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six, ࿐ medicine
"SHE'S VERY LUCKY."
Marlene's eyes swam with tears, fingers wrapped around Stevie's wrist. She looked so small like this, tiny and fragile, tucked under the covers. "This is all my fault," she sighed. "I was such a coward. I made everyone lose their focus."
Lily quietly entered the room with two mugs of tea, handing them to Marlene and Madame Pomfrey, who was always on speed-dial for any serious injuries. "I managed to get word to James. It was a full moon, so they were somewhere up in Scotland for the night. How is she?"
"Nasty couple of curses," Madame Pomfrey nodded. "That wound on her stomach is going to scar. Terrible curse it was, one that slices skin, mind you, very deeply. It's no longer an open wound, however the area may remain sore for a while. And it may even be days before she regains control over her muscles, she endured a nasty bout of cruciatus. She'll be good to go in two weeks."
Marlene sipped at the scalding liquid, nearly burning her tongue on the tea. "I can look after her, it's no trouble, really," she murmured, just as the door burst open, James immediately sweeping Lily into his arms, and proceeding to do the same to Marlene, nearly knocking her tea all over his worn, Gryffindor Quidditch jumper, that Lily had forced Marlene to wear, all bloody clothing sent to wash. Mary stood in the doorway with crossed arms, looking as glum as Marlene felt.
"I'll be off," Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Remus need anything darling?"
"Just a couple of scratches he insists are okay. He's been crashing at Sirius and Cordelia's flat, I'm sure she'll make sure he's patched up correctly," James replied, watching as the nurse packed up her things. "Shall I walk you out?"
"I'll be fine dear boy," she nodded. "Stay here with your friends."
They'd gotten away from the Weasley home after staunching Stevie's bleeding and knocking her out with a potion, getting Stevie into a spare room at the Potter cottage. It was less crowded here. It didn't reek of death like the Burrow did, the bodies of the Prewett's awaiting funerals.
The sun was barely hanging above the horizon, caressing it gently in a wash of pastels that bled into the inky blue sky. Stevie still was out cold.
Mary sat beside Marlene, trying to coax her into eating some of the toast Lily had prepared. She simply sipped at scalding tea, burnt tongue painful, like she was punishing herself. This was all her bloody fault. Her friends were dead, because of her. The woman she loved was gravely injured.
