Who: Hippocrates Smethwyck and Rachel Englewood
What: Rachel's upset about Michael Lochte and his interrogation, as well as the new changes on her ID card
Where: St. Mungo's!
When: Today!
The past few days had been difficult for Rachel. Her parents had been hauled in for questioning as well, and their family would be
thoroughly humiliated whenever the news got out. She was finding it incredibly hard to be anything remotely similar to her usual self, especially at work. So far, she hadn't been in contact with anybody but the staff at St. Mungo's, and she was rather grateful, because Rachel didn't know whether she should bring it up or how she should act. She even lost
sleep over it and that creep Michael Lochte, and this was just unacceptable. That was giving other people the upperhand and it was simply
not allowed.
She'd found excuses to not spend as much time around Smeth or to only approach him in a business-like context, because she was afraid of what she'd do around him. Their bizarrely fast, bizarrely close friendship had not left her unaffected, and she didn't want to hang around him in case he became subject to one of her snappy moodswings or ice-demeanor. She respected him too much to let him see her like that, so it was best if she just removed herself from his site.
That wasn't to say she had been acting remotely normal around him. At the moment, they were on their way to lunch and he was speaking and she had zoned out halfway through his sentence.
What was he talking about?, she wondered.
Patient records... Vanishing sickness? There had been a nasty bout going through the hospital.
"Er--" Rachel had started to say, trying to figure out how to make it sound like she'd paid attention when her bag slipped out of her grasp, its content spilling on the floor.
"Oh, Merlin,
really?" she asked, exasperated as she crouched down to start picking up the fallen items. "S-sorry, Healer Smethwyck, I didn't fully hear what you were saying."
While
some halfbloods were allowed to rejoin the St. Mungo's staff, it had seemed that this week's rush had increased tenfold. The one patient who had a bad case of Vanishing sickness had managed to spread it to another person, who in turn... spread it to five more. They had managed to quarantine the carriers, but there had been a mad rush to take preemptive measures to make sure the rest of the hospital would not be inflicted.
At first, Smeth had been so preoccupied by the rapidly increasing amount of cases he had to cover, he hadn't noticed Rachel's own preoccupations. It was only after a couple of nearly silent lunches together - he called it "nearly silent" lunches because it was he who had initiated conversation, and Rachel replying only after he had said something.
Despite of how close they were now, Smeth still wondered if he should bring up Rachel's strange behavior. If they had a strictly business relationship, he wouldn't think of it, but their relationship was far from business, despite of how swiftly they had become friends. Whenever she zoned out - just like that, just like right now - he opened his mouth to ask if there was anything bothering here, if there was anything wrong. Well, if he didn't say anything, then he would be forever curious. All right, after the current sentence he was in the middle of, he would -
But when Rachel's bag fell, he immediately dropped to the floor to help her pick her things up, like the gentleman he was brought up to be. His hand reached for a small rectangular ID card, like the one he was forced to carry around all the time nowadays and gave it a passing glance before handing it her. His arm froze in the middle of the act, his eyes widening in shock.
Instead of PUREBLOOD in purple letters, there was instead a HALFBLOOD in blue, with a black DELINQUENT stamped over it.
Rachel was furious at herself for this display of clumsiness, something that was practically beaten from her (well, not
beaten, but close enough), and her current mood was
no excuse. She was hastily cramming things back in her bag when she noticed Smeth drop down beside her and help. Her mouth was open, in the process of thanking him, when she noticed his arm extend out with her ID card.
Her ID card face up.
Her ID card that no longer sang praises of her bloodline, but instead had HALFBLOOD stamped all over it. She'd rather the
delinquent, over that, but no, she had both. Insult to injury. Rachel's arm snapped back and she dropped her head, eyes darting away anxiously, like they were almost hoping Smeth
hadn't seen.
Smeth's mouth had dropped open a fraction of an inch, big green eyes growing round. He had always known that Rachel was a pureblood, it was part of her persona at school, so he would have been shocked at the new HALFBLOOD status on her card at that. But DELINQUENT? He gaped at the card for a few more seconds, as it took that long for him to comprehend the dark letters.
What?
As far as he knew, that DELINQUENT was reserved only for Muggleborns who had tried to evade the tattoo laws and for certain witches and wizards who had tried to lie about their family tree. Today's Prophet had a small article about...
