Chapter Twenty-Nine: You're Hideous Looking
There was silence throughout the stands. Everyone watched on as Professor Dumbledore rushed to the side of Jamie Devereaux's limp body bringing out his long, thin wand and waving it over the little witch. Water moved upward, coming off of her clothing and out of her lungs. Her mouth was opened, her eyes closed, her body now empty of lake water. The Headmaster of Hogwarts stared at her lifeless body, nervously. Guilt and panic overwhelmed him at the idea of a student dying due to the Triwizard Tournament. He was also extremely confused at how she was able to wake up from under the spell.
Fred Weasley pushed his way through the crowd, panicked and quiet. His tall stature allowed him to look over the heads of the other students that were staring down at his Jamie. He wanted to scream, but all he could do was look at her and plead to everything in the existing world that she would be okay. That she would wake up.
In the distance, Cedric Diggory emerged from the water with Ron Weasley, who spluttered loudly. The two were confused at the lack of commotion at their arrival.
Minerva McGonagall saw it first, the slight movement of her little pinky finger. Without thinking, she lunged toward Jamie's small body and grabbed her hand, accidentally pushing Albus Dumbledore out of the way. Minerva squeezed her hand tightly, needing desperately to see her student's eyes. She couldn't imagine what would happen if Jamie died, and what Loren Bruce would do without her daughter.
Jamie coughed hard, it was dry and rough, and hurt every part of her body. There was bustling of movement above her. She heard Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall calling for Madam Pomfrey, she heard Fleur say something in her thick French accent, and she heard Harry Potter say her name multiple times, trying to bring her attention to him. But Jamie's eyes found Fred Weasley's in the midst of all the panic. He didn't say anything. His brown eyes were wide with fear and Jamie's heart went out to him in that moment. She wanted to hug him and assure him that she was fine. But she felt decidedly not fine at all. Her limbs were heavy and numb from the cold. Jamie Devereaux would have been shivering, had she not been unable to move. Even lifting her head to allow madam Pomfrey to wrap a towel around her felt like she was straining every muscle in her body. The last thing she remembered before waking up under water was Professor McGonagall assuring her that nothing was going to happen and even if Cedric Diggory failed to retrieve her, she would be fine. She also remembered being extremely flattered that she was the thing that Cedric would miss the most, not that she was too surprised by it. And then suddenly she was drowning. There was no dream in the middle, it felt like barely a second had passed between being in the Transfiguration office and being at the bottom of the lake.
"Jamie?" Cedric's voice broke through the commotion. He was soaking wet and looked exhausted, but brushed off Cho Chang's attempt at putting a towel over him. "Jamie are you alright?"
The little witch tried to speak, but her throat felt like it had been stripped from all of its water, which it probably had been. Instead, she settled for nodding in confirmation. From above, she heard Ludo Bagman's announcing the scores, with Harry Potter receiving 50 points for acts of bravery—saving her life—especially when she was not his to collect. Fleur hugged her from the side, kissing her cheek, before McGonagall pulled the French girl off of Jamie Devereaux. Everyone was speaking, but Bagman was still announcing scores and Jamie felt a rush of sadness that Cedric had been awarded second place. She knew it was a silly thing to think. She had almost died and didn't because of Harry, but even her subconscious was team Diggory through and through, with or without the yellow muggle hat. The Bruce girl was brought to her feet, supported by Madam Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall, who were scolding everyone for crowding her. Jamie's eyes met Harry's and she mouthed the words 'thank you,' still unable to find her voice. She was embarrassed at the attention and crowd she was creating. This was the second task of a tournament, and she had managed to make it about her. Loren Bruce would be proud, apart from the whole almost drowning thing.
Fred Weasley watched as Jamie Devereaux was carted off by the two old witches. He was stilled and unable to move as his eyes followed their path in the direction of the castle. Fred had never considered Jamie's death. The only person's death he had ever mentally prepared himself for was his Aunt Muriel. The very idea of being without Jamie was not something the red-head could wrap his mind around.
