Name: Sab
House: Ravenclaw
Task: Triple threat june
Prompt: "Did you really think you'd get away with it?"
Title: garish bravery
Summary: Hannah works at the Infirmary, treating wounds no one should mention.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Neville L., Hannah A.
Warnings/triggers: pain, mentions of past violence and torture
Word count: 665
When Neville woke up, he didn't really know where he was. As far as he could tell, it was very white and very quiet. Oh, and also, his forehead was hurting. A lot. A lot more than usual at least, and that was quite saying something because Neville knew what it was like for one's forehead to hurt. Two words: cruciatus curse. But it wasn't exaclty like that. Crucio cut down to your very soul and twisted your magical core until screaming wasn't enough anymore. The feeling here was much more basic, brutal even; Neville could tell its physical depth. Which is why it hardly surprised him when he felt something cool pass over his head.
The cool thing was being carefully manoeuvred over the part that was hurting . Neville tried to move his head to see to whom the hand belonged to, but the pain made him go momentarily blind.
"Shh." The person told him. "Don't move your head. It's okay."
And the person hovered into sight as they wiped his hair away from his forehead. The person had long blond locks dangling over her shoulders, a sad smile and deep, deep shadows under her eyes.
"Hannah," he tried but his voice was barely more than a croak. The movement of his jaw tensed his skin and made his forehead hurt again.
She offered him a small smile before wetting the cool cloth again. "You really shouldn't try to speak. You've got rather a nasty gash along your head."
Oh. He remembered how the gash had gotten there. Neville could feel the dry blood on his cheek crackle as he attempted to ask where he was. Then he realised, the hospital wing. That explained the calm, the white, the lingering smell of disinfectant.
There was a moment of silence as Hannah removed the wet cloth and moved a couple of bottles around his bedside table. The soft glassy clink sounded like shards to his ears.
"This is going to sting."
Neville winced as something sharp and acidic was lightly applied on his forehead.
"I asked her how much muggle blood she had, you know," he managed to get out. It was unspoken between them who this 'she' was.
"Did you really think you'd get away with it?"
"No, of course not."
Hannah nodded slowly. "You're so brave."
He gave a weak laugh. "It's not that much bravery. She had asked Goyle to go fetch the muggle-born littlies for the practical Dark Arts lesson"
"Still I couldn't have done it if I were you," she said as she placed one of the bottles back down and folded her hands in her lap, "I would've given you Dittany but the scar needs to show or it'll be worse."
"Does Madam Pomfrey know about this?"
"Oh yes. But you know how she is. Turns a blind eye on whatever is happening, no matter what the situation is. She gives potions when needed and doesn't tell the Carrows when she lets us heal but that's about it."
"Do you have a lot of people here?"
"They come. It's only me and Susan so it gets difficult to handle at times, but otherwise it's okay."
Neville looked up at her in wonder, the sting in his forehead already fading. "You say you're not brave, Hannah, but this is, this is wonderful. This is true bravery."
"No it's not. This is only helping," she said softly.
"No really. What I do in comparison, it's garish."
A pause, and then a small smile. "I guess sometimes you need a little garish bravery," she reached for another bottle and made him swallow it, "here, you need to sleep."
Neville tried to express her thanks, by slowly a feeling of numb crept silently through his body; not the one where the pain is so intense you stop thinking, but the one where solace fills you. His eyelids dropped as he felt Hannah's hand on his cheek, a caring smile on her face.
