Wolves Without Teeth ── theodore nott ¹ ( UNDER EDITING )

chapter seventeen

        𝕬nswers grew to be things she got used to not receiving, at least, not answers to something she wanted. However, she discovered many things while staying at 12 Grimmulad Place.

        One, she had arrived on the 21st and awoke on the 23rd. Her arm had been broken in two places, her bone unlogged and shattered; luckily, she had been passed out through the regrowth period of that. She suffered a concussion on her head, all things she suspected; you don't get thrown around by the Dark Lord and not suffer the consequences.

        It was her throat and forehead that killed her the most. It was as if she was personally branded by him herself, a long bony handprint embedded into her skin in violet and deep blue rays. They didn't have any bruise paste, and Winnie wasn't willing to go to St.Mungo's to get looked at. She wasn't ready to be found. So, she lived with the pain each time she swallowed and lived with the pain each time she breathed too harshly. She figured she deserved just as much.

        A piece of glass had lodged into her right eyebrow, digging into her skin and curling itself in under. She later realized it was part of a light that fell, but it left a big enough scar across her eyebrow to constantly remind her of her failure.

       Molly Weasley had taken it upon herself to make sure she was okay every five minutes, insisting she needed to eat more and that she needed to sleep and heal. She had spent the better part of her day placing smiles and talking to people she had never met, most of them being the Weasley family, for that matter. She felt that way now, with Christmas the next day and her head buried in her hands.

        Winnie Bulstrode didn't feel like healing too much.

        Anytime she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, images of red eyes and Marcus Flint dead at his feet haunted her dreams. She always awoke when Cordelia Flint would show up, crying and telling her how much she hated her. She wouldn't try to sleep after that, always too afraid that her dreams would become true.

       She had found herself swimming in a series of nightmares and the flaring emotions swirling around her; her fingers flickered, and heat radiated from the apples of her cheeks. Winnie had been in the shower the night before, her hands clamped around a washcloth so tightly as she shivered with the buzzing of unresolved emotions; by the time she managed to swallow the lump of her feelings, there was a charred hole in the cloth.

        Her body ached as she climbed the stairs; each step was another wish for bruise paste. She had been yelled at by Molly Weasley on how stupid she was and how dangerous it was for her to do such a thing, and Winnie only sat down and stared at the bedsheets. Then Molly kissed her forehead and told her she was glad she was okay. She really didn't know what to do with that.

       Her feet hit the landing just as a black dog walked past her, causing her to grip the railing tighter as she watched it walk toward the front door. Only to sit with its nose facing it, pawing at it as if it wished to leave. As if trapped in its own personal hell, Winnie watched the dog circling the floor before laying down next to the door, head resting against its giant paws.

       "He does that," Ron's voice beside her caused her to jump, hitting her elbow against the railing as the redhead grimaced. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he apologized briskly as the female shook her head.