When Leo woke up, the first and only thought she managed to verbalize was, "Ow."
"I would imagine so. You've given us all quite the scare."
Her second thought was to search for Regulus. When she found him at the end of the bed that wasn't her bed, her third thought was that he wasn't the one that had spoken. She turned her head to the side. "Father! Why are you here in—" She paused, glancing around. "The hospital wing?"
"My daughter decided the best way to win a quidditch match was by welcoming a bludger." Lucius tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair he'd pulled up near the bed. "Though I can't imagine why that brought me here," he drawled.
Leo smiled at that, showing teeth. She pressed her hands against the mattress and moved to push herself up.
"Absolutely not!" Madam Pomfrey was beside her bed in an instant. "The Skele-Gro is still working to mend those poor bones of yours. In fact, you should take seven more drops, now. Lay back. Lay back!"
Leo supposed that her collar was hurting. And her leg. And her chest. Her head had decided to get in on it as well, though she wished it hadn't. "The bludger?" she prompted, looking away from Madam Pomfrey and addressing the question to her father instead.
"You were knocked to the ground," Lucius said, expression tense in a way that reminded her of late night floo calls to the Ministry and midnight vigils at her bedside. "I'm having doubts, now, about whether quidditch is appropriate for you during your time here at Hogwarts."
Regulus looked unhappily pleased by that.
Horror uncurled in her gut, and she felt that more than she felt anything wrong with her bones. "No."
Lucius frowned. Something harsh flickered through his eyes for a moment before settling on neutrality. "Very well."
"Seven drops," Madam Pomfrey interrupted. "I have pumpkin juice for you to wash it down. Tongue out."
Leo turned her head and stuck out her tongue. Madam Pomfrey measured out the potion there using a dropper, and Leo immediately wanted to vomit. Instead, she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and her lips together as she stared at the glass being held out to her.
"Don't hand it to her," Lucius snapped. "Put it on the table."
Madam Pomfrey glanced at him, clearly displeased with being talked to in such a manner. With a huff, she said, "Very well," and started walking around the bed to be on the same side as Lucius. "You should only use your left arm until I've cleared you." She set the pumpkin juice on the table there. "You broke your clavicle on that side, and the Skele-Gro you just took should finish healing it. Now drink up."
"Drink it," Lucius directed without room for argument.
As long as he insisted on his stance in this fight and not one about quidditch, she was fine with that. So she picked up the glass and struggled to drink despite the odd, leaned back angle she was stuck in. But finally, she finished the last drop of pumpkin juice, and her throat burned from the potion. She hacked for a few seconds, barely managing to set the glass back in place. "That's vile," she gasped out. "Why does it always taste so bad?"
"Perhaps stop doing things that require it in the future," Lucius said.
She hummed, a sound she knew he knew meant non-commitment. "Madam Pomfrey, what's wrong with me?"
"A few broken bones, dear. I've seen far worse from a bludger before, and a fall like that. You should consider yourself quite lucky. Oh, let's see." Madam Pomfrey summon a roll of parchment to her hand. "Yes, it's best we go over these injuries. The Skele-Gro is fixing you up just fine, but it's best to go easy on yourself for a time."
Leo listened absently as Madam Pomfrey discussed her leg and her collarbone and her ribs. Regulus looked aggrieved as the precautions she was supposed to take were listed. Lucius had a sharp look that meant he would not think again of removing her from quidditch so long as she was careful with herself.
Madam Pomfrey finally excused herself to deal with another student who had come in with a cough, reminding Leo to get plenty of rest in a way that made her suddenly realize just how tired she was.
"Your hand," Lucius directed, looking away from her for the first time since she'd woken up to search for something in his robes. "Ah, here it is."
Oh, he'd brought a ribbon. This one was familiar, black and velvet and long enough to wrap around her at least twice. Though Draco liked to say she was all bones, so maybe that didn't mean it was so terribly long. Nevertheless, she smiled again—soft, this time, teeth hidden—and reached her left hand out. Lucius dipped the end of the ribbon against her palm, and she twisted it around her hand three times, the soft velvet tight about her palm. Lucius sat back in his chair, the other end of the ribbon in his hand. He produced papers from somewhere else in his robes, and she saw a brief glimpse of the Ministry seal.
