The Virtue of Decision

"Well you really screwed up this time," the nurse muttered, checking for what seemed like the hundredth time for any cuts on Curio's hand. "Toby is sure it didn't bite through the glove?" She asked, looking less than convinced.

"He's sure," Curio sighed. "Ow!" he tried to pull away from the nurse's grasp, but only resulted in her gripping tighter.

"Oh honestly, I barely touched you," she rolled her eyes, dropping his hand from her grasp. "Men can be such babies," she muttered, standing up and making her way over to her desk.

Curio frowned deeply, resting his hand gingerly down on the cot beside him. He lay quietly on his back as the nurse rummaged around her desk. His cloak was hung over the back of a near by chair, and the sleeve that had previously been covering his right arm had been cut off to give better access to his injury.

"I think we should double check for an infection," she insisted from across the room, abandoning the drawers of her desk and moving to a large cabinet that stood against the wall. "Just in case," she added, unlocking the cabinet and flinging the doors open.

The infirmary was large in comparison to most in the ministry, but that was quite common for any that involved magical creatures. A row of six cots lined one wall, soft cream-colored curtains hung from the ceiling, separating the beds when need be. Nurse Frederick's desk sat at the far end of the narrow room, lined on either side by two large windows, which reached up to the high ceiling.

Across from the cots was a sprawling fireplace, which spanned almost the entire length of the room, save for a few feet next to Nurse Frederick's desk, where the large cabinet stood, looming over the room like an angry sentinel.

"Ah here we are," she exclaimed happily, her head poking out from around the cabinet door. "This should do just fine," she closed the door, making her way back over to Curio's bedside; holding something in her hand out of his view.

"What should do just fine?" He asked nervously, trying to sit up to get a look at what she held in her hand.

"Well..." she began slowly, grinning impishly. "Werewolves are allergic to silver, correct?"

"Yes..." he replied, his nervousness growing at the highly amused look on her face.

"Well then, all we have to do is give you some essence of silver...and see if it kills you," she added, as if commenting on the weather, holding up the small vial and smiling sweetly.

"You're insane...you know that right?" He replied icily, eyeing the vial with thinly masked fear.

She frowned, placing her hands on her small hips. "Don't you go and be a coward on me," she exclaimed, scrunching her face up into what might have passed as anger. "I don't like cowards."

"That could kill me!" He insisted. "How is not wanting to die cowardly?"

"You said yourself the wolf didn't break the skin..."

"Exactly. So why should I have to take that stuff?"

"As a precaution. We can't have a werewolf on the werewolf capture unit now can we?"

"I'm not a werewolf."

"Prove it."

He glared, taking the bottle in his good hand roughly. "Fine," he muttered, downing the thick liquid in a single gulp. It burned its way down his throat, causing him to gag slightly. "Happy?" he sputtered, fighting down the nausea that was slowly forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Ecstatic," she smiled pleasantly; taking the empty bottle from him and setting it back in the cabinet. "Now, lets fix up that hand shall we," she hummed quietly as she mended the worst of the breaks, and then wrapped the hand snugly in a bandage; putting a cooling spell on his skin to keep the swelling down.

She stood back, pulling a blanket up to his chest and tucking him into the small cot. "So..." she asked, eyeing him curiously. "Do you feel like you're dying?"

He glared slightly up at her. "No...just...sick. Like I have the flu or something," he shifted slightly under the thin blanket, feeling as though it were made of heavy wool.

She nodded, smiling. "Well that's good then. Straight silver usually has that affect on people, not meant to be taken alone ya know," she laughed slightly, an airy bird-like sound. "But if you were a werewolf you'd be in a lot of pain by now. So there's a bit of good news for ya," she re-tucked the blanket after he kicked it off.

"Nurse Frederick?" Benedict knocked gently on the doorframe, his bulking form filling the entire doorway. "How's he doing?"

"Oh he'll be fine by morning. Gave him a bit of silver, he's having the normal reactions, upset stomach, slight fever, but he's not infected; the wolf didn't pierce the skin," she smiled up at Benedict, looking quite tiny beside him.

