HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

third year ➤the night hasn't ended yet

♡A/n
Hey guys once again I own no
characters, plot or dialogue except for the ones I make up:) thanks and enjoy my chapter of His Chosen Girl♡
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Your P.O.V

"(y/n)! (y/n)! Wake up! Please? Wake up!"

I groan in response as the voice gets louder as I grow more conscious. It hurt to think. I felt a throbbing pain in my head, pounding like a drum. It most definitely is not time to wake up.

"Five more minutes," I finally respond using all my energy to do so.

"What am I, your alarm clock? Wake up!" The voice replies, much louder and snappier this time.

My eyes open immediately so that the hot-tempered, curly-haired girl won't bite my head off.

"Morning, sunshine," I say tonelessly.

She rolls her eyes before remembering my condition and growing a softer look on her face. "How're you feeling?"

"Dead."

"Do you remember anything that happened tonight? Madam Pomfrey said you might have some slight amnesia."

I try my best to think back and the previous events start flooding into my mind like a title wave. I lay back to stop the head rush.

"All of it, least I think. Last thing I remember I was running after Harry when I ran straight into a dementor."

Hermione physically winces at the thought.

"They didn't show me much mercy, I see."

"They knocked you out pretty bad. I thought you were dead. For the second time that night!     (y/n), why would you throw a rock at the face of a werewolf?" Hermione says her gentle voice becoming much more mom-like as she begins to scold me.

"It was about to eat you whole! What was I supposed to do?" I ask defending myself. "A thank you would be appreciated."

She rolls her eyes again, ignoring my request for a simple 'thanks'. "Luckily, we got you here just in time. Harry too. Madam Pomfree fixed you both up quite well. Well, besides the nasty scar on your lip but-"

"Excuse me?" I ask jumping up out of the bed and turning around to examine myself through the reflection of the mirror. Sure enough, the mark of an unhealed wound lies cut across my lip. "Ah bloody hell. Pushed to the ground by mental tree and landing on a rock, scar lip. What do I have to show for being attacked by a werewolf, knocked out by a dementor? Nothing."

"(y/n)-"

"It's not even a good story,"

"(y/n), what does that even-"

"See the one I got in first year," I make a point of lifting the side of my shirt up slightly to display the large scar on the left side of my stomach. From the time I attempted to help Harry recover the philosopher's stone.

Hermione sighs harshly. "Well there you go, you've got one good story. Now-"

"Yes, but if I had gotten some sort of battle mark from last year, I would've had a three year streak-"