Heavenly Waters||Sirius Black

Chapter 21

{{Double update! Forgive any editing mistakes!}}

"Looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?"

Gwen glances up from her magazine, eyes landing on the crowd of Gryffindor's around her bed. It had been nearly an hour since Madam Pompfrey had knit her skin back together with magic. She was tempted to ask the healer for lessons. She'd never been very good at healing spells.

"Peaky?!" Gwen's lips twitch slightly at Fred Weasley's incredulous tone. He's sat on Gwen's left, his feet propped up on her bed while Hermione shoots him occasional disapproving glares. Gwen didn't mind. She was growing quite fond of the twins, though George could hardly look at her without blushing. "What'd you expect him to look like? He fell fifty feet!"

Ron's ears turn pink, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He's sat at the foot of Harry's bed, Hermione right next to him. Madam Pompfrey had desperately tried to get the students to leave the infirmary, her work cut out for her with a few other quidditch players that needed help. And then, much to the healer's chagrin, Gwen had slid the curtain around her bed open and volunteered to watch them. The monster-like anxiety had abandoned the Veela's chest, leaving her the normal, calm observer. The healer had been reluctant to agree, but when she did, Hermione and Ron had both looked at her with so much gratitude that Gwen nearly smiled.

Minerva had appeared under the guise of checking on Harry, but when the head of Gryffindor set a blue jumper and a brand new Witch Weekly on her bed the Veela felt a tickle in her throat that reminded her of happiness. She'd been quick to draw the curtains around her bed and change into the jumper, sliding them back open only when she was sure her tattoos were covered. It was then that the students drew chairs around her and Harry's beds, chatting amongst themselves. For the most part.

"Please, Professor," She lifts her eyes from the gossip column, blinking at Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom. Her eyes linger on the latter, studying the roundness of the apples of his cheeks. He smiles sheepishly, eyes turning down in a way that reminds her of his mother. Her skin prickles at the thought. She quickly looks away, eyes back on her magazine, "Forgive me, Mr. Finnigan. I'm afraid I forgot what it is you've been pestering me about."

Neville has the sense to blush, and George and Fred snicker at the Veela's blasé tone. Seamus remains unfazed, asking hurriedly, "Harry said you can conjure fire--"

"Seamus!" Ron hisses, casting a nervous glance towards the Veela professor. Gwen's cheek twitches, fighting to smile. She refrains for a moment longer, amused by the seeming secrecy that Seamus couldn't uphold. He clearly wouldn't have made it as a marauder. The thought strikes her for a moment, and then her eyes are lifting once more, landing on Fred Weasley.

He glances up too, flinching at the unsettling pale eyes that are waiting for him. He glances at where his feet rest on the Veela's bed, as if worried he's upset her. But then Gwen sets down her magazine, musing, "If Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley can answer a riddle, then I'd be happy to demonstrate, Seamus."

Fred sits up straight, George doing the same on the other side of her bed. They share a grin, excited by the prospect of a riddle and turning to look at the witch sitting at the end of Harry's bed. Gwen finally smiles, "No assistance from Hermione."

The Gryffindor golden girl smiles too, a shy one. George and Fred wave off the Veela's words, George insisting, "No deal then! You're riddles are bloody impossible."

She glances at each of the students, touched by the way Ron continues to lean up to check and see if Harry is awake. Her Godson is still fast asleep, though Gwen was eager for him to wake. She wanted to be sure he was okay, and she knew the additional news about his broom would likely hurt him more than his bruised pride. Neville and Seamus look disappointed, Hermione listening in quietly.