"What are you doing?" Santana asked as she walked up to Brittany who was tightening the strap of her book bag across her chest where she stood under their preferred tree. She had been hoping to sneak up on her, like the other girl had the tendency of doing, but Brittany just glanced back at her with her ever mischievous smile before taking a running start towards the tree. She jumped, planting a foot firmly against the trunk and using it to push off and propel herself higher, allowing her to reach up and wrap her arms around the thick branch she usually sat on.
"So that's how you do it," Santana nodded.
"Well, I can't very well fly up here without a broom," Brittany replied as she shrugged off her book bag and hung it on a nearby branch after having pulled herself up into a sitting position. "You coming?"
"Of course," Santana smiled, walking towards the tree and placing her bag down on the ground before stretching her arms up as high as they could go. She felt Brittany's fingers latch around her own followed by the now familiar sensation of being pulled through the air, her stomach nearly keeping up with the rest of her after having performed the maneuver so many times now. She straddled the branch, smiling at Brittany once she was settled and her legs were wrapped firmly around the tree—she wasn't yet ready to sit side saddle like Brittany preferred to do.
"How was your morning?" Brittany asked warmly, taking both of her hands in her own so that Santana would cease her vice-like grip on the branch.
"Filled with too much homework and too much of Quinn grumbling about how I should've gotten my homework done during the week."
"I still can't believe Professor Sylvester assigned you that essay. Your potion was way better than anyone else's."
"Thanks Britt," Santana felt her cheeks warm. It was nice to know that she had in fact done a good job like she thought and she wasn't, in fact, losing her touch.
Brittany just shrugged, letting go of one of Santana's hands so she could turn back to watch the people walking around them.
"Um, how was your morning?"
Brittany's face lit up, "Look at you making small talk."
"Britt…" Santana groaned, ducking her head.
"Sorry, couldn't resist," Brittany giggled, giving the hand that she was still holding a squeeze. "But my morning was okay."
"Just okay?"
"I don't know if you're aware of this, but the Gryffindors are kind of goody two shoes, like, literally. They have no clue how to lighten things up."
"Of that I am aware," Santana nodded. "It is one of the few Gryffindor traits that Quinn actually possesses. But what were they doing this morning to inhibit your fun?"
"I was bored and decided to play a prank, so I tied these two guys shoes together—"
"Hence the goody two shoes," Santana smiled.
"Exactly," Brittany nodded before continuing. "How was I to know that it would lead to one of them dislocating their hip?"
Santana laughed loudly, "Of course they would. Gryffindorks."
"After that I wasn't allowed to do anything, and just had to sit there and watch them play."
"Well that stinks. You should have bailed on them and come find me."
"I can't just bail on them, Santana," Brittany gave her that soft smile that said that much should have been obvious to her.
"Stupid Sorting Hat," Santana grumbled, looking out around them.
"Any luck in the hunt for He-Who-whatever's murder but not murdered victim?"
"It's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and no, unfortunately."
"Seriously, who would name their child that? I bet that's why he was so mean. He was probably upset at his parents for giving him that awful and near impossible to remember name."
"Britt," Santana gave a soft chuckle through her smile. "That's not his real name. That's just what some people call him because they are afraid of saying his name. It's like a nickname. He has a few: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord, What's-His-Face-Who-Doesn't-Have-A-Face."
"You made that last one up," Brittany giggled.
"Perhaps," Santana shrugged, her smile growing.
"But why would people be afraid of saying his name? It's just a name."
"He did some really bad things, Brittany," she replied, her smile fading.
"Yeah, but by refusing to say his name, you're only giving him more power. It's like a curse word, right? They're just words that only hold so much power because people give that power to them, but really, they are no different than other words. What's the difference between me saying 'what the heck?' or 'what the hell?' or 'what the fuck' if my intent is the same for each one of them? They all mean the same thing, so why is one bad?"
Santana drank her words in, before replying with a realized, "You never did have a problem with cursing."
"It's just a word; what is his real name?"
Santana swallowed, her eyes falling to the side, "Tom Riddle."
"Tom? Really? Everybody's afraid of saying such an ordinary name? I'm kind of disappointed."
