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"and forgive me if i tend to romanticise the past"
xxx
Madam Pomfrey burst from her office at the commotion, rolling her eyes as she caught sight of the all-familiar Quidditch uniforms; clicking her tongue disapprovingly, taking swift steps to the group across the cold floor. Most of the Gryffindor team had to suppress laughs at this reaction; their lips tight and eyes lighthearted, faces flushed from the cool autumn air, as she approached the unresponsive boy, glancing over him before looking to the two Weasley's holding him up.
"What's he done this time?" She huffed, the rest of the team shuffling out of the doors once more as the twins followed her down to one of the made-up beds.
"Took a bludger straight to the head, poor bugger," Fred laughed, though as she turned back and glared at him, changed his words. "Bloke, I mean. Poor bloke."
"It wasn't even going that fast," George added, joining in on his brother's light tone. "Bit overdramatic passing out, but each to their own."
As they neared the designated bed, the two finally noticed the girl looking back at them. Unlike the usual student staying in the hospital wing, she had quite a few things on her bedside table—herbology books, so many herbology books, notebooks, quills, a small hairbrush, little pieces of tangled jewelry—and a trunk at the base of her bed of which bits of uniform spilled out of the sides, a yellow and black scarf draping over the top of it, not to mention the sheer number of plants in different sized pots on the floor, crammed onto the bedside table and the edges of the windowsill, leaving room for her to peer out.
As the twins helped Madam Pomfrey move Harry onto the bed only metres away from hers, they did so much quieter, and left without the matron having to shoo them away, wondering how long she, a girl they didn't even know the name of, was going to be stuck in there for—and how long she'd already been in there.
