Miss Mischief ▶ George Weasley

Chapter Sixteen

When Emerson woke, her head ached. Her nose was numb and her face tingled. There was a burning sensation that spread from the nape of her neck and down her back. She couldn't remember what happened or where she was or why she was in so much pain. A bright white light showed through her eyelids, making it more painful.

From nearby, Emerson could hear snoring fill the room. It was quite loud, and Emerson felt the urge to tell whoever it was to stop that racket.

Emerson slowly blinked her eyes open, taking in the fluorescent lights little by little. She tried pushing herself into a sitting position with her arms, but the pain made it difficult. With a groan she fell back into the bed, closing her eyes again.

The snoring stopped.

"Emery?"

Emerson opened her eyes and saw a blurry tall figure stand above her, messy red hair covering his head. She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes, clearing her vision.

"George?" Her voice was hoarse and barely audible.

George didn't say anything, just flew down on her and hugged her tightly, bringing Emerson to gasp from the sudden pain she felt along her spine. She liked the feeling of him hugging her, and tried to hang on as long as possible.

"George, you're hurting me," Emerson whispered. As suddenly as George hugged her, he pulled back and immediately began apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, Emery!" He said frantically, and began helping her sit up. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death," Emerson groaned again, and looked around her. Her right leg was wrapped in a thick white gauze and elevated on two fluffy pillows. She was clearly in the hospital wing, but she didn't remember why. There were flowers and a card on the table next to her, along with an empty box of chocolate frogs. George chuckled when he saw Emerson's eyes linger on the box.

"Fred may have gotten into some of the chocolate your mum sent," he told her.

"My mum came?"

George nodded. "She's been here twice to talk to Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall. They were trying to figure out what to do if you didn't wake up." Emerson frowned as she tried searching her brain. The last thing she remembered was the Quidditch match, floating in the air on her broom. George sighed and looked at her sadly. "You got hit in the head with the bludger, fell off your broom. Madame Pomfrey said you hurt your head and neck really badly, but I can't remember what she called it. It also broke your nose, which the nurse was able to heal in a second. But your leg..." he gestured to her wrapped up leg, "she said she had to resort to some 'Muggle methods' because of how badly broken it was."

Emerson nodded. She remembered learning about Muggle medicine in Muggle Studies. When magic can only do so much, it never hurts to try something different. "The rogue bludger..." She muttered as she began to recall more details of the Quidditch match. "Who won?"

"We did," George said. "Harry got a broken arm for it but he got the snitch."

"Mmm," Emerson leaned back into the pillows George propped up and took a deep breath. She looked at where George was sitting, on a smaller cot than the one she laid on. There were blankets and pillows thrown about, as well as a set of clean clothes...Emerson's clothes.

"George?" Emerson looked at him. He looked back at her with raised eyebrows, ready to answer any question or request she needed. "Have you been here this whole time?"

Sheepishly, George nodded. "We've all been trying to take turns...Me, Fred, Ang, and Alicia. We all wanted to make sure someone was here for you when you woke up. It's just been me the last few nights though...these beds are very uncomfortable."

From what George said, Emerson began to blush. George really abandoned the comfort of his bed to make sure that she wasn't alone? Emerson didn't know how to thank him, the gratitude that she felt was beyond words. But the thought of what George had done for her was replaced by the fact that she was physically uncomfortable. Her body ached, especially her back, but she really wanted to simply move around. Her stomach was empty, and her mouth was tired. "I'm hungry."

George stood up immediately. "Would you like me to get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, no," she shook her head and glanced at the clock on the wall. "We can go to the Great Hall. It's nearly lunchtime."

"Emery, your leg is not fully healed," George tried to reason. "You should not be walking."

Emerson glanced around the room. Leaned up against the wall, as if they were waiting for Emerson's use, stood a pair of crutches. "I can use those."

George shook his head as he handed her the crutches. He gently helped Emerson get out of bed, before closing the curtains around her bed as she changed into a pair of clothes. Emerson thought that getting dressed would be easy peasy, but she was having more difficulty than she expected. Standing on her left foot was easy to get her pant leg over the thick wrapping on her right leg, but it was the other side that became more difficult. Finally she gave up, and sat on the floor where she was easily able to finish getting dressed. But again, she ran into difficulty when it came to getting up off of the floor.

"George?" Emerson called to him as he stood on the other side of the curtain. "I need your help, please."

George hesitated, unsure of what she needed help with. He couldn't go behind the curtain if she wasn't completely dressed yet. But if that's what she needed help with, he couldn't say no. "Um, what do you need?"

"I'm stuck on the floor."

Quickly pulling the curtain aside, George rushed to Emerson's aid. He helped her off the floor, and then assisted her in crutching to the Great Hall.

Before they went in, George also helped Emerson put her hair up, being careful not to hurt her neck that she was already complaining about. Emerson wanted to look as normal as possible, but a ponytail didn't really make up for the fact that she hadn't showered or even looked at her face in a week. She probably looked crazy.

And in fact when the door to the Great Hall opened, everyone glanced up, immediately stopping and staring at Emerson. "Come on, George," she muttered quietly, and started clicking her crutches down the glimmering floor of the Hall towards Fred, who was standing with his jaw dropped to the floor.

Emerson stopped two feet in front of Fred, and gave him a small painful smile. A huge grin immediately broke on his face and he ran forward, wrapping his arms around her. Emerson dropped her crutches and let out a squeal of pain.

"Wait Fred! Put her down!" George immediately grabbed Emerson's crutches as Fred placed gently on the floor.

"Oh no, Emery! Did I hurt you?" Fred asked worriedly, but when Emerson began laughing he did too.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Emerson told him. "I'm just happy to be back."