A response to Lola's Thanksgiving Challenge in HPFC.

Two days later

Marietta sat next to the hospital bed, not quite sure why she was here. She didn't like hospitals, their white walls and sheets and that horrible smell. She hated sickness and death, and that was all hospitals were about.

Michael was sleeping peacefully, not aware of her presence. She glanced at his face, scars and burns on his cheeks and neck and knew that there were more of them under his shirt, new and older, and even deeper than just on the surface. They would heal, one day, but right now they were red and ugly and wrong against his skin.

"What have they done to you?" she asked. They had met few times during the Christmas holiday. Then he had been worried and nervous, not like himself at all, but at least physically okay. Once he had asked her if she was afraid of – of – (he had never finished that sentence).

She listened to his breathing and the faint sounds that came outside of his room. Walking, running, shouting, crying... St Mungo's had been the most chaotic place for the last two days, ever since Potter did his magic and got rid of Marietta-Knew-Very-Well-Who. Naturally Potter couldn't do it on his own – naturally he had to drag others in – naturally Michael was stupid enough to fight and get hurt.

"You are an idiot, Corner", she said vehemently and louder than she meant to. She got up and walked to the window, pressing her forehead against the glass. It was cool and comforting and Marietta let her muscles relax. Her brother was fine, Cho said she was fine, Michael would be fine – and Eddie had never been fine, so no harm done there. Things would work out.

"Idiot", she repeated quietly. "Happy endings are so last season."

"Huh?"

This very intelligent comment came from the direction of the bed. Sleeping Beauty had woken up, Marietta thought and returned to her seat next to the bed.

"Hey there", she said and smiled.

Michael blinked at her for a moment before he recognised her. "Hey."

"How are you?"

He grimaced. "I've been better." He looked at her with squinted eyes. Then he seemed to remember something. "What about others? Do you know is Tony alright? I think Terry was here earlier – he told me Tony was hurt." His speech was slightly slurring, and Marietta assumed it was because he was still so exhausted.

"Your friend Anthony is in good hands. I heard he wasn't so badly hurt. I'm sure he'll manage." She hesitated and then rose up. "You need sleep. I should go."

"Oh. But –" He reached his hand and took a hold of Marietta's sleeve. "Marietta?"

"Yes?"

"Is my face still...?" Michael's voice faded away and he looked ashamed of himself. "I mean... It's stupid."

Marietta understood him better than some others would have. "It isn't stupid", she replied. "I have a mirror, if you want to see."

"Could I?"

She rummaged her handbag. When she found her small, round mirror she gave it to him.

Michael watched himself from the mirror and then pushed it back to her. He tried to smile.

"Scars really make the man, don't they?"

Marietta sat to the edge of the bed and arranged his pillows. "Oh, don't worry – you are still prettier than any boy should be."

Something in the sentence was wrong. She gave up sorting the pillows and fingered her handbag. Michael hadn't been a boy for a long time. But it was so silly to think of him as a man – he was younger than her, for crying out loud!

Michael leaned against the pillows and crossed his arms. "I don't like to be here."

"Good food, rest, comfortable bed, good-looking Healers, visitors who cry their eyes out and bring you flowers and chocolate more than you could wish for – yeah, how awful." She was holding the mirror between her fingertips again.

"You didn't bring me flowers and chocolate", Michael pointed out.

"I'm not crying my eyes out, either."

"And I can't remember seeing any good-looking Healers here. They are either grumpy men or older than my grandmother." He hid a yawn. "Do you think I could run off to meet Tony?"

"I think you should go to sleep now and ask someone to take you to see Anthony later."

Michael pouted. "I don't want to go to sleep."

She smiled. "You're not five years old anymore, Mike." She bit her lip and then handed her mirror to him again. "You can keep this."

Michael grinned. "Thanks. Will you come to see me again?"

"Well..."

Her brother was fine, all grown up and living in his own world – Cho said she was fine, insisted that a little bit of pain never mattered and then continued to try to fix what was left of her world – and Eddie had never been fine, so the fact that for the last two days he had done nothing else than sat in the pub, his back against the wall, shouldn't have meant anything.

But Michael would be fine. He would heal, and she was glad of that. World needed more people like him. He was nice to be around. And she would like to bring him flowers and chocolate. Happy endings were last season, healing was in.

"...I could come again tomorrow."

"That'd be great."