𝐀𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬: A Scorose Story

𝐂 𝐡 𝐚 𝐩 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫 𝟎 𝟐

She doesn't hear her own scream. But they do.

The curtain flies open. Too many faces barge in— rushing to her side, asking her questions. Holding her down. Why are they holding her down?

"Miss. Weasley! Calm down, please!"

"Rose! Goodness, Rose, what's-"

What's going on?

"What happened!"

"Rose-"

Too many voices. She doesn't understand, what-

"Stop fighting us-"

"Merlin, Rose, what-"

"Enough!" Madam Pomfrey says. She can at least distinguish who the sharp, strident voice belongs to. "Out. All of you...Now!"

They clear out reluctantly, tossing uneased looks over their shoulders before Pomfrey shoves them out. Swings the curtains shut, leaving her alone with the matron.

There's a silence between them. Rose looking desperately at Pomfrey, and Madam Pomfrey with her back to her patient, busy with something.

Then Pomfrey turns to Rose, holding a small vial of orange liquid.

"Feeling better, dear?" she asks kindly.

"Yes." It comes out a croak, her voice scratching from screaming. Clears her throat. "Madam? What am I doing here?"

She surveys her surroundings once more, then herself. There's a small spot of dried blood staining her elbow. She rubs it off. There's no wound and she doesn't think she's bleeding anywhere. Wonders how it got there.

Pomfrey doesn't look surprised that she doesn't remember. She puts the vial up to Rose's lips and with a soft but stern voice, says, "Drink this first, then ask questions."

Her lips part and the medicine slides in. She squeezes her eyes shut, crinkling her nose— it burns her throat as it makes its way down. Pomfrey hands her a glass of water, which she generously gulps down.

She opens her mouth but before she can ask any questions, Pomfrey interrupts.

"Are you feeling light-headed?"

"No. What am-"

"Are you feeling feverish?"

"No. What-"

"Look here. Follow my finger."

She sighed, but did as the matron said. Then, Pomfrey dragged out a seat and sat next to the cot. Silence stretched before Madam Pomfrey approached rather carefully—

"What do you remember, Miss. Weasley?"

"I-" She pauses. Didn't want the memories to reoccur; claimed a half lie, half truth. "I don't know."

"You cannot recall anything from last night?"

She shakes her head meekly.

"That's alright— don't strain yourself trying to remember. My best guess is that you suffered from an anxiety attack. A quick diagnostic has shown that your epinephrine level was incredibly high— you were bound to crash sooner or later."

"How long have I been out?"

"Not long, dear. Not long. In fact-" She casts a diagnostic spell before continuing— "You seem to be doing exceptionally well. Your blood pressure and heart rate are stabilizing. And your-"

"So I can I leave?"

Pomfrey gets up, shaking her head. "No, not yet, I'm afraid."

"But I feel fine! Madam Pomfrey, please. It was a little panic attack, but I assure you, I'm as well as I can be," Rose persists. With everything that had happened, the last she wanted was to be locked in the Hospital Wing. She longed to see familiar faces.