Golden Girl; 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

Fourth Year: Between Magic and Moonlight

As the evening wore on, Madam Pomfrey didn't allow any of Bambi's other friends in to see her. At first Bambi was upset by this, she didn't like being poked and prodded while she was already uncomfortable, but every passing hour grew to be more and more painful. It seemed that as the day wore on, all of her senses from the day before were tripled. She was on high alert, every sound, smell, or feeling so intensified that she could hardly function. She sat curled up in the comfort of the drawn curtains, artificial darkness around her, because even turning down the lights wasn't enough for her sensitive eyes.

She didn't mind so much about everything else, but she wished the dizzying migraine would go away. Madam Pomfrey had given her potion after potion, but within what seemed like minutes, the effect would already begin slipping. It was worse than the time she had come down with a case of Black Cat Flu in Zambia and spent a week shivering and throwing up.

She curled her legs up to her chest again as another wave of nausea and pain washed over her, as if the position would shield herself from the overwhelming sensation assaulting her. Her skin had taken on a pale, clammy appearance, beads of sweat forming along her brow despite the coolness of the room.

"Are you alright, Bambi?" Her father asked for the millionth time, leaning over her with a worried look. "Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Bambi took a long deliberate breath in, "No... it's fine. She just gave me some... thing or another. She's already burning through her stock. Whatever magic is working against me seems to not like potions."

She knew what she wanted... it was unexplainable but she could feel it.

She wanted outside. She could feel the moon rising, and it felt like it was calling her, pulling her, but she couldn't do a thing. The walls felt so restricting, the strength of the magic around her vibrating in the air. 

Bambi thought back to the night before; despite feeling ill all day, as soon as she got on her broom, she felt better. The cool night air, the freedom of the sky—it was like the magic was momentarily quelled by the rush of flight. Now, though, she was trapped inside, the walls pressing in on her, and the moon's call growing stronger by the minute.

Bambi shifted restlessly under the blankets, her body tense, feeling tangled among all of the hot layers of fabric and confines of the stone walls.

Sebastian sat beside her bed, his face lined with concern, still visible despite the dark surroundings. He had been watching her for hours, his hand occasionally brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, but Bambi could sense his worry deepening as time passed. He had always been the one to try and protect her from discomfort, no matter how small. When she was a little girl and fell ill, he would rush to her side, armed with homemade remedies, potions, and tonics he'd crafted himself. He was good at those things– healing, caring, making her feel safe. She knew that he felt helpless right now, watching his only child and not being able to do anything other than brush her hair from her face.

"Can we...can we sit outside?" Bambi said, her voice soft, almost pleading as she shifted slightly under the covers. "Just for a little bit,"

Sebastian frowned, his green eyes reflecting his unease. "Bambi, you're not well enough to go outside... you must rest. And, with the way your magic is acting, it could be dangerous."

Bambi shook her head, frustration bubbling up inside her. She didn't care if she was levitating things around her anymore, if her eyes were glowing, or if she was going to start blowing things around the hospital wing.

"Please," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "I feel like I'm suffocating,"

Sebastian's heart clenched at her words. He knew all too well what she was feeling, the pull of nature that was in her blood. The call of the moon had once drawn her mother out on nights like this—nights when the magic in the air was thick and the world seemed to hum with a life of its own. Emelia would spend all night in the garden, if she could, often wandering far outside the boundaries of town and into the deep forests that surrounded their home. Those nights, when the moon was full and bright, she seemed to be part of the earth itself, moving silently through the trees, as if guided by an unseen force.