CHAPTER SEVEN
the ballad of broken bones

𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, COVE IS once again sat twiddling her thumbs in front of an extremely stressed Madam Pomfrey. An influx of students have flocked to the Hospital Wing with back to school bugs, meaning that the healer has a very busy schedule of handing out cold-curing potions. So, here sits Cove, waiting.

Grey skies float by outside as she hangs about patiently, reminding her of the rainy summer by the seashore she lived through. It was only a few weeks ago, she supposes, yet nostalgia bows against her heartstrings as if they're a violin's. She can almost smell the lingering saltwater in her hair, taste the fresh seaweed on her tongue. Homesickness has always been a weakness of hers but it's hitting like a bullet train the more she stays on dry land. Cove's two worlds are slowly tearing her in half: a schism in her soul.

  She nearly flies ten feet into the air when Madam Pomfrey grazes her bad arm, pulse racing from the shock. A furious blush colours her cheeks when she recovers.

  Madam Pomfrey doesn't seem to notice and tuts at her. "Merlin knows how you managed to loosen the bandages on the first night. That's definitely a record."

  Cove studies her. "Why, do you get many selkie patients?" she asks curiously.

   "You'd be surprised," she hums.

  Cove raises an eyebrow. She purses her lips, kicking her feet back and forth as her arm is taken care of. Cove wouldn't consider herself squeamish, per se, but in her defence it's far easier to get through the searing pain when she's not staring at her wounds. She knows the webbing's long gone, though there's still some nasty bruising around the skin that was battered by her metamorphic bones. A cold healing salve is smoothed over the scattered patches of irritation and she knows it's safe to look. The salve begins to sting.

  "Are they anyone I'd know?"

  "I doubt it," Pomfrey says. "The last one I knew of graduated years before your time. Lovely boy from Elgin, mind you."

Cove has to hand it to Madam Pomfrey — she doesn't know anyone from Elgin, but it still feels as if there's something she's not being told. Then again, what is there to hide?

  "Goodness, that is some very stubborn scarring, pet. I'm afraid that I can't do much to heal them. It appears that your claws were too strong and the wounds aren't fresh enough for magic to fix them."

  She falters, peering at her hands tentatively. "Oh, that's alright," Cove says sincerely. "I can live with a few scratches. Thank you for all your help, Madam Pomfrey."

  "Have a good day, love."

  "You too! I'll be back before you know it."

  Madam Pomfrey sends her a bizarre look. "Hopefully not."

  She just laughs.

When she's on her way out, her gaze snags on the boy sat on the neighbouring hospital bed through a crack in the curtain. Their eyes meet with the force of tidal waves crashing against one another in the open sea. He looks away just as quickly, picking nervously at his cuticles as the cogs turn in her head. Cove decides that since he's already spotted her and there's no excuse not to talk to him, she should go over and say hello. Just to be polite. ( Fallon and Mary's teasing definitely got to her. ) Perhaps it's the painkillers getting to her head but she's in a particularly good mood, the sort of one where she has the overwhelming feeling to make friends. She doesn't get that often.

"Hello, Remus."

  She already regrets going over.

His eyes widen. "Hiya, Cove."

It looks as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, wringing his hands and toying with the thread bracelet encircling his wrist, twisting the single tiger's eye bead in wobbly circles. She's positive that his friends all have matching ones. He's wearing a pyjama top with a band she doesn't recognise on it, mousy hair in a tizzy from the way he's been sleeping. The infamous eyebrow piercing has been discarded on the bedside table, but what really strikes her are the new scars adorning his skin, tearing through his golden freckles like a riptide. Bandages wrap around the more severe ones on his arms and plasters with daft slogans cover up the smaller ones that slice over his hands.

"I— oh, Rán's net, are you alright?" she gestures vaguely at the pink gash healing on the bridge of her nose. He winces at the question and guilt washes over her. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping. You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel comfortable."

  "No, um, that's okay. I—" He clears his throat, finger tracing a scar on his hand. "I have bad eczema, s'all."

Cove blinks slowly. "That's rubbish," she sympathises. She's not exactly sure how to reply to that. "...Get well soon?"

"Thanks. What about you?" he asks. "How did you end up here, I mean."

"Me?" she squeaks. "Well, I sort of broke my arm. A bit."

  "Only a bit?"

  "Only a bit," she confirms.

  He smiles warmly. It's one of those smiles that you could just drown in. "That's fine then."

Cove rocks on the balls of her feet, spinning her rings to give her hands something to do. "What's the deal with your top?" she asks.

  Remus looks down in surprise, eyebrows furrowed. "Forgot about that. Er, it's a muggle band called The Who. I like some of their songs and that."

  Well, she wouldn't really know. Even if she is a half-blood, in a sense.

  "You'll have to show me their music at some point," she says innocently. She realises too late that it sounds as if she's implying something and her face burns, which he seems to find extremely amusing.

Luckily, she's saved when Madam Pomfrey bustles in with a tray of potions. "Remus! Sorry for the wait—" she stops dead in her tracks when she spots Cove. "Hello, dear. I thought you'd gone away to get your lunch?"

"Yeah," she says, gesturing to the door over her shoulder. "I was just on my way."

  Cove can tell when she's not wanted, so she starts heading towards the exit with all the grace of an elephant seal chasing its own tail. Her friends are going to take the absolute piss out of her when she tells them about this.

"Cove, wait!"

She pauses with her hand hovering over the door handle, waiting for him to continue.

  "Rán's net?"

  Cove turns back to him, puzzled. "Sorry?"

  "You said it earlier. What did you mean?"

  She blanches. "Oh! That. Um, she's a sea goddess that collects the drowned in her net. It's a saying we have in my family."

  Madam Pomfrey shoots her a look that plainly says, shut up!

  His eyes narrow slightly, a vague smile pulling at his mouth.  "Right."

  Cove grins in return, letting the door drift to a close behind her.

author's note!

short one but human contact was made ‼️

the marauders have friendship bracelets bc i said so 🤨

cove and remus are both bad liars on THIN ice and i wouldn't have it any other way