"Good," he grumbled, peering down at Curio. "Think you'll be up to making us some Veritaserum tonight?" He asked, quite aware that Curio was the only one among them who had the clearance or the knowledge for that matter, to make the truth serum.

"Yes sir," he nodded slightly, finding it increasingly harder to keep his eyes open.

"Good...we'll need it for..." he cast a suspicious look in Nurse Frederick's direction. "For later."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes well, he'll need his rest until later arrives Mr. Bulstrode," she said, shooing him gently back out into the hallway, and closing the door behind him. "Dreadful ox of a man isn't he," she muttered, making her way back to her desk, where she sat down with a huff.

Curio sunk back into the soft mattress of the cot, letting his eyes slip closed, and sleep claim his weary body.

"Curio? Hey, Curio. Wake up. Time to go kid," Oswald said loudly, shaking him out of his sleep.

"Huh? What?" Curio blinked back sleep, squinting up through tired eyes. "Quit shaking me, I'm awake," he muttered, pushing Oswald's hand away in irritation.

"Mr. Gonzalo, do you mind?" Nurse Frederick exclaimed, scurrying into the infirmary, her white nurses robes billowing out behind her. "He needs his sleep," she glared slightly at Oswald, placing her hands on her hips.

"Sorry miss, but Benedict's orders," he flashed her a winning smile, which quickly turned her disapproving look into a girlish smirk. "We need the kid to make us a truth serum. He can come back here and rest after he's done if he needs to, but of course you understand how important our work is. Can't let a little thing like a broken hand stop us from completing our mission can we?"

Nurse Frederick laughed airily, waving her hand in the air. "Oh no of course not, how silly of me. He should be fine," she said, adding sternly. "But just for making a potion, I don't want him running around after any werewolves for awhile."

"No, no, wouldn't dream of it," Oswald insisted, leaning down and hoisting the still only half-conscious Curio to his feet.

"Think I'm gonna be sick," he muttered, looking in fact, a rather displeasing shade of green.

"You just have to get yourself moving kid," Oswald said with a little nod, and added under his breath. "But if you get sick on me you'll live to regret it."

Nurse Frederick frowned deeply, hurrying over to the cabinet. "Maybe you should take this with you," she pulled out a bucket, smirking slightly. "Just in case."

Oswald snatched it from her, his other arm supporting Curio under his shoulders. "Thank you miss," he said icily, obviously not sharing in her humor about the situation.

Curio whimpered pitifully, quickly grabbing the bucket from Oswald's hand; but did manage to keep the contents of his stomach down.

"Come on now, one foot in front of the other," Oswald prodded, half-dragging Curio out of the infirmary and down the narrow hallway. "Benedict wants you to make a quarter cauldron full of the serum, then put a keeping charm on it so we can save it for later."

"If he's not using it now, why couldn't he just wait until I woke up?" Curio exclaimed; pouting as he tried to make his weak legs keep up with Oswald's quick stride.

"Because..." Oswald explained, as though he were speaking to a rather slow child. "He wants it to be ready incase he indeed does need to use it today."

Curio muttered a reply under his breath, clinging to his bucket and nearly giving up in his attempts to keep up.

"Would you at least try to walk Nym," Oswald growled irritated. "I don't intend to carry you all the way to your office." He pushed open a heavy metal door roughly, revealing a rather large, windowless room, lined from floor to ceiling with glittering silver cages. All but one remained empty, the cold tiled floors spotless and sterile.

In the cage farthest from the door, Curio could barely make out the huddled form of a person, cowering silently in the corner. The room was basked in an eerie light, like that of sunshine passing through murky pond water. The greenish dim outlined the curve of the man's back, and the startling white of his bare feet against the gray tiles.

Oswald followed his glance. "That's the brute that bit you last night," he grumbled, glaring heatedly at the cowering man. "Don't worry, he'll be dealt with."

Curio wasn't worried; he knew the kind of deal the werewolves they brought in were given. It made his already uneasy stomach turn in a fresh wave of knots. He often found himself feeling a great deal of pity, and perhaps even guilt over their fates; he hated to think that he had any part, no matter how small, in sending a man to Azkaban; even if that man happened to be a werewolf.

