SEA, SWALLOW ME, remus lupin

sia, night swimming

CHAPTER SIX
night swimming

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THE FIRST THING COVE DOES WHEN she gets back into the castle is go directly to the Hospital Wing.

  Trepidation broils in her stomach. She's only been once before and it was back in fourth year to visit one of her dorm mates, Jodie Fawley, after she took a nasty fall in a Quidditch match. It still smells strongly of potions and muggle chemicals, cabinets full of mysterious glass bottles lining the walls. The linoleum floors give her sore eyes, but she's unsure whether it's a side effect from her condition or just poor interior design. It's fairly deserted inside, a smattering of beds occupied by patients that are suffering a peculiar range of maladies. Cove just hopes she isn't being too disruptive.

  She heads straight for Madam Pomfrey's office, the sound of her shoes on the floor colliding with the loud silence. Her less injured hand knocks on the oaken door, making her wince at the lightning bolts of pain that shoot up her arm. By the time she's been called inside, it occurs to her that she actually has no clue what her excuse will be. Cove decides that lying won't do her any good against a medical professional and rules it out, so she settles on telling her everything.

  Finding the right words to explain her situation to Madam Pomfrey proves to be the trickiest part. She can't find the easiest way to soften the blow, so she has to put it bluntly and hope that it isn't so shocking that she's refused help. Her explanation is a bit muddled up, the details are knotted in areas that don't make sense, though it looks as though she got the point across. She's managing to confuse herself the more she elaborates so she just stops and waits for a reaction.

  Madam Pomfrey sits behind her desk quietly, cradling a cup of tea in her hands. Neither of them say anything for a good few minutes as she processes the news. Thankfully, it looks like this isn't the most distressing news she's ever received.

She smiles hesitantly. "Go and find a free bed to wait on. I'll be with you in two shakes of a lamb's tail, dear."

Cove obliges. There's one next to the window, made up so neatly that she feels guilty making creases in the sheets. It takes her embarrassingly long to sit down when she's trying to be mindful of her injuries. Her satchel lands carelessly by her feet. Scratch marks from her newfound claws trace up to her shoulders like fresh tattoos, weeping ichor onto the pristine white bed beneath her. She winces at the crimson stains, hoping that the house elves wouldn't have to go through too much trouble getting them clean again.

  Boredom leeching her brain, she begins to stare at her arms pensively. She notices that her right hand is worsening much faster than her left, the scratches on her dominant arm already closing up. The hairs on her forearms are thickening as well, almost trying to replicate the sealskin hidden away in her bag. It makes her anxiety grow ten times bigger.

  Luckily, Madam Pomfrey appears and closes the curtains around them securely. "Alright," she says quietly. "Let me have a look."

  Featherlight touches coast over her flesh, over her bones that are trying to melt into a different anatomy altogether. With a wave of her wand, the cuts are all healed over — leaving a few white scars raised here and there. She tuts at the state of her, clasping onto her hand to gauge the tiny claws her fingernails are sharpening into. Cove's rings are soon discarded on a dish to try and free the webs conjoining her fingers. Her eyes catch the encrusting of blood on the silver, throat constricting tensely.