[Chapter Nineteen: Baby Steps. Edited.]
*Willow's POV*
There were voices all around me. Everywhere I looked I saw voices, I heard faces, I smelled hands, and felt perfumes. Everything was jumbled inside my brain. Inside everywhere. I was never meant to wake up.
People were leaving. Someone was crying. I was aching.
"We should contact her family."
"They're the reason she's here, Severus."
Green light. Green light. Green light.
Purple drink.
Black.
What felt like years, but I found out later was only two weeks, I only saw the colours green, purple, and black. It took those two long weeks of almost constant sleep, before I was allowed to be awake.
I had no visitors at first (I wasn't allowed) and saw only Madam Pomfrey. She ensured that I eat, although I only ate jelly. The flavour choices were lime or grape, green or purple. They tasted like nothing.
On my nineteenth day of Hospital Wing captivity, I had a visitor, who I did not know. She was a healer, named Augusta, and she helped tend to my damaged arms. Both Augusta and Madam Pomfrey informed me how because of the potion I had taken, my arms could not be healed by magic, and it was necessary for them to heal in the muggle way. Augusta was born into a muggle family, so she knew what she was doing.
I ended up with things called 'stitches' in my arms (and over a few other self-inflicted wounds that they thought needed a little help) and they hurt a lot. It was literally sewing my body back together. Apparently they had stitched me up whilst I'd been asleep, but, for obvious reasons, I didn't remember.
On the twenty-second day of Hospital Wing captivity, a boy named Jimmy came in and asked me how I was, while Madam Pomfrey fetched some ointment for his black eye. I told him I didn't know. Madam Pomfrey chastised him for talking to me, but he said it was important for everyone to have someone to talk to – to have their backs. I thought it was nice.
He returned on the twenty-third day, with a broken nose, two black eyes, and a split lip. Madam Pomfrey disappeared into her storeroom again. I asked him if he was alright. He told me the other guy was worse off in the fight, and then passed out. He stayed over night. We were both awake at dawn, and he came over to watch the sunrise through my window. He told me he'd been defending first and second year muggleborn and half-blood Slytherins from pure-blood elitists. I asked him why, and he said "because pure-blood elitists exist." I thought that was nice.
On my twenty-fifth day, Professor Dumbledore visited me. He read me a story from a book called 'The Tales of the Beedle and the Bard'. Madam Pomfrey gave me oatmeal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, because the kitchens were out of jelly. I asked her who ran the kitchens, and she said it was house-elves. I hoped Dobby was okay.
On the twenty-sixth day, Professor McGonagall visited me. She told me about animagi – witches and wizards who could turn into animals at will – and turned into a cat. She said if I ever felt unsafe, I could call her, and she'd turn into her catself and watch over me. She stayed with me from lunch until after dinner, before Professor Dumbledore took over. He read me another story, but I fell asleep long before it was finished.
On the thirtieth day, my stitches came out, and I was sad that it would be the last time I'd speak to Augusta. She told me, in a nice way, that she hoped it would be the last time we saw each other, as that meant I was in good health. She kissed my forehead.
On the thirty-first day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione visited me. They said I looked better. Hermione complained about exams. Harry complained about Quidditch. Ron complained about them complaining. I almost felt normal, whatever that meant. I was glad to have seen them. They said they weren't allowed in before, in case they triggered me.
On the thirty-fifth day, I was physically better. I felt better than I had in months (in ever, really). They said any side-effects of the poison had worn off. I had cinnamon toast for breakfast. Madam Pomfrey was inundated with so many patients that she asked me for help. I helped a sixth-year Ravenclaw girl re-grow the bones in her leg. She'd broken during a dare, and her friend had tried to heal it, but removed the bones instead. The girls talked to me throughout lunchtime and we shared a plate of cheese and crackers.
The whole ward was full of patients overnight. Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor in my year, had blown up his bed (again, they said). Ruby Pentrose was regrowing her bones. Allison Mills had thrown her back out while trying to steal Snape's cauldron. Richard Cosgrove had been hit in the back of the head by a bludger during Ravenclaw's Quidditch practice. Michael Albom had a bad bite on his leg, which was unmistakably from a large dog (he denied it, of course). Karen Rowell had been hexed badly by someone she called her 'arch nemisis'. Jimmy was back, with two broken wrists, from hitting Draco, apparently. I wished he hadn't told me.
Professor Dumbledore arrived and read to all of us before bed, whilst we drank hot cocoa. It was a tale about three brothers, two of whom met terrible fates, but one lived a long and happy life. I wondered if I was the one with the terrible fate, or if it were Draco.
On the fortieth day, I was released. I was escorted to my dormitory by Annabeth Pike, the head girl.