Despite the two leaders of the tournament both being from Hogwarts, none of the Hogwarts students were cheering their victory in that moment. Only Ludo Bagman seemed to be in any mood to celebrate. The black-robed students in various colored ties were all reeling from Jamie Devereaux Bruce's close brush with death. Suddenly, the Triwizard Tournament being banned for hundreds of years made sense to all of them. This was not a game to make bets on with the Weasley's. No one felt this fact more than the two tall twins that were standing there with blank faces and a sheet of names of those that had made bets burning a hole in their pocket.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was abnormally subdued that evening. People spoke of what happened, but the image of a limp, cloaked body falling in front of all of them remained ingrained in their minds. Those that didn't see Jamie Devereaux getting brought out of the water by Harry Potter, and then mere-people, asked for others to describe it to them but often got turned down. No one dared to speak to the sixth-year Gryffindors, who had all been turned away from the Hospital Wing when they had tried to see Jamie. Everyone was especially on edge around Fred Weasley, who was tense and pacing, not at all his usual care-free self. The red-head was an emotional wreck and was furious at Professor McGonagall for stopping him from seeing his Jamie.
At the time, Jamie was being grilled by Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall about why it was she woke up underwater. The spell she was under was only intended to break due to Oxygen, once she broke the surface. Regardless of every time they asked her, she couldn't answer. All she could rasp out was that she felt eyes on her and then opened her own and saw Harry Potter looking directly at her.
"Maybe it was a defense mechanism?" Rubeus Hagrid suggested from beside Jamie's bed. He had one large hand grasped around a bundle of rather strange looking plants that were freshly picked from the forest. "You see it a lot with big spiders and snakes, having a sixth sense when predators are near them in a vulnerable state."
Jamie's head visibly jolted back in shock at being compared to a spider and snake. She had just gotten use to the bee-jokes, she didn't think she could handle Loren hissing whenever she got sassy with her. "But Harry wasn't attacking her." Professor Dumbledore said in his soft, raspy voice. "Possibly you sensed a certain amount of emotions coming from Mister Potter, and it resulted in your male Veela half being triggered awake." The Headmaster turned to Professor McGonagall, "Bring Harry here and we can ask him exactly what was going through his mind in that moment."
Minerva looked at Albus, and then back at Jamie, unwilling to part with the little blonde witch. Her silver hair was splayed down her back, unkept. Jamie's small shoulders were surrounded by two fluffy blankets and completely dwarfing her in them. She looked decidedly human and fearful. Hagrid sensed the Transfiguration's teacher desire to stay with the sixth-year Gryffindor, "I'll go n'fetch him, Dumbledore." The half-giant placed the strange plant on the table beside the hospital bed before removing himself from the room in search of one of the Triwizard champions.
When Hagrid came back with Harry Potter, there was commotion as the pair shut the hospital wing doors behind them. Jamie heard Fred Weasley's very distinct voice, demanding that he be allowed to see her. The blonde witch tried to sit up and strain her neck so she could maybe catch a glimpse of him and let him know she was okay, but her weak body did not let her. Her eyes connected with Harry's and a small smile came across her face. The fourth-year Gryffindor boy walked to her side and held out a hand, which she took immediately, "I'm glad you're okay, Jamie. Everyone is really worried. Especially Fred."
A heated, but pleased, blush came across Jamie's face and she squeezed the young boy's hand reassuringly. "Harry." Professor Dumbledore's voice interrupted their moment, "Do you remember how you felt or what you were thinking before Jamie woke up underwater?"
Harry's eyebrows shot upward in surprise and confusion, "I mean, I was panicking because no one else had gotten there yet. And I thought they were actually going to be left at the bottom of the lake if they weren't collected." His face pinched in concentration, "I was worried and then I looked at Jamie and her face looked different that it usually does." The Potter boy's green eyes met hers, "Usually your nose and cheeks are sharp but your face was really round and soft down there and so I was looking at it and then I was trying to remember what color your eyes were…and then they were open."
