Ecdysis

Chapter 12 - Fourth Year: Reactive

Pomfrey sat me on a rolling bed and handed me a mirror. Fussing as she walked about the hospital wing, gathering supplies. "...far worse than some of the Quidditch players, Ms. Granger. How a wee thing like you gets into so much trouble lies far beyond..."

I tuned her out. Cross-eyed, I stared at my elongated teeth, poking one with the tip of my finger. I shuddered. Gross.

The partitioning curtains around the bed swished closed. Pomfrey's robes swayed about her ankles, wand in hand, a tall, wheeled surgical tray posted by her hip. "I need to saw down your teeth." At the horrified expression on my face, she eased up. "Hold still while I cast a numbing spell. You'll hardly feel a thing."

A soft blue light emerged from the tip of her wand, casting a cold numbing feeling beneath my cupid's bow. She prodded my upper-lip with her fingertip. "Anything?"

I shook my head no, jarred by the lack of sensation. It reminded me of my parents' numbing gels. They always made me feel silly, like a fish with a hook speared through the roof of its mouth, lopsided and helpless.

Pomfrey sawed off the long teeth until they were at my lips. Once the bulk of them was gone, and a Vanishing Spell cast to rid the ridiculous mass from the surgical tray, she carried on more carefully.

She said, "Let me know when they look right to you."

It was a struggle not to flinch, envisioning a version of myself with stubby front teeth like when I was a little girl. Mum had too many photographs of my gap-toothed era, no need to add to her collection. But Pomfrey had a steady hand that would make any surgeon green with envy and when I recognized my teeth again, I advised her to keep filing them down.

It was the silver-lining of the day. My central incisors were finally in line with the rest of my teeth. I stared at myself in the mirror. Dad always said he wished he'd specialised in orthodontics; that's where the real money was at. I understood it now. A smile like this was worth all the money in my savings account.

After telling me to stay put for the next ten minutes so the numbing spell could wear off, Pomfrey left to tend to Draco. I couldn't see him because my curtains were drawn, and I suspect his, too, but his moans had been echoing dramatically through the hollow hospital ward since the moment we arrived.

"That's quite enough, Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey admonished at a distance. A rustle of fabric followed by the metallic creak of the rolling bed. "No, they will not leave permanent scarring. But if you don't stop squirming..."

The bleached linen curtains around me parted fractionally, Viktor's face peeking out between them. "Can I...?"

I nodded, drawing the curtain back to let him in. Torches illuminated the long walls of the hospital ward, brightening the gloom as the curtain opened, and bathing him in lambent light. His eyes looked wet, black and glimmering beneath the torches. Day-old stubble peppering his square jaw. The bridge of his nose was slightly rounded. As if broken one too many times.

"How are you?" he asked, shuffling forward in his stiff leather boots.

Excitement over my teeth dulled as reality kicked in. I dropped the hand mirror on the bed. "I'm fine." I clasped my palms together, suddenly nervous.

Viktor stopped in front of me, taking a careful assessment of my face. "That Malfoy boy hurt you."

"I hurt him back," I replied, a touch defensive.

But Viktor was unfazed, speaking in a low, calm voice. "Is that something he does often, hurt you?"

I licked my lips, tasting iron. Pomfrey had mended my split lip, but blood had a way of lingering on surfaces. "Not anymore."