FLIPPED - harry potter

༺ 78 - sominium.

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| SOMINIUM |
"I'm not worth dying for."

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ALORA OPENED HER EYES.

At first, her vision came blurrily; melting colours of green and gold swirled in her hazy eyes. She then spread her fingers, feeling the crunch-like sensation that played upon her fingertips. Leaves? She inhaled deeply. Forest?

Her muscles trembled slightly as she planted her hands deeper into the soil, lifting her body up. She gazed around the scenery: they were in the forest. She then looked over at Harry beside her, who too, was adjusting to his newfound surroundings.

Alora then heard a groan; an agony-filled grunt.

She whipped her head around. A gasp released from her lips.

The left side of Ron's body had been drenched off all blood. His face stood-clear as a gray-ish white, as though he'd been painted over. He was half-way between himself and Cattermole; half-red-headed again, creating a deeper contrast with his washed out skin.

Alora hurried over, getting to her knees, "What—is he okay? Mione, what happened?"

"He's been splinched," Hermione quickly replied, getting at his sleeve where the blood was its deepest.

Harry ran over as Hermione tore at Ron's shirt. Hermione laid bare Ron's upper arm, where a great chunk of flesh was missing, scooped cleanly away as though by a knife. Alora pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Harry, quickly, in my bag, there's a small bottle labeled 'Essence of Dittany'— "

"Bag—right—'

Harry sped to the place where Hermione had landed, seized the tiny beaded bag, and thrust his hand inside it. However, with each item he pulled, none seemed to be what Hermione had asked of him, and Ron wasn't getting any better with the minute.

"Quickly!" she urged.

Alora swallowed, "Use 'Accio', Harry!"

Harry gave a nod and shakily withdrew his wand, "Accio Dittany!"

A small brown bottle zoomed out of the bag; he caught it and hastened back to Alora, Hermione and Ron, whose eyes were now halfclosed, strips of white eyeball all that were visible between his lids.

"He's fainted," Hermione palely, who now looked like herself, along with the rest. "Unstopper it for me, Harry, my hands are shaking."

Harry wrenched the stopper off the little bottle, Hermione took it and poured three drops of the potion onto the bleeding wound. Greenish smoke billowed upward. The wound now looked several days old; new skin stretched over what had just been open flesh.

Alora sighed in relief, softly grabbing Hermione's hand.

"Wow," is all Harry managed.

"It's all I feel safe doing," said Hermione shakily. "There are spells that would put him completely right, but I daren't try in case I do them wrong and cause more damage. . . . He's lost too much blood already. . . ."

"Mione," Alora started quietly. "Aren't we meant to go back home?"

Hermione finally looked towards her best-friend, tears glazed over her eyelids, "Lora, I—I don't think that's possible."

Alora paused, "What happened?"

"As we Disapparated, Yaxley caught hold of me and I couldn't get rid of him, he was too strong, and he was still holding on when we arrived at Grimmauld Place, and then—well, I think he must have seen the door, and thought we were stopping there, so he slackened his grip and I managed to shake him off and I brought us here instead!"