"You'll just have to be careful when you go to the third floor," Regulus finally said.
She laid back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore him. Eventually, she didn't have to try. Eventually, she fell asleep.
Leo woke up.
"He left a couple hours after you went to sleep," Regulus informed her when she started looking about for Lucius. "You've been out for quite a while."
That made sense. It was dark outside the windows. She wished they were bigger so she could better see the stars. She looked down. The ribbon was still wound around her hand, and she figured he hadn't wanted to risk touching her to take it back. It'd never been a problem before. After all, normally she would just leave the ribbons on a table somewhere or hang it on the end of her bed, and the house-elves would make sure they made their way back to her parents eventually. This was the first time she'd been left with a ribbon and no clear answer for where to leave it for Lucius or Narcissa to use again later.
"I wasn't able to figure out who was hexing the broom," Regulus said.
She started braiding the ribbon into her hair and looked up at him. "You're sure it was the broom? What about Confundo on him?"
He paused. "No. He looked scared, not confused."
The ribbon twisted wrong. She undid the braid and started over. "Okay, so the broom."
"The hex stopped when you were hit, but the majority of the spectators were on their feet to see what happened."
The ribbon was much too long. She undid her hair and folded the ribbon over. "Well, you're just perfectly useless, aren't you?"
He glared at her. "If we'd been been observing instead of playing—"
"No. This is the one thing I've asked for." She finally managed to lace the ribbon through an uneven braid and tie it off at the end in a sloppy bow.
"Fine," he ground out. "Then figure out why and who. And go to the third floor corridor. And we should start looking in the restricted section."
"I doubt it will have information I haven't been able to dig up in the library at home," she muttered. "But fine. And I suppose I'll just be bored out of my mind until then."
He nodded towards the side table. "Your brother was here. She sent him away at curfew."
She managed to turn and see the stack of seven thin books on wandlore sitting on the side table, along with a self-inking quill and several rolls of parchment. With a satisfied sound—Regulus told her that she always did it when she liked how something had turned out, humming briefly like a bee, but Draco said it sounded like she was suffocating an angry cat—she picked a book up in one hand and her wand in the other. A simple Lumos gave her the light she needed, and she began to read.
It was just beginning to break dawn outside when someone said, "Ah, excellent. You're awake."
Regulus went worryingly quiet, and Leo realized why as soon as she looked up. She was more sluggish than she liked in occluding. If he so much as dipped into her head, Regulus was the last thing he would learn about. At least, that was the hope. "Headmaster," she greeted, lowering her book.
"Miss Malfoy," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "You wouldn't mind a bit of early morning chat, would you? I find that companionate discussion is immensely helpful in distracting the mind while the body focuses on healing."
She briefly considered saying no. She didn't want anything to do with him beyond existing in the same school. Regulus seemed to be thinking the same thing, but then he sighed and nodded. "I don't mind," she said. "What's this about?"
"The match. It was very impressive flying, I must say. Quite incredible."
"You're not here about my flying," she pointed out. She looked down at her book. Maybe if she ignored him. Maybe he'd go away, and they wouldn't have to talk. She turned a page.
The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have—
"I suppose I am not. In fact, I wanted to ask about your wand."
She looked up at him. And then she looked down at the wand propped up against her hip, still illuminated with Lumos. "My wand?"
"Yes. Specifically about why you drew it. After all, you're a talented flyer and clear fan of the sport itself. You know, of course, that casting spells during a match is prohibited."
"I didn't cast any spells."
"True," he conceded, smiling at her. "That is true. The bludger did put a stop to that, didn't it?" He leaned forward, tapping his long fingers together as he stared at her in a way that made her feel like maybe she wasn't occluding at all. "What spell were you going to cast, Miss Malfoy?"
She swallowed. Her ribs twinged from how fast her heart was pounding against them. Though, that might have been the bludger, still. It took everything she had not to look away from him. "Protego," she finally managed.
"Ah." He looked pleased and sat back again. "Can you tell me why?"
