But like the lonely fox I need a place to hide

TAG: OPEN | OUTFIT

Clementine enjoyed her job.

More precisely, she enjoyed being busy.

Being busy meant there wasn’t time to dwell on her feelings. There wasn’t time to dwell on her insecurities. And there certainly wasn’t time to dwell on just how many incurable illnesses there were out there in the world.

No, working at Pyxis was perfect because she had to deal with the common cold and the occasional broken finger or wrist. There wasn’t dragon pox and pustules or boils to tend to.

Reaching into her nearby bag, Clem pulled out a tidy-looking clipboard and began going over the list in her hands. “Six beds with clean bedsheets, check…” The rest was just as mundane, but just as necessary. She couldn’t start the week without doing her regular checks. It had been habit since Pyxis had opened. Every Sunday after her shift, she would stay at work for a few hours to ensure everything was ready to go for the week ahead. It was part of her routine and she would be remiss if she didn’t adhere to her routine.

Rounding the corner of the Hospital Wing, she paused. The empty box on the shelf made her double-take. Was she missing… “Gloves!” She yelled, furiously adding a bullet to her list. How could she have possibly forgotten gloves?! They were one of the most important items at Pyxis.

She was going to have to petition the Headmistress for a rush order. There was no way she would be able to get halfway through the week with just the reserves. The reserves! There would be enough gloves to last her for a few days, surely. That’s what reserves were for…but where did they keep them? Spinning in a tight circle, Clem’s eyes finally fell on a small cabinet that was across the room. Opening it, she was greeted with a deceivingly large supply closet that was packed to the brim with everything she might need. And…of course, at the very bottom, were the very gloves that she was after.

The sound of the door opening drew her attention — someone had entered the Hospital Wing — but her hands were already on the box. “Just a minute, I…I…I…” With a heave, Clem managed to loosen the box of gloves from underneath the cabinet and sent everything else from inside the small space all across the floor. A few surgical tools, potions, and various other knick-knacks rolled towards the door as Clementine Moore stared down in horror. She had gotten the gloves, but at the expense of the whole damn Hospital Wing?!

Obviously flustered and frustrated, she climbed to her feet, holding onto one of the nearby beds to steady herself on the small kitten heels she habitually wore to work. Her eyes scanned until they fell on the person who had joined her in the room. “Terribly sorry. Who knew the week could start off in such a sour way. I’m afraid I’ll be cleaning up for hours…Did you…need something?”

outfit

The school was a large project. It took a lot of hours, between the legal parts of the arrangement, to the building and the grounds, the maintenance, the staff, the study program. Everything had to be carefully controlled, for more than one reason. The students were children, and yes they had been made to work before this, but Nora had never been in agreement with that. Mudbloods they may be, but children were children and the unnecessary violence and slaughter of them and on them was... as she had said, unnecessary. Things could be improved. Besides, it much benefitted Andromeda to paint herself as better and more humane thanAres by building this place. Two birds with one stone. It made people give her the benefit of the doubt, even people that were completely against Death Eaters. After all, she was married to one, her government was built upon them, but she wasn't one herself. Therefore, it was important that everything in here ran smoothly. Completely and absolutely. That was a lot of work. It was a lot of work to set it up, it was a lot of work to keep it running, and it was a lot of work to be Chief Warlock. Everything was a lot of work and she didn't know when the last time was that she'd had a full night's sleep.

That didn't matter.

It was better to have so much work, really, because admittedly she hadn't wanted to deal with errant thoughts lately. Her family life wasn't what it used to be. Yes, there was all the extra work which kept her away from Roma a lot. There was that, but it was temporary. There was her father and all those issues, but he was also just a minor, temporary issue. There was nothing wrong with Ivan or Lori, there was just all the issues with Jules. She had told him many months ago that while she disapproved of his choices, it was all ultimately up to him. She would accept his choices, he was a grown man and as much as she had coddled him his whole life, she could not keep doing it. He had made the right choice, of course he had. He was an intelligent boy. It had hurt him, though, and it seemed like the consequences of making the wrong choice would not have been as terrible as she had thought. Who knew? What could have happened was always just a guess, in the end. What had happened was that her son resented her, and that he had grown cold and angry and distant. She had lost her boy and the man in his stead was not one that would rest his head on her lap or come to her for a hug. That loving boy was gone and she missed him dearly, and it was her fault.

Those were things she would rather not think about, so she took her care of all her work with as much attention to detail as she could. That meant that she had no time to think about anything else. On one of the few free hours she could find, she went to Pyxis herself. Yes, there were reports. Regular ones from Donna, some from professors and from guards, some even from Monroe. Still, she liked to get her own eyes on things and make sure everything was up to standard. The students weren't around, it was early so they were either at breakfast or already in class. Not that she wanted to see them, that was for another time. When they had probably cooled down a bit further from the anger their previous treatment must have caused. The gardens were fine, the library was fine, the Hospital Wing... well, she would see now, wouldn't she?

