'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'Fields of poppies, little pearls All the boys and all the girls Sweet-toothed. Each and every one a little scary I said your name. I wore it like a badge of teenage film stars Hash bars, cherry mash and tinfoil tiaras Dreaming of Maria Callas, whoever she is...
I wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow And who'd have thought tomorrow could be so strange? Fluorescent and starry. Some of them surprise. I can't look it in the eyes Seconal, Spanish fly, absinthe, kerosene Cherry-flavored neck and collar I can smell the sorrow on your breath. I got it,'
Harry had not left Katie's side — partly out of concern for her condition, but also to do with the flock of students waiting outside the hospital wing at all times. News that she had been cursed had spread all over the schools though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.
Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, accompanied by Harry who by some stroke of luck managed to convince the Healer he was related to her.
What he didn't know was that Katie had named Hera a primary emergency contact for the hospital — should an embarrassing or troublesome situation ever arise that she'd rather not explain to her parents.
It seemed purely against her luck that the hospital should recognise Hera's name as one so high-profile and contact both her and Katie's parents. Then again, it was a rather difficult situation to escape should they wish to. Due to the extent of it, the school would have to accept some responsibility for it happening on a trip they were (supposedly) in charge of.
Harry had left without so much as the change in his pocket, and he doubted the single galleon and strewn silver sickles would go for quite so much around Muggle London, much less the accompanying bars (whichever idiots were paying city prices for a pint anyway, at that point Harry thought they deserved it).
There was always the chance he hopped on trains around the area until he reached the southwest of Greater London and perhaps, Little Whinging — the thought of which made him wince, though the activity was one he'd happily partaken in most of the summer in an attempt to take his mind off things.
