Frank was hesitant to go back to the Ministry. Every time he seemed to, as of late, his experience was less than enjoyable. In May, he’d tried Wolfsbane, but he must have eaten a not-so-healthy steak. He’d been vomiting almost the entire next day.

What a bad time to get a stomach virus.

Being stuck in a small cell when all you want to do is hug a familiar toilet was a new form of torture Frank hadn’t been creative enough to think up. Frank thought it was a good reminder to cook his steak more thoroughly. So he’d left after the full moon, feeling a bit shaky, hungry, and disgusted all at the same time. He did not envy those who had to clean up his cell.

Now, however, it was time to go back. He’d made sure to eat his meal well done, even if he much preferred his food juicy over tough. For all her mood swings, Laney had helped make his last day fun. His grin slipped a bit as he stepped into the Ministry, though who could blame him. He was willingly submitting himself to be placed in a cage for a lot longer than a werewolf might have to endure. Nevertheless, he understood the precautions and the reasons behind them.

Rolling his shoulders, he glanced over his shoulder before stepping into the familiar cell, grimacing a bit with memories still clinging from his previous stay. Setting his small stack of books on the cot, he settled on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thank you.” Frank accepted a glass of water and stared down into it. Now all he had to do was wait for the Wolfsbane. Well, that and midnight. Picking up one of the books, he flipped it open and tried to distract himself.

He could still be productive.

The night before the full moon Hannah could think of places she would much rather be than Level 4 in the Ministry of Magic. She would have preferred to be sat in her living room with a magical research journal and a glass of wine, Clifford the boa constrictor wrapped around her legs and being the best type of companion available, silent. Hannah would have preferred to be at work, her boss happily pointing out her idiotic mistakes and his selflessness in working the full moon shift since she had rendered herself in capable.

Instead Healer Bombay was marching down a corridor she knew too well already. It was a corridor she would be returning to the following afternoon to be locked in a cell until the next sunrise. It was humiliating following a guard that would gladly twist the key in the lock of her own cell the next day. Yet she did follow him, matching his pace with the rhythmic click of her high heeled shoes on the concrete floor, echoing in the dimly lit corridor.

The guard stopped at a cell and shoved a glowing key into the door’s lock. Next he performed a couple of charms on the door and lifted his head to give Hannah a toothy grin. The white molars framed a couple of black teeth and a gap were a canine used to be.

“There y’are Miss Rover.” The bearded largely built man taunted, greedy grey eyes flicking down the length of Hannah’s very stiff, uncomfortable body before he finally pulled the door open.

Bombay ignored the snide remark and proceeded to step into the cell. Not a second later the door was slammed behind her and her eyes fell on the cell’s inhabitant.

“If given the chance, Mr Pratt, consume that waste of wizarding breath.” The witch briskly stated as she walked across the tiny cell to the bed where she deposited her bag.

He had gotten so involved in the book, he didn’t realize someone was there until the keys jingled in the space between door and key holder. Frank had nearly finished the first book he’d brought with him. Marking his place, he folded it and set it aside as the door swung open. Frowning at the security guard, Frank glanced past them to the witch outside.

Licking his lips and picking up his water, he took a sip and moved himself to the edge of the cot. Giving her a small, half forced smile, Frank inclined his head to her in greeting. Well, not that she seemed to notice. With water sat aside, he clasped his hands loosely in his lap, hunched over slightly.

Laughing softly, though feeling an odd dread of actually taking her seriously for a moment, Frank shook his head. “He doesn’t look like he’d taste very good. Which is probably why they gave him the job.” He watched her move about, attempting to piece together what the man called her. Miss Rover... he hadn’t heard of her before, though the smell she brought in with him was not unfamiliar.

Rubbing his hands together, he gave her a friendlier smile. “So, Miss Rover was it?” Shifting a bit as he brought his leg up under him, he motioned around for her to take a seat. “You work at... ah, St. Mungo’s?” That’s where they had sent the last one from. He was still hopeful that the Wolfsbane would work how it did for werewolves. Then maybe he’d be able to spend his full moons outside the bars of the cell from now on.

“No.” A blunt response escaped a pair of lips that very quickly pursed themselves afterwards. Light brown eyes made a quick sweeping analysis of the cell’s inhabitant before they fell on the place offered to sit. “It’s Healer Bombay.” Hannah twisted on her heel to glance back at the door that had been slammed so loudly and forcefully behind her. A quick thought slipped into her mind about the reality that she should get used to the sounds of cell doors slamming, to the disrespect one suddenly felt they were at liberty to dish out as soon as they knew of her position.

