[Needless to say, Quinn Fabray had never felt more awful in her life. She was always used to putting things into order, not causing them to fall apart so today was a new one in her book. As she hurried up the stairs, having taken the wrong set twice already, Quinn wore an ever present frown that was foreign to all of her classmates that watched her rush past. It was strange because Quinn was usually smiling, broad and shining, but today she was more concerned than anything and all because of one boy. How was she supposed to know that simply smiling in the direction of a handsome Gryffindor would cause a full on riot? Much less that it would lead to the injury on her behalf. Of course, she had always known that the power of a veela was strong but perhaps she had slightly underestimated the amount of pull she had.
Regardless, as Quinn had watched Sam fall from his broom, she was immediately attacked by panic and worry at his safety. It wasn’t something easily explained because she shouldn’t feel so much worry for someone she barely knew but Quinn couldn’t question what her heart was telling her to do. Because of that, the blonde had spent that last hours fiddling around the hospital wing, her eyes always flickering to the boy resting peacefully in his bed. Whether he needed her help or not, Quinn was going to be right at his bedside to make up for her mistake. It was the least she could do, really. After a few hours though, Quinn had felt she had more to do and had gone to the kitchens to pick up food to bring up as an offering. Her mother had always told her it was the polite thing to do. As she ended up back on the hospital wing floor, she came across Madame Pomfrey who eyed the amount of sustenance with a confused gaze, while Quinn proceeded to leave it all on the table by his bed.]
It’s for when he wakes up. I want to make up for what happened, if that’s okay. [Madame Pomfrey simply smiled and nodded, telling Quinn she was welcoming to stay and nurse the wounded boy. Quinn offered a polite smile in return and went over to Sam’s bed, sitting down on a small sliver of mattress next to his legs. For a moment, she could only watch him. Her eyes fell over the gentle fluttering of eyelids as he dreamed, his strong jaw, handsome face, the scars just across that face. To her, he was more of an anomaly than anything. She had heard of him and his behavior, seen the way he lived with such a carefree quality, and Quinn was intrigued, maybe more than a little. As she thought to herself, one of her hands fell over his and a new sort of smile came across her features, one so perfectly serene and yet dreamy, one that no one had ever seen on her before.]
[ Resting almost as still as the dead, Sam lay on one of the hospital beds lining the long hall. He was quite oblivious to the world around him, still under a deep haze from the medical herbs and skelegrow in his system. The only movements coming from his sleeping form was the gentle flutter of his eyes beneath his lids as he dreamed and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. His eyelashes twitched against his cheeks as the scene replayed itself over and over, the outcome of the Quidditch game far different than he even realized. In his mind he and the lions triumphed over the badgers and that glittering grin was now right before him instead of several yards away, and slowing puckering as he leant in close to steal the victory kiss from the blonde Ravenclaw. Every boy probably had the same dream, but Sam thought it his reality. He won the game and now Quinn Fabray, the gorgeous French transfer, was kissing him into a stupor - fingers tangling in his soft bleach-blonde mop and rose bud lips grinning against his plump mouth. He could actually smell her in his dream, so vividly, that his fingers twitched a little over the cotton sheets.
In reality, Sam lay still and bruised and battered on a hospital wing bed; gauze wrapped tightly over his forehead to conceal the bruise and bump received from the Beater's club that whacked him off his broom, and even more of the herb-dipped strips wrapped over his bare torso where more injuries were sustained from his violent fall. Sam hasn't actually won the match or the kisses from his dreams; he won a dazzling grin and a whack over the head before plummeting to the ground. Tons of bones broken, internal bleeding, and a really bad bump on the head-slash-migraine later and it was somewhat a miracle the boy was in one piece. But magic was a miraculous sort of thing so there was little surprise it had taken so little to cure up the broken bones and seriously bruised skin. For now he just needed rest. And Madame Pomfrey wasn't the only one looking to make sure this happened. As the girl moved about the room, Sam's subconscious could only follow, the curious and wild animal in him making note of her movements while the teenage boy part of him continued dreaming.
Just as Quinn's tongue pried open Sam's lips in his dream, he felt something strange and rather "off". The young man's attention slowly drifted away from the tantalizing movements of the veela's lips against his own and towards a whole other feeling. All at once the windy pitch with screaming fans vanished and the weight of Quinn's slender body against his muscular form was gone, and the sensation of what he hoped his first 'real' kiss disappeared as Sam slowly came to. The first thing he felt was cloth and a firm mattress beneath him. The next, a gentle weight over his hand. And last - searing hot, throbbing pain. It was several minutes before his body caught up with his conscious mind, but even then he was still slow. An almost inaudible groan slipped through him, and his body shifted by barely a millimeter on the bed as he came to. He felt more pain, trapped beneath gauze which felt chilled with the medical herbs slowly healing his battered skin. His head lolled to the right slowly, one eyelid fluttering open a tiny bit to make sense of the blurry world around him. ] Ohhh... [ He groaned so softly, it sounded like a child mewling for their mother, and he blinked that one eye as he situated his head back against his pillow. He couldn't make out the person before him but he felt the weight against his hand and was fast to make assumptions, thinking of who might come to see him. ] Bl-Blaine? Is that you? [ he sighed, a pitiful sort of sound as his eye fell closed momentarily. ] Ohh, man, everything hurts... What... What even happened out there? I thought I won... Did I? Did I win? [ he suddenly grew shy as a weak little gasp escaped his plump lips. ] Oh Merlin, did I embarrass myself in front of you-know-who? Wh-what happened? Why does everything hurt... [ his voice was soft and sad, his body wincing as he tried to move only to lay back into the mattress again, awaiting an answer. ]
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