AN: This chapter was written almost entirely in secret—my grandparents are visiting from across the country, and I'm not supposed to "disappear upstairs and only come down to eat," which is what I normally do when I write. No, I have to entertain, and keep them company, and so on a so forth. Right now, though, I'm "taking a nap." (Hey, I had to do something to get away!) Anyway, here's the next chapter. Don't hesitate to email me or leave a review with your ideas!

Chapter Seven: Think Slowly, Speak Quickly

Tutoring had commenced with much eagerness and excitement on Sianna's part. She was, as promised, a quick and willing learner in most subject areas. By the end of the third day, the professors were bragging to each other about her excelled pace and ability to swiftly grasp even the most complex ideas. But there was one class, one subject, one teacher that just did not agree with Sianna.

"You've got to pronounce it clearly!" Professor McGonagall repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. "And wave the wand like this...not so forcefully!"

Try as she might, though, Sianna still could not manage to turn her match into a needle, and her fuse was running short. "I'm trying!" she asserted, annoyed at her professor's nagging. Sianna should have been in bed reading, or even studying something useful, but no...she had to spend her evening having extra tutoring in Transfiguration. Yes, she was that bad.

She attempted the incantation several more times, but only on the last did her match change in the slightest. Professor McGonagall inspected the work, which looked a bit like a flimsy toothpick, and nodded tiredly.

"That's all for today, then..." she dismissed, "but I expect you to practice this night and day until it is perfect! This should not take three days to accomplish, young lady."

"Yes, professor," Sianna grumbled as she exited the classroom. 'What's the point anyway?' she whined silently. 'Who wants their matches to turn into needles? No one.'

Her feet dragged lazily as she made her way back to her rooms. When she arrived at the base of her mini-tower, she flung the door open gratefully, but froze in surprise when she heard a thud and a painful squeak.

She peered cautiously around the edge of the door and, upon seeing Dobby struggling to haul himself off the floor, began apologizing profusely. When he was up and coherent again, he straightened, cleared his throat, and dutifully delivered his message. "Madame Hooch asks Dobby to tell you that you has another flying lesson tomorrow at nine in the morning," he said slowly, sounding as if he had spent time memorizing the words by heart.

This news significantly cheered Sianna, and she thanked the house elf before he disappeared into the corridor. She climbed the rest of the stairs much more energetically and jumped giddily on the bed. Sianna loved learning magic (how could she not?), but one thing that really caught her imagination was flying. As she lay spread-eagled on her four-poster, she closed her eyes and recalled the wind in her ears, the adrenaline heat in her face...the thrill of unhindered speed and absolute control...

The memory of flight lulled her into a sound and content sleep.

The two figures that had been in the sky above the Quidditch pitch earlier were no longer there. Draco had noticed the fliers as he crossed the Hogwarts grounds with his father an hour ago, but they had been too far away to be clear. The window in Dumbledore's office, through which he now gazed, was much closer to the field, but there was no one left to be seen on the grounds.

He was not really surprised that some of the professors might fancy a good go around the field every once in a while, but he was curious to see which one it had been. A few of the teachers had played Quidditch as students, and he was particularly anxious to see Professor McGonagall, who had a reputation as a formidable Chaser, on a broomstick. It certainly would have been interesting to watch teachers compete against each other in the air.

He stared vacantly out the window for several more dull minutes as his father spoke with the headmaster in the background. Then the talking stopped, and Draco felt a jab in his ribs.

Draco turned his head quickly and straightened. "Do pay attention, Draco. I am here because of you," Lucius whispered furiously at his son.

The headmaster, who had been facing his bookshelves, turned to face his visitors once again. "I really see no reason why he should not be able to stay here while you go to France," came Dumbledore's slow reply. "Although I am not exactly clear as to why he does not simply go with you."

Lucius appeared supremely offended by this intrusion of privacy, and he answered scathingly, "As I said, we have business to attend to. It would not be—appropriate for Draco to accompany us."

Dumbledore peered skeptically over his half-moon lenses at Lucius. "Very well then," he sighed. "I shall have a house elf take your bags to the Slytherin dormitories," he said to Draco.

"Yes, sir," Draco responded, rising from his chair. He knew a dismissal when he heard one. His father followed suit, exiting after him. They walked briskly to the Entrance Hall, where Lucius stopped and broke the tense silence with a stern warning.

"You know how to conduct yourself properly," he said threateningly. "However, should you chose to behave in an otherwise unfashionable manner, you know well that it will not go unnoticed."