“The guard simply has a pathetic sense of humour.” Frank’s second question seemed to have gone unnoticed as instead of confirming her work place, Hannah opened the bag she had brought in with her and dipped a hand in. The sounds of various vials clinking together could be heard echoing in the small cell.

The witch’s discomfort at once more being locked in a cell might have been obvious to a more alert observer. The usually calm witch’s hands shook as she searched the bag and the hairs upon the back of her neck stood upright. She had also refused to make eye contact with Mr Pratt or listen to him correctly. Jason Marren had quite a sick sense of humour to send her here this evening.

“I’m from St Mungo’s.” The healer stated as she retrieved from the bag the vial she’d been searching for. “I’m aware you’re experiencing symptoms abnormal to the lycanthropic condition, Mr Pratt. Could you recount your experience from last month’s full moon? Anything at all that you remember?” Hannah finally made eye contact with her patient as she questioned him.

Eyebrows drew together in slight confusion, but he shook his head. “My apologies, Healer Bombay.” Scratching at his head, he shrugged and offered her a small smile. Frank understood about pathetic sense of humors. For the most part, the guards were fairly professional and straightforward. Some, however, seemed to take their job too seriously.

It was part of the reason Frank got nervous when he came back. What if one of the guards thought to keep him locked away? What was his word against theirs? Swallowing at the thought, attempting to keep the desire to vomit down, he focused once again on the helpful healer. Or that was his assumption, anyway, thinking how nice it must be to know she could leave the cell at any time.

Frank frowned however slightly before smoothing out his facial features. She was from St. Mungo’s. It didn’t matter how they came to that conclusion, he supposed. Taking a deep breath at her question, he held back the desire to roll his eyes.

How often had he recapped what he could remember? What was different for him than for other werewolves? He’d read enough about it in the last months to know something had gone wrong with... however he’d been infected with this curse. “I can remember it all, that’s the problem.” Stretching his shoulders back a little, he tried to keep his hands busy, clasped loosely in his lap while one thumb rolled around the other.

He could remember it like any other day, at least. “Last month... I came here. I’d had a rather large dinner before. That’s what I think happened. Really rare steak...” His mouth watered a little bit at it, and he licked his lips at the thought of a juicy, red and bloody, plump steak. “Anyway. I got really sick the next day. I don’t think I would’ve been much good out of the cell either. Just...” He paused as he considered the details. She was a Healer, but there was also a point of too much information.

“I don’t know if the wolfsbane helped me with anything. I was too sick to tell.” He hadn’t been in the cell but a few hours, but all ready Frank was looking hairier than usual. He’d shaved that morning, and all ready a small scraggly beard was cropping up. Glancing down at his arms, he noticed (not for the first time, either) how much thicker the hair was. Even the back of his hands were starting to give in to the hair. Her smell was sharp, familiar, and thickened the longer she was there. “What time is it?”

The fact that Frank stated he could remember it all was very alien to Hannah. She had obviously studied this direwolf condition while at work, she knew the symptoms, the strange effects of the curse that they were beginning to research.  It was different to what she experienced, it was far more intense. The signs were always there, less hidden beneath the surface like her own. Hannah understood that.

Not waking up the next morning to memory loss and feeling terrible didn’t seem possible to the young witch. She’d transformed twice now and remembered nothing of either time. She simply remembered waking up the next morning naked, scared, confused and sick.

“It’s extremely rare for steak to poison a wizard, no matter how cooked it is, Mr Pratt. Unless you left it lying around for a week.” Hannah responded impatiently to her patient’s explanation for the sickness.

“It’s the evening.” Hannah fingered the vial uncomfortably and glanced back at the cell door, the locked exit. Before she had never believed she would suffer from such human conditions like claustrophobia, yet the reminder that the following night she would be locked in one of these again significantly paled her complexion.

The young witch began to shake the vial to ensure the mixture was thoroughly mixed for consumption. “And how long after taking the wolfsbane did you...present these symptoms?”

Frank frowned-he thought he'd come up with a decent explanation for why he was feeling the way he was. Clearly he hadn't thought it through that well. Had he left it lying around? Now he couldn't remember, though he was fairly certain if he had, he would have just... tossed it. His mum had raised him with some sense after all.