"I need to sit down," he insisted, letting his legs give out beneath him; and forcing himself to slump out of Oswald's grip to the cold tile floor.

Oswald huffed, glaring down at him. "We don't have time for this," he growled. "Now get back up, you can get sick when we reach your office."

Curio however seemed to not be listening to Oswald's insistence as he proceeded to empty his stomach into the bucket he grasped tightly with his good hand.

"That is absolutely appalling," Oswald muttered, sticking his nose in the air as he turned his gaze away from Curio. "A new plan is needed I believe." He turned towards the door on the opposite wall. "How about I go collect the ingredients from your office while you sit here and get done with all of the vomiting before I return."

Curio managed a heated glare before he once again was forced to return to his bucket.

"Splendid, I think I shall go to it then," Oswald replied, hurrying out of the kennel, nose held high.

When he felt that there was no longer anything left in his stomach to throw up Curio pushed the bucket away from him on the floor; not surprised to see that it was self cleaning, and now stood spotless. Leaning his head back against the cool bars of one of the empty cages, he closed his eyes, thankful for the feel of the cold silver against his fever-warmed skin.

"Did...did I really bite you?" The voice was pitiful and small, barely reaching Curio's ears.

"What?" He croaked, almost as pitifully, prying open his eyes to glance in the direction of the worried sounding inquiry.

The huddled mass of a man that had been curled up in the corner of the far cage, now sat with his legs pulled in against his chest, weary eyes fixed on Curio. "Did...did I bite you? Th-that man said I bit you," he sounded close to tears, a slight sniffle only adding to the assumption.

"It wasn't your fault," Curio replied, feeling horrible as soon as the words left his mouth, wishing he had, instead, lied to the man.

"Oh God," was the horrified response, as the man buried his head in his hands. "Oh God, how could I...I'm so sorry...I'm sorry," he insisted repeatedly, sobs clearly racking his body.

"No...no it's ok," Curio hurriedly explained, trying unsuccessfully to climb to his feet; settling instead for crawling over on his knees and left hand, as his right hung useless in a sling. "I had gloves on, you didn't get through it. I'm ok, really," he didn't know why he was trying so hard to calm the man; after all, he was a prisoner.

"R-really?" He raised red-rimmed eyes from tear-soaked hands. "I didn't infect you?" He sounded slightly skeptical, but his eyes shone brightly with hope.

"Really, I'm fine. The nurse double checked and everything."

"Silver?" The man asked quietly, wiping fervently at the few remaining tears on his cheeks, as if he just now realized he had been crying.

"Yes," Curio said quietly, watching him now with great interest.

"That's why you're sick? From the silver. Not because...I infected you."

"Right."

He pushed one leg out in front of him slowly, studying Curio suspiciously. "You work here?" He asked, pushing chin length black hair out of his face in one fluid movement.

Curio straightened his back slightly, pushing his shoulders back as he did so; trying in a small way to make himself appear bigger; and there for older. "Yes."

A tiny smirk laced the man's next words. "A bit young aren't you?"

The look of indignation shot his way was enough of an answer as any words would have been.

The man shifted, pulling his extended leg back up to his chest, glancing nervously around his cage; letting out a sigh that seemed to carry with it a great exhaustion that settled on his being. "There'll be a trial...right?" He asked meekly, rubbing his tired eyes.

Curio bit his lip slightly, not able to meet the man's sorrowful gaze. "Well...a small one yes," he tugged absently on his sling, focusing his gaze on his wounded hand. "But...after you take the truth serum...I mean, there won't be much need for a trial," he swallowed, adding quietly. "They never excuse someone, a werewolf, when the person they infect is as young as your son."

Curio sat silently, listening to the man's ragged breaths. "What...what do you mean?" His face was a mask of confusion.

Curio pulled his eyes up, forcing himself to look the man in the eye. "Your son...you infected him," he explained evenly, trying to keep any sounds of emotion from leaking into his words.

