***I've had many questions about how "Breyanna" is pronounced, so just to let you know, it's pronounced like "Briana," just spelled differently.
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"Get off me, woman!" I shrieked as the old Healer tried to feed me yet another slew of potions, to 'heal' me. "I don't need your help, I'm perfectly fine."
There was something insulting about the fact that a Blood-Traitor got me landed in the hospital wing, and Pomfrey's constant coddling was downright humiliating. To add to the embarrasment, he hadn't even been trying to hurt me when he said the spell, but instead my own hex, which caused his teeth to grow, caused him to mispronounce a spell, thus creating a new, deadly spell. It should've been deadly, but because our wands were twins, which I had forgotten about until recently, he couldn't inflict lethal damage against me. Or that's what McGonagall told me, at least, right after a stern talking-to and a thirty point deduction from Slytherin for fighting. And I was left with a sharp pain that shot through my abdomen everytime I tried to move.
The only thing that offered me some consolation was the fact that the weasel was also hospitalized, after Ruben went ape-shit on him for hurting me. Fred lay in a bed on the far end of the hospital wing from me, asleep.
I'd been stuck in here all day, since this morning. I didn't understand why Pomfrey didn't just let me leave. But apparently Weasley's misspell caused serious internal bleeding or whatever, so I wasn't allowed to walk around, or even move.
"Miss Zabini, you really need to take these potions if you want to leave," said Madam Pomfrey, obviously annoyed by my stubborness. "I can release you if and only if you are completely healed."
I sighed. Giving up, I downed the potion in one gulp. "Now can I go?" I asked.
"Hopefully, that will do the job, but I'm keeping you here for the night."
I threw up my hands in frustration, but even that small amount of movement caused a fresh wave of pain to surge through my body. Admitting defeat, I sat back and crossed my arms crossly, trying to ignore the pain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the weasel stirring. "Ah, Mr. Weasley, you're up!" said the healer, her tone of voice shifting remarkably quickly as she scuttled over to his bed. She chattered along with him pleasantly, shrank his teeth and fed him Skele-Gro and whatnot, but demanded that he also stay the night to make sure that all the bones that Ruben had broken were completely mended.
After Pomfrey had wished us a goodnight, I turned onto my side away from Weasley, not wanting to see his disgusting ginger hair. But I was unable to find a comfortable sleeping position that didn't cause a searing pain in my stomach. So instead of falling into a deep slumber, I was forced to lay uncomfortably on my back.
"Breyanna?" a timid voice called across the room. I raised my head slightly. The room was empty, except for him. When the voice said my name again, I was sure it was him.
"What?" I hissed. Why was he bothering me when I was trying to sleep? And I was obviously pretty pissed; he had just gotten me landed in the hospital wing for an indefinite amount of time.
"Well, er-" he began. "You see.."
"Spit it out, Weasley," I said harshly.
I heard the soft padding of stocking feet tip-toeing across the tile floor, then the squeak of the cushion on the chair next to my bed as a dark shape sat down on it.
"Argh!" I whisper-shrieked. "What are you doing over here?"
"Sorry, it was weird talking to you without being able to see you."
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The Lion and the Swan (A Harry Potter Fan Fiction)
FanfictionBreyanna, older half-sister of Blaise Zabini, has had an easy life: rich, pure-blood family, hundreds of house-elves at her beck and call, the respect of all the sixth-year Slytherins, and the fear of all the Gryffindors. But when her name is select...