FONTAINE MANOR

Sage was well-versed in the practice of biting her tongue and keeping foul words at bay. She'd had to be good at it—working undercover meant that she'd had to hide every single thing she thought in order to not get caught and exposed.

But as Rowan took her through her second week of physical therapy, Sage had to fight harder than she usually did to make sure she didn't bite Rowan's head off.

Rowan's hands were light and gentle as they worked through the knots of pent up magical bruising and blockage on Sage's back. There were worse obstructions on her legs, arms, and neck, but she had refused to let those areas be treated professionally. The only person allowed to touch her in the places where the Cruciatus Curse hit her hardest was Sirius, and even he was banned from touching her most days.

"Alright, stop." Sage said quietly, when the pain had become an agonizing crescendo.

Rowan, used to her best friend's bad mood, didn't halt her hand motions.

Gritting her teeth, Sage finally snapped. "I said stop!" She shouted, harsh and biting. "Get your hands off of me right now. Stop touching me!"

She was suddenly choking back tears, jerking her body away. Her eyes were swirling with such a feral contempt for Rowan that the taller brunette shrunk back and looked just short of terrified.

Sirius was at the door to their bedroom in an instant, bracing himself in the doorway as he searched the room for a threat or something dangerous. But his gaze landed on his wife, curled into a ball on the floor, and Rowan, standing as far away as possible with her hands up defensively.

"Sage," he began hesitantly. "What's happening? Are you alright?"

Sage looked up at him, wearing shame plain in her expression. She stayed silent, leaving Rowan to explain what happened.

"I hurt her by accident, I think. She just got scared. But it's my professional opinion, as a certified, registered Healer, that we stop her therapy. It's not helping her heal. If anything, it's traumatizing her more than leaving her with remnants of the curses used on her would. I suggest that we stop, for her sake." She rambled, looking anywhere but at Sirius.

Sage's head swiveled in her direction. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, Silvers. I get to decide whether or not I want to continue getting treated." She paused and looked back down at the ground. "I need to get back to peak performance if I'm going to stand a chance against Voldemort. So I need to continue therapy. But I want a different Healer. It can't be Rowan." She said, voice steely.

There was an uproar between Sirius and Rowan.

"What? You've got to be kidding."

"Sage, seriously?"

"I don't trust anyone but Rowan to be in this house taking care of you."

"I'm infinitely more qualified for your specific situation than anyone currently employed by St. Mungos. You really want someone you don't know in here?"

"Shut up! Both of you." Sage demanded. "It's my decision. Sirius, I know you don't trust other people to be here. But you have to let me do what is best for me. And Rowan—Ro. I love you. And I don't doubt that you're more than qualified as a Healer. But you are too close to me. It hurts you to hurt me, and I won't put you through that. I'd much prefer a random Healer that I don't know, who doesn't care about my feelings." She took a deep, gasping breath, opened her mouth like she was going to continue, and closed it immediately after.

Rowan reached for Sage's hand. "I love you. I'm sorry." She said softly.

Sage smiled, a sad, melancholic smile. "Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I just want what's best for both of us."

Sirius had left the room for a mere moment, coming back with a vial of some blueish liquid in his hand. "I brought you some pain relieving potion. So you can sleep tonight." He handed the vial to his wife. "In the morning, you and Regulus can go to St. Mungos. Pick a Healer, whoever you think will work best for you.

"I don't know what pain you must be feeling right now, but if it's enough to make you yell at Silvers, well...it must be awful. And I'm not going to pretend to know." He continued, watching intently as she knocked back the potion like a shot of firewhisky. "We're going to get you better. I promise."

Sage nearly coughed up the bitter potion—it tasted like dirt, truly—and wiped her mouth. "If you ever hand me anything that tastes like lighter fluid again, I'll rip your lungs out."

Sirius cracked a grin. "I expect nothing less."

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