"Well, Tom was his birth name," Santana admitted. "He refers to himself by a different name. That's the name that people are scared of."
"And what is it?"
Santana chewed on the inside of her cheek.
"Santana?" Brittany ducked her head to be able to catch his eye. "What's his name?
"Britt…" Santana shook her head.
"How about you tell me in pieces? That way you aren't actually saying it?" she offered.
Santana nodded. She couldn't see how that would be bad, "Okay."
"Okay," Brittany nodded with a small, but playful smile. "Then what?"
"Britt," Santana groaned again at her playful antics. "Okay, his name is, Vol-"
"Vol," Brittany nodded, her eyes trained on Santana's lips.
"-de-"
"-de-"
"-mort."
"-mort?"
Santana nodded.
"Vol-de-mort. Voldemort?"
Santana nodded again, feeling a shiver run down her spine.
"Voldemort..." Brittany tried out. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort."
"You always did like to curse," Santana shook her head, struggling against the urge to bring her hand up and clamp it over the other girl's mouth.
"It's just a name," Brittany reminded. "No different than mine or yours…well, nowhere near as pretty as yours, but still…"
Santana gave bashful smile, "Thanks, Britt."
Brittany merely shrugged as she turned back to take in their surroundings once more.
After few moments of silent observation, Santana sighed, "I feel like my mother sent me on an impossible mission."
"How so?"
"We're First Years. If someone can hold their wand without poking their eye out, it's considered a success. How am I supposed to find someone with extraordinary talent when we are too young to even know how to use that talent? And then, how am I supposed to discern actual talent from people like those annoying Ravenclaws who do nothing but study and practice spells all day?"
"I think you're just going to have to go with your gut."
"My gut's telling me it's impossible."
"My gut's telling me I'm hungry," Brittany replied as her stomach growled.
"Didn't you eat lunch?"
"No time," Brittany shook her head, a pout on her lips.
"Come on, I'm sure they have some fruit or something in the Hall for between-meal snacks," Santana smiled, squeezing Brittany's hand.
+++gw+++
"What about Finn?" Santana suggested, watching as he tried to use a switching spell on the mug and the slug in front of him—slugs were Professor Holiday's favorite choice when teaching First Years since they were the least likely to run away, and even if they did, it was very slowly and they could be caught. A small pop and the mug now had a set of ears and Finn had a silver handle on either side of his head.
"Seriously?" Quinn looked at her in a confused state of shock. "You think Finn qualifies as powerful with a grand aptitude for spells?"
Two days after Santana had received the letter from her mother concerning rumors going around certain parts of the Wizarding world, Quinn was sent a similar one from her own parents, just as the two girls had predicted. The story of the rumors and the instructions to find the boy were near identical with only small exceptions—mainly Quinn's father referring to the Dark Lord as You-Know-Who. A couple weeks had passed since then, and neither girl was any closer to an answer.
"Obviously not," Santana replied as three of Finn's fingers were added to his mug, causing his wand to fall to the desk. "But…my mother's letter did say to look for someone with unusual talents, and I mean, being that tall with that big of a head and yet showing less sign of a brain activity than a vegetable? That has to be as unusual of a talent as they come," she finished with a smirk. A wave of her wand and her mug had a shell. Another wave and it completely switched places with the snail, causing her smirk to grow.
"I really do not think now is a time for jokes, Santana," Quinn huffed, successfully switching and then switching back the mug and snail with little effort.
Santana frowned, narrowing her eyes at the items before her. She took a steadying breath, and with a turn of her wrist, the snail and mug switched on the first try. She couldn't help the beaming smile that spread across her face.
"About time," Quinn replied with a roll of her eyes, though Santana knew her well enough to detect the 'job well done' in her voice. They had never been ones to outright compliment each other's achievements, but they knew that they both took some pride in their friend's accomplishments, if for no other reason than if one were to show any sign of incompetence, then the other would have to be on the search for a new friend to take her place.
"Yeah, yeah," Santana waved her wand and switched the two items back again.
"Back to business, though, I really think you need to be taking this search more seriously," Quinn noted.