"No, no, I was merely taking a look." Eleanor looked at the now standing woman, probably the matron, with appraising eyes. Young, and perhaps a bit clumsy. Some would find that to be inappropriate for the matron of a school, responsible for children's wellbeing. Did Nora care? Maybe. She would see. After giving her a polite but tight smile, Nora stepped to the side, inspecting everything with sharp eyes, including the mess on the floor. Her Dark Mark was clearly visible, but she doubted the woman knew who she was. Nora's face wasn't exactly a very public matter.

Henry Macon always had this uncanny ability to make Clementine feel as if she were two feet tall. It was something about the way that he looked at her: narrowed eyes, slightly upturned nose…all of it made her feel like she wasn’t worthy of even being around him. Looking back, she knew it was his way of manipulating her. He kept her just as arm’s length so she was always fighting for his attention and his approval. He turned her away just enough that she found herself coming back for more. Perhaps Clementine Moore was more a glutton for punishment than she let on.

Years later, she still felt small, on occasion. It was the reason she’d retired so early from her career and been so reluctant to join the Pyxis staff, to begin with.

But somehow, being here made her feel better. It made her feel as if she had a chance to start over and actually make a difference. The students needed someone like her — of that, she had herself convinced. In fact, she hadn’t felt small since she’d started her work here.

At least, until this very moment. Her feet were in the middle of the cluttered mess that she’d made in the middle of the floor and her heart felt as if it was beating a thousand times per second. Clem wondered if the woman now standing apart from her could feel her anxiety from all the way over there. Surely she couldn’t, right? After all, whoever this was didn’t know her. And she certainly didn’t know them. Standing there, Clementine felt more like a deer in headlights than anything else. She suddenly felt as if the woman was running after her at full speed during a hunt. But instead of running, all she could do was stare in horror as she looked at the infirmary.

“Awful mess, really,” Clem said, immediately remembering that she needed to clean up. Drawing her wand, the knick-knacks began levitating back into the cabinet and reorganizing themselves in a manner that would make it entirely easier for her to find something should she need it in the future. "C-Clemtine Moore, Pyxis Matron. A pleasure to meet you, Ms...?" Her eyes were drawn back to the woman as she noticed the mark as clear as day on her forearm. Immediately, she lost her concentration and one of the potions hit the floor, glass shattering a thousand different directions.

It wasn’t that she was frightened of Death Eaters…In fact, Clementine Moore was frightened of just about everything. But being so close to one…one so beautiful and yet so utterly terrifying had her fumbling around. She took to her knees, quickly using her wand to gather up the glass. “I’m so sorry. How clumsy of me! How entirely…” Clem’s voice dropped off before she sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to be brave. “Are you…one of the professors?”

Nora hadn't met many matrons in her life. Madam Pomfrey had been at Hogwarts while Nora was there, and since then there'd been a few halfbloods she had never met, and now it was a pureblood woman. Astoria Nott, now, and Nora knew that Fer wasn't fond of the woman's sister and a bit too fond of her husband. She herself had only met Astoria in passing and she had no opinion of her, though she had a very strong opinion on Theodore. As things were, the only non-bland matron she'd ever met was Poppy Pomfrey. This woman seemed rather cowed, rather nervous. Like a little barn mouse. In fact, Nora got a distinct... beige feeling from her, which wasn't bad or good. It was just that. She did wonder what brought the woman here, of all places, instead of working at St Mungo's or one of the many private clinics around the country. Nora didn't recall much of her file, though she was sure she'd seen it and approved it at some point. After all, all hiring of people in this school didn't go through Donna. Well, superficially, it did. The final word was hers, though mostly she let Monroe handle it. The girl knew what Nora wanted, and more specifically, she knew what Nora wouldn't stand for. That meant that this... Moore? Well, she must have some level of professional skill, even if her nerves were at the moment indicating otherwise.

"Lady Bulstrode." She wasn't about to shake the woman's hand, but it seemed like the option was retracted anyway, when she dropped all the vials and potions to the floor. What a mess, what a waste. It wasn't as if Pyxis was given a particularly large budget, healing salves and potions were expensive. Were they to replace all of this just because the matron couldn't keep her hands steady? It didn't inspire a lot of confidence in the more delicate healing spells, either. Since Nora had entered, she'd seen two awful messes and she wasn't particularly impressed. Would the woman get even more nervous if she found out what position Nora had? Probably. It would be awfully amusing, in truth. Then again, someone working herein Pyxis ought to know the names of the people in charge. "No, I am not. I'm merely visiting the school, checking up on the progress."

Stepping around the mess of potions on the ground, she continued looking at the hospital wing. Well, it was clean. A bit sparsely furnished, but what they did have was of a proper enough quality. That, at least, was acceptable. Not too much, but that wasn't a worry either. How hurt could the children get, with what they were being taught? Especially since she had indicated that she didn't want any lose wands amongst the security staff. This wasn't Kolna, these were underage. The incident with Lord Lestrange was not to be repeated. It was to be expected, of course, but whoever thought it was a good idea to let Rabastan Lestrange guard the mudblood complexes while knowing there were children about what beyond her. She would have spoken to Rodolphus, but she really didn't feel like she wanted to bother with the headache that would ensue from that. "I am the Head of the Department of Education, miss Moore."

but like the lonely
fox i need a
place to hide

❧

The woman, in her tall heels, introduced herself as Lady Bulstrode. It was a name that Clementine was familiar with, though she couldn’t say she’d ever seen the woman in person until now. She kept up with Ministry business as much as she could, reading the papers, reviewing the doctrine that came from the office…it was all dull, sometimes, but it was dull enough to ease her idle mind. As Lady Bulstrode walked past her, Clementine had the strangest urge to squeeze her eyes closed and try and calm herself. But she didn’t — she didn’t want the Head of the Department of Education to think her any more idiotic than she probably already did.