Madam Pomfrey interrupted the group of wizards, "What did I say about questioning the girl? She needs rest and no more visitors. First dragons and now drowning? This was the worst idea in school history." Her eyes darted to the headmaster, "No disrespect intended, Dumbledore."
"I assure you, in these moments I am questioning my own decisions." Dumbledore responded gravely, not taking his eyes off of the little half-veela that sat buried beneath blankets.
There was commotion in the hallway behind the hospital wing doors. Loud voices edging someone on until the two large doors sprung open and Fred Weasley—with his twin, Cedric Diggory, and Angelina Johnston behind him—burst into the room. Madam Pomfrey immediately began lecturing them on their intrusion, saying that Jamie Devereaux was in no state to have any visitors. Jamie's voice came back to her, "Let them in, please." She said, faintly.
The old mediwitch immediately stopped her angry rant and conceded defeat, allowing the sixth-year Hogwarts students to crowd Jamie's bed. Fred Weasley got there first, with a squirming black cat in his hands. "He was looking for you." Fred said, in reference to Salem. Salem was placed next to Jamie and despite his typical stand-offish personality, the cat immediately curled up next to his owner and placed a protective paw on her lap. Fred's hand came up to Jamie's thick, scraggly hair. Without thinking, the Weasley boy pulled one of Jamie Devereaux's hair ties off of his wrist and handed it to the little blonde.
"Why do you have that?" Cedric Diggory asked, pulling the blanket tighter around his best friend.
Fred shrugged, "Stole it yesterday." Jamie's eyes narrowed, causing Fred to give her a wide lopsided smile in response. She tried to pull her hair up but she winced at the pain of her shoulders. Fred immediately took it upon himself to tie her hair into the type of bun he usually watched her create. Watching and doing, however, were very different. The red-head ended up yanking and tugging the silver hair and creating a very lopsided and horrifying looking pony-tail-bun combination. Fred stepped back to admire his work and nodded thoughtfully. "You're hideous looking." Jamie Devereaux flipped him off, making his smile widen even more as he perched on the bed next to her.
"Alright, you've seen her, you know she's alright. Now I must insist that Miss Bruce gets some semblance of rest. She can have visitors tomorrow." Madam Pomfrey said, in a no nonsense type of tone. The nurse watched as everyone began to move away from little Jamie Devereaux. Everyone except Fred Weasley, who remained looking down at the bundled up witch as if he expected her to disappear if he looked away. The blonde looked up at Fred and they shared a look with no words. Poppy Pomfrey suddenly felt like she was intruding on a very personal moment between the two sixth-year Gryffindors. She was also quite surprised. Never before had she seen two young students share that kind of look before. "Mister Weasley, that means you."
Fred's eyes remained on Jamie, "I'll let her sleep. But I'm not leaving."
"Fred, come on we need to go." George said, grabbing his twin's elbow and trying to get away from the increasingly annoyed nurse.
Jamie nudged Fred's hand, "Go." She rasped, she didn't want him to leave her. But she also wanted to be alone in that moment. Her life had flashed before her eyes and all she thought was her mother, Fred, and how much she hated Devereaux—a man she had never met. Suddenly, her life had felt so two-dimensional. In Jamie's mind, how could she be fulfilling a prophecy for an entire race of creatures, but still be only concerned with a boy? Then again, what else had her life been? She studied with friends, worked reasonably hard, and got irrational often. Was this another moment of irrational thoughts? Or was she truly at odds with herself. Sure, Jamie was making headway with whatever kind of talents it was that she had, but what else? What else could she do and who else could she be? The blonde witch wanted to be more and do more. Hogwarts was shocked to see her lifeless body, but why? Her friends loved her for who she was, she knew. But everyone else? Did they only care because she was pretty? And what would happen if they all found out that she was half-veela? Would they turn against her and call her looks unnatural and evil? Her heart beat hard and she closed her eyes tightly, burrowing herself deeper into the blankets she was surrounded in. Jamie wanted to smother herself in the blankets. Maybe if she really did die then all these problems would go away.