"Yes, father," Draco said, trying not to sound too insubordinate.

"I have my little spies, and I will find out."

"I understand, father." Yes, he certainly did.

"Good," he said, and swept away, velvet cape billowing and cane clicking harshly beside him.

Draco rolled his eyes at his sire's back and turned around, heading to the dungeons to find Professor Snape, his godfather. Draco had nothing to occupy him for the next few days, and if Snape was good for anything, he could most definitely find something productive for his godson to do. That, and Snape was the only person that could possibly help Draco glean some more plausible explanation for his parents' sudden decision to visit their vacation home in France.

He followed the familiar path down the torch-lit stone corridors, mulling over his father's unusual behavior. Lucius had come crashing into the library the night before, tense and red-faced, and ordered Draco to start packing. Draco had hardly opened his mouth before his father had stalked over and physically hauled him out of his chair, yelling all the while about indolent, disrespectful children who cannot follow the simplest of directions. The yelling bit was not really that surprising, but Lucius was not normally so easily provoked. Draco had waited until the morning to try to ask what was going on, but even then he got no real answer.

Draco could not pretend that Lucius was an open or truthful person, but he could remember few times that his father had provided such an unsatisfactory—and obviously false—explanation for his actions. A vacation without "bothersome" teenagers plaguing their relaxation? Draco was almost ashamed of his father's pathetically unconvincing lie.

He still did not know the truth, though, and was no closer to discovering it when he arrived at the potions classroom. Surprisingly, the door was wide open, although the room appeared empty.

Draco entered cautiously. "Professor Snape?" he called towards the door to the supply closet, thinking his teacher might be searching for an ingredient.

"He'll be back in a minute," came a voice from behind him. Draco whirled and froze, recognizing the pretty girl from Diagon Alley. Her stark black hair was tied away from her face and she was leaning over a lightly smoking cauldron, stirring carefully. "He just went to get something from his office," she added without looking up.

"Oh," Draco replied lamely, not knowing what else to say. The girl stirred for another moment, and then, looking satisfied, extinguished the flames under the cauldron and meticulously filled a vial with a sample of the potion. She carried several knives and a spoon past Draco (who was still standing stupidly) to the sink, scoured them with the magical disinfecting solution, and walked back to her table. Only after she had put away all her tools and ingredients did she say anything else.

"I'm Sianna Castell, by the way," she said to Draco, holding out her hand.

Draco snapped out of his confusion and shook it. "Draco Malfoy," he introduced.

"Nice to meet you," Sianna said. She turned back to the table and pulled the rubber band out of her hair, shaking her head lightly, and picked her bag up off the floor.

"So...you're from America?" Draco asked in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.

"Yep," Sianna said as she packed up her books. "Southern California."

Draco didn't know how to respond to that, so he just tried the best line of conversation he could think of. "You know, I saw you a while ago..." Draco began tentatively, "in Madam Malkin's, the robe shop in Diagon Alley. You said you were a transfer student?"

Sianna stopped and recalled her conversation with Madam Malkin. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized that she had lied to the woman. Well, she hadn't really lied as much as omitted the truth. Even so, this boy had no idea that she wasn't just a regular witch from another school. For all he knew, she was just as adept at magic as he, with magical parents as well.

Sianna paused before answering, wavering mentally. Should she correct him and get the story straight, or just go along with what he thought was true? Her mind knew the logical answer, but her unheeding mouth decided for her.

"Yeah, I wanted to do a year abroad, so I came here," she said, cursing her rebellious tongue silently before she even finished the statement.

"What school did you go to?" Draco inquired.

"Um..." Sianna stalled, panicking slightly. She didn't know any American magic schools! Luckily, Professor Snape chose that moment to enter the classroom.

"Mr. Malfoy, I didn't expect to see you here," he said, although his features showed no surprise.

"I didn't either, sir," Draco replied a little tiredly. A raised eyebrow from Snape prompted him to say, "I'll explain later." He really did not want to go into family affairs in front of a near stranger.

Sianna's eyes darted back and forth between the two, and she sensed something deeper than a student-teacher relationship. Of course, she too could not help but wonder what the boy was doing at school in the middle of summer, but it was obvious that he would not speak in front of her. Well then, she would just have to find out another way.

"Here, professor," she interrupted, handing him the sample. He took his eyes off Draco for a moment to evaluate his other student's work. He uncorked the vial and sniffed, testing the basic potion's adequacy using merely his senses and experience.

