She felt as though she had been running around frantically since news of the blast at the parade, at the Ministry, had reached her ears. In typical Doris fashion, she had taken the shift nobody else had wanted and gladly waved her colleagues off to the parade that day, more than happy to remain behind and hold down the fort. Eclipse hadnât been far from the Ministry and the explosion had been felt all around, a tremor shaking through Eclipse and puzzling everyone who had been inside that day. It hadnât been long until one of the Ministry boys had come in looking for a friend, and had delivered the news that had made the bartender drop and smash the glasses in his hands.
She had searched everywhere she could for any sign of her friends; Gilderoy, Enzo, Reggie⊠but nobody seemed to have seen them. The longer she had searched, the more she had begun to panic until finally, upon the suggestion of an former Hufflepuff housemate, she had apparated to St Mungos. Everyone around her had been in crisis mode and, feeling guilty for taking up any more of the healers time with her enquiries, had simply moved down the corridors, poking her head into each ward and scanning the people there, before moving on. She had been surprised that she hadnât been stopped to ask what she was doing, until she had noticed that she definitely hadnât been the only person doing it.
Seeing Stubby had knocked the breath from her lungs. He had been lying on top of one of the beds, his arm in a cast and a healer working over him. She had hesitated before practically sprinting up the ward towards him. There would be people looking for her friends too, numerous people and she could do nothing more than she had already done to help them, but Stubbyâs family were in a different country. They didnât know to be looking for him. He didnât have anyone else to be there and the idea of walking away and leaving him on his own was unthinkable. So she spoke to the healer and took the seat next to him, gripping his uninjured hand in her own.Â
She didnât realise that she had been staring, almost unblinkingly at her lap for the last few minutes until she heard a familiar accent speak up. âSamuelâ she breathed out, relief rushing through her as she stood from her seat and perched herself on his bed beside him, dropping his hand and reaching over for the glass of water on the cabinet. She placed one hand on the side of his face and held the glass up so that he could see what she was trying to offer. âHere, drink thisâ she said, channelling her grandmother and her stubborn but soft, âdo not argue with meâ, tone. âPlease, it will helpâ.
âThere was an explosion, at the parade. You must have been caught up in it, but youâre in St Mungos now. Youâll be okay, they⊠they said so. Were you at the parade?â she asked, eyes searching his face. The fear that had hit her upon first seeing him started to melt away. He had helped her back at the tournament and she knew that by staying she could return the favour, but she felt more than a need to repay him. She cared, really cared, that he was okay. The idea that he might not have been, that she might not have seen him again, made her feel nauseous. She smiled when he called her Angel, a word that had never been used to describe her before. âI couldnât leave you alone⊠I couldnâtâ.
His head continued to throb but somehow he felt like the luckiest man in the world, having such a beautiful face at his side, even if she was solemn as she talked. She seemed excited to see him there, and upon hearing her talk, he began to remember the girl who had rushed into his tent a few nights back, hiding from... some sort of family. He trusted it would come back to him in time, when the thudding of his head didnât persist so loudly as he struggled to remember anything. Â
His heart fluttered as she moved to rest her hand lightly on his face, a lopsided smile curling the corner of his mouth slightly upward. He drank what she offered him without question, his heart knowing that he felt trust in her troubled face. Â
Stubby listened carefully as she spoke, nodding along slightly. He vaguely remembered the parade, the celebration of unity. His hope at one day not needing to keep his heritage a secret. The shattering feeling as a nearby explosion had rocketed him forward. His arm being crushed, hitting his head, struggling to get out from the rubble before passing out, either from pain or concussion, he wasnât sure. Â
âYeah, I... itâs starting to come back. I was at the parade, for once enjoying an event without needing to play it... I think I remember the explosion I just sort of remember being in the air all of a sudden, then I was pinned under some rubble I think.â He shook his head, groaning in regret. His head was still pounding and the motion wasnât helping.  âWhy am I in a Mango?âÂ
Like a beautiful bolt of lightning, her name hit him once again. âDoris! Jâadore!â He grinned. âYou have to forgive me, I thought you were named after a door for a second there. Gosh, how could I forget you?â He chuckled, coughing slightly. The rubble must have gotten into his throat. Â
âIâm glad youâre the first thing Iâm waking up to, my dear. I do have a very important question for you, though. Can I trust you to do me a favor that could, in fact, get me killed?â He grinned, light-hearted but there was an intensity behind his eyes. He was pretty helpless on this bed, and he knew that the rest of his bandmates had already moved on to the next town in the tour. If he had to trust anyone, something deep within him told him he could trust the sweet, wonderful woman who had been waiting like a prince for him to wake from his cursed slumber. ...Or maybe he wasnât all together, yet. Regardless, he needed someone, and Doris was the best option he had. Â