"Do you know yet who was hexing the broom?" she asked in response. "It wasn't me."
"I never thought it was."
"And I don't think any of my teammates would even know how to try."
"I can assure you that I don't believe any of this to have been a Slytherin plot to win the match," he promised. With a smile, he adjusted his half-moon glasses and got to his feet. "Thank you for taking a few minutes to speak with me."
"Of course," she said out of politeness, staring at him as he started to turn away.
He paused. "Ah." He looked back at her. "Do you think you would have been able to cast the spell?"
She considered that, trying to figure out why he would want to know and what he could possibly do with that information. "I was going to do several," she said slowly. "To make up for the fact that my Protego is still easily broken."
"Of course," he murmured. "Of course. One handed casting while on a broom is quite impressive. I would have liked to have seen it. But alas. Good day, Miss Malfoy. Heal well." He swept from the room.
Madam Pomfrey arrived shortly after, speaking at her while checking her over. Then Draco was soon after that, arriving with two stacked plates held awkwardly in one hand, a glass in his other hand, and a second glass tucked between his arm and his body.
"You're alive," he said as he set one of the plates down on her lap. Then he put one of the glasses of pumpkin juice on the side table. "Any word on when you're getting out of here?"
"Tomorrow morning at the earliest," she said, picking up a jam-covered slice of toast. "Madam Pomfrey is convinced she can fix me."
"She hasn't put your bones back together yet?" he asked incredulously.
"Oh, no, she did." Leo munched on her toast and stared at him purposefully. "She thinks she can fix me."
He wrinkled his nose in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "So she's just going to keep you here?"
"That's the plan, I think. I'll survive." She nodded to the wandlore books. "Thanks."
"Yeah, sure," he muttered. Then he started in on his own breakfast, grumbling about Madam Pomfrey.
Not long after Draco left, the owls arrived, swooping in through the hospital wing's door and depositing their deliveries on her bed. Aethon, the Malfoy eagle-owl, stopped to consider her for a long moment before departing, leaving behind a thick letter from her mother and twice as many sweets as normal. The other owl was a new one, but the way her name was written on the letter was familiar. She opened that letter first, and the first thing Tonks has written inside was that the bird's name was Owlastor.
"Hello, Owlastor," Leo greeted, selecting a piece of bacon that was left on her plate to offer up to him. Draco had far overestimated how much she would eat.
The long-eared owl gave a trill of delight as it accepted the treat. She returned to the letter—most of it was filled with ramblings about auror training—and was only distantly aware of Owlastor helping himself to another piece of bacon before he left. Tonks's letter ended with a request for an update on Leo's very first quidditch match. Leo eventually set the sweets and Narcissa's letter on the side table. Then she picked up the quill and parchment and started her letter back to her cousin.
"No. It won't make a difference."
Madam Pomfrey just smiling encouragingly. "Let's give it a shot, dear."
Leo sighed and decided it was best not to waste time arguing. She downed the three warming potions and tried not to gag. "Could I have some pumpkin juice?'
"Yes. Let me check in poor Mister Belby first, but I'll have some sent up." Madam Pomfrey moved away to help the Ravenclaw that had come in complaining of an aching stomach.
Leo had long since returned to her reading and received her pumpkin juice when someone new arrived. "I checked with your professors," he announced. "They helped me gather the material on what you missed today."
She looked up. "Percy?" She straightened. "You got that for me?"
"Yes." He puffed out his chest, looking rather proud. "It would be a shame for a quidditch injury to cause you to fall behind." He glanced around for a moment, realizing she was sitting in the chair and choosing to perch himself on the edge of her hospital bed instead. "Here." He withdrew a rolled parchment from his schoolbag. "Professor Binns wasn't very helpful in explaining what his first year classes went over today, but I asked around, and Miss Patil was able to give me an overview. How familiar are you with the Soap Blizzard of 1378?"
"I don't know the details," she confessed, setting her book aside and taking the parchment. "I only know a little as it relates to the founding of Gringotts."
"Ah. I can help with a summary then."
As the Weasley launched into a history lesson, she wondered if Draco would let this count as having made a friend.