❛❜I hang around Thestrals because, unlike humans,
they don't treat me like I'm damaged.❛❜
°∘❉∘°
- in which, Gryffindor's golden boy
refuses to let go of his summer love story
but Ravenclaw's lucky charm
refuses to let him back in
°∘❉∘°
[...
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⭒ 𓅓 ⭒
The first thing Verity felt when she awoke was the pressure on her chest. She couldn't try to register her surroundings before her body surged forward, water exiting her mouth. It left her throat disgustingly raw. A silent tear rolled down her cheek as pain overpowered any other sensation. Verity continued to cough, forbidding the force on her chest from letting her heart recover.
Someone had rushed behind her, a hand going up and down her back. Voices blurred together as she tried to understand what was happening. Verity knew it was either Belle or Harry behind her, but she couldn't associate the voices with anyone. It sounded muffled as if she was still underwater—
Her eyes widened, vision suddenly cleared. The person behind her stopped rubbing her back, probably sensing the tension in her shoulders. Verity wasn't supposed to be here. Her mother wasn't with her. Why wasn't she? The waters had submerged her before she lost consciousness. Where was the woman Verity did everything to reunite with? Why did her head remain an unbearable mess of scars and torturous memories?
Fingers snapped before her eyes, slowly returning the girl from her daze. Madam Pomfrey's concerned face became more precise as another wave of nausea hit Verity. Leaning forward, she let more liquid exit her body. A bucket had been carefully placed beside the bed.
"I was afraid this might happen," Madam Pomfrey muttered. Sitting beside Verity, she gently grabbed her hand. "Can you tell me how you're feeling, Miss Hewitt?"
After a few seconds of catching her breath, Verity nodded. She cleared her throat. "Um, my chest feels heavy. It's like I-I can't breathe properly. A-and my head hurts."
Madam Pomfrey hummed, placing the back of her hand on Verity's forehead. She moved it once she ensured her temperature wasn't alarmingly high. There was sympathy on her face. Even if the woman meant well, Verity hated it.
"It is to be expected post-drowning," Madam Pomfrey reassured. "Now, can you recollect what happened to you? If not, do not panic. As I said, it is to be expected."
Yes, Verity could. She could tell Madam Pomfrey that the water was colder than she thought. She could tell her about the weightless sensation she got when her body fell underneath the surface. She could tell her about the vision of her mother's comforting blue eyes staring worriedly down at her. Verity could inform Madam Pomfrey about the Thestrals who came to see the demise they had envisioned. She could tell the woman that her attempt had failed, and it angered her.
But it wasn't those words that left Verity's mouth. Instead, she invented a lie that would save her more pitiful looks and a potential diagnosis called suicidal envy. They would believe she had been searching for her wand after losing it. They would think the grass was slippery due to the storm and that it was an accident. Sweet Verity never meant to drown. She only wanted to get her wand for Charms class.