"Good work. You are free to go," he dismissed, pocketing the sample. Sianna shouldered her bag and left the classroom, sparing a curious glance behind her. Fortunately, she only had to look a few feet down the hall for a statue to hide behind, and she flattened herself against the shadowed wall, slowing her breathing until it was barely audible. (That made it easier to listen.)

Back in the classroom, Snape looked at Draco. The boy had an amused and slightly shocked look on his face. "Good work? I don't believe I remember the last time you said that voluntarily to—well, anyone," he laughed. Sianna's eyebrows flew up. Was it possible that the snarky Potions Master was even less forgiving with his other students?

Snape glared viciously at the boy for his insolence, but did not bother with punishment. "Come with me," he said.

Sianna held her breath as Snape exited the classroom, Draco following behind. Thankfully, they did not have to pass Sianna to get to Snape's office, which was where they headed. She waited until they turned the corner, then crept behind them stealthily. When she reached the closed office door, she sank down next to the gap between the wood and the floor and listened intently.

Meanwhile, Snape and Draco seated themselves in the only two chairs in the room.

"So..." Snape said. It was all the encouragement Draco needed.

"The whole thing is ridiculous, really...started just last night. Father suddenly decided that he needed some 'alone' time with mum or some bloody stupid thing like that, and the next thing I know I'm packing to come here for some unspecified amount of time while they go off to France..." he blurted angrily. His normally ceremonial sneer was genuine, and Snape thought he looked unusually disgusted. His tone made his true thoughts obvious.

"You think your father lied," he inferred.

Draco nodded. "I've no idea why, though," he admitted. Snape looked pensive, but Draco couldn't tell what he was thinking. "And it was so annoying," he continued, "because I knew right away that he wasn't telling the truth. Usually father's really a brilliant liar, you know? But last night...I dunno what was going on," he finished.

Snape thought he knew, though. This only confirmed the suspicions he'd held for weeks: that Lucius Malfoy was in contact with the Dark Lord. Lucius was not a spontaneous man; the only reasonable explanation for this episode would be a sudden command from his master. Where the elder Malfoy had actually gone, Snape could not fathom, but he was almost certain that Lucius was nowhere near France.

"Professor?" prompted Draco when Snape did not reply.

"I don't know either, Draco," he lied. That kind of volatile information was not to be put in the hands of a fifteen-year-old, however trustworthy. The room was silent for a minute before Snape said, "Go unpack, then come back here and help me prepare the ingredients for the Wolfsbane. And don't you look at me like that," he added when he saw the disdainful grimace on Draco's face.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, and exited the room. Sianna was already jogging silently back up to the main floor.
Draco was bored. Two days had passed since his arrival, and although the professors sometimes sent him on errands or delegated some less desirable task to him, there were still times that he had nothing to do, and this was one of them.

He paced the Slytherin common room, looking for something—anything—that would occupy him. Unfortunately, he'd read all the books on the shelves that were worth looking at, and there was nothing else of any interest. He'd entertained the thought of going to the library, but he could just not bring himself to do something like that on a Saturday morning. Finally, though, he could stand the idleness no longer, and, seeing know alternative, he left the circle he'd been tracing and stalked straight out of the Slytherin dormitories.

He climbed all the way up to the third floor without slowing down, and stopped only when he reached the library doors. He drew a long, deep, calming breath and pulled them open, slipping in quietly, unnoticed. He passed through several towering rows of books, heading toward the back, but stopped before he reached his destination.

Sianna was sitting at a long wooden table, texts and charts spread around her in a messy formation. She scribbled furiously for a few seconds, then checked her references before putting her quill back to the paper and writing again.

Draco approached silently from behind, circled around, and sat himself directly across from her.

"Hey, Castell," he greeted coolly.

She looked up, unsurprised (she had heard him coming), and asked, "Why do you call me that? This isn't a football team, you know...you can call me by my first name."

Draco's brow creased in confusion. "What's football?" he asked.

Sianna rolled her eyes at his ignorance. "It's this sport where you—oh, never mind. It's a Muggle thing," she summarized. "That's beside the point."

"Sorry, Sianna," Draco said. "It's just what people do, they call each other by their last names. That's all. But what's all this about Muggles? They wouldn't know a good sport if it danced naked on the table."

"If you say so," she said diplomatically before turning back to her work. It could be dangerous to engage in an argument about Muggles with someone who seemed so obviously opposed to them. Sianna couldn't guarantee that she could keep her temper with someone insulting her whole world, and she wasn't going to risk blowing her cover just yet, although she would have to eventually.