The dots connected in his head, but Smeth didn't want to make immediate assumptions. "Rachel," he said quietly, seriously, while scooping up the last of her things and giving it to her. "W-what happened?" He hesitated. "We've got a round but I can page someone else to cover. If you want to talk." He looked earnestly at her.
She was looking at the floor helplessly now, unsure of what to do. She could tell him-- she could. It might even ease the dead weight she'd been carrying around her shoulders for the past few days.
But would that make her look stupid? Rachel wondered if his opinion of her would go down any. Not only was she a halfblood, she was a
delinquent halfblood. On some level, she wondered if he would sneer at her for being so upset over being 1/32 Muggleborn and think she was horribly selfish for her behavior, but she brushed it aside. Smeth had been nothing but kind so far, there was no reason to imagine that kind of behavior.
And it
would be nice to tell someone, she couldn't help but think.
Running a hand through her hair, she nodded mutely. Oh, this was so just--Rachel wasn't sure she could take it, this was
humiliating.
Smeth took a glance around. A bit down the hall was an empty room on the right, they could speak privately there. His heart went out to her; the poor girl looked like a
wreck.
Gently he took her arm and lead her to the room. Taking a small piece of parchment out of his pocket, he scribbled a quick excuse and a request for Healer Yaxley to cover for him. Tapping it with his wand, the parchment folded into a small airplane and flew out the door, before he locked it. He turned and sat down on the bed, folding his hands across his lap.
"What's up, Rachel?"
She hugged herself, unsure of how to begin. Rachel had never been good at telling other people her problems. She began to pace, not trusting herself to sit down next to Smeth.
"It-it started a few days ago, really. You know how the M.A.G.I.C has gotten the Ministry crazed about finding those of "lesser blood," she used air quotes, "and weeding them out, so to speak?"
She didn't wait for a response.
"I guess--I-- I don't really know
why, yet, but maybe--maybe when I went in for my ID, they had to dig out family records to make sure the status where I--and then I was hauled in for questioning and that-that
stupid Michael Lochte with his glass-and-and he told me that I have a Muggle-muggleborn--and I just--" Rachel broke, ceasing her pacing and buried her face in her hands. "Why
me?"
Smeth listened as she confessed, eyes followed her pacing. His heart went out to her. Although she was clearly upset, a part of him knew that there was no good reason for her to be so upset - if her new blood status the only reason she was upset. However, on the other hand, as much he disliked it, he completely understood where she was coming from. His paternal line was nothing but purebloods, and although his very haughty, very pureblooded Grandmother Smethwyck loved her grandchildren dearly, she still acted aloof towards his very Muggleborn mother.
"They're idiots, the lot of them," he sighed, taking off his reading glasses and polishing them on his robes, an old habit. "They taking in a lot of the noveau-pureblooded families, just to humiliate and control the rest of the population, I think."
The name Lochte sounded familiar to Smeth, although he wasn't quite sure why. Also, maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but the thought of Rachel getting hauled into questioning by herself made his usually even temper boil. The Ministry, especially nowadays, were not too reputable for being kind whenever they were "questioned."
She looked down, rubbing the side of her neck with a hand. "I mean--it's just... my whole life, I've been raised one way and now the Ministry is telling me it was a
lie. I mean--you can't deny it, Healer Smethwyck, I
saw the look on your face when you saw the card--I just--it's been... it was hard enough seeing the look on
your face, I--I can't even begin to imagine it on other people's faces."
"And it's--I mean, the lie is bad enough, but this... it's some sort of social
castration!" Listen to her! Listen to her go on like this, in front of her superior! In front of her friend!
How could he even begin to respect her after this? Rachel wanted a new start, all right, but she didn't think she'd waste it so entirely like this! "I mean, I don't mean that disrespectfully, I
don't, but it's like the rug's being snatched out from under my feet repeatedly."
And not even because of this, this one time. Ever since she left school, her life had been one major series of downs after the other. And
just when she thought it would be over, they threw her for another loop. Really, it was a miracle she'd want to try
anything remotely close to compassion and kindness after this.
"And let me tell you,
interrogation is hardly the word I'd use for that--that--I don't even know
what to call it, it has to be against some sort of law."
Anger... anger was good. Anger was an emotion. She liked emotions, because it was much, much better to caustic indifference.
