𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟮𝟯-𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗿

IT'S A SWELTERING, BUSTLING SUMMER.

Three days a week, Jo downs stiff and itchy Healing robes and apparates to London, where she spends six hours shifts at the Janus Thickey Ward.

At first, Jo wasn't quite sure what to expect of her volunteer position at the home for those permanently affected by a spell gone wrong (or, in some cases, a spell gone too well). But Jo settles quickly there, surrounded by older and sharper Healers who guide her along the way. So she spends her days there, speaking sweetly with patients and dusting their belongings and cleaning the floors and fetching their potions and taking orders from the short and stout, stern and unshakeable, Freya Campbell, lead Healer of the unit who is more than happy to bark out orders whenever Jo's been standing idle for more than a minute.

And even though she's dead tired, and she can hear dear Freya's voice ringing in her head hours after she's found her way back home, being a Healer feels exactly the way Jo thought it would, and every night she finds her way back home after her shift, she feels a little bit more whole than she did just the day before.

There are these moments Jo has there, when she's speaking with her patients, with the people who have forgotten everything about themselves and the lives that they've led, that Jo can see something sort of flash behind their eyes. A bit of recognition, a flash of a memory, of something, before it fades away again. A bit of hope it's enough to make Jo's eyes well up each time. And Jo feels some sort of rush, feels like she's doing what she's meant to be doing.

Sometimes she'll drift between wards as well; on particularly busy days, Jo finds herself observing as unsuspecting muggles have their memories erased, filing paperwork for cursed artifacts, and, more often than not, spending a fair share of time in the Alchemy Room with a certain redhead.

This is where Jo grows a certain type of appreciation for Lily Evans. Whereas in the halls of the Hogwarts castle, Lily treated Jo with the caution one would use for a wild animal, in the dark Alchemy Room of St. Mungo's, Lily is strict, firm, and direct. She has the potions ready for Jo before she even steps foot into the room and doesn't waste a second of her time. There is a sort of seriousness, this directness to Lily, that replaces the idea of her in Jo's head. She is no longer the tattletale that snitched on her brother and willingly spent her time with Severus Snape, Lily Evans is now, to Jo, a colleague she trusts.

A massive step-up, Jo thinks.

And, to the absolute delight of her brother, Jo does, indeed, go for tea with Lily. She goes for tea with Lily a few times. Three, to be exact, and each time they sit in the same corner of the same cozy, dimly lit shop, and try to figure out how to speak with one another outside of the context of work.

Jo figures that Lily doesn't really understand why she's never liked her, she can sense that in the way she's hesitant and careful with her words, like she's unsure what she could say that might set her off. Lily keeps her mug close to the tips of her lips and speaks her words into them. The first time, they hardly even say anything to each other. Just comment on the business of the day, on the sweetness of the tea.

The second time, Lily's gained a bit of confidence. She asks after Jo, asks after her friends, asks about what she thinks of the Healers at St. Mungo's. She looks positively shocked after she earns a bit of a chuckle from Jo after she makes a comment about how Freya Campbells resembles a puffed-up pigeon.

And the third time, Jo leaves thinking that maybe Lily's really not that bad. Not anymore, at least. When she sees her around the house, spending time with James, Jo no longer gives her harsh glares or eye rolls, but greets her instead with a soft smile and a wave. James reacts to this as if he's received news that the war has ended.