: sleeping potion.”

Sandy wanted to look at the man by the door. Check he was still there. He wrote a note. He had talked about Andy. He wanted to see the reaction. He wanted to see if Lawrence was angry or sad. He wanted to know what emotions he could feel. If he could feel happy ever. Being in prison did not help. But did he feel happier and safer? Since he was protected? Did he feel in control? "Do you find it difficult to control your moods?" Sandy asked.

“What do you think?!” Lawrence snapped, leaning over towards the healer. In the same instance, the hitwizard by the door became alert. His trained wand twitched expectantly in his hand and his balance shifted forwards, ready. Lawrence recognised the smallest shift in this room was perceived as a threat, even if he’d put up no resistance since his arrival. The hitwizard was keenly aware of the prisoner's movements towards Sandy all the same. It was times like this Lawrence itched to throw a curse, and felt his loss of hand and wand most keenly.

He was so fed up of the same questions.

Lawrence blinked and withdrew from Sandy, anger subsiding as he remembered himself. He drew his legs up onto the bed and leaned against the wall, curling away from his visitor like a disgruntled cat. Sandy didn’t care. He only cared for his oath, Lawrence had made him act on it enough in the past. Misslethorpe was probably following a script based on the previous questions. He was attached enough to the bloody notes.

“I’m here to relive everything,” Lawrence qualified more calmly, rubbing his head against the rough stone, hunching his shoulders. His scalp prickled where the other wizard had touched him. “It’s not conducive for an even temperament. Better angry than despair.”

Sandy nodded. He breathed quicker. He was not afraid but excited. This was conversation. He wrote it down. Shorthand. He looked at Lawrence. Calm. He touched the back of his own head. There were bumps there on Lawrence's head. Not an accident. Not inflicted by the hit wizards. Followed a pattern. In the notes. Every time.

If Lawrence were a patient in the hospital Sandy would give him potions. Would work with him. But Lawrence was a criminal. He had done terrible things. Sandy found it hard. He remembered Lawrence at school. Because he was a criminal he did not have that luxury. He was here. He had to answer questions. He could go to Azkaban any time. "How are you sleeping?" Healer Misslethorpe asked kindly.