It felt the world had been resting on his shoulders for the entire week. Arc had stopped to stretch and crick his neck once he got out of the fireplace, but it made barely any difference. A hot shower and the armchair by the fire, or if he really couldn't handle how tired he was, bed. Anything but the weight of the hospital building bowing his back.

He set his bag down and went to hang his coat up by the stairs. Rustle, having followed him from where he'd curled up on the windowsill, sat down and curled his fluffy tail around him, watching his owner make his way to the sofa, where he braced his hands against its back and stared into the fire. For a while there was no sound in the living room apart from the crackle of the fire and the soft tick of the clock's hands up on the wall, and the gentle discordant patter of rain outside[1].

Arc closed his eyes, brow furrowed as he breathed slow and deep, taking in the silence. He'd come home early today, a stark contrast to the previous months, but it was only to take a well-deserved break from the interior of the hospital. Eyes glanced towards the door, a yearning to see Cepheus again, but his heart was heavy, his bones aching, his legs stiff. No amount of relaxing could wring the tension from his shoulders.

He made a quiet whimper of weariness.

The door downstairs clicked open and shut. Elixa must have gone shopping - he knew for a fact that she had also come home early and the pantry was getting empty. He turned around to see the dark-haired witch climbing up the stairs, and for a moment attempted a smile that really only became a grimace. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close when he pressed a finger to his lips.

Outside of her healer studies and work-related matters, he hadn't spoken to her at all. Every time he saw her, or heard mention of Johann or Cepheus - the friends he trusted the most - he felt a sheer bitter twist for himself, a sad, silent pain that told him he wasn't worth their time. They were all busy... they didn't need to know about him. 

She has healer work to be studying, the voice said. Let's go. Sleep. Shower. Think. Not in that order.

Without a word uttered he turned on his heel and made for the stairs, while she set the shopping on the dining table and watched him go. He would have seen her expression if he'd turned around then, but he didn't.

The stairs creaked as he headed up, looking forward to grabbing his things and booking the shower for the next half hour. Rustle followed him up, ever faithful and silent as usual. The kneazle ran ahead of him, seemingly as if also looking forward to curling up on his bedspread until his owner returned.

Arc opened the door, and immediately the kneazle hissed vehemently. Startled, the healer watched his pet run into his room and continue to hiss, fluffing up to make his big feline form even bigger, hackles raised. He stepped in, reaching for his wand and gripping it as he drew whatever mental strength he had left for a spell--

"Lower your wand, Arcturus." The voice was unfamiliar - a woman's voice, smooth, sufficiently mature, with a little bit of laid-back in her tone. "You won't be duelling in the state you are right now, and not me in particular. Shut the door behind you."

In the chair nearest the window was her, shoulder length hair framing a square jaw. Her eyes slid him a disinterested, unperturbed glance, purple eyeshadow above the dark eyes. Her lips were lined with a deep red. And yet, for all the unfamiliarity in this woman's face, her features felt similar to someone he knew. He couldn't place her, but... he felt that he knew her in some way.

"What," he said, not moving from his position near the open door, "are you doing in h--"

"I said, shut the door." Her tone was more serious this time. "And lower your wand. I'm not threatening you, but I will have to do some hefty charming of my own if you don't do what I say."

For a moment, a briefest of moments, he considered shouting for Elixa instead. But he hadn't lived through a war to risk his life now. Slowly and without taking his eyes off her, he used his foot to shut the door, and warily lowered his wand, although not fully. She crossed her legs; dressed in a maroon pencil dress and black wedges, she looked as if she'd come straight from a dinner party somewhere.

"Who are you?" he said. "And how did you get in here without being noticed?" She must have slipped in while Elixa was out. There was no way his housemate would be that inattentive.

The woman lifted her large hands and shrugged. "I'm a professional at what I do, and your flat was but a moment's work. Don't worry, your housemate is safe. I have no intention of dealing with her... just you." She clasped her hands in her lap, looking up at him. "As for who I am... I could tell you that, but that would just muddle you up and I would rather not force that upon you, the poor dear that you are. You've grown into a fine young man, Arcturus."

The healer hesitated. "You know me?"

"Of course I do. Do you think you go unnoticed?" She smiled at him, and behind that smile was a bitterness he recognised from somewhere. "You are not an insignificant person, Arcturus, not when you matter to a few. But you haven't thought of that, have you, because you feel that your burdens are but a part of what your life is, as a healer. Trust me when I say I know where that line of thought comes from."

His grip tightened on his wand. "What are you doing here?" he asked, slowly inching to put the bed between them. "Why do you want to talk to me?" Rustle had dropped his hissing for a continuous low growl, puffed up, standing on his bed with every intention of protecting his owner.

"I've been watching you for a while now." Her eyes followed his movements, although she did not move an inch from the chair. "You work long nights and long days, forcing yourself to break your back so that you don't listen to the whispers in your head that the darkness brings. You tell yourself it's all for the good of society, but even that vow can only hold for so long. So I'm here to tell you something that might be able to help you."

Arc's eyes narrowed. "And what do you get out of this?"

"Seeing the part of my family that I've never been able to go near at all." She watched his expression change. "Yes, you and I are family. You're a smart man... we all are. We always are. You've figured it out by now."

"Dad said criminals are not a part of the family." His voice was strained.