"How am I not taking it seriously?" Santana asked, waving her wand and switching her mug with the snail on Finn's desk, chuckling at the confused look on the boy's face.
Quinn frowned at her.
"Oh, lighten up, Q. You know I have been keeping an eye out for any unusual activity ever since my mom sent me that letter. It seems like that is all we have been doing lately. A couple minutes of fun isn't going to hurt any. In fact, it will probably help."
"Oh really now? Please, Santana, enlighten me on how taking time and concentration away from our search is in any way going to change the fact that we are no closer to finding this kid than we were two weeks ago when we received the letters?"
"I don't know, something about giving the mind a break or how creativity would help keep our eyes open," Santana waved her off. "Where's Brittany when you need her? This is really more of her thing. I am sure if you asked her, she would know right off."
"Speaking of Brittany," Quinn frowned. "I must once again say that I really don't think it was a good idea including her in this. What if she tells someone? She does not seem like the type of person who has control over her tongue."
"She's not going to tell anyone; she pinky swore."
"Oh, she pinky swore. That totally makes me worry less."
"Stop being so cranky. She didn't even know who the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was, she says she still doesn't fully understand it, so how exactly is she going to go blabbing about it to other people?"
"I don't know," she admitted softly.
"Having one more set of eyes on the lookout is nothing but a good thing," Santana assured with a hint of finality in her words.
Quinn sighed, waving her wand to switch back Finn and Noah's snail with their mug.
"No fun," Santana shook her head.
.
.
"You're going to the Quidditch match today, right?" Santana asked as she looked up from her potion which was now a simmering navy and over to Brittany's which was a bright pink. She had the feeling the other girl had grown bored with the assignment and was just trying to make her potion the prettiest color possible.
"Duh," Brittany replied, as if Santana had just asked something as absurd as if Brittany planned on breathing later that afternoon. She added a few leaves of aconite to turn her potion a shiny purple and beamed proudly.
"I know it's your house that Slytherin's playing," Santana began. "But I figured you could sit with us if you wanted. Slytherin versus Gryffindor is usually the biggest match of the season, so I think people are going to be too excited to take notice."
Brittany looked at Santana as if she had grown three heads, "I can't."
"You can't?" Santana replied, puzzled. She couldn't remember the last time somebody had turned down one of her offers. She was a Lopez, after all.
"I can't," Brittany repeated, clapping excitedly as her potion started to glitter under the low dungeon lights.
"Why not? You spend more time in our house than you do in Gryffindor. I actually think the majority of people don't know you're not actually in Slytherin," Santana pointed out, knowing her mother would scold her for at least an hour if she ever heard of how close her daughter was to begging.
"Because it'd be impossible," Brittany pointed out. She pulled out a vial and filled it up with the sparkly potion in her cauldron before placing the stopper firmly on it.
Santana watched, dumbfounded as Brittany skipped up to the front of the class and handed her vial to Professor Sylvester. The professor looked at the vial in confusion before looking up at the small girl before her. Her mouth, that had been open as if prepared to begin one of her long verbal thrashings, closed with a sigh and a shake of the head, as if realizing whatever remarks she made would only be wasted on the unperturbed student. Brittany whispered something to her, and Professor Sylvester replied with a nod and a wave of her hand. Brittany smiled as she skipped back to her seat to gather her bags.
"Where are you going?" Santana asked.
A pair of blue eyes, sparkling nearly as much as the purple concoction in the cauldron next to them looked up at Santana in amusement, "You're acting funny today."
And with that, Santana watched Brittany skip out of class. "I'm acting funny?" she asked to nobody but the air around her.
"Lopez," Professor Sylvester's voice sliced through her confusion. "I know that tiny brain of yours is filled to the brim with all sorts of adolescent musings that are filled with the utmost importance to someone of you vast level of immaturity like what you plan on wearing tomorrow, or whether or not your daddy loves you, or if you have what it takes to make it in the world—of which I've yet to see any evidence that would point to a yes-but can you please ignore those voices while you are in my class and check your psychotic episodes at the door upon entering, because frankly, I could not give less of a damn about any of it."
