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The fact they barely escaped with their lives wasn’t lost on Parvarti. The fact she as inadequately qualified as a healer wasn’t lost on her either. Pressing her hand into the gapping hole in McLaggen’s side, she did her best to stifle the gushing blood.
She knew enough to know that a human wasn’t meant to be literally squirting blood out of their body. Things are definitely not going their way lately.
“It’s bad; isn’t it?” McLaggen’s words were slurred, it told her that he was losing more blood than was sustainable with life. Yet she did what she’d seen Madam Pompfrey do in these types of situations.
She lied.
“No. We just need to get the blood flow to stop.” The smile she plastered on her face wasn’t fooling anyone. Let alone her intended patient.
“Shit.” Parvarti did her best to lessen the blood flow with one hand as she dug in her bag with the other. When she came up empty-handed, she started tearing off his belt. His laugh was natural, but he was slowly becoming light-headed from the blood loss.
“Damn Parvarti, if you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do was ask.” It caused her to laugh, despite herself, as she looped his belt around his leg and tightened it as tight as she could manage. The cry McLaggen let out echoed through her ears. When the river of blood finally stopped, Parvarti sank back onto her shaking legs with a sigh. The copper blood staining her hands was taunting her.
“It worked?” Parvati nodded, wiping tears from her eyes as she glanced around the shack of a safe house they had taken shelter in.
“It’ll hold for now. Until we can get you to a proper healer.” Cormac pulled a face, as he blew out a puff of air.
“I’m going to lose the leg.” At his statement, Parvati looked up startled at his declaration.
“No you’re not.” Her voice as soft and soothing, but he shook his head. “We just have to get you to a healer.” Yet again, he shook his head, a sad smile on his face.
“You don’t understand. A tourniquet is a last resort. You’re supposed to apply pressure until you can get to a medi-witch. If you have to use a tourniquet, it’s simply to keep a person from bleeding out.” Parvarti’s face became one of comprehension as she took over his explanation.
“It cuts off the blood flow, slowly killing the limb.” McLaggen nodded as he attempted to sit up but Parvarti stopped him.
“Best to lay flat.” She said with a sad smile, as she glanced around the ramshackle shack they had taken shelter in. “I can’t believe this is what we’ve been reduced to. After everything.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh, as he pulled his canteen to his lips, carefully taking a sip of water.
“And to think I didn’t believe Harry when he said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back.” His tone was self-deprecating in a way Parvrti had never heard before. “All this, just for a supply run.” Parvati wiped a tear as she stood to take stock of their supplies.
It was one of the safe houses, but it looked like whoever was here last didn’t bother to restock. Or worse, hadn’t been able to. Washing her hands and applying a rough cleaning charm, she left the bathroom. Slowly, Parvarti made her way around the cabin, grabbing clean towels and setting a pot of hot water to boil on the stove. The fact they hadn’t had anything to eat in days wasn’t lost on her. The cabinets were poorly stocked, but there was enough for at least two days. It would allow Mccromic time to heal before she had to leave him alone.
Pushing further into the cabin, when she found an inadequately stocked library, Parvati knew this wasn’t one of Granger’s safe houses. She could tell which ones had been visited by Hermione by the sheer number of books she had left behind. Hermione never stayed in the safe houses long. Usually less than a day. Long enough to rest and tear through the library. Grabbing a book on healing that Parvati knew she needed, she left the library a little bit sadder than when she entered.
Any safe house Hermione visited was usually overstocked with supplies by the time she left.
Making her way back to Cormac, she shook her head at his questioning look.
“Granger hasn’t been here. I’m going to have to pop over to another safe house to get supplies.” She watched his face fall, but they both knew it had been unlikely that she had. Hermione never visited them in any type of pattern. Most figured it was to avoid detection.
Their safe houses were dwindling and half the Order were running on fumes and a prayer.
“Do you think she knows?” His voice was soft as he turned his head to look out the window. It was something they had asked themselves a hundred times before.
Did the last surviving member of the Golden Trio know she was the last?
Parvati focused in on the copper stained sheets that sat beneath him.
“I don’t know Cormic. I really don’t.”
Silently however, Parvarti prayed she didn’t. She’d seen Hermione Granger when she was upset. She’d seen Hermione Granger when she was angry.
“I don’t think we want to see what she’s like if she finds out Ron and Harry are dead.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it seemed she had lost her filter around Cormic. He locked eyes with Parvarti and gave her a tight smile.
“No, I really don’t think we do.”
Outside, the sun was beginning to break across the horizon. Another day in this hellish war of a madman’s creation. When the sun rose with a copper ring starring prominently back, Parvati knew that more than Cormic’s blood had been spilled that evening.
She just prayed it wasn’t their last surviving hope.