Jamie's eyes jolted wide at the thought. She wasn't suicidal, she knew. She loved life. But why was she having a mid-life crisis at the ripe age of sixteen. Jamie reached a hand out to the potion Madam Pomfrey had placed on her nightstand. Jamie chucked it back in one large swallow and allowed the sleep to overpower her.
There was a loud hiss from a cat and a "Bloody Hell!" from a deep voice that jolted Jamie Devereaux Bruce awake. Her eyes opened to a dark hospital wing, and Fred Weasley was sitting on the chair next to her bed, prying Salem off of his leg. Fred looked up and saw Jamie awake, "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
The blonde witch turned so her body was facing him, "What are you doing?" She asked. Her voice sounded more normal after those ten hours of sleep.
Fred cleared his throat, "I was…I was just going to…watch you sleep?"
Jamie blinked at him. "Creep."
"It's bloody romantic!" Fred argued, whispering loudly.
"Maybe for a stalker. Or a pervert." She rasped.
The Weasley boy stood up and pushed Jamie over to the side of the bed, "Shut it. You shouldn't even be talking in your state."
"Silencing all women, Pureblood?"
His mouth opened in disbelief as his arm snaked around her shoulders. Jamie snuggled into the crook of Fred's arm, getting comfortable. She knew if Madam Pomfrey found the two of them they'd be toast, but she was still groggy with sleep and couldn't give a damn. "If this is you on a good-nights rest I never want you to sleep again, sassy." Fred's head rested against Jamie's and he tucked the blanket tighter around her.
"How'd you get past Pomfrey?" Jamie asked, the smell of cinnamon and smoke surrounding her.
"Secret passage." Fred responded. When Jamie turned her head to look at him in surprise, he pushed her head back against his chest, "I'll show you it tomorrow. I'll show you all the secret passages." The red-heads heart clenched. The image of Jamie Devereaux's lifeless body still fresh in his mind. He couldn't believe he had never shown her all the passages around the castle. Or the one connecting to Hogsmeade. There was so much the two of them hadn't done, and so much Fred still didn't know about her. He had taken for granted their connection, believing that was all he needed. After that morning, Fred realized that there was so much more he wanted with her.
"Is that how you always knew where I was first through fifth year?" Jamie yawned.
"No, George and I had a magic map of Hogwarts."
"What?" Jamie whisper yelled.
Fred shushed her, "Tomorrow, Jamison."
"Tell me one thing?" Jamie asked. Fred's large hand stroked her stiff, crusty hair that was still knotted in whatever thing Fred had put it in earlier. The red-headed Gryffindor hummed in response and Jamie continued. "What do you not like about me?"
Fred scoffed, "Where to begin, Jamison. You're stubborn as hell, you have a horrible sense of humor, and you care far too much about what people think about you. You are very cold to people you don't know and your resting face is quite intimidating. You also are not forgiving. Like at all." Jamie elbowed his side, hard. Fred groaned, "And you are so violent. And take jokes way too far."
"You are literally the biggest prat. Is this how you comfort a girl who almost died?" Jamie asked, but there was a wide smile on her face. She didn't know why, but she loved hearing this. It made her feel much more human, and less like the half-breed she had begun to call herself in her head.
"Never talk about your death again." Fred said, seriously. He nudged the little blonde over a bit so he could lie down more in the bed. "And no, this is only how I would comfort you."
Jamie pulled one of her blankets so they were sharing and she felt a small peck on her forehead from Fred. She knew she should stop him, but she didn't want to. Jamie felt she deserved this small moment. She had almost died after all.
Fred waited until he heard the soft breathing from the witch in his arms. He continued to stare at her, making sure she didn't stop her deep breaths. Every time there was a slightly longer pause in between an exhale, he felt himself tighten in fear. But then she would inhale again and Fred Weasley would relax. He fell asleep still on edge.