The woman closed her eyes and smiled. There was the bitterness again. "Mord never really believes that, but to admit that I exist would go against his principles of upholding justice. He has his own dilemma of letting you know I exist, and hiding my existence from you. I'd rather just cut out the middleman, the way I do all my business, but I'd rather not betray his efforts to keep the peace. You won't be hearing my true name."

Arc said nothing at this. His father had never told him... and he was doing it to keep the peace within his family. That was important to the Hollingburys - family, and tradition. Yet he had never thought... well of course he had never thought of the possibility. There was no such idea ever given a thought.

"While you digest that information, I do feel that it's time I gave you my observations and thoughts," she said, watching him carefully. "You've been told, I assume, of our immense power in our family due to our fondness for Greeks. About how we as a family have always been satisfied with what we have rather than what we don't. A breath of fresh air in this world of instant gratification. However, that requires suppressing our inner desires for the sake of others, for the betterment of society and the world. Those who stray from that path are released from the name, disowned for not being considerate of others."

"I hope you're not here," said Arc, "for an attempt to force me to go against the grain."

"Me? Hardly. That's not my place. I may be a criminal, but I don't command others to do my bidding, and certainly not my place to force a member of my family to follow in my footsteps." She looked hurt. "That would be the last thing I would ever do to my own blood! If you chose to do it, that would be on your own terms, not mine. But to go against the grain? It would be, if accepting who we are... what we are, more likely, and not enslaving ourselves to mediocrity. Do you want me to continue?"

The healer stood for a while, then lowered his wand completely. "Fine. I'll listen. But don't suggest anything--"

"--unorthodox? No. I'll simply put to you an idea that you yourself know deep inside." The woman leaned forward, uncrossing her legs and resting her forearms on her knees. "Right now, there's a little dark part of yourself that groans and laments over how you have nothing worth anyone's attention or favour. No matter what your friends tell you, what your parents tell you, you hear that cutting little voice in your head. And you know it's you. It's not another identity, it's not another soul living in your head whatever young people call it these days... you know that's the real you, don't you?"

Over the sound of Rustle's low growling, Arcturus felt his curiosity rear its head. "How do you..."

"Know? Dear, I'm family. _I_ am a Hollingbury." She spread out her hands. "We all have that little feature. I have it, Mord has it... and so do you. Your behaviour of late has proven it to me, so denying it will only serve to put us at an impasse at this conversation."

"And what is it to you?" Arcturus asked, his eyes narrowing.

The witch interlocked her fingers together. "That you are struggling to ignore it with the heavy feeling in your heart that it is the truth? That within its grasp is the freedom to be able to do anything you wish to achieve, without all these frivolous societal norms you must abide? Your blood magic won't work without that free-flowing emotion, you know."

The healer stayed silent, but she saw his eyes widen. "Oh, you thought no one knew? Your secret is safe with me. I wouldn't think twice about spilling your secrets."

"Wh-- Y-- And how would I trust you on that?!" the healer asked accusingly. "How did--"

"Were you not listening?" She shook her head and sighed. "We're family. The last thing I could ever do is betray my own blood and kin. I would get nothing out of it, not even the promise of coin. But I am not here to blackmail you, or leave the threat of such a notion - instead I'm here to give you advice."

The witch got to her feet with a silken sound. "If you do not embrace that side of you that speaks truths you wish not to hear, you will eventually drive yourself into madness. A madness of identity, two sides in constant conflict inside your heart and mind. No, don't deny that it isn't you. It is, in part and in whole, a part of you. Pushing it aside to obey society’s norms will break your mind. Ignoring it will feed the roots of darkness further into your heart. Every Hollingbury who has come to terms with the dark voice knows that they may accept their fate or defy it, but never deny it. Every Hollingbury who denies it... has fallen by the wayside, an unknown name lost to the winds of time." She folded her arms across her chest, her brow lowering as she focused on him.

"And you're telling me this-- why?" Arcturus raised his wand a little. "Are you hoping to get something out of this, in exchange for your advice?"

"Arcturus dear." Her voice was softer, she looked pained. "Here you are, a handsome young man who pushes people away in fear. Of what, I don't know, but there is nothing more that I want than seeing you live and die alone. If you never accept that other side of you... I fear that you will, indeed, slip into the dust unknown just like the others. Mord has come to terms with his. So have I. It's now your turn, my dear."

He raised his wand. For a moment it looked as if Arcturus was about to hex her. Then the healer lowered his gaze and said in a troubled voice, "And what will happen if I do? What if I... give in to the temptation of power?"

She angled her head a little to the side. "If that's what you fear, Arcturus... then there will be no freedom from it. We all must face temptations as part of our lives. Some of us give in to it." The witch motioned to herself. "Others defy it, like your father. If you cannot find a way out of facing down this fear, you will forever run with it snapping at your heels. It is your choice. Your decision. Your fate."

Arcturus shook his head, still clearly distressed. "I can't... not with what I promised to do. Not what I vowed my life's work would be."

"I won't pretend to know what those are," she said. "But you're a good man with a good heart, Arcturus. I know that's who you are. Don't let that out of your sight."

When he next looked up, she was gone. No crack of Apparating, no window opened, not a sound or shift in magic. Rustle's fur slowly laid back down upon his back. He looked up expectantly at his owner, and his yellow eyes followed the wizard sitting down on his bed suddenly, as if all the strength keeping him standing up had abruptly departed from his physical self. He buried his face in his hands, his wand still held in between his fingers.

In the silence only broken by the soft sounds of cold precipitation, the voice in his head smiled with a certain smugness.

---

1.	Weather for August 2011.