two

                                    

                                          
"Alohamora," Shyla said steadily and the lock sitting in Healer Smythe's hand clicked undone.
"Excellent," Healer Smythe beamed, excited by Shyla's progress. 
"You're much improved from when I last oversaw your work, Shyla," Healer Thale nodded in approval. "Your healing spells look excellent, basic charms are all but mastered- you've clearly grown as a witch since the last time I was here."
Shyla grinned. Nothing brought her more joy in the world than magic and to hear that her magic was good was just the icing on the cake. "Thank you, Healer Thale," she said. 
"Well, I better be off," Healer Thale said, checking his watch. "Good luck with your visitors, Shyla, and if that goes well too, I might make some suggestions to the head healer about giving you some additional privileges."
Healer Smythe grinned at Shyla again, her eyes wide with excitement for the teen. "Oh, how wonderful!" Healer Smythe said, clapping her hands together. "How very generous of you, Healer Thale."
The man in question shrugged with a smile. "It's the least I can do." And with that, he turned and left, checking his watch for the time again. 
"I guess that means it's time," Shyla said, handing her wand back to Healer Smythe reluctantly. She packed everything they had used back into the box it came from and locked it up securely before turning back to Shyla. 
"Ready for some visitors?" Healer Smythe asked, somehow still as cheery as she had been at the beginning of the night. Even Shyla, who had been essentially nocturnal for years and years, was starting to get tired. 
"I suppose so," Shyla sighed, thinking about her supposed aunt and uncle who were coming to visit her. "Healer Smythe, you wouldn't happen to know which aunt and uncle are coming to visit."
"Your Uncle Daniel and his wife Marienne," Healer Smythe replied. Shyla only hummed in response, having only faint memories of her uncle, and even fainter ones of his wife, to whom Shyla didn't even think he had been married the last time she had seen him. Still, she knew they had been named her legal guardians after her parents death, as they were her most fit closest living relatives. She had no idea as to why they had come to see her, but she assumed she would find out soon enough. "I suppose I should explain visitation to you, since you've never done it."
"That would be nice," Shyly replied, a smile ghosting her lips.
"Well, they're usually just in the wards, and since it's only a few people, we'll just do it in your room. I'll have to be in there as well, make sure that you're alright and-"
"Make sure I don't kill them?" Shyla asked dryly. Healer Smythe smiled painfully, as if the thought of Shyla being violent to her family would pain her. 
"Something like that," Healer Smythe replied. "And since you're not really supposed to have visitors, administration here is only allowing them to come in as long as you're shackled to the bed."
Shyla scowled openly. She hadn't been forced to use the bed shackles since it had first been decided that she would go to St. Mungos instead of Azkaban. They were wrought iron, enchanted so that whoever was trapped could perform no magic, and they rubbed terribly up against Shyla's already delicate skin. 
"Sorry," Healer Smythe said, noticing Shyla's scowl. "If it were up to me, I would ban those evil things. They serve no point if the person doesn't know wandless magic which is like 90% of the population. They shouldn't be protocol."
Shyla said nothing, letting herself be escorted back to her room in silence, where she saw that the thick, heavy chains had already been attached to the bed. With a sigh, she climbed up onto her bed and let Healer Smythe attach the shackles to her. A weary breath left her mouth as her energy drained. Shyla knew that her magic quite literally kept her alive- it was one of the reasons she had been placed in careful watch at St. Mungo's, though the insanity plea had helped as well. Even when she wasn't doing magic, it was still working hard to keep her from death's doors, which was the current theory as to why at 16, with barely any outlets for magic, she had yet to turn into an obscurus. 
Her attention turned back to Healer Smythe as she waved her wand and sent a memo out the open door, which clicked shut behind the note. The healer waved her wand one more time, two wooden chairs appearing at the foot of Shyla's bed. "They should be on their way, and they've only got a half hour with you anyways. After that, we can go and get you some food and have some free time before it's back to bed with you."
They continued to sit in silence before the door opened and Daniel Fawley stepped in the room, Marienne following shortly behind him. "Merlin, Shyla you look awful pale," Daniel hummed cheerful at her before turning to Haler Smythe, his eyes hardening. "I assume that's not your fault?"
"I've always been pale," Shyla replied dryly. She paused. "Thanks for visiting, but I can't imagine it was to keep me company. What do you want?"
"Just like Michael, you are," Daniel grinned brightly. He had always been the more easy-going of the three uncles she had met. "Always straight to the point."
"You're right, of course," Marienne spoke, her cold, steely, no-none sense voice a stark contrast to the cheerful tone her husband had taken on. It reminded Shyla of her own parents. "You've been offered a re-trial."
"That's wonderful news, Shyla," Healer Smythe commented brightly, ignoring the almost venomous look that Marienne sent her. 
Daniel continued onwards, ignoring the healer entirely. "As I'm sure you know, I work in the Department of Magical Law, and I have connections," Daniel said nonchalantly. Shyla had to contain her eye roll. 
"That's nice," Shyla replied shortly. "What do you want?" 
"Smart girl," Marienne noted, her steely grey eyes almost glowing appreciatively. "As you would seem to prefer we be blunt, I will skip the pleasantries. You're 16,  nearly 17. You're the only Fawley in your generation, and you're unmarried. And it will be easier to find you a husband if you're not locked up in the ghastly hospital."
Shyla leaned against her pillows. "Fair enough," she said. "When's the retrial?"
"June 31st," Daniel replied. "I intend to assist you every step of the way, so no need to worry about preparing."
"And assuming it goes well, your engagement to Draco Malfoy will be announced the first of July," Marienne continued, staring at Shyly as though she dared her niece to defy her. 
Shyla didn't really like the idea of marrying some boy she didn't know, and had only possibly met as a small child at some Pureblood ball, or something equally auspicious. But as much as she didn't like the prospect of marriage, Shyla knew how to get what she wanted. And what she wanted above all else was her freedom. Perhaps marriage was not the freedom she had always dreamed of, but whatever this Draco Malfoy boy made her do as her husband could not be more binding than the chains of St. Mungo's. 
A smile stretched across Shyla's face at the idea of the sunlight on her face, her wand in her hand, alone time at last. "I look forward to it," she said, her eyes twinkling as they found her aunts. She knew her aunt understood that there was reasons other than a happy marriage, and she understood that a happy marriage was not the reason that Marienne was with Daniel. 
"It's a shame we did not get to spend more time together, Shyla," Marienne said, her steel eyes hinting mystery. "I think we would have gotten along splendidly."
With that, her aunt and uncle rose and left the room, leaving Shyla alone with her thoughts and her healer. But when freedom was tangible, nothing mattered to Shyla anymore except doing whatever she had to do achieve it.