"This is a nice coincidence!" she kept saying, but the more she said it, the more I felt as though she'd been asked to babysit me. When we were safely inside the girls' dormitory she said, "They told me to escort you. They told me to not let you know I was doing it on orders. But I hate lying to people, it's shitty. I'm glad you're okay now – and I hope your brain is okay, too." She fell silent. We were halfway up to my room when she started talking again.
"Gryffindor was really upset by the whole thing – not that it's your fault. Merlin, don't think I'm blaming you. I mean, it's just changed everything, for the better. I wouldn't say anything if it changed for the worse. We're starting up a counselling service, and a student reach-out program. We don't want anyone to feel like you did (or do?) ever again. We all want to help.
"And a lot of people have been through the hospital wing lately – it's that time of year, everyone gets rowdy – and the people that you spoke to, they remember you. They think you're lovely. We all think it's fucking awful that someone as sweet as you could be hurting. Sorry. You probably don't want to talk about this – or do you? I don't know.
"I'm sorry I talk so much I can't help it I just get distracted and confused and I just ––"
I heard her distress and did something I had never done before. I cut her off. "It's okay."
She promptly burst into tears. I panicked and also began to cry. She pulled me into a hug that was much too tight for my liking, sobbed on my shoulder and told me I was lovely. I had wanted a shower, but not to be showered in the tears of Annabeth Pike.
"Oh my god, Willow, I am so sorry." She released me, wiped her face, and continued to walk up the stairs with me. "I'm really stressed about my N.E.W.T.S. and I've got my period and I'm just literally crying at everything and you're so sweet. Fuck, I am so sorry."
She left me at my room, looking heartily embarrassed, but I didn't want to laugh at her. On the contrary, I was worried about her.
I headed down to lunch after a thorough shower, and on the way I met Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The trio looked very pleased to see me. Ron and Harry were talking about Quidditch, but I was pleased that I didn't have to make conversation. I thought that maybe it would be a good thing to have an interest or hobby, that didn't involve hurting myself.
Fred, George and Lee were minding us seats at the lunch table, and beamed as we approached. I sat down next to George, Harry sat on my other side, and Hermione and Ron were opposite us.
"It's good to see you out and about, Willow!" George grinned at me and I smiled back.
I spooned some mashed potatoes onto my plate. "I like the Hospital Wing, but even that gets boring after a while." I shaped the potatoes like a mountain, dug a well in the center and poured gravy into it.
"I'd like to tell you exciting things have been happening, but it's all really boring." Fred nodded from across the table.
"The Hospital Wing is where it's at!" Lee added.
"Naturally," I said, with surprising ease. "The grass is always greener on the other side."
The topic of Quidditch came up again, and I sat back, and slowly ate my mashed potatoes. For the first time in my entire life, I thought that I might actually be okay.
I was sitting in front of the fire a week after my release, after returning to classes. I discovered I was as behind as I had felt on my first day of school. Professor Snape had decided that my mental instability was no excuse for not completing all the work I should have for the past month and a half. I had two essays, three ten-page question sheets, and fifty pages of reading to do. I'd also been venturing down to the dungeons every weeknight to practice brewing the potions I'd missed. I had done five, and I needed to do another nine. (This was extra annoying, as I wasn't allowed to go anywhere on my own, and one of my friends would escort me down there, and Snape would escort me back. It was tedious.)
Combining this with the rest of the work I had to catch up on, and the counsellor sessions I was having on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and the Saturday afternoon check-ups with Madam Pomfrey (who had started to monitor my weight whilst I was in the Hospital Wing), I was not going to have enough time for anything else. I was stressed, but the distractions were good.
I turned to Hermione, looking at her atop my potions essay on poisons (how topical) and chanted in a robotic tone, "Life is such a wonderful thing. Life is good. I love life. Life is good. I love life."
"Stop it!" She whined. I had started doing this on a regular basis, and it was getting on her nerves, which made it all the more worthwhile. She threw a cushion at me.
"Oh! I'm so offended! This is war!" I hit her with the pillow.
She tried to hit me back but ended up hitting Ron. Ron decided to join the fight and Harry did too. I turned, laughing, and whacked George in the face. Without hesitation, he grabbed another pillow and began hitting me with it.
An intense pillow fight ensued –– mostly due to the twins' involvement. The entirety of the common room armed themselves. No one was safe from the wrath. It was violent, it was brutal. There was not a person in the room who wasn't laughing. Percy, I noticed had fun whacking Ron across the face but retreated to his room when the twins set upon him.
Soon, we were all on the floor in hysterics. The twins were still hitting each other, naturally.
A stern voice boomed above the laughter. "What is going on here?"
"A massive pillow fight, Professor," the twins said, "obviously."