"What are you writing?" Draco asked, ignoring the comment.

"An essay for Herbology," she responded without looking up. "I'm almost done." It was true—she wrote only one more sentence before ending with a flourish and setting down her quill with a sigh. She leaned her chair back on two legs and stretched.

"So...what's up?" she asked Draco, having no one else to talk to.

He raised his eyebrows and sighed, "I'm bored. I've got nothing to do."

"Yeah, that's what sucks about not having anybody around but teachers."

"You seem to be doing okay. I don't think I've seen you more than once this whole time, meals aside."

"I've been doing a lot of studying. I have to go to tutoring three times every day, plus I've got homework to do," Sianna explained.

"What for? I mean, you've been going to school all this time, why should you have to go in the summer?"

Sianna's chair thudded back down onto all four legs and reminded herself that Draco had no idea what she was really doing at Hogwarts. "The curriculum in the U.S. is really different from here," she said, glossing over her mistake. "I just haven't learned the same stuff that you guys have, and I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"How old are you?" Draco asked, looking her up and down as if he would be able to tell that way.

"Fifteen," Sianna said. "I'm supposed to be a fifth year, according to the Hogwarts system."

"I'm a fifth year, too, in Slytherin," Draco said excitedly (or as excitedly as a dignified Malfoy could).

"Really? Do you like it? I mean, of course you like it, but...what's it like in there?" Sianna asked curiously. She hoped that he could help her figure out which house she wanted to be in, as she'd had a disturbing dream or two about the Sorting Hat not being able to choose for her.

"It's great," Draco said, all full of house pride. "Everybody's really loyal, you know, we stick together. We've gotten a bad reputation in the past few years...but it's really not like they say it is. You have to talk to someone who's actually in Slytherin to get the real story, everyone else will tell you it's terrible and biased and that everybody's into Dark Arts and crap. But really, it's full of some pretty smart people—not like Ravenclaw, but—we look out for each other. And we have a really brilliant Quidditch team."

"You play Quidditch?" Sianna asked, curious. Slytherin didn't sound so bad, really. Interesting, if nothing else.

"Yeah, I'm Seeker for Slytherin," he said proudly. "Do you play?"

"I wish," Sianna proclaimed. "I only just learned how to fly, I don't think I'm good enough to play."

Draco gaped. "You just learned how to fly?! What, don't they have brooms in America?"

"They do...I just never tried it, that's all," Sianna said, defending herself.

Draco pushed his chair back suddenly and stood up. "You're coming with me," he told her. "We are going to learn how to play Quidditch."

Sianna looked unsure. "I really don't think I'm that—"

"I won't take 'no' for an answer, Sianna," Draco warned.

She gave in, laughing. "All right," she said, "but let me put my stuff away. I'll meet you on the field in fifteen minutes."

"You'd better," Draco said in a mock-threat.

Sianna laughed again and walked out of the library, heading for her room. Draco dashed to his dorm to find his broom, grinning all the way.
Fifteen minutes later, Sianna was waiting on the pitch and Draco was jogging down the grassy slope to meet her.

"Somebody's late," she said as he arrived.

"Just because you're early doesn't mean I'm late. Here," he said, handing her one of the two brooms he carried. She stared at the polished ebony handle and the sliver fastenings with awe. The tail was smooth and streamlined, completely unlike the school brooms she had gotten used to.

"Whose is this?" she asked.

"That's mine. It's a Nimbus Two Thousand and One."

"Then whose is that?" she inquired, pointing at the broom in Draco's hand, which was equally as sleek.

"This is Uncle Severus's broom. He let me borrow it for the day," Draco explained.

"Uncle Severus?"

"Professor Snape."

"He's your uncle?" Sianna asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, not really. He's my godfather, I just call him my uncle," Draco explained.

Sianna still looked shocked, but she nodded anyway and mounted her broom. When she kicked off, she was nearly blown away (literally) by the force of the acceleration. She managed to hang on, though, and jerked to a stop about fifty feet up.

Draco shot up just behind her, stopping where she did. "These brooms might be a bit faster than what you're used to," he said belatedly.

Sianna glared. "Thanks for warning me."

"You're welcome," he said cheekily. Then he became slightly more serious. "Take a minute to warm up, get used to it. I'm going to get the equipment," he said, and shot off toward the other end of the pitch.

