The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)

Forty-Eight

Day: 1570; Hour: 7

She tried to sneak to find his room twice, and she was easily caught by the patrolling guards and busy Healers. They make her wait until morning and she hardly sleeps. She can't help thinking of that moment at the gazebo. His voice, over and over in her head. Her confession, that ache. She also knows he's going to be angry, but he might forgive her.

She glances at his chart and sees her name, then Lupin, written under the Visitor section. He either isn't angry enough to keep her away, or he's angry enough to get revenge as soon as possible. She walks down the hall to the ninth door, takes a deep breath, and pushes it open. She immediately finds his eyes over a tray of hospital-issued breakfast. Ba-dump, ba-dump, her heart matches the quickening pace of blinking light that signals his heartbeat.

She can't fully inspect him, the pajamas covering everything except his hands and from the neck up. His head is wrapped, and she remembers him doing the same thing with his Phoenix band when she found him. The room reeks of potions, a dark bruise on his neck right below the mark she left with her mouth beneath his ear. There are several scratches over his jaw as if he fell, and a square of gauze peeks out from beneath the collar of the gown. His hands are bruised and scratched, but his fingers are curling into fists just fine. And his eyes are open. Open, on her, alert, alive.

She feels the swelling of a lot of things at her gut, but there's pride there too. Just a little bit. Because she saved him this time, and no matter how he feels about it, it was worth it for the push and pull of his breaths across the room.

She clasps her hands behind her back, grinding a heel against the floor. She wants to move closer, but her heart kept building with each step, and one more might collapse it into her ribs. She takes a moment to sink into the sight of him, and she thinks he's taking it too because he just keeps staring. He hadn't thought he would have the chance again. She knew that the second her feet landed on grass with her heart somewhere behind her. He didn't think he'd have to face this moment, and she knows the first thing he's going to grab is his anger, because it's easier and he knows what to do with it. They both do.

"When I get out of this bed, I'm going to kill you," he whispers, voice cracking.

"If my wand isn't fixed, you might have a chance."

She would be more cautious of his anger, but there's an empty potion bottle next to the tray, and he's always calmer whenever he gives in to taking one. She's glad to see it. She'll take the luck of timing with relief when she can get it, and she knows all the emotions in the room are enough for an explosion if he was on fire with her and not foggy on medication.

"You should start running now, before they put me in Azkaban for it."

"I can always outrun you later."

"You run like you're wading through mud." He inhales, something cracking in his chest. "I am going to make you regret that stunt you pulled."

"I'm not going to regret it, no matter what you do. I'm glad I got you out of there. I would do it all over again."

"You know, when someone is angry at another person, it is usually best for the wrong-doer to condole with the angry person -- not piss them off more."

"Well, I've always lived by a different set of rules."

He snorts, or laughs, she can't tell. "You're an impossible woman, do you know that?"

"Yes."

He focuses back onto her again, his voice edging out. "You had no right to pull that shit on me. I should curse you for your audacity. I don't know where you got the idea in your head that you can include me in your personal missions of playing the heroine, Granger, but I'm not Potter or Weasley. I won't lie here and thank you for fucking me over."