Impossible Love
Chapter Ten – The Invalid
Walking hurriedly into the Hospital Wing, Lara searched for what she feared would be the lifeless (or horrifically maimed) form of Jamie. She knew that Madam Pomfrey could fix even the most painful of magical injuries, but rational thought deserted her in the moment. Thankfully, her senses were greeted by the smell of antiseptic cleanliness and the sight of Jamie propped up cheerfully in bed: his muddy brow being wiped by Dottie Tryer, a Gryffindor sixth year, and Madam Pomfrey bustling around his injured leg.
Lara took a step backwards. She thought he'd be alone. She kind of hoped he'd still be unconscious. She wasn't prepared for the reality of the cosy little scene by the hospital bed, and she was more than aware of how heavily she was breathing, considering she'd rushed in a slight panic to get there.
Noticing her presence in the doorway, Jamie waved her over with a smile. He visibly recoiled from the loving ministrations of Dottie, who was about to press a warm towel to his forehead and dismissed her coldly.
"Thanks, you can go now."
A look of disappointment momentarily filled her face. Masking it with a flash of her perfect teeth and batting her eyelashes, she replied in a soft voice, "You sure? I don't mind waiting until after she's gone."
The accusatory tone was abundantly clear to Lara's ears, but Jamie hadn't appeared to notice.
Raising her eyebrows disbelievingly at him, Lara said, "I can go if I'm in the way…"
"Yes," Dottie replied quickly.
"No," said Jamie a beat later. "Stacie was just leaving, and I need to ask you about something."
Lara quickly brought her hand to her face to cover her smile.
"It's Dottie," the sixth year said through gritted teeth.
"What is?" he said, without a trace of sarcasm.
With an indignant huff, the girl stood up and grabbed her coat. She paused, as if contemplating responding, thought better of it, and stomped out of the Hospital Wing, with her perfect blonde hair flying behind her.
Madam Pomfrey, who had been busying herself adjusting Jamie's bandage throughout this exchange, chuckled with mirth.
"Well Mr Burke, I'll be sure to send away any more female callers. You've clearly had quite enough if you can't remember their names anymore. Or did the bludger hit your head as well as your leg?" Turning to Lara, she added, "Miss Hepworth, you have twenty minutes then I'm afraid Mr Burke will need some rest."
Taking the rest of the dressing and the healing potion with her, Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office.
Lara sat in the seat vacated by Dottie and removed her beret, placing it on the bedside table.
"Well, how's the leg?" she asked.
Jamie rolled his eyes.
"It's fine," he said, wiggling his toes as proof. "What's not fine is that I cost Slytherin the match."
Lara shook her head despairingly.
"They were just about to resume the match when I left. Slytherin could still win," she added optimistically.
Jamie turned away from her and gazed towards the window across from him. The most skyward tips of the Quidditch banners fluttered in the growing winds. The minutes of silence stretched before them until Jamie finally answered.
"They won't. You don't win when you're a player down."
"You don't know that," Lara began consolingly.
"Stop!" Jamie yelled.
Lara flinched.
"If I'm lucky, we'll lose and lose quickly. Otherwise, it might not just be me in the Hospital Wing."
Jamie's pained expression turned towards Lara. She realised the truth behind his words. Quidditch games could turn nasty, especially a Beater down.
A muffled cheer interrupted the silence. Lara thought it sounded rather like a shout for Ravenclaw.
Why did I think this was a good idea? I don't know how to make this ok.
Eyes downcast, Lara attention was absorbed by her clasped hands and the fingernails which were digging into her skin. Loosening her grip, she inspected the small half-moon ridge marks left on her hands. She pressed her thumb over them and watched as the marks returned.
Jamie shut his eyes and lay back, "Sorry for shouting."
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Lara released a sigh she hadn't realised she was holding in.
"I should bloody well think so too, Burke."
Eyes still shut, Jamie couldn't resist succumbing to a creeping smile at the sound of his surname from her lips. They sat in peaceable silence, listening to the growing volume of cheers as the students moved from the Quidditch stands back to the dorms.
"What happened?" said Lara with a sudden need for understanding.
The smile left Jamie's face.
"Seriously, I've been watching you fly since third year," she persisted. "And I've never seen you fall off – "
"Were you watching me though?" Jamie's head snapped towards Lara.
"Wh-What do you mean?" she stuttered, unsure of where the conversation was headed.
"Simple question, Lara: were you watching me when I fell? Were you even watching the game when I fell?"
Lara broke eye contact and pursed her lips. The hesitation gave Jamie the confirmation he needed, regardless of what her answer was.
"I went to the bathroom. Alright? For Merlin's sake, Jamie…"
Still unable to hold Jamie's interrogating stare, Lara was relieved by the interruption.
"Time's up, Miss Hepworth," Madam Pomfrey hurried round Jamie's bed, inspecting his leg from all angles.
Jamie swung his leg out of her grasp and sat up straight.
"Mr Burke!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey in dismay. "Lie back this instant."
"Nope. I'm going to my room," he said, ignoring her clucking noises of protest. "You're an amazing medi-witch, my leg is practically healed already and our Head Girl here is more than capable of helping me back to our quarters if I need assistance."
"I do not approve of this," said Madam Pomfrey resignedly. "Miss Hepworth, do not let this headstrong fool put his weight on that leg. Do you understand? He needs rest."
Summoning a crutch from the supply cupboard, Hogwarts' finest healer positioned it under Jamie's left arm and moved Lara into position on the other side of her patient.
"Now, let's see if you can make it to the door without causing me heart palpitations."
