The Tale of Jamie Devereaux

A Saint That Woman

Chapter Thirty: A Saint That Woman

The wind blew loudly and the air was cold. It was a darker night then many had seen in some time. It didn't matter that in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Jamie Devereaux Bruce and Fred Weasley were sleeping more peacefully than they ever had before. The moon was hidden behind thick, dark clouds and the night seemed evil. Nature knew that a plan was forming against the blonde witch that was currently nestled in the arms of a lanky red-head.

Barty Crouch Junior sat across from the dark lord after detailing what had occurred in the second task. Voldemort was glad to hear that Harry Potter was in first place in the tournament, it made their plan much more attainable than had he been behind. However, the silver-haired girl piqued his interest. Never before had he heard of a petrified person waking up underwater. Crouch suspected her Veela heritage, but also that there was something more to the little witch.

The dark lord's attitude soured at the idea of a half-breed muggleborn, "An abomination. A disgrace." He hacked in his weak form, "Dumbledore teaching creatures and treating them as equals." Wormtail hissed beside him in agreement. The small, slimy body that tom riddle inhabited turned and directed his instructions to Barty Crouch Junior, "Watch her. Once I kill Harry Potter for good we will see just what kind of Veela this Jamie Devereaux is."

"What kind, master? There are others?" Wormtail asked, his fingers fiddling with one another and his back hunched over as his words shook out of him.

Voldemort made a sound of disgust and his words lashed out at his servant, "Don't you know anything, Wormtail!" The ex-maurder backed away quickly, his head bending even lower as he whimpered. "Yes. There are others. Very powerful, very dark Veela. If this Mudblood is one of them, then Dumbledore will be planning to use her. So we must get her first."

--

Madam Pomfrey stared open mouthed and scandalized by the scene before her that morning. She had planned to gradually wake up Jamie Bruce with another potion to ease her sore throat. Instead, she drew back the curtain she saw that the blonde witch was not alone in her hospital bed. Fred Weasley's large body was taking up the majority of the bed, one of his hands tangled in Jamie's hair and the other sprawled off the bed. The sixth-year Gryffindor girl was curled around the red-head and they seemed to inhale and exhale in rhythm with one another. Poppy Pomfrey couldn't help but appreciate the irony of this inappropriate entwinement. Less than a year ago the two of them had come into this very hospital wing completely torn apart by their prank war, and now they were cuddled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Mister Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey's shrill voice called, startling the boy awake and causing him to yank Jamie's hair so hard that the blonde awoke to her own yelp of pain.

The two Gryffindor's made confused eye-contact, as if they were both unaware of where they were and why they were together. Realization dawned on Jamie and a deep blush overpowered her as she sat upright in her Hospital bed. Fred Weasley leapt to his feet, staring at the foreboding nurse with what he hoped was an endearing smile, "Good Morning, Madam Pomfrey! I was just visiting Jamie this morning, hope you don't mind."

"Visiting isn't for another hour." The nurse said through clenched teeth.

Fred started to back away, moving toward the doors of the hospital wing, "Honest mistake."

The older witches eyes narrowed at him, "Ten points from Gryffindor. Be thankful it isn't more and I have a soft spot for students who nearly drowned to death yesterday, Miss Bruce." Jamie gave her a cheeky, abashed smile that was met with an eyeroll. "Get out, Mister Weasley." Fred turned on his heels and sped out of the hospital wing without argument. Jamie couldn't help but laugh lightly at his retreating form.