Sianna tested the wood and magic underneath her. Her fingers pushed the right side of the handle with barely the lightest pressure, and the broom rotated left. She gathered her energy and nudged forward slightly, and it moved ahead at just the right speed. All it took was a thought, and the broom would respond. It accelerated and slowed like a dream, turned on a dime, did everything Sianna wanted it to do. None of the jerking, drifting, or bucking that the school brooms enjoyed tormenting their riders with. The Nimbus felt like a sports car—it wanted to go fast.

Sianna glanced down, and, seeing Draco dragging a trunk and bending to unlatch it, she threw all her weight forward and down, free falling at a mind-boggling pace. She pulled up with all her strength about twenty feet off the ground and glided down as gracefully as she could, her hair still flying in all directions. Her feet hit the ground rather forcefully, as she had not quite mastered landing, but she kept her balance.

Draco waved her over to the open trunk, which contained four balls. "Has anyone ever explained this to you?" he asked, referring to the rules of Quidditch.

"Yeah, once. I think I pretty much know what that stuff is," she said, gesturing at the equipment.

"Right then," Draco said, thinking about how to approach the lesson. He remembered the way Snape had taught him years ago, and decided to start with the Quaffle first.

"Here," he said, tossing the worn, red ball to Sianna. "We'll just practice throwing and catching for now." They started on the ground, and as Sianna grew more comfortable with the heft of the ball, they mounted their brooms and began the exercise again in the air. Sianna thought she would never be able to get it right...she was having trouble remembering that she could go up and down as well as left and right to catch the Quaffle. After quite a while of no visible improvement, Draco gave up and moved on.

"You've seen a Bludger before, I hope," he said, taking out the tough little Beater's clubs.

"Uh...no."

"Wonderful," he said sarcastically. "Well then you might want to watch yourself. And keep that club raised," he warned.

Sianna was prepared for something like and explosion from the way Draco referred to the softball-sized spheres, and was a little disappointed when he kicked the latch open and the one ball he let out merely flew away.

"That was a little anticlimactic," she sighed, lowering her club.

"Watch it, it's coming back," Draco said, eye trained on the quickly growing black dot.

Sianna glanced up and did a double take. "Just kidding," she said, and picked her club back up, instinctively holding it in the ready position she would use on a tennis court. The ball, which she could now tell was very heavy and dangerous, aimed directly at Draco's head and hurtled downward at a frightening speed.

The action passed so quickly that Sianna hardly saw what happened. All she remembered was Draco's arm moving and the Bludger changing direction with a solid, wood-on-iron crack.

"Holy shit," Sianna cursed in amazement as the Bludger rocketed away and began its boomerang back to the ground.

"I told ya, didn't I?"

This time, the ball headed toward Sianna, but now she was prepared for its effect. Draco saw where it was going and tried to intercept (always the macho gentleman), but Sianna pulled her club back first and slammed into the speeding Bludger, sending it straight up to the goalposts.

Draco looked at her, impressed. "That was pretty good," he said. "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

"Like what?" Sianna asked. She didn't think she'd done anything particularly special.

"Like—"Draco started, but the Bludger was coming back. Sianna sent it flying off to the other end of the field again.

"Like this," Draco finished, mimicking Sianna's swing.

"That's just what people do when they play tennis...well, it's a little bit like baseball, too, I guess," she said.

"Are those more Muggle sports?" Draco asked with exasperation.

"Yeah," Sianna said a little sheepishly.

Draco shook his head and wondered, "I just don't understand why a respectable young witch like you would bother to know all those silly things." He swung his club again at the Bludger, which had been making its way back towards them. When it was gone again, he suggested, "Let's get up in the air and you can try this on a broom."

The practice continued very well for a while. It seemed that Sianna had the makings of a naturally talented Beater, and she happily sent the Bludger zig-zagging all over the pitch. Before long, she and Draco got into a bit of a competition. The game became a little rough as each tried to aim for the other whenever the ball came their way. Sianna was by no means Draco's match—it was her first time playing Quidditch, after all—but there was no doubt that she was dangerous with a club in her hand and a Bludger in the sky.

"Take that!" she screamed sadistically as she launched little ball at Draco's head. He ducked just in time and swore, waiting for the Bludger to come back around so he could take his turn. He yelled with as much effort as rage as his swing sent it reeling back towards his opponent, who easily evaded the badly aimed shot. "You shouldn't let your anger get to you like that, you know," she teased, laughing.

"If you're not careful, Castell, I get down there and take out the other Bludger!" he threatened. "Then we'll see who's the Quidditch player!"

