When Santana awoke, it was to a sharp pain tearing through her left shoulder. She gasped, falling onto her back from her side, gaining some relief. Her pinky had remained linked with Brittany's all night which had led to her arm being twisted behind her when she turned over in her sleep. A soft groan escaped her lips as she rubbed her sore shoulder.
Brittany was still sleeping, curled up against one of her pillows. Santana carefully slid her pinky out of Brittany's slackened grip, making sure not to disturb Brittany's casted hand. She felt beneath her own pillow, pulling out her father's pocket watch that she kept there for safe keeping while she slept. They were going to miss breakfast, and if they didn't hurry, they were going to be late for their first lessons of the day.
"Best slumber party ever," Brittany mumbled to her left.
"All we did was sleep," Santana chuckled.
"I know, but your bed is so comfy."
"You've just been cooped up in the hospital for too long to know any better."
Brittany's stomach growled loudly, "I'm hungry."
"So I hear," she smiled before glancing back at her dad's watch. "Unfortunately, we're a bit behind schedule, and we have to get you up to your dorms so you can get dressed since you're due back in class today."
"I need a shower," Brittany wrinkled her nose. "I smell like medicine and disinfectant."
"We'd better get moving then," Santana sat up and stretched before hopping out of bed and hurrying around to the other side to help Brittany out carefully.
"You act like I'm going to break," Brittany teased.
Professor Sylvester and the nurse's midnight conversation played over in Santana's mind, "I just know that if I don't help you down slowly, you'll try to jump down and cut a flip or something."
"True," she nodded. Her eyes widened, pointing over Santana's shoulder to her trunk. "Hey, look!"
Santana turned around to find her uniform lying out like normal. What wasn't normal, however, was Brittany's uniform that had been laid out right beside it. "House elves."
"Santa?" blue eyes turned electric.
"What? No, Britt, the house elves that work here must've known you slept over and brought your clothes," Santana explained, leaving out that it would save them quite a bit of time since, despite Brittany's protests otherwise, the smaller girl was still moving rather slow and gingerly. She picked up Brittany's uniform and handed it to her. "Take a left and the bathroom is the second door," Santana motioned to the door out of the room.
"Thanks," Brittany smiled, slowly making her way out of the room and taking a right.
"Your other left!" Santana called after her.
Brittany crossed back and gave her a grateful wave with her good arm.
Santana laughed, shaking her head before she started getting ready for the day as well. She looked over at Quinn's empty bed and made a mental note to give the girl a good piece of her mind for not waking them up on time.
She was sitting on her bed, hurrying through her potions homework that was due while waiting on Brittany to return when she heard a distinct pop. She looked up to find a tray of breakfast food with two forks and two goblets of juice placed where their uniforms had been previously.
"Food," Santana's mouth watered hungrily. She scrambled off the bed just as Brittany was returning to the room. "Hey, look what the elves brought," she glanced up at her with a smile before doing a double take. "Um, Brittany, I think you forgot…" Santana motioned to Brittany's shirt which lie open, none of the buttons buttoned.
"I need help," she raised her cast with a sheepish smile.
"Oh, yeah, of course," Santana nodded before hurrying over to her. She bent down and tied her shoes first before standing up and eyeing Brittany's exposed torso.
"Yeah, I know, I'm so white, I'm a ghost," Brittany rolled her eyes.
"No," Santana's cheeks warmed as she began to button her shirt for her, starting at the top. "It's just…your stomach, I mean, you don't have a stomach, I mean…you have better abs than a boy," she struggled to get out as her fingers grazed the sharply defined muscles of the other girl's abdomen.
"Oh, yeah, I think it's cause I'm so little," Brittany looked down at her stomach. "I do tend to be rather active, but I don't think it takes much since I'm so compact, you know? They probably won't be like that when I get taller which sucks cause they're awesome, right?"
"Definitely," Santana nodded her agreement as she finished buttoning her shirt and set to work on her tie. "Although, I don't think you have to worry about that getting taller thing."
Brittany narrowed her eyes playfully, "I'm going to be taller than you one day."
"Doubtful," Santana laughed as she thought of her parents' tall frames. "But look, we have breakfast."
"Awesome," Brittany bounced on her toes before letting out a squeak of pain and clutching her ribs.
"You also need to take your pain draught," Santana noted as she guided her over to the food before hurrying to the bedside table and retrieving the container of liquid medicine.
"Not so awesome," Brittany grimaced.
