Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Deathly Hallows Pt 31

The abrupt return to consciousness feels like a tumultuous whirlwind, a sudden force pulling me from the depths of unconsciousness. I gasp for air, my senses flooded with a piercing pain that courses through my entire being. As my vision clears, the familiar surroundings of the hospital wing come into focus.

Madam Pomfrey stands by my side, a potion in one hand, her wand in the other, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Oh, thank Merlin, you're awake," she exhales, her worry evident in her eyes.

I groan in response, the pain still lingering as a harsh reminder of recent events. Struggling to find my voice, I manage to ask, "How long was I out?"

Madam Pomfrey's features soften, "A couple of hours. You gave us quite a scare. I thought I almost lost you there."

I glance down, noticing the bandages and potions that adorn my body. My leg, previously a canvas of cuts and bruises, now appears on the mend. A wave of relief washes over me, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "What injuries do I have?" I inquire, my voice revealing a hint of apprehension.

Madam Pomfrey proceeds to give me a detailed account of my injuries. "You have a concussion, a broken nose, a broken leg, a couple of broken ribs, and some damage to your heart," she explains. Before panic can fully set in, she adds, "But don't worry. Your leg is almost healed, and the damage to your heart is already on the mend. You should be completely healed in about a month."

I exhale, a mixture of gratitude and relief flooding my senses. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," I express, recognizing the gravity of her efforts. The pain I felt moments ago lingers, but I do my best to ignore it.

The hospital wing showcases an abundance of sorrow, with cots occupied by the wounded and families huddled around their loved ones. The air is heavy with the weight of grief, and the sounds of muffled sobs and cries create an atmosphere of heartbreak.

In the corner of the room, my gaze catches sight of the Weasleys, their figures forming a circle around one particular cot. A surge of both hope and fear tightens my chest as I instinctively push myself out of bed, disregarding the pain that protests against my movements. Panic threatens to claw its way into my mind; the mere thought of losing a Weasley is unbearable.

Ignoring the concerned voices urging me to return to bed, I press forward, clutching my hand on my heart, my eyes fixed on the cot. Faces turn towards me, expressions morphing from surprise to concern. But all that matters is the figure lying on the cot – Fred. His eyes meet mine, and a smile lights up his face. A rush of relief brings tears to my eyes as I look down at Fred, seeing a big gash on his face.

"You scared me, you know," I admit with a watery smile. Fred, always one for humor, chuckles weakly in response. My legs start to shake which causes George to be by my side in an instant, offering support to stabilize me. Despite the pain, there's a warmth that floods my heart – they're here, alive and well. I lean on my strong side and wrap my arm around George.

Fred's voice, though weak, carries a hint of mischief. "Well, can't let a bit of chaos keep us away for long, can we?"

I manage a small laugh through my tears. "I should've known you two would find a way to keep things lively."

George joins in, his own brand of humor intact. "Couldn't resist stealing the spotlight, could we, Fred?"

"I think I earned it this time," Fred retorts, and the banter between the twins, even in this somber setting, feels like a balm to our wounded spirits.

Despite the persistent pain, I turn to George, overwhelmed with emotion. "Thank Merlin, you're both okay," I murmur, pulling George into a heartfelt hug. The hospital wing, draped in sorrow, becomes a haven for reunions and shared relief. Dialogues flow amidst tears and laughter, weaving a thread of hope in the aftermath of the battle.