She sat on the edge of the bed, only then looking down and noticing how much blood had gotten on her shirt.
"How did this happen?" Madam Pomfrey said in surprise as she bustled over to Rem, carrying a small blue bottle.
Remington looked up at her, "It was an accident." She lied blankly.
The woman shook her head, seizing Rem's chin and turning her head to the side so she could get a straight-on view of the gash on her cheek. "I've never had so many students claiming accidents since those- those-" Madam Pomfrey broke off with an indignant huff as she pressed a wet, warm cloth to the side of Rem's face, washing away the blood that had dried, and that which was slowly oozing from the wound yet. Once she was done, she opened the small blue bottle to dab some of its contents to the cut, causing Remington to wince.
Though, after a couple moments, a look of befuddlement crossed Madam Pomfrey's face. "Oh dear."
"What?" Draco demanded, "What is it?"
"It seems that it's not reacting to the magical treatment-" Pomfrey said, "I'm afraid we'll have to let it heal the natural way... I'll get some bandages." She got up and left to fetch the bandages and Rem turned her head to look at Draco.
There was a twist of concern in his features. "It'll probably scar." Remington remarked. He turned his eyes away from her, onto the floor, but she didn't look away from him.
After Madam Pomfrey had patched her back up the best she could, with butterfly bandages to keep the wound shut and a gauze pad to keep it covered, she let the two go. Rem wasted no time, ducking into the nearest bathroom she knew would be empty. Draco followed her silently, and she had a feeling that he was the only reason that the few underclassmen they passed hadn't stopped to gawk as she walked by.
She pushed open the door to the lavatory, hearing Myrtle's strangely quiet sobs stop abruptly at the sound of the door. She strode to one of the mirrors, noticing that the one to her right was still unrepaired from when she shattered it in its pane the year before.
"What are you doing here?" The ghost of a girl asked bitterly, floating up from the toilet stalls.
"Same thing you are, Myrtle." Rem replied, reluctantly focusing on her reflection. "Hiding." At that point, Myrtle seemed to have noticed the bandaging on Remington's face and sunk back into the stalls just enough that she could still peer over.
Remington ignored the red that stained the collar of her shirt and was smattered down the front of it and on her sleeves. She reached up and peeled the bandage pad from her cheek, tossing it into the trash nearby and leaning her hands on the edge of sink to get a good look at the wound. It was a clean slice just below and to the right of the outside corner of her eye, down to an inch or so to the right of the corner of her mouth. It was now a scab, narrow enough to not be entirely gruesome. It seemed whatever Madam Pomfrey tried to use worked, just not as well as it should have.
Her eyes moved from the reflection of her face to the image of Draco, standing a little ways behind her, arms crossed. The bottoms of the sleeves on his shirt were smudged dark red with her blood.
"It's not awful." She commented quietly, almost timidly.
"It's not far from it." He countered.
"Just a flesh wound-" She began.
"Don't you go trying to make this seem any less serious, Remington." He interrupted her sharply. At Draco's venomous tone, the sound of Myrtle flushing herself down the toilet echoed in the room, though neither of them acknowledged the noise. "If Alecto was in any worse a mood than she already was, you wouldn't be here right now."
"I'm not trying to get myself killed, if that's what you're-" She narrowed her eyes on him.
"No, what I'm getting at is that you're going to end up killed if you aren't careful. Obviously, you couldn't care less about caution-"
"I know I'm not exactly safe- nobody is." She argued. "But I'm not going to just sit back-" She never did finish that sentence because Draco had apparently heard enough and turned to leave the room. "Do not just walk away from me-" She pushed away from the sink and turned to face him, crossing her arms.
"I'm not really in the mood to listen to you talk nonsense." He snapped when he turned back to look at her.
"Excuse me for not wanting to be an old woman, looking back and wishing that right now, I'd had more nerve." She retorted.
"You're never going to be an old woman if you keep this up!" He shot at her. "You're a goddamn Gryffindor, how much more nerve do you want?"
"So you'd rather I just give up, would you?" She responded, glaring venomously.
"Well I sure as hell don't want you dead!"
"I'd rather be!" The words left her mouth before she could contemplate what he might take them as. He merely stared at her for a moment. "I'd rather be dead than have to accept that the good is gone." She reiterated, her voice a little smoother-edged than before.
"Don't- say that." He said slowly.
"What good is it, Draco? What's the point of a hopeless existence?" She demanded.
"Remington." His eyes were sharp, but she could see something else beneath it.
"Well?" She pressed.
"It's not hopeless. Not yet." He told her.
"Draco, Harry's been missing for months." She said quietly. "And you know he's the only one who's going to end this."
"Can't you just be satisfied with the fact you're alive? That you have a shot at living once it's over?" He demanded. "Dammit Remington, don't be an idiot."
She looked at him for a moment. "You aren't my mother. It's not as if I listen to her anyway."
He glared down at her, his eyes dark. "You're going to get us both killed." And with that, he turned and walked straight out of the bathroom.