+++gw+++
Santana sat on the edge of her seat as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Henri St. Pierre, wrote the words Smokescreen Spell in white chalk on the board. Thus far in the class, all they had learned was how to light and extinguish their wands, as well as how to shoot up red and green sparks—things Professor St. Pierre insisted were important when it came to staving off dark wizards and creatures, though Santana couldn't see how, unless the dark wizard in question was epileptic and she rapidly lit and extinguished her wand over and over again until the wizard succumbed to a seizure.
Santana tilted her head at her own thoughts, wondering whether that was actually a good defense or her thoughts were merely permanently scattered from navigating their way through so many of Brittany's unmethodical conversations.
"It is about time we learn something useful," Quinn noted as she took down the spells name in her notes.
"I know what you mean," Rachel voiced from the table behind them. "What am I supposed to do with red and green sparks? The only time those colors don't clash is during Christmas, a holiday which I don't even celebrate, seeing as I am Jewish. Now, if we were to learn how to shoot gold stars, then that would be something I could use. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I have begun using a gold star as a metaphor for—"
Santana turned in her chair and shot a stream of green sparks at the brunette, causing Rachel to shriek and duck her head in cover.
"Happy Early Christmas," Santana smirked before turning back in her chair.
"Nice," Quinn smiled, pulling her own wand out and standing as Professor St. Pierre instructed them to spread out through the room and being practicing the spell.
"The desired result is a cloud of smoke so thick that it prevents your opponent from being able to aim properly and can give you cover to escape. Being this is your first time performing this spell, though, I will award ten points to whichever student can manage to achieve at least a steady wisp of smoke."
Santana followed Quinn to the far corner of the large classroom where the blonde waved her wand in concentration, frowning when nothing came out.
"You would think this would be easy, seeing as there is not even an incantation to go with it."
"Wouldn't that make it harder?" Santana wondered. "Saying spells helps you focus your intent on the spell. Without the words, you need to focus even more, otherwise your wand would be cursing people left and right with any little flit and flicker of your wrist."
Quinn's frown deepened.
"Your hatred for me outsmarting you is delicious," Santana chuckled as she waved her wand, with the same result as Quinn.
They kept swapping turns until there was only ten minutes left of class and a slight sheen of sweat had begun to form on Santana's brow.
"This is stupid," Quinn muttered in frustration.
"Look class!" Professor St. Pierre called out in excitement. "Mr. Abrams has managed to produce smoke."
The girls looked to find the tiny boy in the wheelchair adjusting his glasses nervously as a thin wisp of light gray smoke escaped from the tip of his wand.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw," Professor St. Pierre clapped, the Ravenclaws in the room joining in.
"Stupid Ravenclaw nerds," Quinn folded her arms over her chest.
Santana narrowed her eyes, a low growl of frustration forming in her throat as she waved her wand once more, rotating it in a spiral of movement, causing Quinn to jump back as a small stream of dark gray smoke emitted from Santana's wand.
"Whoa, Miss Lopez," Professor St. Pierre paused in shock. "Well done. Extremely, well done. That may well be the best smokescreen I've ever seen a First Year produce. Congratulations, fifteen points to Slytherin!"
Her fellow Slytherin First Years cheered.
Santana raised her steely gaze from the tip of her wand to the small boy in the wheelchair, gaining satisfaction from the way he shrunk back under her stare,
Professor St. Pierre dismissed the class, and the light layer of smoke dissipated from the room. Santana's eyes widened as she watched Artie wheel himself out of the room.
"Earth to Lopez," Quinn waved her hand in front of Santana's face. "Class is over."
"Quinn…" Santana began slowly, still trying to complete the thought forming in her mind. "About that thing our parents have us looking into…"
"Well, it is about time you regain focus. With Brittany in the hospital wing, it was as if you completely forgot our mission," Quinn noted with a huff.
"The rumor is about how the baby might have survived," Santana voiced. "What if the baby did survive, but…but what if he didn't escape unharmed."
Quinn's backpack fell from her shoulder as her eyes followed Santana's gaze to the door where Artie had just wheeled out of. "Oh."
+++gw+++
"So how was Transfiguration?" Santana asked as she finally diced up the light blue petals of aconite that lay in front of her. She pushed them across the table to where Brittany was seated instead of at her usual spot to Santana's right. When Santana had pointed out to Professor Sylvester that Brittany could only do so much when it came to the preparation of today's assignment due to her injuries, the professor had surprisingly agreed with Santana and allowed her to help the Gryffindor.