Santana felt her cheeks warm as everyone's eyes turned towards her. She glared back, and they quickly averted their gazes. Her hand dug through her bag, pulling out a vial and filling it with her now potion before corking it carefully.
She pulled her bag over her shoulder and walked up to the front of the class to turn in her work.
Professor Sylvester frowned as she picked up the vial Santana had placed on her desk, "Really now, Lopez, you truly are a disgrace to the Slytherin house if you can't even brew something as simple as a Boil Cure. I mean, look at this, I specifically recall stating at the beginning of class that it should be an Egyptian blue, this is a Persian blue at best. I expect an essay on my desk by this time next week detailing where exactly your inadequate mind went wrong."
"How long?" Santana replied through clenched teeth.
Professor Sylvester caught her gaze challengingly, "A foot should do."
It took all of Santana's restraint to turn around and walk out of the classroom without completely losing her cool. The only thing holding her in check was her mother's voice, telling her how important it was to remain in Professor's Sylvester's good graces.
+++gw+++
Santana huffed as she sat down next to Quinn, in the middle of a crowd of Slytherins. "What is the point of this? Everyone knows that Gryffindors are just a bunch of pansies. We're going to slaughter them."
"I said the same thing this morning," Quinn replied. "But Professor Holiday said something about fairness…and tacos."
"Fairness?" Santana scoffed. "We'll see about fairness when our guys put their entire team in the hospital wing."
"Where's Brittany? After the way she was so entranced with the last match, I wouldn't think a pack of wild unicorns could keep her away."
"Yea, well, apparently, it's impossible for her to join us from now on," Santana rolled her eyes, talking over the announcer—whose name she had still not deemed important enough to learn—and his opening commentary as the two teams took the field.
"Weird," Quinn nodded. "But then again this is Brittany we're talking about…"
Santana frowned as she turned to the fourth year boy next to her who was yelling obnoxiously loud and yanked him down by the back of his shirt, "Sit down, fatty."
The blow of a whistle captured Santana's attention and she turned to face the field as the two teams flew up into the air. Not even four seconds had passed when the announcer's voice rang throughout the stadium, proclaiming a Gryffindor goal.
"Bloody hell, what was that?" the boy next to her asked.
"Luck," Santana shrugged even though in all the professional quidditch matches her father had taken her to, she couldn't remember ever witnessing a team score as fast as Gryffindor just had. "Did you catch the name?"
"It all happened too fast," he shook his head. "The announcer barely had time to even say g—"
"GOAL!" the announcer's voice broke in.
"¿En serioso?" Santana groaned, focusing back on the field. The Slytherin chasers in possession of the quaffle were now heading for their own goal with the two beaters effectively holding back the two Gryffindor chasers that were in pursuit. "That's more like it," Santana nodded, but that's when she saw it: a red and gold blur streaking across the field, easily dodging Slytherin beaters and bludgers and chasers as if they weren't even there. The blur caught up with the lead Slytherin chaser and slowed down just long enough for Santana to notice the long blonde hair streaming behind her. Then she sped up again, flipping gracefully through the air to face the opposite direction and speed back the other way, passing right next to the lead chaser and once again easily dodging the rest of the Slytherin team before scoring a third goal.
"And Gryffindor pulls ahead to a quick 30-0 with the help of their young chaser," the announcer's grin could be heard through his words.
"When did she even get the quaffle?" Santana questioned.
"I have no clue," Quinn shook her head.
"I think she took it when she passed next to our chaser," the fourth year by Santana replied. "But I'm not sure; it was all so…"
"Smooth," Santana finished for him, as she watched, completely entranced as the blonde girl flipped through the air on her broom in celebration. She couldn't remember ever seeing anything like it. The girl moved so quickly, yet so fluidly; it was like the broom wasn't even there, or better yet, like the broom was just an extension of her body with the way she moved on it, effortlessly weaving in and out of players, changing directions at the turn of a dime, spinning dizzily to outmaneuver and confuse her rival chasers.
