Ambivalent → Hermione Granger [3] ✔

I 13 I Recuperation

~*~

Softness was all he could feel beneath him. His head was spinning as his eyes faintly fluttered open. Bright light filtered into view, and Alexander groaned, raising a hand to his temple. It felt like being caught in a tempest of pain, each wave crashing against him with the force of a raging storm. It took a while for his eyes to become accustomed, and he noticed that he was in the Hospital Wing. He felt lethargic and depleted of energy, but perhaps not as weak as he'd felt previously, which was a welcome reprieve.

Alexander sat up, an audible grunt escaping his mouth, and suddenly, like a tidal wave, everything rushed back. The burning ropes, the bruising ache, the fear, the pounding heartbeat, the absolute terror, and the. . . oh, god. Bile rose to the back of his throat, and his hands trembled. The vivid blood, the tattered scraps of skin and flesh all mashed together like a grotesque tapestry woven from agony. The flashes of gory images haunted his mind and no matter how hard he blinked he wasn't able to erase them. He swallowed harshly, his mouth as dry as cotton buds.

"Oh, Mr Laurent, lay back down," said Madam Pomfrey, rushing towards him and pushing against his shoulders. "Do not strain yourself too hard."

"I'm fine," he protested, but even he could hear how throaty and rough his voice sounded. "Really, there's no need, it's nothing."

Madam Pomfrey scowled, dabbing against his temples. "Hush, you silly boy. Fine, indeed. A few minutes under the torture spell is not 'nothing', I'll have you know. I'm surprised you can even talk, Laurent. No, you still need rest."

"What, no! Madam Pomfrey, please, I don't need rest. Can't I go for meals or something?"

"Your meals will be brought to you here. As I said you still need plenty of rest so I can keep an eye on you. Ah, no - no more arguing, Laurent, mark my words. I've already had to deal with your persistent friends, who demand to see you."

"My friends want to see me?" Alexander blinked and felt his chest warm.

"Honestly, how they thought they could get past me, twice might I add, is something to be told. Years of catching students and they still try their luck." Madam Pomfrey harrumphed, shaking her head in disbelief as she plumped his pillows.

"Well, when can I be expected to leave?" he asked impatiently, his body full of restless nerves.

"Not for another week, I'm afraid. I still need to monitor you. Besides, the Headmaster and your grandfather are waiting to talk to you."

"Now?" Alexander groaned, gripping the white sheets and feeling a fresh ache in his bones at the thought of confronting his grandfather.

"Merlin's Beard, no!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "No, Laurent, I will let them know when you're ready. But for now, here, drink this."

A potion was shoved to his chest and, under her watchful, hawk gaze, Alexander had no choice but to swallow the thick liquid down. He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. It wasn't terrible per se - not like the dreadful Skele-Gro Harry had described to them last year - but it made him feel very tired with his eyes growing as heavy as bowling balls. He didn't even hear Madam Pomfrey's voice anymore as the darkness enveloped him in its arms.

Alexander didn't have to wait long at all. A day later, he sat up on the bed, already fed up with glimpsing the vacant beds around him and the surrounding white walls, and waited for his grandfather to come in. Madam Pomfrey still wouldn't permit him to have visitors despite how much he argued with her that he was seriously okay, that the worst of it had passed. It was like trying to reason with a stubborn mule. He'd be okay when she deemed it to be.