Lemon Grass and Sleep

RECOVERY AND LOSS

Consciousness gripped me tightly and pulled me up through what felt like an ocean. Murmurs and muffled voices surrounded me, and a gentle, warm hand rubbed along my chest soothingly.

"My," I spoke hoarsely, voice cracking, "My husband'll kill you for touching up on me like that."

"I am your husband," a sultry voice spoke from beside me, continuing to rub along my body.

"Fred?" I whispered, blindly reaching out toward the voice. His hand softly grasped mine, threading our fingers together.

"Husband, you say?" He asked lowly, "Bold of you to propose right out of a long sleep."

"I thought you were dead," I felt liquid rush down my cheeks. "Get this off my eyes, I want to see you."

"Afraid I can't, the doctor'd have my head if I messed anything up."

"Can I touch your face, then? Please."

"Of course," he mumbled, and I heard a bit of shuffling before his chin brushed against my fingertips. I unlaced our hands and let my hand cup his cheek.

"He wakes up and asks to touch your face? I'm the one who saved him," George grumbled from a bit aways off.

"Yeah, well I'm his husband," Fred gloated, emphasis put on the term 'husband'.

"Blah, blah," George mocked.

"I-" my throat was dry, my voice cracking and coming out hoarse, "I almost died."

"Happens to the best of us," Fred patted me comfortingly on my stomach.

"Yeah, including Prince Charming over here," George joked, "Fred, have him feel your bandages, he'll be pissed."

"I'd rather not get beat up, yet," he replied sourly.

"How bad is it?" I croaked, "You were on top of me, is your back-"

"He's fine, shockingly," George clarified quickly, "He'll have some wicked scars, just wait 'til you see-"

George cut himself off, and I heard a shuffle from where Fred was. I felt confusion wash over me, and if the bandages didn't have the top half of my head in a chokehold I'd knit my eyebrows together. Fred cleared his throat awkwardly, before grabbing my hand again.

"You've been asleep for a little while," he said, pretending like nothing'd just happened, "I had plenty of time to heal up. It's all basically healed over, by now."

"Then why am I all bandaged up?" I replied sourly, "You basically took the brunt of it."

"Well, I didn't protect your head," he said sightly, "And neither did you."

I swallowed thickly, thinking back to my vision blurring and the feeling of warm blood leaking out of my body in places where it most definitely shouldn't have been.

"What happened?" I asked quietly. The twins fell silent, both of them neglecting to answer my question.

"Ah, Mr. Soot," an unfamiliar voice chimed as the door banged open. "You're finally awake, that's amazing. How come you boys didn't call for me earlier?"

"Madam Pomfrey?" I exclaimed, reaching my hand out blindly. A crotchety, soft hand gripped mine back with a youthful strength I was plainly envious of.

"In the flesh," she replied quickly, "Now, let me change your bandages."

I eagerly sat forward, every single bone and muscle in my body screaming with protest. A choked sound of pain escaped my lips as I collapsed back against the bed, panting with shock as I realized just how beaten down I was.

"Ah, Fred did the same thing," Pomfrey laughed lightly, "Shocking, how similar you all are."

The twins gave polite, uncomfortable laughs as I felt the bandages around my head getting lighter and lighter as she pulled them off in layers. Soon, I'd be able to see Fred. Giddiness spilled from my heart and filled my chest, if it were real I'd have drowned in my own happiness before the bandages could even finish coming off.

Cold air hit my forehead, and I heard a quick intake of breath as I blinked slowly. Something was wrong, there was still a bandage over my face. My hands reached up quickly, patting my face gently as I reached to feel for it.

Nothing. There was nothing covering my face. A frown formed as I began to realize what was happening, my brain rushing to shut down any deductive thoughts as I struggled to come to terms with the only reason presenting itself.

"Why can't I see?" I quietly asked the silent room.

"Your optical nerve," Pomfrey said delicately, her motherly tone slipping in as I felt a hand on my arm, "It was damaged beyond repair, nearly severed, in fact."

I blinked again, like it would do anything. What was I even staring at? There was no way for me to know. I sat numbly as Pomfrey untied my hospital gown, beginning to take off the gauze that wrapped itself around my torso. It was gummy and sticky, the bandages coming off most likely covered in wound healing gunk.

It was like something within me snapped, similar to my optic nerve apparently. Some switch inside me turned off, and all I could do was sit still and wait for Pomfrey to leave the infirmary.

"Alright, let me check your eyes," she finished up tying the new gauze along my wounds. Her soft fingers brushed my skin, and I flinched instinctively as she turned my head this way and that. "Looks like there's no reason to put the bandages back on, most of the bleeding's stopped."

I felt cold as she released me, and I vaguely heard the sound of her stepping back and collecting up the waste to go to a vanishing receptacle. Pomfrey said something to the twins, the two of them replying back lowly. I wasn't really paying attention, the same question repeating over and over again in my mind. Severed?

"Thomas," Fred said quietly, "We didn't want to be the ones to tell you-"

"I'm blind?" I cut him off, my words coming out much more wobbly than I thought they would.

"Yes," George responded firmly, "You're blind."

"Glinda," I mumbled unintelligibly, "Where's Glinda?"

The room fell silent once more, and I heard the sound of someone leaving quickly. My head whipped around, like if I just looked at the room from a different angle I'd suddenly be able to see it.

"Fred?" I stammered out nervously, patting around on the bed to see if I could find his hand.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied quickly, taking my hand up in his, "George left. He's...he's not as well as he sounds."

"Is he hurt? Is Glinda hurt?"

"Glinda..." Fred huffed out a breath of air, like he was picking his words carefully, "She didn't make it."

"What?" I breathed out, "Didn't make it where, here? Is she at work?"

"No, Thomas, Glinda didn't make it out of Hogwarts. She was trying to protect some students...and we think she got caught off guard."

The switch was silent, continuing to stay off as I sat there, mind reeling. My thoughts were racing so quickly through my brain it felt as if there was nothing there except a blur of faraway concerns.

"She's not here?" I said faintly, "She's...what?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, continuing to hold my hands firmly. The warmth of his palms felt nice against my cold hands, and I blinked against the tears that collected at my eyes.

"I'll see her at the flat," I mumbled, nodding my head suddenly, "She's just not here."

"Thomas..."

"Don't," I warned quietly, "Don't say anything to me."