Understanding (Neville Longbottom)

23

I took in a deep, deep breath again.
I was looking at my sad, pale reflection in the mirror.
It seemed incredible everything had happened just the night before.
Sasha had been gone the whole morning for lessons and, after spending extra time in bed so my other roommates (at this point only 2) wouldn't see me, I had gotten up and stretched carefully.
I was sore everywhere; pain took me by surprise a couple of times while I was trying to stand up, so that the simple action took me minutes and left me exhausted and panting.
After what felt like hours, I had successfully gone to the bathroom, recovered my wand and sat in front of the mirror.
My face was not a surprise, but it still scared me: nothing was recognizable, my skin was bruised and swollen and tight, my eyes puffy and yet sunken at the same time, numerous cuts were evident and still encrusted with blood.
I guessed Madam Pomfrey hadn't had the time to fix them.
So I swallowed my tears and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths. I started reconstructing my face.

It was a long and tedious work but now my face was looking back at me. Well not entirely.
I had know from the beginning that some of those things couldn't be erased.
Carrow was many things but not stupid, he never marked permanently someone on the face: too much visibility, too much rage and violence, that was not the message it was supposed to send; we were supposed to be safe, they could torture us of course, but they had to keep us safe and we had to heal completely to show our families at home that if they behaved, nothing was going to happen to us.

Still, Carrow had inflicted a couple of cuts in my face that couldn't be cancelled like the rest.
He must have really lost it.
The new scars were closed and the only sign that the wounds were recent was the slightly pinker color of the new skin; one of them went from my hair line down across my left eyebrow, which now had a little space void of hair; the second scar went from under my right ear down my neck to my collarbone; the last one was small but still noticeable, on my chin, a slim vertical line that seemed to cut it in two perfect halves.
Another deep breath.
It could have been worse.
It could have been much much worse. You're ok, Jocelyn.

A slight knock made me turn just as Sasha poked her head in
"Hey" she said softly, then observed me and smiled "Your face-"

"I tried to heal what I could." I explained even though she could obviously see it herself "Some things I can't erase because he used dark magic. I healed it... I just... Maybe with time it'll look less red"

I hated my voice for sounding weak and defeated. I turned my head towards the mirror so I couldn't see the pity on Sasha's face, but she came to stand behind me and looked seriously in my eyes through the mirror.

"You look lovely"
And even though she said it matter of factly, as if it was a universal truth, I didn't believe her.

"I don't care" I lied

"You still do" she gripped my shoulder with force until I looked at her again.

She was trying to convince me of it.
Then she shook her head regaining her normal, distracted tone

"...listen, I know it's against the rules...  but everyone does it anyway... and I don't think the professors would mind it..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ben is outside, he wants to talk to you. If you're not up for it I'll tell him to go away"

Ben. What was he doing outside?

"I don't know..."

I thought about him, his handsome smile, the way he was always full of attentions towards me. For a stupid, selfish minute, I desired not to see him, or better I didn't want him to see me, to see my face.
But then I shook myself out of it: I had known Ben for five years, and he had come to see me because he was worried about me. I couldn't turn him away
"Yes, let him in"