The man's eyes darted back and forth, as though he were reading over his very thoughts as they raced through his mind. "You...you think I infected Juno?" He breathed, pursing his lips together.

Curio nodded solemnly. "We had a report that a Juno Launce infected a Juno Launce jr. your son."

Juno looked up, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing slightly. "Can...can I ask you something?" His eyes continued to dart back and forth, and he now began to ring his hands in the front of the plain black prison robe he had been dressed in.

"Yes...of course," Curio replied nervously, watching Juno's edgy movements with growing concern.

"Is...is the penalty for infecting an older person...I mean...is it as harsh?"

Curio raised an eyebrow. "Have you infected someone else as well Mr. Launce?" He asked calmly.

"What? Oh heavens no," he waved off the comment and continued on. "But...just say, say a werewolf infected an adult...would the punishment be just as harsh?"

Curio frowned, looking back down at his hand, and nodded. "Basically...usually the...they're usually sent to Azkaban...or," he cleared his throat. "Or they are executed.

Juno flinched visibly at the words, a frown that reached the very core of his being set itself firmly on his features. "That's what I was afraid of," he murmured.

"Nym? For pities sake boy, what are you doing? Isn't one close call enough for one day?" Oswald exclaimed as he burst into the room, his arms full of the necessary supplies for the truth serum.

"Excuse me sir?" Juno cleared his throat, pulling himself up onto unsteady legs; he gripped the bars of his cage for support.

Oswald looked upon him as though he were an insect he had just stomped under foot. "What do you want creature?" He sneered, narrowing his eyes.

"I do believe I am permitted one owl am I not?" Juno stated calmly, straightening out his robe and squaring his shoulders. "I wish to contact my wife."

Oswald raised one slender eyebrow, and replied whimsically. "Oh, and I am quite certain she will be thrilled to hear from you monster, after all, you did just infect her son, did you not?" He smirked, a look of triumph blazing in his eyes.

Juno clenched his jaw, the hand that gripped the bars turned white around the knuckles. "Be that as it may," he hissed. "I am still permitted one owl...no matter how you feel it will be received."

Oswald sighed, rolling his eyes lazily towards the ceiling. "Well actually Mr. Launce," he sneered the name mockingly. "The rules have been changed in recent years," he smirked. "We now permit you one letter, delivered by hand, by someone from our office," his smirk morphed into a pleasant smile, which could only be deciphered as insincere by the malicious gleam in Oswald's eyes. "We had some problems with owls not following instructions you see...werewolves were telling them different destinations than they told us. We learned quickly that your kind could not be trusted."

"Fine then," Juno said curtly, trying his best to ignore Oswald's snide remarks. "Then I want him to deliver it," he pointed fixedly at Curio, who still sat on the floor beside his cage.

"I'm afraid you don't just get to pick and choose..."

"I'll do it," Curio interrupted, shrugging slightly. "I don't mind."

Oswald glared down at him. "But...but you're sick," he insisted, not sounding the least bit concerned. "Plus you have a job to do Curio. Or have you already forgotten?"

"I can wait until tomorrow," Juno said calmly. "That will give me time to compose my letter."

Oswald looked between them, obviously searching for something else to object with; but finding none sighed heavily. "Fine," he muttered bitterly. "I'll go fetch you a scrap of parchment." He curled his lip at Juno before pushing the heavy door open and stalking out into the hallway.

"Thank you," Juno murmured quietly, unable to stay standing any longer he slumped to the ground, looking utterly exhausted.

"For what?" Curio shrugged as he started to sift through his supplies.

"Not many people would help a werewolf," Juno replied, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice.

Curio lit a small fire under his caldron, meticulously preparing the ingredients for the serum. "It's just delivering a letter," he thumbed through one of the books beside him, scanning the page quickly. "Besides," he added an ingredient to the cauldron. "I know that if I was in your situation, I'd want someone to do the same for me."

"Well...thanks just the same," Juno murmured, closing his eyes and leaning back against the bars of his cage; slipping quickly into an exhausted sleep.