The duo set off at a slow pace. Lara gripped Jamie's right hand on her shoulder and wrapped her left arm around his waist. Hobbling towards the door, Jamie's weight was distributed between the crutch, his right leg and Lara.
"Just about," conceded Madam Pomfrey. "Now do not, under any circumstances, try to levitate him or cast any sort of spell. Your magic will interfere with mine and will do much more harm than good. He walks like this or he stays put. Understood?"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," they echoed.
The pair began the hobbling journey back to their quarters without speaking to each other.
Attracting a few quizzical glances from passing students, they arrived at their rooms without incident, but both panting somewhat.
"Just get me to the sofa first, before we try the stairs," huffed Jamie.
Lara manoeuvred Jamie towards the sofa, depositing him as gently as she could. Wiping her brow, she plonked herself down next to him.
"For future reference, remind me to get Adam to help," she joked, nudging him with her shoulder.
Jamie stiffened next to her and didn't reply. Not knowing what to say or do, Lara stayed put and internally seethed.
I've practically bloody carried you from the Hospital Wing. I don't get why I'm getting the silent treatment here. It's definitely not my fault you fell off your sodding broom. Child.
"I saw you," stated Jamie.
Lara looked at him and pulled a face that plainly said 'please elaborate as I'm clueless'.
"At the game," he continued. "I watched Professor Longbottom mouth something to you. I watched you both leave your seats. I watched you disappear under the stands with him."
Lara started to try to respond, but Jamie stopped her.
"Don't tell me I didn't," he said angrily. "I know what I saw. Hell, I was so distracted a fucking bludger took me out. So, don't tell me I didn't see it."
"I … I wasn't going to," said Lara quietly.
Jamie looked searchingly at Lara, willing her to explain. She fiddled with the cuffs of her cardigan, the seductive confidence she had with Neville having deserted her when faced with the unintended consequences of their meeting.
"He needed to tell me something about my placement," she offered by way of an explanation.
Jamie scoffed, "Lara, you're a terrible liar. You don't have to tell me anything. Just … as your Head Boy, I'm saying you need to watch what you're doing. Weigh it up. Anybody could have seen. I thought you had more intelligence than that."
"There's nothing going on."
"Yeah well I couldn't see through the banners. I just know what it looked like."
Lara blushed and looked away from Jamie. She didn't know what else to say. She was a monumentally terrible liar. The truth was nothing much had happened between her and Neville. There hadn't been a kiss. Neville's affectionate gesture could be explained if needed. However, it was equally true that something could well have happened between them. Electing not to attempt to lie to a Slytherin again, Lara swiftly (and not so subtly) changed the subject.
"Right, Sherlock, come on then," said Lara finally. "Let's get you and your broken leg upstairs."
"Who's Sherlock?" asked Jamie dumbly.
"He's … it really doesn't matter."
With a few stumbles, an awkward grope and one very loud expletive from Jamie, they eventually made it to the top of the stairs and Jamie's bedroom door.
Jamie pushed the door open with the end of his crutch. His bedroom was predominantly white and grey with dark blue and green hues as accent colours. It was nothing like a stereotypical Hogwarts bedroom, resembling something out of a catalogue as opposed to a cosy, teenage dorm. Lara suspected an interior designer had a hand in the décor, but she didn't even know whether such a thing was possible. Either that or Jamie had the house-elves firmly on side.
"Minimalist chic. I'm impressed. Actually, this is weirdly too tidy," said Lara gesturing at the desk.
There was a silver desk tidy containing two quills, a pencil and some parchment. An intricate silver bottle, which Lara established was Jamie's usual aftershave. Plus, a photograph of three people in an ebony frame. Lara assumed this was Jamie's family and bent down to inspect it more closely. The man had the same jawline and imposing frame as Jamie, although his hair was darker and peppered with grey, and a faint trace of a smile lingered on his lips. The woman was svelte, wearing a black silk suit with smooth dark auburn hair, her expression uncompromising. The younger woman had a full fringe, dark shoulder-length hair and a beaming smile. She wore Doc-Marten style boots, ripped fishnets and grey loose midi-dress.
"Are these your fam-" said Lara, turning to face Jamie and stopping dead in the middle of her question.
Jamie had whipped off his Quidditch shirt and was hopping on one foot over to the dresser. It was simultaneously seductive and hilarious.
"Go on, use your words," mocked Jamie. "What were you saying?"
"Dottie Tryer is a lucky girl," said Lara admiringly.
"Piss off," scoffed Jamie as he pulled a clean t-shirt on.
"Stacie is too," joked Lara. "Alright, I know where I'm not wanted," she added, raising both hands in defeat.
"Wait, throw me that crutch will you?"
Lara picked up the abandoned crutch and took it to him at the dresser.
"With my aim, this was safer," she said seriously, handing it to him.
Jamie placed one hand on the crutch and lightly pulled it closer, bringing Lara with it.
"Serious conversation now," he said.
"Do I need to make notes?"
Ignoring the dig, Jamie continued, "You've not bought a dress yet, for the Halloween Ball. I know you haven't because you've not been shopping since you bought those jeans, you've barely seen Hestia and you've spent a large amount of time in here or on duty or in the Library."
"Merlin, stalk much?"
"I live with you," he deadpanned. "And I have self-interest in the matter. If I've got to open the Ball dancing with you, you could at least try to look like a knockout."
Lara scowled at him. The dancing she was trying to forget. The dress … he had a point about though.
"So, I've arranged it all with McGonagall, you're going shopping," Jamie stated. "With my mother. Tomorrow. Have fun."