tw: injuries

PRANCER WAS IN A GOOD MOOD TODAY. He had slowly begun to shed more of his silver splotches, and there was a patch of hair near his head that was now a brilliant white, more bright than the freshest patch of snow in the wintertime.

It had been a month since Orion Black graced the halls of Hogwarts. They were now in March, and Malka no longer had to wear her boots and overcoat all the time. Warm air circled around the castle, and everyone seemed to be in brighter spirits except Regulus.

She'd been visiting him. It started every three or four days, but now it was every single day. Malka had a reason, though. She was still his Potions partner, and they had assignments and readings to complete outside the brewery. But, as Malka quietly reflected, many of her visits, many of their conversations, had gone far beyond the bland nature of schoolwork. She was never even seen heading up to the Hospital Wing, knowing her way around suits of armor and pillars everywhere she went. She didn't have the reputation of the school's quietest Gryffindor for nothing, anyway.

Prancer chirruped, a contrast to his normal happy grunts. Malka was getting better and better at handling unicorns by the day. Though she knew the moment Reg came back she'd be bested instantly, and Prancer would be smitten with Reg, not her. Malka grew sad at the thought of him. There had been one night when she was a child, and she still had been small enough to sit on her mother's knee.

"I came from a very evil family, Malka. Some of us were, kind, yes, but others were very cruel. Your great-grandfather, he was cruel. Because his father was before him, and his father before him,"

"And is grandfather cruel?" Malka had asked.

Melite Rowle paused and sighed. "No. No, my father was never cruel to me nor your uncle, even if your great-grandfather was cruel to him. And it was hard, you know. Your great-grandfather was the Head of the family, it was hard for my father to protect me and my brother. But no, my father was not cruel, and his kindness bore fruit,"

"What fruit, mama?"

"You, Malka Mei. He allowed me to run away and raise you, and you will be the best of us. Because oftentimes that's all it takes, just one person for us to live happily. So always be grateful, and never take it for granted,"

She knew about pureblood society, especially how families like the Malfoys and Blacks operated. And she felt sorry for Regulus, trapped as a spike on a wheel, spinning by the will of his ancestors.

Prancer nudged her again. "What is it, boy?" Malka asked. He let out a long whinny, rubbing his nose against her palm. Malka used one arm to hastily check her Unicorn Behavior notes, and her eyes rounded in surprise. They truly were magnificent creatures.

"I miss him too, Prancer," Malka murmured, eyes ghosting over the whinnying and motion patterns she'd jotted down the night before.

She did miss him. She missed his gentle gaze upon hers, the way his fingers rested delicately against whichever surface, the soothing words he would whisper to Prancer. And she missed his smile, the gift he had only bestowed upon one person she'd seen at Hogwarts: her. He had grown gaunt over the Holidays, but the magic of the castle seemed to work on him. Except now he was hollow again, stuck in the Hospital Wing with leg bones that would take another two weeks to heal. When would it end?

Malka shook her sad thoughts off, and passed Prancer a bunchful of knotgrass, spacing out as he chewed.

"BOO!" Professor Kettleburn yelled at her from behind.

"Um- Professor! Sorry, I didn't see you there," she said, heart racing.

"You should pay more attention, then, Miss Arslan," Kettleburn said jokingly, his glasses off-center. "I was meaning to ask; will Mister Black be whole and hale by the time you both need to present your research report about your unicorn to the class?"

"Oh. Er- I can ask him today,"

"Please do. I know he is staying on top of his coursework, but this is a major assignment," Kettleburn's wiry figure craned down at her like a candy cane. 

"Very well, sir," Malka dipped her head, giving Prancer a few pats and remembering to visit Reg right after class today.

-

Malka could sense he was feeling better even as she approached his drawn curtains. And as she opened them, she could see several bottles of Pepperup Potion and Numbing Potion by his bedside. She smiled softly.

"Good morning," Regulus said, looking up at her. He was still in pain by how his eyebrows pinched upwards and the inner corners of his eyes did the same. But he forced a small upturn of his lips as she sat down next to him with her own Care of Magical Creatures and Potions books.

"Good morning," Malka said, smiling with an easiness she had around everyone, before rubbing her lower lip with her left thumb instinctively. "I was just with Prancer,"

"Yes?" Reg asked. The lines in his face were heavy, and the farce he put on for her was blatantly obvious. "How is he?"

"Growing fast. How are you feeling today?" Malka asked, taking her mid-unit Unicorn Questionnaire out, partially filled in with the past week's notes about Prancer. 

"...As well as I can be," Reg murmured. "-Thanks for asking,"

"Of course," Malka said immediately, and she looked down at her lap. "Anyways- here's my notes for today,"

She showed him her papers, then twirled them around, picking up his copy of the same blank questionnaire (which lay at his side), and, without asking, began copying the information from packet to packet.

Reg cleared his throat slightly. "Did you read my mind just then?"

"No," Malka said honestly. "Anyone could see how you were still in pain. Besides, it is not a difficult task,"

"That's...kind of you," Reg admitted, slightly grudingly. "You are quite blunt, you know that?"

"Yes, I am sure you can imagine how Gryffindors may speak their mind. Though it does not take away from my ability to keep my mouth shut in some indelicate situations," Malka teased.

"Indeed, I suppose that is all the Legilimens intelligence,"

"Hmm, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to flatter me, Mister Black," Malka thumbed the edge of Regulus's eagle quill.

"Who said I wasn't?"

And Malka looked up sharply. Her heart quickened, but it died as both their eyes flickered and fell down.

"This...that, would cause us quite a spat, Mister Black," Malka whispered, as his quill scratched slowly against the parchment.

"You don't know that," he asked her, blue eyes wide with certainty.

"I-" Malka's eyes glanced over his weak form, almost shaking in exhausting pain. "You are in a hospital bed. I don't think we should be talking about this,"

"And when would we?" Reg muttered so quietly Malka heard most of the phrase in his mind. And she had no answer saved in all her brain, so she merely paused before continuing to write.

Something had indeed changed. Between the two. For better or worse, neither knew. But, as a wave turns into a tsunami, they knew this would culminate in something magnificent and terrible, before crashing down to meet its end. All they had to do was wait.