Brittany scooped up the flower with her good hand and dropped them into Santana's cauldron as Santana set to work on Brittany's pile. "Rough," she grimaced. "Even with Mercedes and Kurt bringing me the assignments for the classes we don't have together—"
"Which I still stay I could have gotten."
"Different classes sometimes get different assignments."
"When did they drop off those assignments anyway? I never saw them in the hospital wing."
"Because they would only come when you were in class or sleeping."
"You make it sound like they were avoiding me," Santana chuckled as she passed her the rest of the aconite.
"They were," Brittany nodded as she dumped them into her own cauldron. "Rumor has it that you became really upset when those beaters ran into me—"
"Attacked you. They attacked you, Brittany," Santana corrected firmly.
"Well, it seems that a lot of people have been steering clear of you since they attacked me and you stormed out of the stadium in what is being called a 'blind fury' by Kurt. Especially after those very beaters ended up in the hospital wing as well later that evening…" Brittany raised a pointed eyebrow before drawing in a sharp breath and bringing her left hand up to gingerly touch the crimson bandage around her forehead.
Santana's eyes widened in worry, before her fists clenched in anger at the reminder of her encounter with the Gryffindor Quidditch team members. "Well? When they pulled what they did, what do you expect?"
"From you…nothing less," Brittany reached over to briefly cover Santana's hand with her own, her eyes dancing in amusement and pride.
Santana settled back into her chair, "Well, you can tell Mercedes and Kurt that they aren't the Gryffindors I've got it in for."
"I'm sure Kurt will sleep better for it. He's developed quite the eye baggage that even his favorite face cream won't remedy," Brittany nodded, causing them both to giggle. "Anyway, yeah, even with their help, I still find Transfiguration impossible. How can I concentrate on switching a snail with a mouse when there are so many better things I could be switching it with? Like that treacle tart I just know is in the kitchens for the big Halloween feast."
Santana smiled, "Britt, the feast isn't until tomorrow. I doubt they already have the dessert made."
"A girl can dream, can't she?"
Santana subconsciously stiffened as she felt Professor Sylvester approach to inspect their homework. The professor held her hand out to Brittany who just shrugged in reply. Professor Sylvester rolled her eyes and extended her hand out to Santana instead. Santana handed her the essay that lie waiting on the desk. She knew it wasn't her best. It wasn't even half that. She had spent too much time in the hospital wing over the past week, leaving very little for her actual school work. She winced in preparation for the scalding remark that was surely headed her way.
"Nicely done, Lopez," Professor Sylvester said simply before placing the parchment back down on the table with a red 'A' now adorning it.
Santana caught herself just before the forthcoming question about the grade left her mouth. Instead, she quickly tucked the homework into her book bag before the professor came to her senses.
"See? I knew she'd come around," Brittany whispered with a smile as Professor Sylvester moved to the next table.
"Brittany, that essay was my worst yet. I didn't even finish it. The grade doesn't make any sense."
"Most grades don't make sense to me," Brittany replied as she slowly stirred Santana's cauldron counter-clockwise.
"If it helps, I'm sure your assignments and answers don't make much sense to the Professors. The Magic World's dependence on tradition is not exactly an accommodating place for people who think outside the box. Plus, I swear, the majority of professor's here have no idea what the heck they are talking about."
"You know what they say, 'If you can't do, teach'."
Santana laughed loudly at that, quickly bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise. Once their nosy neighbors' wondering eyes and ears had returned to their tables, Santana scooted even closer to her own and lowered her voice once more, "So I think I may have stumbled upon something in our search for you-know-who's victim."
"A clue?"
"A suspect. What do you know about Artie Abrams?"
"Who?"
"The robot boy."
"Oh, not much…he kinda scares me," Brittany admitted. "Why?"
"Well, he's in Ravenclaw, so of course he's smart, but he also seems pretty adept when it comes to spells."
"Like the letter said to look for," Brittany nodded.
"And maybe the wheelchair is a result from the attack?"
Brittany's eyes widened, "Spells can do that?"
"Spells can do anything."
Brittany nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully, "It makes sense. A lot of sense. You know what I think?"
"What?"
"That you can outsmart a Ravenclaw any day of the week," Brittany replied surely.
Santana smiled, lowering her eyes back down to the potion ingredients before her as her cheeks warmed.