"i know life well enough to know you can't count on things staying around or standing still, no matter how much you want them to. you can't stop people from dying. you can't stop them from going away. you can't stop yourself from going away either."...
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Chamomile. The hospital wing always smelt like chamomile tea. Chamomile tea and various draughts cooked up by Madam Pomfrey.
Ophelia could smell chamomile as she woke, bleary eyed and achy with various faces hovering over her. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light- it was daytime.
She bolted upright, but immediately hissed at the pain that seared through her stomach.
"Careful, Lee," Ginny whispered, gently pushing her sister's shoulder back to lie down again, "Madam Pomfrey said bedrest for at least two more days."
Elijah and Daisy were standing on the other side of the bed, smiling sympathetically.
"What-" Ophelia croaked, her thoughts scattered, "Sirius- is he?"
"He got away," Harry had appeared at the end of the bed, followed by Hermione, "he'll be okay."
She sighed in relief, wincing as she brushed the side of her face. She frowned, gently touching her cheek with the tip of her fingers, swallowing hard.
It had almost felt like a nightmare she'd just woken from. But it was real.
"It's not that bad," Elijah shrugged, "it's a magical wound, so it will never fully heal, but it looks badass."
Daisy nudged him sharply with her elbow, offering Ophelia her pocket mirror with an encouraging smile.
The girl opened it, turning slowly to look at her cheek. A crimson gash had slashed through her freckles, beginning just above her cheekbone and ending beside her nose.
"You saved us, Lee," Hermione whispered from the end of the bed, perching on the edge of it, "if you hadn't stepped forward, we would all probably be dead by now." She shivered as she finished her sentence.
"It was brave." Ginny smiled, now sitting beside her sister in the bed.
"And also bloody stupid," Ron was propped up in the next bed along, his leg wrapped in a cast, "I mean, what were you thinking? You could've been killed!"
Ron was right, it had been reckless, but the werewolf's attention had been turned onto the students, and she already knew what she had to do. Lycanthropy was transferred through blood or saliva, but Ophelia had the same DNA as the wolf standing before them. If she was attacked or bitten, she wouldn't turn. She'd have a chance to survive. The others wouldn't. The decision was already made when she stood between the creature and her family.
That was the last she remembered.
"I've taken notes for you," Daisy smiled weakly, although her eyes did seem a little bloodshot- something Ophelia hadn't seen on her friend before, "and I have the forms for our elective subjects, I'm thinking Ancient Runes would be really..."
