The Birds and the Bears - Harry Potter Fanfic.

Chapter Seven, The Blood of the Prince.

Chapter Seven. The Blood of the Prince.

Victiore's P.O.V.

            My eyelids feel impossibly heavy. They are extremely reluctant to obey me and open. I can feel my hand clamped in someone’s, and I know it is not my father or mother's. This is Teddy's hand. It is so broad and callused. It causes warm currents to travel up my arm. I want desperately to speak to him, or see him, or just to grip his hand back, but my body is stubbornly un responsive. I can hear him saying something to me. His words fade in and out and I only catch a few,

"I love you Vic... you mean the world to ... please get ... love ...Vic..."

I can't hold on any longer. The darkness and pain claim me once more.

            When I next wake it is to find a Healer wrapping new bandages around my chest, and Teddy no where to be seen. I wonder for a moment if he was really here, but quickly dismiss the thought. Of course he was. Teddy would not leave me in this place alone, he loves me.

Teddy's P.O.V.

            The next day at Hogwarts is a blur. I am bleary eyed for lack of sleep, and my thoughts are consumed by terrifying images of Vic's pale form. She seemed only a few steps away from death in that hospital, not even able to open her eyes. The prospect of attending DADA is daunting, all those happy students without friends who are dying, so instead I wander the halls. It feels like someone has sucked the hope out of me, until I walk past a tapestry depicting several angry troll in tutus beating their flamboyant and foolish would be dance instructor. Bizarrely I am reminded of that day so long ago, when Vic danced as a little girl in a pretty pink skirt. I know how to get the counter curse.

            In the summer past, when I came of age, Harry told me a story. He has always been a bit foggy about his past and I have always wanted to know more. The heart of it is that he told me about the reason the Room of Requirement is always a bit charred, and what his history was with that hallowed place. My forays into it have included a late night escape from Filch, and using it to mope after a brutal quiditch loss. Harry said that the room will give you anything, so long as you ask correctly. I walk in front of the stretch of blank wall beside the ludicrous tapestry. After ruminating for a good five minuets I pace by the place three times while thinking,

"I need a counter curse for the dark spell 'Sectumsempra' that will heal the wounds that Victoire Weasley sustained last week by the hand of Jessica Patil."

            A surprise greets me when I open my eyes. The only door I see is that of the front of a smoky old fashioned display cabinet. When I pry it open the only thing inside is a heavily charred, dilapidated copy of Advanced Potion Making. Gingerly I open what remains of the front cover and in one corner barely legible is a scrawling script spelling out 'Harry Potter'. I must have been thinking of Harry hard when I asked the room for help, because in my hands I hold the very book that caused my godfather so much trouble in his sixth year. This book was once the property of Severus Snape, the inventor of the very curse that has so wounded Vic. I know that that ex headmaster was a great brave man, but I dearly wish that he had never invented the 'Sectumsempra' curse, and the fact that he did puts an angry sour taste on my tongue.

            Gingerly I flip through the blackened pages. Much of the bottom left corner of the book is  burned off and most of the text is difficult to read due to age and fire damage. Maybe the room helped me out or maybe it has been that way since Harry hid the book so long ago, but one page has a corner turned down. When I flip to it I find "Sectumsempra, for enemies." scribbled in the margin. Just below is an even messier annotation, almost as if the author of the former added the latter in as an after thought. It reads "counter curse, Sanitasanare (nvbl)."

            Without a further thought I jam the ashy text into my satchel and sprint for the statue of the One Eyed Witch. Hastily dodging a sleepy Professor Sinstra, and the Bloody Baron I descend countless stair cases, and it seems to take ages to finally reach the concealed passage to Honeydukes. The rest of the journey to St. Mungos is a blur. I am momentarily delayed by an irate reception witch in the entrance room, until I put a weak confundus charm on her and make her let me pass. It doesn't matter that my reason as well as my respect for the authority of the law have flown the coup, all I can think about is getting to Vic's side. My emotions must be running really high because the door of the 'Unknown Curses' ward springs open as I approach. There are no Healers, thank Merlin, on the ward and I am unimpeded as I approach Vic's bed.

            She lies impossibly still, and for a moment my heart jumps into my throat, but then her chest shudders slightly. I exhale a vast lungful of air that I seem to have been holding since visiting the Room of Requirement. After stripping back her covers, my hands hesitate above the bandges winding tightly around her chest. I mentally smack myself before gently unraveling the thick gauze. My mind is so focused on saving her that my eyes barely stray from the horrendous gapping wounds marring her body. Gathering all my will, putting all the magical strength I can muster into the incantation, I think 'Sanitasanare' fiercely. Vic shudders below me. Her breath flutters in and out rapidly, like the wings of a pixie. I watch fascinated as the slashes that were so recently bleeding copiously, start to mend. The counter curse did not work like dittany which accelerates the natural healing process. Instead it sealed the wounds from tip to tail, as if some giant invisible cosmic being was pinching them closed. After three passes of the incantation all that is left of Vic's injuries is three long angry scars. I re-wrap the bandages, then tuck her back in. She dose not wake when I place a soft kiss on her cheek. Death will not come to claim her now. I know it deep in my bones.

            As gently as possible I lie on the bed on top of the covers beside her. I lift her head up and slip my arm under it divesting of her pillow. When her breathing has changed to a slow even rhythm I let myself feel the incalculable relief of having her healed and in my arms. The exhaustion of the past week finally catches up with me. Sleep is ok know; Vic is safe.