Instead, she tried to drum up the bravery that she had felt a few moments ago. A good Matron would fix the problem, she reminded herself. A good Matron would give the Head of her Department a tour of the Infirmary. A good Matron was…not her. Merlin and Morgana, Clementine sucked in another breath. This was the woman that could fire her with the drop of a pin, and Clementine Moore had just spilled potions all over the floor. Two messes in one afternoon and it just so happened to be the day her boss’s boss was visiting.

Get a grip, she suggested to herself. Perhaps all wasn’t lost. If she could get everything cleaned up, maybe she could get back on track. Maybe Lady Bulstrode wouldn’t fire her. Clean up the mess first and then she could strike up a casual conversation. Maybe by the end of it, she would still have a job.

Her hand was unsteady as she pulled her wand from her pocket. “Reparo,” she said, pointing the tip at the broken pieces of glass on the floor. Almost immediately, they returned to a solid form and Clementine levitated them back into their holding box. Next, she whipped up a cleaning spell with ease, and the liquid seemed to vanish. Sure, Clem would have to re-brew many of the medicinal potions she’d been keeping in storage, but at least for now, things looked slightly less like a disaster. As she stood, Clem bit down on her lip. She wasn’t sure what to say to the woman. Apologize for being such a klutz? No, no, she could do better. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not used to being in the presence of important people. Hardly anyone comes to the hospital wing, you know,” Clem was rambling. It was what she did when she was nervous. That, or she just shut down entirely. She couldn’t afford to do that, not if she wanted to keep her job. “You’re…very important,” she said sheepishly, almost as if she thought it would excuse everything that had happened up to that point.

“The Infirmary is delightful. It has everything the students might need. Everything I might need, too,” she said, managing to set the box of shaking bottles down onto the counter. Now, it was silent in the room. “Have you been before? Or would you like a tour?” A tour of the one-room infirmary? Ah yes, Clementine. An inspired idea.

@eleanor

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Fox on the Run Everybody knows the reason for the fall When woman tempted man down in paradise's hall This woman tempted me all right, then took me for a ride     Eleanor was no healer and she had no intention of being one either. She'd never been interested in doing a healer training or anything like that, though she was proud of her daughter for picking a distinguished and respectable career. She did, however, have a lot of opinions on what a healer should be. Self control, confidence, and steadiness were important, it inspired confidence in one's patients. That was necessary, almost as much as a good bedside manner. Now, Loraine wasn't exactly the comforting type, but she didn't really ever have to interact with her patients while they were conscious, she was a surgical healer. That was better, there were exceptions. When it came to matrons, however, things were different. Matrons were responsible for the wellbeing of children and not like pediatric healers at a hospital were, but since the children were away from their parents there was a constant care for them. Emotional needs and all of those weren't any of a matron's business, she could take them into account or not, that depended on her, but she would have to remember her primary purpose. So far, there had been nothing to indicate that miss Moore was even capable of doing this job.      Eleanor's first instinct was to not care. They had a matron, technically speaking, and wether she was effective or not didn't really matter since her patients were mudbloods and their health wasn't all that important. On the other hand, the mudbloods were children, and one would think it very arbitrary of her not to care if they were tortured or mutilated as soon as they were of age but putting a stop to it any time before. It was irrational, of course, but she couldn't really help it. Didn't care to help it either. It just meant that Moore would have to be at least passable. They didn't need the most learned matron in the world here, but it would be pleasant if the children didn't die. Perhaps.     "Not many accidents, then?" She walked slowly across the room, hand reaching out to trail fingers over the metal frames of the beds. Her eyes went to the repaired bottles, empty now and their contents needing to be replaced. What an awful waste. Then she looked back up at the matron. What a shy little mouse, shaking like one too. Terrified or nervous or anxious, or all three, by the looks of her. She wondered how Moore would handle stressful situations. What if a child was dying? They couldn't be taken to St. Mungo's, they didn't treat mudbloods anymore. "Quite so." What a useless comment.     "That's good to hear, the school doesn't have a large budget and the infirmary has many needs." Her eyes go to the empty bottles for a second before fixing themselves on Moore's face once more. Somewhat younger than her, not much at all. How life brings people to different place. Except, in this case, it was blood and temperament. Even if Moore had been a pureblood, her personality wouldn't have gotten her anywhere, it seemed to Nora. "I don't think there's a need, miss Moore. I have seen everything I need to, unless there's anything in particular you wish to share?"

@ Clem --- OUTFIT 
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