A/N:
This is completely different from most of the stuff I usually write, a lot more emotional, but I thought I'd put it out here and see if you like it :D.
So please review! Like it, hate it, whatever!
Everything about the room was wrong. The walls were a pale, sickly green that was supposed to be 'calming', but just made me feel queasy. The bed had a white metal frame, was covered in white sheets, and had a white cotton blanket folded at the end of it. The bed, in general, was too white.
The small table next to the bed was empty, and nothing about the room looked homely at all.
The only thing remotely interesting was the window, which currently had a view of the grey London sky.
However, the worst part of the room, in my opinion, was the team of Healers standing around me, all trying their hardest to look calm.
"Miss MacDougal," The head healer, the one closest to me, started speaking, her tone completely professional and devoid of all emotion, "it appears that you are recovering nicely from you incident."
I scoffed internally at that. If you called being so damn tired that you couldn't walk across a room, feeling nauseous constantly and never eating a full meal, and suffering from disturbing nightmares 'recovering nicely', then sure, I was your gal.
"However, we must inform you about some likely side-effects of the potion you ingested. The fall itself only leaves physical injuries, all of which have healed nicely. However, the combination of the liquids you ingested will most likely have negative consequences."
Now would probably be a good time for me to explain my 'incident'. You see, being the complete idiot that I am, and a Gryffindor at heart, I just couldn't turn down Black when he dared me to fly all the way from the Common Room to the Potions dungeon on my broom in the last week of sixth year.
That was how, in short, I ended up crashing head first into Slughorn's potions stock, breaking at least ten flaskfulls, and swallowing a ton of stuff that most likely wasn't good for me. I also ended up with a broken arm, but I was more concerned with my broom, which had also broken.
"We have identified most of the liquids you ingested. It seems that you swallowed a combination of a Babbling Beverage, a Befuddlement Draught, Doxycide, a Forgetfullness Potion and a Pepperup Potion. Combined, we predict that you will have some memory loss, possibly act strangely, may lose control of your actions and may experience energy dips as well as highs. Of course, we can not say exactly what will happen, but that is our best guess.
We also have found that the combination is highly dangerous, and lethal. If you had not come to us, you would most likely not see through the summer. However, using Dr. Ubbly's latest potion, we think the chances of you completing your seventh year are high."
I sat in shock.
I was going to die? At eighteen? All because of some stupid dare?
"Lori, dear, how are you?"
My mother, Mary MacDougal, bustled into the room,carrying an absolutely hideous arrangement of hyacinths. She set them on the empty (white) table next to me and set about straightening my bedspread.
"This room is simply odious! We must do something about it-" My mother was saying, and I found myself agreeing with her for perhaps the first time.
"Hey, Lor." My sister, Isabel, sidled up to my bed, her reading glasses perched on her head.
Isabel was two years above me, and had been a Ravenclaw. She was now the Junior Undersecretary for the Minister. She'd got the good genes of the family, Mum's brainiac ones.
I, on the other hand, got Dad's obsession with Quidditch, which Mum hates, and the slightly rebellious and stupid streak that I think I got from Uncle Bert.
In my mother's eyes, Isabel is the perfect daughter, and I'm the screw up. I think that was only confirmed when I basically ended my life as a result of a dare.
As soon as I thought of my condition, I quickly diverted my mind. I'd found that the best way to stop feeling depressed was to refuse to think about my impending death.
Sunshine, puppies, kittens, unicorns, pranking Sirius, treacle tart..
"I spoke to Professor Dumbledore this morning, and your father and I agreed that the best course of action would be for you to visit Madame Pomfrey each month, to take another dose of Dr. Ubbly's as the Healers requested."
"The headmaster is perfectly happy with this plan, so I seen to reason that prevents you from completing your N.E.."
I gaped at my mother, trying hard to control the anger I could feel contorting my features.
"Mother, what on earth gave you the idea that I'd want to spend my last moments at school?" I said, fuming.
My mother turned around, her eyes piercing mine, momentarily distracted from dusting the windowsill.
"Lorille, of course you will return to Hogwarts. No one in our family has ever failed to complete their N.E., and I will not let you be the first. Besides, what would you rather be doing?" My mother stared down at me, looking as if she had no idea what possessed or motivated me.
Which was how I felt most of the time regarding my mother and sister. They were the same, goal-oriented and serious. Dad, on the other hand, had a fun loving streak, that Mum unfortunately repressed.
She would not do the same to me.
"I'd rather play Quidditch!" I exclaimed, sitting up straight in my bed.
My mother looked exasperated at my suggestion, and my sister sighed.
"No. I forbid it. Flying caused this accident, I will not let you waste your year on Quidditch only to have some accident end your life sooner than necessary." My mother said, looking down her nose at me.
"I don't care what you want! It's not up to you, or Dad. Did you even tell him what you decided? Where is he, anyway?" I said, momentarily distracted by the absence of my father.
"Your father is at work." My mother sniffed snobbily.
"You didn't answer my question!" I yelled.
"Did you even bother to tell Dad? Did you even think to consult me? What about what I want, for once?" I screamed, tears pricking my eyes.
My mother glared at me, and I glared right back. We sat in a stony silence for several minutes, before my sister walked forward to stand next to me.
"Mum, can you give me a moment alone with Lori?" Isabel asked, and like always, my mother allowed her to have anything she wanted, and stalked out the room, her nose in the air.
It was so unfair, my sister got anything and everything she could ever want, and I was under lock and key.
"Lori, you know Mum just wants to control everything. She can't grasp the fact that she can't control what's happening to you, so she's trying to control every other aspect of your life instead." My sister said, sitting on the edge of my bed gingerly.
I stared at her, waiting for her to continue, careful not to let any emotions show on my face.
"Lor, I know you might want to fly all the way around the world and have some grand adventure, but please stay here for Mum. You might be dying, but she's losing a daughter. You're a strong person, she's not. One crack in her life, and this happens. Please, stay here. I don't think Dad or I will be able to deal with her breaking down." Isabel said, looking down at me, her hand gently resting on my leg.
I sighed. My sister was right, in a way. As much as my mother and I disagreed, I knew I couldn't really deny her this request. Mum, as much as she put up a formidable front, was a rather fragile woman, and would probably never be the same.
Yet another depressing consequence of that stupid dare.