But maybe he had been absentminded... maybe he'd not properly stored it. Shrugging in some attempt of self defense, Frank watched her shaking the vial. It was the evening, he knew that much. He just didn't know what time of the evening. So he raised an eyebrow and nodded in slow thanks. He took her glances to the door to mean she didn't like being stuck in the same room as him. That maybe she was scared of being stuck in the cell past midnight. Taking a slow, deep breath, he let it out in a soft huff, shoulders slumping however slightly.

He tended to be quite tired.

Shrugging at her question, he scratched the back of his head, rubbing at his neck as he considered her question. "I'm not sure. Maybe an hour or so? Maybe less... I was feeling queasy most of the time." Frank was starting to feel it now. Being locked in a cage with a rather forward healer who looked like this was the last place she wanted to be... It wasn't exactly putting him at ease. Finally he just frowned and put his hand out for the vial. "I didn't have a big steak dinner tonight, though, so we should be all right."

If he was able to show those in authority that he could control himself during the full moon by means of Wolfsbane... The possibilities were freedom. Not as much as he'd had prior to this curse, but more than he'd known in a few months.

“The mild queasiness could simply be down to nerves.” The young healer plainly stated as she uncorked the potion she’d been shaking and lifted the bottle to her nose. A tiny sniff and a reviled expression quickly creasing the short witch’s soft features confirmed the potion was plenty ready. One thing was certainly for sure, Hannah was extremely glad to not be having to consume this particular potion this evening.  The very aroma of the potion had sent her stomach twisting and almost set off a very violent gag reflex. Her features had paled considerably in the dingy cell before the hand had very swiftly removed the potion from her nose.  She pitied Mr Pratt for it, already knowing what it would do to him.

“Coming here to transform isn’t exactly something one anticipates with excitement...I presume.” The words were said slowly, carefully. “I guess one would feel queasy in the lead up, fully aware of what is going to soon take hold of them. I can assure you I like most would feel worse knowing I would remember it all as well, Mr Pratt.” Thoughtfully Hannah’s eyes locked onto Franks and a tinge of softness flashed amonst the light brown before her expression once more turned cold, professional.

Hannah broke the eye contact and glanced around the room. There was nothing suitable within the tiny, claustrophobic cell and Hannah paced back towards the door. A small fist was raised and she beat against the heavy metal, suddenly overly aware of how she was locked in here again. While waiting, she turned on her heels and once more faced Frank.

“Have you ever consumed purging potion before, Mr Pratt?”

Nerves, that made sense. Merlin, Frank was feeling nervous now. Clasping his hands between his knees carefully, he watched her like a caged dog. It would be fantastic to not have to come here all the time; maybe if he could show the Ministry he was capable of behaving, he’d be free of this commitment.

That would be great. Licking his lips as he watched her sniff it, Frank winced-he could smell it well enough. Taking that stuff compared to sitting in a cell for a couple days every month, however, was a small price to pay.

He agreed with her. A nod followed her presumption. He held her gaze for a moment before glancing down in the space between them. It was always painful, though never as much as the first time. The knock on the door brought his attention back to her, however, and confusion flashed across his face briefly.

“Wh-what?” Making a face, he quickly shook his head. “Purging?” As in, vomiting on purpose? “I’ve taken anti-emetics...” Glancing to the door, his eyes glanced back to her face. “Why?” He suddenly felt wary (or more than he had been).

Purging didn’t sound pleasant. Shifting on the bed as the jailor outside came to the door, Frank ran his fingers through his hair. How was he supposed to not to have nerves?

The wizard’s response elicited a rapid flash of bewilderment to grace Hannah Bombay’s features. His answer was quite the opposite and it had momentarily stunned the fairly distracted healer into puzzlement. Was it a yes or a no? She hadn’t demanded as to whether he had tried to sate the internal purging. She had asked if he had ever induced it. Apparently his surname alluded as to his mental abilities.

Before Hannah could respond and answer the ever exasperating question of ‘why?’, the large cell door was unlocked and pushed open to reveal the ugly, vile guard Hannah had already had the displeasure of seeing a mere ten minutes ago.

The tall wizard in uniform’s ugly features twisted into a sickening grin as creepy eyes once more swept over the shorter figure before him. “You barked?” the voice dripped with a disgusting slyness and carried a repulsive odour to the nostrils of Hannah’s rather sensitive nose. She remained expressionless, brown eyes locked onto his practically black pair.

