open starter
Neville felt like the Knight Bus had hit him, backed up, and rolled over him again. It wasn’t the same quality of pain as Crucio, though, he reflected as he lay there on the bed, trying to breathe through his rapidly-healing ribs. The Cruciatus Curse was searing like his bones and veins and brain would alight and turn to ash. This was just a series of throbs and aches, from his chest to his face and his arms.
He wasn’t in any immediate danger of kicking it, and he had strenuously insisted the Healers attend to others first, but before long, they had bundled him away from the benefit and off to hospital. He hadn’t been able to take in everything that had happened, and cold dread sat like a stone in the pit of his belly when he thought about what he might have to learn from the Prophet in the morning.
As much as he was thinking of the others, all the others he’d spoken to at the benefit just hours before–Viktor and Fleur and Professor Trelawney and that mysterious woman, the mysterious woman who had saved him–Neville’s eyes also kept straying to the bandages on his chest.
He had always been uncomfortable with stripping down in public, even in the dorm, and it made him restless now. He would feel better if his chest were covered up, he decided, even as the sole occupant of this room for the moment. Levering himself painfully upright, he moved to retrieve the shirt he’d been wearing under his robes.
Heedless of the bloodstains from all his glass-cuts, he shrugged it painfully over his head. Just as he was collapsing back against the pillows, exhaling a little breath that sounded like an oof, a mediwix popped their head in the door. “Visitor for you, Mr. Longbottom.”
“Yeah–yeah, of course.” He was definitely in shock and pain still, but he was also desperate for news and didn’t want to worry anyone who might want news of him. Grimacing, he pushed himself just that little bit upright so that he could meet the gaze of whoever was coming through the door. “I mean, my singing arch got Fiendfyre’d,” he said sardonically. “So I could look worse. Really.”
To say, Luna Lovegood is a ball of anxiety would be the understatement of the century. There’s also an overwhelming feeling of guilt within her. All in all, she’s just a mess. While she was drunk at the Weird Sister’s concert in Scotland, there were sinister things happening in London. Of course no one could have predicted what could’ve happened, but she still feels like she should’ve been there. News spreads like wildfire and suddenly, she’s sobered up, well the majority of her is, and she’s on her way to St. Mungos,
She’s hoping she can at least see her friend for awhile. She’ll understand if they’re not allowing visitors, but she just needs the peace of mind. Thankfully, they let her through and the raven haired girl, dressed in her far too large Weird Sister’s shirt enters Neville’s room. “Well, worst things have happened.” Luna smiles as she holds up a big bag. “I’ve brought you some sweets. Oh and a shirt from the concert.”
