It's Better If You Do

A small smile curled up the corners of Rose's mouth, temporarily distracted as she was from the seriousness of the situtation. Clucking lightly to the owl, Rose gladly stroked his feathers once he landed on her shoulder, nipping at her hair affectionately. He was enormous and looked slightly out of place on the small blonde's shoulder. She smiled and murmured to the owl, "Et comment êtes-vous, D'Artagnan? Avez-vous fait bon voyage?*"

He hooted loudly in response and she chuckled lightly, before noticing the amused looks the twins were giving her. Bellamy was used to her sister corresponding with animals this way, and was reading the letter for herself. In a louder voice and in english, she said to the owl, "These are our friends, D'Artagnan. Fred and George. Go say hello."

Flying immediately to Fred's shoulder, D'Artagnan hooted quietly and looked at him with a rather austere expression for an owl. Bemused, Fred gently stroked his feathers and said, "Hello there. You're quite smart, aren't you?" And if Fred had not known better, he could have sworn that bloody owl nodded back at him. He looked up at Rose, who was smirking slightly. "This isn't a normal owl, is it?"

"Not really, no," Bellamy answered suddenly, looking up from the letter and at the bird with an uncommonly affectionate expression, "He's our family owl, and been in the family for almost eight years. Not once has he mislead a letter, or been lost."

Rose smiled widely at Fred, who was petting the owl with a respectful air. The owl hooted politely to George who grinned and hooted back. "He was always a comfort to see at Beauxbatons." Fred chuckled darkly and the brothers shared a look of mirth.

"Our family owl, Errol, has almost had it." Fred explained to the two confused looking sisters. Rose's face immediately saddened and her lips pouted out a bit. He didn't seem to notice, and continued with a smirk. "He's always hitting windows, and when he's on long trips it takes him three times as long to recover. It's a bit fun to poke fun at him, because he never really understands; he thinks it's all a jo-," but George elbowed him to stop once he saw the dark look on Rose's face. Seething, her eyes were sparkling with anger and her jaw was clenched.

"You shouldn't poke fun at him at all! If he's old, he needs to rest. Mon dieu, pourquoi ne pas les gens à réaliser que les animaux méritent d'être mieux traités? C'est ridicule!**" she spat, clicking her tongue impatiently for the owl, who, in realizing his master's anger, sunk his talons deep into Fred's shoulder before flying away, envoking a loud cry from him. D'Artagnan landed haughtily on the shocked shoulder of Rose.

"Oh, Fred! I'm so sorry! Aller à Bellamy***!" she said urgently to the owl, who left her immediately while she rushed over to Fred, whose anger had vanished immediately. Deep red was seeping through his ripped shirt and vest, and though it didn't look too terribly serious, Rose took it to heart and blamed herself. "Fred, I'm so sorry," she repeated sorrowfully.

"It's alright, Rosie. I've definitely had worse," he said bravely, while George snickered to himself and Bellamy watched solemnly, though a secret pride filled her at the owl's loyalty. She soothed him softly as Rose bit the inside of her cheek.

"You're going to need to take off your shirt and vest, Fred. I need to see the wound before I decide how to fix it," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze. The smirk on George's face grew and he elbowed Fred once more, who shot him a withering look.

"That's fine, Rosie. I'm not modest," he said with a shrug, but winced instantaneously at the movement of his shoulder. Carefully he began to pull off the same pin striped vest as George, but vibrantly orange, and his light blue shirt revealing a toned, pale chest, and eventually the gashes came into view and she let out a low hum of sympathy. Six deep cuts were spaced out evenly, and as she inspected his back, she found two cuts there, too. She had forgotten how they placed their outer toes behind them when they perched.

Without turning, she asked Bellamy quietly, "Is that dittany ready to crush yet? I'm afraid to try and heal these on my own. I can, but if something were to go wrong, he would probably be worse off than if I simply left it alone."

Bellamy hesitated, looking a bit wary. "It may be a bit too soon to try and make it yet," but when she saw the look Rose sent her, she quickly said, "But I'll go see."

The blonde turned her glare to George, whose eyes widened in alarm. "Is there anything you are going to do to help? Or are you just going to stand there and laugh like those giggling twits I saved you from earlier?"

"I'll go with Bellamy!" he declared, much to the dismay of the girl in question. Bellamy sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, walking up the stairs slowly, as not to unsettle D'Artagnan and George followed, but at a healthy distance from the bird who watched him with reproachful, wide orange eyes.

"Thank you," she replied ruefully, moving across the room and grabbing a small wash cloth, and holding it over the cauldron, she poured boiling water out of her wand ontop of it. As she walked back to Fred, he eyed the steaming fabric, slightly panicked. She gave him a soft smile and said, "It'll only sting a little. We need to disinfect this straight-away. D'Artagnan has all sorts of germs on his talons, and we don't want your cuts to get infected."

"Of course not," he said, a sour edge to his tone. Fred gave the bird on Bellamy's shoulder a nasty look, who in turn swiveled his head to glare at him in return just before they dissapeared into the flat. Ducking her head to hide her smile, Rose pressed the cloth to his wounds earning a loud hiss of pain from the injured boy. Determined for him not to feel it as much, she kissed him swiftly and felt him smile against her lips. Once they broke apart, he raised and eyebrow and said in a low voice, "Maybe I should get hurt more often."

A wry smile turned up her lips and she pressed the cloth harder and he grimaced. "You sure about that?" He shook his head, causing her to laugh softly. "I thought so. And you're lucky. Owls' feet have five times the crushing power of the average man. He only barely applied pressure."

"Lucky me," the ginger boy said sarcastically, rolling his brown eyes. Shaking her head she pressed her lips softly to the cuts, looking up at him sadly.

"I'm sorry. If I hadn't overreacted, he wouldn't have hurt you." she whispered, a frown turning down the corners of her mouth. Fred lightly touched her face and went to shrug, but thought better of it.

"Like I said, I've had worse." he said with a large grin.