It wasn't until the girl had scored another two goals and assisted in a third that she finally paused, hovering in the air over the Gryffindor goal posts to seemingly catch her breath, just long enough for Santana to finally get a good look at her. Her mouth dropped open in shock, "Holy—"
"Santana," Quinn cut her off in admonishment.
"It's Brittany!" Santana proclaimed, jerking Quinn's head to force her to see what she was seeing.
"Bloody hell," Quinn's eyes widened as she caught sight of the Gryffindor chaser just before she took off once more, tearing across the field at breakneck speeds.
Santana shook her head in awe as she watched Brittany steal the quaffle and race back towards her own goal. Studying her now, Santana couldn't believe she hadn't recognized her sooner. She had never met anyone who could perform even the simplest of tasks with as much grace as the tiny girl who was currently adding to the Gryffindor's already hefty lead could. It only made sense that she would be the most graceful person on a broom that Santana had ever seen as well.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, glancing to Quinn to find her friend sporting narrowed eyes and a calculating smile as Brittany assisted for another goal. Santana merely rolled her eyes and turned back to the match, not even bothering trying to figure out how Quinn was plotting to use Brittany's newly discovered talent to her advantage.
As the match went on, Santana had to sit on her hands to keep from applauding Brittany's playing, knowing that to do so would only plant her as a traitor in the mind of those around her, and if Santana Lopez was anything, she was loyal. When Brittany extended Gryffindor's lead to 120-0 and the boy next to Santana yelled for the Slytherin beaters to knock her off her broom, though, Santana could not prevent herself from jerking him back down onto his seat. "I thought I told you to sit down and shut up, you useless tub of lard."
She focused back on the game, remaining silent as the rest of her house cheered when the Slytherin team started to play increasingly dirty, her jaw clenching every time a chaser would shoot straight towards Brittany seemingly with every intention of doing just as the boy next to her had called for: knocking the young player off her broom, from hundreds of feet up in the air. Instead, she yelled along with those Slytherins screaming for their seeker to get off his ass and find the snitch, thereby ending the game. She saw it as the best possible outcome: her team would win, and Brittany would remain in one piece. When Brittany then increased her team's lead to 130-0, Santana held her breath as both Slytherin beaters took a swing at her with their clubs as the quaffle was put back into play, foregoing any remaining pretenses of even aiming for a bludger, both of which were zooming around on the opposite side of the field.
Brittany dodged them easily, and then paused as they both raced back towards her from opposite sides. Brittany seemed not to notice as she held her position, and Santana prayed that there wasn't another butterfly floating around up there that had captured her attention and distracted her from the game. The roar from the crowd increased as the beaters approached. The Slytherins were egging them on while the rest of the stadium seemed to be trying to get Brittany's attention to warn her. Just as the beaters raised their clubs, now only feet away, Santana saw it: a lip curving smirk spreading across Brittany's face. She wasn't used to seeing such a confident and borderline cocky expression on the other girl's visage, and it proved to be too much for Santana's self-control. She jumped to her feet, cheering the blonde's name as loud as she could, figuring the stadium's volume would drown out her voice anyway.
Not until the beaters' clubs were inches away from impact did Brittany finally move. She flew straight up through the air in a tight spiral, flipping back around and underneath the two beaters just before they collided in midair. She sped to the other side of the field, using the Slytherin team's momentary distraction to score another goal. After that, Santana had to struggle to keep from covering her eyes as the entire Slytherin team chased after Brittany, including the two beaters who seemed to have temporarily recovered from their collision.
Santana held her breath once more, not seeing how Brittany had the guts to not only continue playing, but to do so at such a level that had the entire opposing team gunning for her with no visible sign of caring about how bad they were going to injure her when they finally caught up to her.
When Brittany scored again, making it 150-0, Quinn grabbed Santana's arm, "Is she crazy? If she scores again, it won't even matter if we catch the snitch because Gryffindor will be too far ahead, and there's no way our chasers will be able to score with her on the field.
Santana swallowed hard, understanding what Quinn was getting at. If Brittany scored again, the Slytherin team would make sure that she was taken out of the game, one way or another, because it was the only way to give them a chance for a Slytherin victory.