“A larger bucket and a towel.” Bombay briskly stated, maintaining eye contact. “And I shall be requiring the return of my wand. How you expect a healer to do their job without the satisfactory equipment simply explains to me why you are in this job and not one that requires a fully functioning brain.”

Evidently disgruntled, the guard slammed the door and his hard footsteps could be heard trailing off.
Pratt had questioned why. “So you’ve never experienced the sharp effects of such a potion? It shan’t harm you but it will provide discomfort.” Hannah paused and took a few steps back towards her patient. “It’s nothing to be nervous of. I can assure you, celebrities have been known to use this very potion in their own homes.” Despite the unpleasant affects it brought about.

She’d caught him off guard by her idea of a healing potion that he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to respond simply. Had he taken something for a hangover? Yes. Had he tried a couple off potions to see what they did? Yes. But to take something that the main cause would be to vomit, well... No. Who would want to do that?

Sitting up straight as the guard opened the door, Frank frowned at the way he seemed to eye the Healer. She was a bit... odd, sure, but no need to look like he wanted to keep her locked in there all night. That’d just be cruel. And inhumane (or at least Frank thought).

Hearing the insult caused Frank to laugh suddenly, though he attempted to cover it with a fit of coughing, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

As her attention came back to him, he shook his head at her question. “No...” Making a face at her attempt to soothe him, Frank tried to think of the proper response. He wasn’t a celebrity, or not one he wanted to be. “But why do I need to take it?”

There was another knock at the door and Frank let out a huff of a breath as the guard discarded the items she requested clumsily on the floor. He seemed reluctant to hand over the wand, but finally did, thrusting it with a toss towards Bombay, as if touching her would... Well, Frank wasn’t sure. Maybe the guard just really didn’t like Healers.

After but a few moments that seemed to last forever in the tiny cell, the metal door was cast open violently and onto the floor was thrown a large metal bucket and a towel that resembled a dog’s well used chew toy. The wooden wand was cast at Hannah (aimed at her head she was positive), and wordlessly, the ugly rude guard departed, slamming the door behind him to cause a loud noise to reverberate between the walls of the room the couple were captive inside. Hannah simply stared at the door a moment, lips tightly pressed against one another in what was far more than disapproval.

Pratt’s question still rang in Hannah’s ears and this inquiring mixed with her irritation with the guard sent a quick flash of anger through her body. She span around on her heel and looked down at the wizard sat on the bench.

“Because I said so, and I’m your healer, Mr Pratt!” She snapped, eyes flashing with a very quickly appearing fury. It was the proximity to the full moon that was doing this. That and the stress of being in a cell before she even had to be. Jason Marren had a sick sense of humour and she would be sure to refuse any further jobs like this. “And I have far better places to be this evening than in a ministry cell with a werewolf!”

The potion was thrust towards him to take and Hannah took in a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm down.

Frank jumped back, sitting up straight as his eyebrows rose at her sudden flare of anger. Because I said so wasn’t a great rebuttal. In response, his eyes narrowed and he snarled dangerously. That part of him, his newfound instinct, started to kick in. He was quicker to anger this time of the month.

“And I have far better places to be this evening than in a ministry cell with a werewolf!”

At that, he jumped to his feet, fists clamped tight at either side of his body. As if he didn’t have better places to be himself! As if this was his idea of an ideal vacation. “At least you have the option to leave!” He took in shallow, quick breaths, his sudden temper having gotten the best of him. He didn’t acknowledge the potion, not at first, attempting to slow his breathing down.

Flexing his fingers, he finally reached out and snatched it. Lifting it to his mouth, he took in a whiff before holding his breath, downing it as quickly as he could. Making a face, it wasn’t until it was down that he noticed a familiar smell. Gagging a little, he clenched the potion vial, shaking his head a little. Worse than taking a shot of bad tequila.

Wait a minute... His lips spread back in a half snarl, sniffing at the vial once more. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and lifted it to his face, that whiff becoming heavy in his nose. Stepping away suddenly, he bumped against the cot and was forced to sit down. “You’re one to t-” And then his face took on a green tint, and he was scrounging quickly across the floor for the bucket.

It was a few minutes before everything he had in him was out, and still he dry heaved. Frank wanted to shake her with the sudden realization that he felt he knew. And she was treating him like dragon dung!