There was a bit of nervous laughter. She gaped at the feathers and bits of fluff that littered the room.
"Hermione started it," I piped in hiding my face behind a pillow.
"No I didn't!" Hermione defended herself. "Willow did!"
I couldn't keep the smile off my face. McGonagall looked from me, to Hermione, to the twins who stood amongst the collapsed students, observed the mess and then finally set her eyes back on me.
"Get some sleep, all of you...and you're all cleaning this up." she added with a devilish grin. The look on her scared me slightly.
Fred and George exchanged looks before swishing their wands, instantly cleaning every bit of feather and fluff. I noticed that Percy had returned and was reading a book. He is, most definitely, a ninja.
"Off to bed now, all of you!" Percy ninja called.
"Okay ninja," I said to myself. Hermione stared at me like I was crazy. I hadn't meant to say it aloud.
We climbed the stairs into our dormitory.
"Night Hermione," I yawned, climbing undercovers.
"Good night Will," she said sleepily.
I awoke at four in the morning and I knew I couldn't stay in bed... Okay, I had a dire need to pee. I knew I wasn't allowed to leave the room alone and I wasn't about to wake someone up to babysit me as I peed. It was looking increasingly like I was going to have to hold it in. It was going to be a long morning...
Awh man, it started raining. Like there is water trickling down the window pane, that's so rude. I hate my life. Haha, it's actually true, I'm still miserable.
I finally decided that if my bladder exploded, it would probably be considered to be self-inflicted, and I'd have another billion counsellor sessions to go to, so I got up and went to the bathroom.
Upon my return, I discovered that I could not go back to sleep. I lay in bed, staring up at the canopy of it and sighed. Anyone who says life doesn't completely suck is selling you something.
Hermione finally woke up, and I was glad that I wasn't left swirling in my own thoughts anymore.
"You got out of bed quickly," She said, eyeing me curiously.
"New year, Hermione," I told her. "New me."
"It is March, Willow."
"New year," I repeated, ignoring her. "New me."
As we passed through the common room, we bumped into Harry and Ron.
"Can someone please tell Willow that March is not the start of the year?" She said exasperatedly. I'd been repeating the phrase 'New year, new me.' Constantly for ten minutes.
"Willow, March is not the start of the year."
"Your linear time is meaningless to me," I told them all.
"Alright, breakfast." Ron said, smiling but shaking his head.
"What subjects do we have today?" I asked them, as we sat down at the Gryffindor Table.
"Charms, Transfiguration, LUNCH Herbology, Double – ugh – Potions, DINNER," Ron read.
"Lunch and Dinner don't count as subjects, Ronald." Hermione sighed at him.
"Anything is a lesson if you listen hard enough, Hermione," Ron informed her wisely, helping himself to a second bowl of porridge. She stared at him a moment, rather confused that he'd made a slight amount of sense, before turning back to her toast.
"I'm tired," Harry yawned.
"Same," I concurred.
"You just woke up." Hermione rolled her eyes at us.
"I've been awake since four, thank you very much," I said, indignantly.
"Why were you up at four?" Ron asked, and I noticed Hermione and Harry staring at me a little too intently.
"Because I had to pee, and I didn't fancy my bladder exploding," I said, trying not to be annoyed that they were worried about me.
"Such delightful breakfast conversations," Professor McGonagall said from over my shoulder. I jumped, and turned around.
"We try very hard, Professor," Harry ensured, and she raised her eyebrows at him.
"For you, Willow," she said, handing me a small bottle labelled 'H.A.P.P.Y.'.
"What does H.A.P.P.Y. stand for?" Hermione asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," She said spookily, and disappeared up to the teacher's table.
"That sounds ominous."
I smiled at Hermione, "That's Professor McGonagall's code for 'I don't know', Hermione. No need to worry." I poured some into my goblet and choked on it. "That is awful." I took a swig of orange juice, "It does nothing. I'm doomed."
Hermione lifted up the bottle, and read the back.
"Willow, you're only meant to take a few drops at a time."
"What?"
"If you'd read the bottle, it says to add a few drops to your drink."
"Oh," I said, feeling like an idiot. "Reading instructions is boring though. Live on the edge!"
"I thought that's what this was trying to prevent," Hermione said seriously, staring me down.
Hermione was scary, so I looked at Harry.
"It tastes like vomit."
"You have tasted vomit?" Hermione asked a ludicrous expression on her face.
"Well, duh, it comes out of your mouth when you puke..." they looked at me like I was crazy. "What do you guys vomit through your arse or something?" they kept staring at me like I was nuts so I skulled some more juice.
You do vomit through your mouth...right?
The bell rang, and I was glad to get to class and do something.