Heart's Gambit - Fred Weasley

Y6 Chapter 5: Fluxweed and heartbeats

As I slowly regained consciousness, the dull ache in my wrist and ribs served as a painful reminder of what had transpired on the Quidditch field. Blinking groggily, I found myself in the familiar surroundings of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, surrounded by the concerned faces of Angelina, Fred, and George.

"Mmm... how long?" I mumbled, my voice raspy from disuse and exhaustion.

Angelina, who was sitting closest to me, leaned in with a sympathetic expression. "You've been out for about a day," she replied softly, her voice filled with concern.

Before I could respond, Madam Pomfrey bustled over, her no-nonsense demeanor softened by a hint of maternal concern. "Ah, you're awake," she said briskly, her tone tinged with relief. "You've had quite the tumble, my dear."

I nodded weakly, wincing as I shifted my position on the bed. Madam Pomfrey's gaze softened as she examined me, her sharp eyes taking in the extent of my injuries.

"It seems you've broken your wrist and several ribs," she informed me, her voice gentle but firm. "But not to worry, we'll have you back on your feet in no time."

With that, she produced a small vial of Skele-Gro, a potion notorious for its foul taste but potent healing properties. I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the sight of it, but knew that I had no choice but to drink it if I wanted to mend my broken bones.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and downed the potion in one gulp, shuddering at the bitter taste that coated my throat. As the Skele-Gro began to take effect, I felt a gradual easing of the pain that had gripped my body, like a heavy weight being lifted from my chest. Though the agony hadn't completely vanished, I could already sense a marked improvement in my ability to move, the sharp twinges of discomfort dulling to a slightly more manageable ache.

With cautious movements, I flexed my fingers, testing the mobility of my injured wrist. Though still tender and sore, I was relieved to find that the range of motion was no longer hindered by the sharp stabbing pain that had plagued me before.

Similarly, as I shifted slightly in my bed, I noted with relief that the ache in my ribs had lessened, allowing me to breathe a little easier without the sharp jabs of pain that had accompanied each breath.

As Madam Pomfrey finished administering my treatment, I couldn't help but feel a surge of impatience and frustration. The desire to return to the Quidditch pitch burned within me, overshadowing any concerns about my injuries. Without hesitation, I turned to her and posed my question.

"Madam Pomfrey, when do you think I'll be able to get back on the Quidditch pitch?" I asked, my tone tinged with eagerness.

Her response was swift and firm, her expression leaving no room for argument. "My dear, I'm not responsible for what you do," she began, her voice carrying a note of admonishment. "But until that wrist and those ribs are further healed, you'll be staying right here in the Hospital Wing, resting and recuperating."

Her words landed with a weighty finality, extinguishing any hopes I had of returning to the sport I loved in the immediate future. Though I understood the importance of allowing my body time to heal, the thought of being sidelined indefinitely filled me with a sense of restlessness and frustration.

As I became aware of the presence of Fred, George, and Angelina gathered around my bed, their concerned expressions fixed upon me, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over me. Though I appreciated their support and concern, I couldn't shake the sense of responsibility that weighed heavily upon my shoulders.

"What's up?" I asked, forcing a weak smile in an attempt to mask my inner turmoil.

Fred's apology came swift and sincere, his remorse evident in the furrow of his brow and the contrition in his voice. "I'm sorry, Annabel," he began, his words tinged with regret.