Certain Dark Things || Book Five

xxxvi. a little birdie

The incessant prodding of a snake's cold nose woke Hermione from her fitful sleep.

She had never been fond of snakes, but she found it particularly jarring to wake and find a large, hissing serpent looming over her, unsure if it was one of Harriet's or an errant, wild beast about to bite her.

She blinked and finally recognized the silhouette of Livius' horned head.

"Livius," she croaked, clearing her throat. It was quiet in the dormitory aside from her own voice and the snores of the other witches. "I don't know if you can understand me, but I'd appreciate it if you would find another bed to nest in."

The Horned Serpent hissed again, insistently bumping his nose against her shoulder before turning his head. Befuddled and still more than a tad sleepy, Hermione squinted in the dark, following his attention back toward Harriet's covered bed. He turned to nudge Hermione again.

A cold spike of adrenaline hit, and she sat up, heart pounding, head almost dizzy from the speed she used to lurch out of bed.

"Harriet," she said, breathless. The cold floor stung her feet as she stumbled from her blankets, and the hangings screeched when she jerked them aside. "Harriet, are you—?"

The younger witch snored into her sheets, twisted in such a way she couldn't possibly be comfortable, but somehow managed to snooze on. She had her face pressed to the pillow, body partly on its side, and her right arm crossed against her middle so the hand itself flopped against her shoulder. In the soft, dim glow of the closest silver lantern, Hermione could see a dark spot spreading through the bandage wrapped about the hand's knuckles.

"Oh, Harriet..." she murmured, taking the hand in her own to tip it closer to the light. Harriet's skin felt sticky and too warm, and she grumbled when Hermione touched her. Livius returned, using his size to slither back onto the bed and coil on Harriet's covered feet. He peered at Hermione.

"Yes, yes," she told the creature, adjusting the hangings so she could flare one of the candles on Harriet's nightstand without waking anyone else. Harriet groaned and buried her face further into the blankets, grunting what sounded like "Go away."

"I don't much fancy Livius giving me a nip if I go away, so I think I'll decline, thank you," Hermione replied, distracted as she unwrapped Harriet's bandages. She kept her movements careful and slow as she peeled back the final layer of gauze, revealing the injury to the air.

"Did you really go see Madam Pomfrey for this?" Hermione asked, dubious, as she inspected the large slash marring the back of Harriet's hand. It was partially healed, or at the very least not bleeding, but the skin appeared quite red and irritated. Hermione prodded at the edges of the cut, then brought it to her nose, sniffing. She cringed at the strange, sudden sweetness. "Is this Dark magic?"

Harriet mumbled incoherent nonsense.

The hangings on the other side of the bed flew to the side, revealing a rumpled and irritated Elara. "You're not nearly as quiet as you think you are," she snapped, her anger losing its potency when she yawned.

"Sorry," Hermione told her, though she had her mind set on the trunk at the foot of the bed. She opened the top compartment and poked through Harriet's monogrammed valise. "It should be in here. I helped pack her emergency kit earlier in the summer...."

As she searched, Elara sat on the bed. She rubbed her face for a moment, trying to wake up, and took Harriet's injured hand. She inspected it much as Hermione had. "Did she get this from Slytherin?"

"She must have. Though, I would imagine leaving such a lasting mark should go against their contract—ah, here it is."

Hermione found the bottled Dittany and the little jar of pungent Equill-Emollient, gathering those and another roll of gauze. She dropped the items on the comforter as Elara reclined next to Harriet, the latter protesting the mattress' dipping motion, wriggling under her blankets.