"Go on, I dare you!" she yelled in reply, not about to relinquish her pride.

"You asked for it," he said as he dove back to the ground, bypassing the comparatively slow Bludger as he went. He landed and quickly released the Bludger's twin, then mounted and shot back up before he could get hit. Both of the balls were trained on him as he regained his elevation. He knocked one in Sianna's direction, but he could not twist himself to aim the other at her, so he just defended himself as best he could. The second Bludger ended up above the stands before it slowed enough to change direction.

The game intensified ten-fold with the extra challenge. There was never a dull moment for either of the players as they attacked and defended with vigor. Sianna was starting to tire, though, her arms unused to the extensive exercise and her mind unaccustomed to the level of concentration needed for the game. Her swings started to go wide and her reaction time slowed, but she refused to be the one to call a halt to the competition.

Draco could see that Sianna was running out of strength. He now easily avoided the majority of her shots, and she was having a harder time blocking his. He was just wondering whether they should stop when he saw something that made his eyes bulge in fear.

"Sianna, behind you!" he screamed, his voice cracking with the effort.

Sianna, who was focused on the Bludger headed straight for her, could not turn to look without losing sight of her target and possibly getting hit. She froze, suddenly unable to choose between defending herself from the front or the back. The approaching Bludger forced her to take action, though, as she had no time to avoid it before it reached her. She swung at it with barely enough energy to send it away, and only then could she turn to look behind her. She twisted her head over her shoulder and—

SMACK.

Draco heard it loud and clear from thirty feet away. He had frozen at first, but seeing that Sianna could not defend herself from both Bludgers at once, he raced towards her—too late. The second Bludger hit her from above and behind, soundly nailing her left side.

Sianna cried out in shock and pain, but miraculously managed to hold on to her broom, which began spiraling slowly downward. Draco caught up with her about twenty feet above the ground. She was stooped over her broom handle, clutching her arm and breathing frantically. A cut on her cheek was already beginning to swell.

"Shh, I've got you," he assured her as he steadied her broom and brought them to a safe landing. Once on the ground, her feet would not support her, and she crumpled weakly before Draco's arm found her waist and hoisted her back up.

He heard a malicious swoosh of air behind him and whirled to see one of the Bludgers approaching again. He gently set Sianna down on the grass, cringing as she whimpered in pain, and steadied himself for the impact of the ball. He grunted as it slammed into his arms, but he managed to pin it down and shove it back into the trunk before the other one came. After he had secured both Bludgers, he helped Sianna stand up again.

"Are you alright?" he asked, feeling a wave concern and guilt as he realized that his recklessness was responsible for her injury.

She bit her lip and shook her head, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from her pained eyes. She tried to open her mouth, but no words would come out. Draco nodded knowingly...he had always thought it more honorable to bear pain in silence than speak and let the tears fall.

As they hobbled along, he said reassuringly, "It's okay, we're going to the hospital wing...you'll be just fine, Madam Pomfrey will get you fixed up in no time."

As they neared the front steps, Professor Sprout came dashing out to them, hands over her mouth in concern.

"Oh, dear, I saw the whole thing happen from the greenhouses, is she okay? Do you need help? Oh, she's bleeding!" she said in horror, pointing at Sianna's shirt, which was sanguine from the blood that had dripped from her bitten lip and cut cheek.

"Could you just run and tell Madam Pomfrey that we're coming?" Draco asked.

"Yes of course," she said, shuffling away to the hospital wing. "Be careful with her!"

Sianna groaned. The fire in her shoulder and collarbone was more agony than she could bear; the mere weight of her arm increased the pain to such a degree that she wished she could just cut it off and be done with it. She could feel the blood rushing out of her face and the sweat breaking out all over her body. The salt trickled into her eyes and ran down her cheeks, stinging like needles under her torn skin. Her feet dragged up the stairs with fatigue, and she stumbled more than once, each jolt making her want to scream. She cringed and kept silent.

She wished she could just collapse, but they were only halfway to the hospital wing. She concentrated as much of her mind as she could on the stones beneath her feet. The pain was so distracting, but if she could just remember to put one foot in front of the other, keep breathing...

And they finally made it. Draco handed Sianna off with relief, letting Madam Pomfrey do her job as no one else could. He could barely bring himself to watch as she treated the facial cut with stinging disinfecting potions and attempted to relocate the splintered and misplaced bones. At some point the other professors entered the ward, but Draco never noticed. He was too busy watching Sianna twist in tired pain...pain that he, essentially, had caused...