The announcer's voice, declaring another Gryffindor goal by Pierce, drew Santana's eyes towards the Gryffindor goalposts. The events that followed the goal seemingly happened in slow motion: Brittany flipping grandly through the air on her broom—unarmed since the point was over and play was halted until Coach Tanaka blew the whistle and re-released the quaffle—and the two Slytherin beaters speeding towards her with renewed vigor after being humiliated by an adolescent girl.
The three of them collided with a sickening crack. Santana ignored Coach Tanaka's shrill whistles and the two beaters ignorance of the whistles as they flew across the field in celebration. Her eyes were transfixed to Brittany's limp body as it tumbled downwards through the air. The Gryffindor team captain sped towards her and caught the tiny girl in his arms, softening the blow as much as he could just before she hit the ground where the nurse rushed to await her arrival, along with a floating stretcher, Professor Figgins, and—to Santana's and probably many other students' surprise—Professor Sylvester.
+++gw+++
Santana didn't remember the walk to the hospital wing; she didn't know who owned any of the pairs of arms that were holding her back as she struggled against them, her feet dangling off the floor, nor could she process any of the words that were flowing from her mouth in a stream of heated Spanish. All she was aware of was the burning anger boiling up, through her veins as the nurse standing before her refused to let her in to see Brittany because of the house colors that Santana was currently sporting.
"P-please," the elderly nurse's voice shook nervously. "You can't be in h-here right now. The last thing this p-poor girl needs is another attack."
This caused Santana to launch into a new explicative-filled tirade.
"Santana," Quinn breathed heavily from beside her, allowing her to identify one of the pairs of arms. "You are not helping matters…you need to calm down. She'll never let us in if you're like this."
"I'm sorry," the nurse shook her head. "B-but it's only friends allowed into this wing."
"We are her friends," Quinn spat back.
That declaration was enough to make Santana calm some. She couldn't recall Quinn ever referring to Brittany as her friend before.
"I know you may be cooped up in this pitiful excuse for a 'hospital' all the time while you play doctor, so you aren't as privy to the going-ons of this school as everybody else," Quinn continued, "but ask anybody: we are Brittany's friends, more-so than any of those dweebs in her own house. Heck, she spends more time in our common room than she does in her own."
The nurse glanced between the pair of girls unsurely.
"Ok, look," Quinn's voice lowered icily. "We are the last two people at this school that you want to be pissing off. Do you know who I am? I am the Honourable Quinn Fabray, daughter of Viscount Fabray, soon to be Earl of Ashley as soon as my grandfather dies, and one of this school's biggest financial supporters. This young lady next to me is Lady Santana Lopez, daughter of Earl Lopez, cousin to the King of Spain, and also one of this school's biggest financial supporters, and Evelyn Black…that's right, Black."
Santana shrugged off the arms still restraining her and stood up straighter as Quinn addressed her by her title, knowing that if this were any other occasion, the girl next to her would've have added a 'very distant' to her father's relationship with the King of Spain, but she wouldn't be Quinn without knowing when to say what in order to get something she wanted. She drew her shoulders back, the pride she felt at hearing her title replacing the anger coursing through her.
"I'm sorry," the nurse squeaked. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't know…I thought you were…you can see her right away, but please—"
Quinn quirked an eyebrow at the nurse still having the audacity to ask anything of them.
"She's right through there," the nurse pointed to a white curtain that was drawn.
Santana rushed forward and pushed her way through the curtain to find the petite blonde laying unconscious with her blankets pulled up around her and a white bandage wrapped securely around her head. Lying there with her feet barely reaching the halfway point of the bed and pale lashes resting against purpling skin, Santana couldn't help but note the difference between the girl before her and the girl she had seen soaring through the air not twenty minutes before.
Quinn placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Santana looked up as the nurse approached them.
"Is she…how is she? Is she going to be okay?" Santana asked fearfully.
"She woke up when we got her here," the nurse informed. "But I gave her something to knock her back out because she was just in too much pain. She had a broken wrist, a couple of broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, but I was able to mend them as good as could be expected. Her wrist was particularly difficult—it was shattered to pieces—but I did what I could; it will need some time to finish healing completely. She also took a nasty blow to the head with a club, but as of right now, she is stable. I'll be able to know more when she wakes up."
