Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

30 June, 1997 - Hospital Wing

Bill's wounds, Lavinia quickly determined, were blessedly manageable and between the ministrations of herself and Madam Pomfrey, he was lying peacefully in bed within only a half an hour or so. The problem, really, wasn't the wounds themselves, though she supposed they certainly looked like an issue to anyone without some measure of medical training. But to Lavinia, at least, the problem was that they would scar. And badly, too. Nothing Lavinia nor Madam Promfrey tried could get the wounds to close by magical means and Lavinia gave up after only a few tries, instead handing Madam Pomfrey a tin of salve from the cupboard that said all she needed to: these couldn't be healed. So they needed to be cleaned.

Madam Pomfrey just met her eyes for a moment before she nodded and took the tin, a resigned sort of expression in her face because of course, she knew as well as Lavinia that these wounds and the scars they would leave, would last Bill a lifetime. And proof of it was sitting in the next bed over, watching them work, his hands and face flecked with relics of transformations from years ago.

Lavinia didn't suppose the scars really mattered, anyway. They would take getting used to, of course, but they were just scars. Merlin knew she and Remus both had plenty of them and they managed relatively normal lives. The more concerning issue was what the hell happened when someone was bitten by an untransformed werewolf. Did it matter what phase the moon was in? Would he be a fully fledged werewolf? Or just take on some tendencies? Or have no side effects at all? Lavinia doubted this last option was likely, but seeing as she had no idea what would happen, she didn't suppose she could really rule it out.

Once Bill was tended to and resting, his face still torn and nearly unrecognizable beneath wounds that were at the very least no longer bleeding, Lavinia and Madam Pomfrey turned their attentions to the others. Lavinia headed straight for Flitwick as Neville was by far the easier case and Flitwick... well, he'd be fine, but the treatment was more up her alley than Madam Pomfrey's.

It wasn't long after this that other people began filtering into the ward. First came Ron and Hermione, closely followed by Ginny, Luna and Jasmine and behind them, Tonks, who looked rather as though she was herding them. All of them, however, appeared tired and a bit worn, but, Lavinia was relieved to see, otherwise alright. Or as alright as any of them could be given the circumstances. Indeed, both Weasleys immediately made a beeline for Bill's bedside, their faces fearful and concerned. Once they caught sight of his face, whispered curses dropped from their mouths and it said something that Madam Pomfrey made no attempt whatsoever to admonish them as she left Neville to drink a potion and went to go comfort the Weasleys.

Lavinia decided, perhaps a little selfishly, that Madam Pomfrey could handle that situation and instead turned her own dwindling energy back to the small professor whose stiff, still limbs were slowly beginning to relax under the influence of a few potions and the quiet stream of charms Lavinia was murmuring over him.

When she finished she took a moment with her back still to the room to compose herself. There was, she decided, no need for the students to see just how tired she was. Not just from the long day but from the weight of it. The knowledge of what this all meant. So she took a deep breath and put a gentle mask over her features before turning around to join the small crowd around Bill's bed, doing her best to ignore the look Remus sent her that said he had seen her hesitation.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" asked Jasmine as Lavinia approached. "Students are starting to get out of bed to see what the hell's going on."

"She's contacting Molly and Arthur," Madam Pomfrey explained. "I'm sure she'll be down to deal with the students soon."

"Where's Harry?" Lavinia asked quietly as she sat next to Remus on one of the empty beds, a seat that earned her a slightly odd look from Tonks that she had neither the energy nor interest to decipher.