chapter twenty

                                    

                                          
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Light beamed in through a small, white window onto a clean bed. Inside the cozy, rustic bedroom was a pale girl who looked terribly shriveled and beaten down. Her chest fell and rose slowly. Her shallow breathing could be heard quite distinctly as it caught every so often. She was tucked tightly into the bed, but her arms lay on top of the lilac blankets that covered her. One glance at her right arm was enough to send someone rushing to a safe place to vomit. Dried blood, though her arm had clearly been wiped rigorously, surrounded deep slashes that traveled down the girl's arm. Luckily, the scars had been wrapped in gauze, making the sight of this girl less ghastly. Bruising outlined the gashes, and they also surrounded her chest and lower neck, though those injuries were also hidden. There were other injuries that no one would see, even if they lifted the blankets. Inside, the girl had endured massive internal bleeding, leaving her in critical condition for many days.
Clara's eyes opened slowly, as if she was waking from a small nap. The realization she experienced wasn't quite so peaceful. Her heart throbbed as she looked to her left, analyzing everything around her. Was she dead? Was this heaven? No... surely if she was dead she wouldn't be able to feel the stinging sensation in her arm or sense the disorganization of her stomach. This place looked very familiar to her. She looked to her right, near the only window and her tension eased significantly. 
Under the window was a plush velvet chair holding a sleeping Harry Potter. Clara sat up slowly; her body felt like bricks. Nevertheless, she pushed on. Now that she knew she wasn't being held captive somewhere, she needed some water. She pushed the blankets off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. They dangled above the floor looking like pale pretzel sticks. Her blue veins popped out easily against her skin and it made Clara want to cry. She slid forward on the cushion, leaning forward and reaching her arms out to lean on to the wall as she slowly rose to her feet. Her head was bent downwards, and she watched her feet lift shakily as she turned towards the door of the room.
"Woah, woah, woah," said Harry. Clara flicked her head upwards. The speed of the action made her dizzy. He walked up towards her and grabbed hold of one of her arms. "You should not be walking."
"I'm fine, Harry, see?" said Clara, lifting her arms away from both Harry and the wall and letting herself stand completely by herself. She swayed forward, her head rushing with blood. Harry grabbed hold of her upper body as Clara steadied herself again. "Woah."
"Yeah, woah." said Harry. He let go of her with one arm, bent down, and swopped her legs upwards. "You need to rest." Clara, still woozy, simply nodded against his chest and rested as Harry climbed into the bed and set her down. Clara let herself fall against Harry's body and wrapped her arms tighter around him. 
"I should go, you need to sleep."
"No, please." said Clara, holding him back as Harry tried to get up. He stayed where he was and pulled the blanket up over them. "What happened? I think I remember but... there's things missing."
Harry stayed silent and looked away from Clara. 
"Tell me. Please."
Harry swallowed and looked down at Clara. "You uh," he began, before letting out a heavy sigh, "you were hurt really bad. We disapparated with Dobby here. We're at Shell Cottage."
"Dobby's here?" asked Clara with a small smile. Harry moved his eyes from hers again.
"No." said Harry, "He didn't make it. Bellatrix threw a knife at us, it hit him as we were leaving. We buried him up on a nearby hill. I'll- I'll take you when you're stronger."