"And when will she wake up?"
"I gave her enough to keep her under until the morning. We will see how she is doing then."
"Not until tomorrow morning?"
"Yes."
"You're positive?"
"Yes."
Santana nodded before waving her away, "That will be all, then."
The nurse gave her a look of shock before she collected herself and hurried away and into her office.
"Can you wait with her?" Santana asked, finally managing to tear her eyes away from Brittany to look at Quinn.
"Where are you going?"
"Can you stay or not?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Sure."
+++gw+++
When Santana finally returned to the hospital wing, her face was set. She pushed the partition away from around Brittany's bed, just enough to allow herself through before collapsing in the empty chair next to Quinn who was reading silently to herself.
"What was that about?" Quinn asked, not looking up from her book.
"Had a couple of things I needed to take care of," Santana shrugged.
"Are they at least still alive?"
"Unfortunately," she grumbled, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hands. She could feel Quinn's eyes on her, but she kept her own focused on Brittany's hand that had escaped from under the bed sheet. It was wrapped in a cast to protect it as the nurse's healing spell took its full effect. Tiny fingers curled out from the end of the cast, each nail sporting a different color of polish.
"I have never seen you act like that before," Quinn noted. "Earlier, with Madame Schuester, you completely lashed out. I mean, I've seen you bitchy, and mean, but you just lost it."
Santana simultaneously ignored her and leaned across her lap to open the drawer of the small bedside table next to her. Her hand dug around a bit before enclosing around a quill and a bottle of ink. She straightened back up, carefully setting the bottle of ink down on Brittany's bed and opening it up. Sharpened quill was dipped into black ink before being brought to the cast, and Santana slowly began to doodle her way over the hardened material.
"Are you ok?" Quinn tried, albeit a little stiffly.
"I was angry because that old hag was trying to send me away as if I were some homeless peasant begging for scraps. I am a Lopez, and I will be treated as such, even if it means having to demand the respect I am entitled to."
"You weren't acting like a Lopez; you were acting like a crazy person."
"Yes, because holding all of your anger at the world in and constantly denying its existence is definitely the much saner thing to do," Santana rolled her eyes.
Quinn's eyes twitched, "All I mean is that if you want to be treated with the respect that is due to people of our class, then you need to act as if you actually belong in our class. It's the same thing I'm always telling you."
"Whatever," Santana replied, huffing away the lock of hair that had fallen into her line of vision.
"Fine, act like a heathen, destroy what your parents have worked so hard to create for you. I'm going to the Great Hall for supper so I can catch up on what happened after we left the match," she announced, tucking her novel away under her arm as she stood.
Santana stared down at the curvy black letters that were now scrawled across the once perfectly white cast.
"Aren't you coming?"
Santana shook her head.
"You can't expect to stay on top by staying out of the loop," Quinn pointed out.
"The hospital wing should be receiving a few…deposits soon. I don't want to leave Brittany alone with them, not when she's in this state."
"Suit yourself," Quinn replied as she passed by on her way out.
Santana's eyes remained on the first half of her signature that looped its way messily along Brittany's cast in large letters. She hadn't even realized she had been writing her name; she was supposed to just be doodling so that she would have something to do. Now, she wasn't sure how she felt about seeing her name staring back at her, permanently staking its claim on Brittany's cast without so much as a nod of consent from the blonde. What if Brittany didn't want to parade around with Santana's name on her arm for the week or so she had to wear the cast?
Santana's mind flashed back to the fear in the beaters' eyes when she had cornered them as they left the Slytherin locker room and to the way their entire bodies froze at the sight of her clenched fists, despite the fact that both of them were nearly a foot taller than her. She dipped the quill into the ink once more and set back to work on the cast.
When she pulled back, a satisfied smile curled across her face. "Santana Lopez," she read her name out loud. If her mere presence was enough to turn a pair of sixth year boys into a set of blanched grovelers, then her name prominently written on Brittany's cast ought to be enough to keep the talented chaser safe from any further attacks, at least until she was fully healed and could protect herself.