credit to nat of adoxography.

After a rather eventful hour at the rather shady establishment his cousin owned down in Knocturn Alley, during which Ezekiel became a part of a new movement against the current sociopolitical movement, the healer was craving a drink. He could have stayed at the Coffin House, but he had no intentions to listen to his brother's drunk yelling and coarse jokes. He had excused himself and left for The Crooked Wand on the other side of Diagon Alley. 

He'd ordered himself an entire bottle of red wine and had gotten comfortable in the furthest end of the bar, hanging his coat in front of the booth to signal that it was already occupied. A muggle science magazine was sprawled out in front of him, and the man was completely engrossed in reading about the newest advances in stem cell research. 

To his annoyance, some people were too blind to notice his coat in front of the booth. Some woman stumbled into his space, tearing him out of his thoughts. He looked at her with his best costumer service smile, not wishing to make a fuss out of it, but then the stunning blonde claimed to know him. He blinked a few times in rapid succession, slightly taken aback by this turn of events.

"Oh, pardon me? Do we know each other?" he asked, his tone polite and reserved. There was something awfully familiar about the woman, but Ezekiel couldn't put his finger on it. "Can you help me remember?"

credit to nat of adoxography.

His dark blue eyes scanned over the woman standing in front of him. Long, blonde hair, expressive cheekbones, a round, slightly upturned nose, full lips and wide blue eyes. The eyes though... There was no naivety in them. This wasn't some dumb blonde that got through life by flickering her eyelashes at rich men. He'd seen those eyes before. The question was when.

She graced him with an answer soon enough, making his eyebrows raise up in surprise and an involuntary smile appeared on his lips. Hope! Once, when they had been just children, they'd spent hours on end in the library, reading through all the age appropriate literature that Hogwarts had on hand. As the years went by, they'd drifted apart, yet always offering a smile to each other in the hallways.

"Ah, Hope!" he said, his smile still wide, "I feel like a fool for not recognizing you. I must say, the years have treated you well, if your appearance is anything to judge by. Though I am well aware that looks can be decieving. Please, do sit."

He closed the magazine and pushed it to the further end of the table, placing his glass of red wine in front of him. His fingers were toying with the leg of the glass, as he proceeded to speak.

"I wish I had anything interesting to tell you, Hope. After Hogwarts, I began to work at St. Mungos. Bite ward. Have worked there ever since, even after a rather frenzied patient shattered my left leg... It left me with a limp, but I couldn't leave the hospital, not when they needed me the most."

"Do tell me about yourself!" he said, popping open the bottle of red wine he had ordered earlier, and pushing it to the middle of the table so they both could refill if they wished so.

credit to nat of adoxography.

Their eyes danced around the features of the other, pretending not to notice, yet knowing that a silent judgement was being passed in the others mind. It was just a few moments of strange tension, but with the dawn of realization it all disappeared, being replaced by the comfort of familiarity. 

He chuckled, nodding at Hope's words. "Still, I thought I was good at remembering faces and names. And thank you for the compliment, it's rare I have time to let it down, " he said, running his hand through his hair, trying to make his curls a little neater. Hope had grown into a fine young woman, the kind that Ezekiel wouldn't mind to bed... But perhaps that was the wine talking.

But her words didn't slip past him. The years haven't treated me well. In truth, was there anyone who'd had a good life, at least in the last few years? Perhaps the high and mighty who could afford to ignore the world around them and make sure it never affected their life. Not simple folk like the two of them.

"It's only a work injury, not that interesting. What is interesting are my patients, but I cannot divulge any information about them to you, though they do make for quite the cautionary tales." The fingers of his right hand moved up from the leg of the glass all the way up the rim, slowly drawing circles as he spoke. 

