The Healer | Part 3: The Survivors

The Truth

George

By Friday, I had gone completely mad.

It was torture knowing she was so close and I wasn't with her.

My notebook was permanently attached to my hip and the slightest motion had me whipping it out to see if she'd written.

She hadn't.

I'd even gone to St Mungo's to wait outside for her to leave in the evenings but I hadn't been lucky so far. I had a good feeling about tonight though. I didn't care anymore. I would wait until morning, I wasn't leaving until I saw her again and at least tried to explain myself.

It was after five o'clock, I wasn't sure if her lessons ended every day at five, but she must have got out earlier that day. I didn't care if I looked suspicious standing on the walkway. I suppose I could have brought a Camouflage Cloak with me, but I wanted her to see me.

It had taken the last couple of days to sort out everything with the house. All that was left to do was sign the paperwork. But I wanted her to see it first. I wanted to sort out this fight and then start making decisions together. She was the one, and I knew she knew it, too. If she wouldn't have me, I'd just go it alone. But I really didn't want to.

Ron and Harry had decided to take the flat. They insisted on paying though and we eventually came to an agreement on rent. I was just relieved the space wouldn't be empty anymore. I hoped they would make some good memories there.

I started pacing. There was no one around, but it didn't matter. The slightest noise had me whipping around to see if it was her. So far, I'd only frightened an older wizard emerging from the hospital and a manky-looking cat.

When I heard what I thought was footsteps for the third time, my hopes were not very high. But my heart jumped into my throat when I heard the voice I'd been longing to hear for the last four days.

'George?'

I wheeled around and almost sighed out loud in relief. It took everything I had not to march straight up to her, wrap my arms tightly around her.

'Are you okay? Are you hurt?' She asked, looking suddenly very concerned.

She thought I was ill. As if that was my reason for being outside the hospital. At least she hadn't run away.

'I was looking for you, silly girl,' I replied without thinking. I hadn't called her a silly girl in so long, but it had slipped out so naturally.

'You could have sent me a message,' she told me, apparently unfazed by my use of her old pet name.

'I wanted to talk to you in person,' I said. I was still drinking in her appearance, even wearing old exercise clothes and trainers with her hair in a messy knot, she was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

Wait, exercise clothes? From both chasing after her in school and living with her while she'd struggled with eating, I knew her energy levels would be low anyway. What on earth was she doing exercising? Was she trying to kill herself?

'What on earth are you doing?' I asked her, suddenly quite concerned myself.

'Running,' she answered with a shrug.

'What? Why?' I asked her, perhaps a little more sharply than I meant to.

'Because it's good exercise,' she replied. 'What did you want to talk to me about?'

I decided not to push it for the moment. We would talk about it later. That is, if there was a later.

'Look, Edith,' I took a deep breath and looked her right in the eyes. 'I owe you an explanation.'