She tried in vain to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks after her display, though. Rachel was too ashamed to even look at Smeth.
To be quite honest, Smeth had never been through anything like that. He had always been certain of his blood heritage and where he had come from. If it was discovered that the Smethwyck line had contained Muggle blood, he would have been quite fine with that, but he knew that many of his relatives would
not. Rachel's parents were probably distraught.
By now, he felt like he knew Rachel enough by now to know that when she was upset, she just blurted out things, just like everyone else. Smeth couldn't even begin to try and relate to everything that this girl had been through, from the unwanted pregnancy that she had, to the lowly retail job that she held before fortune happened upon him to hire her.
It took a short while for him to speak, because an overwhelming emotion washed over him. Never in his life that he imagined that he would sympathize with a girl who he had always privately thought of as a privlidged princess. But even privilged princesses deserved some slack when their lives tumbled down.
"You're so strong, Rachel." He stood up, and crossed the short distance between them. He didn't even think about it, it was as if his legs had minds of their own; the motion was automatic. "Although I won't pretend that I know what it's like to grow up in a completely pureblooded household, I can sympathize. What you've gone through has been so
trying, and it's more than any person can take."
Taking a deep breath, she tried in vain to compose herself. It was simply
unbecoming to fall to pieces like that, and she could not allow it to continue. Rachel had been noticing she'd been falling apart much more than should be allowed late, and it had to stop.
"It really does mean a lot to hear you say that," Rachel said, looking up at him. She spoke slowly, her jaw tightened as a means to physically hold back the whirlwind of emotions she was experiencing right now. "It's been difficult; I
do acknowledge that much of it has been my fault, but I can't... it just seems particularly vicious that there are people eager to kick you when you're down," she sighed. "I suppose I can't expect--well, really, when you think about it, I suppose it makes sense. No one ever did say life was fair."
Her head hung low as she examined the ID card that she was gripping so hard, it had practically cut into her palm. "So help me god, if I ever see that creep Michael Lochte again, I'm going to make sure he won't ever need his glasses again, ever--for the lack of eyes he's going to walk away with." She laughed nervously, replaying the encounter in her head and shuddering.
Michael Lochte - oh. He remembered him now, quite vividly. "He was the guy that suspended me for being a halfblood," he said suddenly. "Real creepy little guy with the strange glasses?" Oh Merlin.
He was going to rationalize the sudden rush of anger he felt to the indignity that such a man like that could simply put people out of jobs because of their blood, but he wasn't thinking about that; he was picturing Rachel in a dark room with only Lochte.
"That sounds like him," she agreed, still slightly lost in her thoughts. "He said he was related to Dolores Umbridge--isn't
that a keen explanation for his atrocious behavior?"
Rachel snorted.
She looked timidly at Smeth, and looked back down at her ID card. "Th--thank you. I realize I've been rather distant this week, I didn't mean any of it toward you. I was thinking. Or perhaps brooding is a more appropriate term. I tend to do that sometimes," she flashed him a weak smile.
Smeth smiled back. "As a person who is well-schooled and well-practiced in the art of brooding, I can relate," he said reassuringly. "Here."
He dug through his pockets and pulled out his ID card. He honestly hadn't planned on making that face, but for reason, that facial expression had just... came out. Phoebe had howled with laughter over it, and even he could see how funny it was. "If anyone wants to make fun of you because of your new blood status, I'll be right behind you."
He took her hand and gently released her still-clutching fingers, placing his ID card over her's. "I know, I know, my face," he said with a huffy sigh. "Believe me, my little sister never let me hear the end of it."
She grabbed his hand and brought it closer. "Healer Smethwyck!" Rachel squealed. "I didn't even know your face could make that expression."
Raising his arm up higher, she pretended to tilt her head and mock-compare the picture to his face, which was rather close to giving her the same look. "Hmm. I see. You know, I think it
is possible for your face to do that--I've just never seen yours do that before. Or anyone else's, for that matter."
"Apparently a lot of people feel that way," he sighed, pulling his lips downward in a mock pout. He reached over to take Rachel's hand, taking his card and taking her card as well, reaching over to slip it into her purse.
He reached out with one arm and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, turning serious for a moment. "I hope you're feeling better about it all, Rachel. And if you ever need to talk, you know that I'll be hear to listen."
Funny, but his heart just fluttered a little bit after he said that.