"It could have been worse. I can't run anymore -- Or, I shouldn't, and standing up becomes tiresome after a while. And it aches upon sudden changes in weather... Which makes me sound like I'm a hundred years old, " he chuckled, taking a sip from his wine glass, "But it doesn't impair any other parts of my life." His last words were accompanied by a brief wink and a smirk just as quick - blink and you'll miss it. 

The playful mood died as soon as Hope began to share her personal tragedy. Perhaps it was too many years of having to deliver bad news that had turned Ezekiel numb, but he couldn't find any trace of sadness in his reaction. There was a tinge of weariness, though. But the healer knew better than to show indifference -- he'd had plenty of sensitivity training and practice over the years.

He leaned in to take a closer look at the photographs. There she was -- young Hope, with a dazzling smile in a white dress next to a man with the same joy in his face. In the other, both, a little older, with a young girl between. Someone who liked kids would probably describe her as 'angelic'. 

"She had your nose," he said, his voice soft as he looked back up from the locket, "I can see that there was nothing but love between all of you. I'm very sorry that you had to go through this...again." Then he reached a bit further, gently squeezing one of Hope's hands before sitting back and returning his hands to his wine glass. 

credit to nat of adoxography.

Their conversation had entered deep, murky waters, like a swamp on which the stench of death lingered upon. Ezekiel didn't want to spend his evening comforting a mourning widow. Lucky for him, Hope didn't seem to be on the verge of a breakdown, even when his gesture of comfort made her wide-eyed for a few moments.

"No, no such thing. Work takes up too many of my mental and emotional resources to even think of committing to a relationship. I must admit, some days I do wish someone would take care of me once in a while, " he took another sip of his wine, "In one way or another."

"I suppose I could tell you the story of my leg in more detail," he continued, "Though the Bite Ward rarely has humorous stories, so you've been warned. I think I might need a refill for this, first," he reached out for the wine bottle and poured it, his eyes fixed on the red liquid as he began to tell his tale.

"This was about four years back? Yes, it would be four years by now. A man, about 30 years old, very big and broad shouldered, the kind I wouldn't want to stumble into at any time of day, he'd somehow, and I don't even want to know how or why, had encountered a Manticore."

"This encounter had reduced him into a nervous wreck. One day I was just changing his bandages, routine work, done it before, and I genuinely, to this day, don't know what I did to tick him off." Ezekiel paused. His throat was already going dry. 

"It was as if a switch had been turned in his head. He lifted me up like I was a pillow full of feathers, and the next thing I know -- I am on the floor, there are several large open fractures in my left leg, and he's throwing a fit. A rather gruesome sight, I'll say that much." There was no resentment in his voice, though. After all, it was just another day on the job.

"Even after healing, I was made to take a vacation for an entire month. Don't know what happened to my patient, though."

credit to nat of adoxography.

The smile on Hope's face didn't elude Ezekiel. It was apparent that they shared the same longing for an even brief partnership, and both of them wished for a 'no strings attached' scenario. They weren't complete strangers, too, which made the man feel a lot more comfortable about inviting someone into his bedroom.  And yet, perhaps he was reading too much into this? After all, right from the bat Hope had revealed that she was a widow, and everything pointed that she wasn't quite over it even after a decade... He was treading a thin line.

He stopped fiddling with the wine glass for a moment, looked her right in the eyes and sighed, "It seems we are looking for the same thing," before continuing with his story about the frantic patient. 

A sympathetic frown appeared on her face as Ezekiel concluded his story. He didn't want her sympathy or whatever it was, there was nothing brave or heroic in his actions. With a dismissive movement of the hand he answered.

"No matter what happens to me, there are still people that need help back at the hospital and beyond. It was just another day on the job," he took a sip of his wine and looked right at her once more,"The world doesn't stop turning just because something happens to you. You have to get up and keep working. My mother used to tell me that. She was a muggle doctor and... I know full well what I signed up for when I became a healer."

"And what have you gotten up to? I swear I saw your name in the Prophet not too long ago, but I cannot for the life of me recall why."