Delicate | James Potter

1.20

~

She couldn't sleep. It was only one night, and Dumbledore had sent her away with the promise of being able to see Davey in the morning, yet she still couldn't sleep. Dorcas had left just an hour ago to return to her own dormitory, but until that point had remained by her friend's side until she had calmed down. Alice appreciated Dorcas, and she loved her a lot, but unfortunately as soon as she left, the tense feeling came bombarding back in one large wave. Her words of reassurance had worked to an extent, however only whilst she herself was there to hold Alice's hand.

Now she lay alone in her bed, the only distraction from her endless stream of negative thoughts being Marlene's soft snores beside her. It was as if someone had pinched her wide awake, and was forcing her to sit through every single possible outcome of what could happen to Davey next, and none of them were good. Each scenario would play in her mind in graphic detail and force her to watch his bloody face scrunch up in pain, even when she closed her eyes.

It wasn't that bad, she tried to focus on that, he'd scratched his face and hurt his eye and lost a lot of blood, but Madam Pomfrey had dealt with worse. Right?

Lily had come running up the stairs earlier, a mixture of curiosity and concern in her voice as she asked what had happened and if Alice was okay. Alice thought it silly considering she wasn't the one who'd almost had her eye taken out, but she knew the redhead was just being nice. Dorcas told her to politely 'bog off', and Alice didn't really have the will to tell her otherwise; Lily had left with a small huff, so now she had that on top of her list of things to feel guilty about.

Number one was that she should have stopped Davey sooner. At first it hadn't occurred to her, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought about what could have been different if she'd just pulled him back herself. Then again, it wasn't her who'd told him to touch the stupid trunk in the first place. She scowled to herself in the dark, and shifted over in her bed so she was looking at the ceiling.

Alice cared about Davey, a lot more than she thought she did and it had taken him nearly dying to realise it. What if he did die? Madam Pomfrey was treating him yes, but what if he had lost too much blood? Or his wound became infected? What if the damage was worse than she'd thought? She just felt completely and utterly overwhelmed in worry.

When the sun finally did rise the next morning, Alice was up immediately. She'd had one of those weird sort of nights when she wasn't even sure if she'd slept or not, because it certainly didn't feel like it but surely she can't have been awake the entire time. She got dressed quickly and quietly, brown dress shoved eagerly over her orange turtleneck. The girl didn't even bother putting her shoes on, just grabbed them and ran down the dormitory stairs into the common room, socks sliding against the floor.