THC/The Houses Competition
House: Slytherin
Class: Potions
Prompts: [character] Angelina Johnson
Drabble/Standard: Standard
Word Count: 1463
Summery: AU where Angelina has an accident during Quidditch practice. Her fiance, George, is waiting anxiously with his family for news in St. Mungo's waiting room.
Feels Like Home
George
George Weasley was in the waiting room, pacing back and forth like a caged bear. Worry was etched onto his face as he waited for someone to let him know what was happening.
"Come on, love," soothed Molly, standing to put her arms around her son, "you're not helping anyone getting yourself worked up like that. Come sit. Arthur, can you grab him a cup of tea please?"
"Tea?" recoiled George, pushing his mother away and continuing to pace. "I don't bloody want tea, mum! Are you stupid or something? I want to know what's happening!" Molly's face drained of colour and her eyes welled up at her son's words. Never in all her life had any of her children spoken to her in such a way. She tried to keep hold of her upset as she sat back onto her chair. However, a few seconds, a single tear managed to leak out from under her lid, and as he watched it trickle its way down her cheek, Arthur saw red.
"George! We understand you're stressed, but you will not speak to your mother like that. Now sit down. I will get us all some tea."
George suddenly felt ashamed and lowered himself to sit on the chair next to his mother.
"I'm so sorry mum. You don't deserve that. I just need to know what's happening."
"I know, love." sighed Molly, as she wound an arm around her son's shoulders. "It'll be okay, I know it."
"How do you know?" asked George desperately.
"Because, love, there's no way we have any more grief headed our way. It needs to be alright. It will be alright."
"I just can't take any more, mum." cried George, leaning his head onto his mother's shoulder. "She's kept me together since Fred. I don't know what I would do without her." His sobs finally broke free and he cried unrestrained as Molly rocked him side to side, hushing and soothing him as best she could.
Angelina
You're awake. You're alive. You know this because dead people don't feel pain like this. Your attempts to get up only increase the fuzzing in your head as your arms scramble to find a grip on the mattress. At last you give up. You try to keep your head as still as possible and instead look around with wild casting eyes. There is one large light panel above your head allowing you to see. It flickers from dim to painfully bright as you blink and scrunch your eyes accordingly. You're in a cubicle. From the level of pain swamping your body and the beeps and first aid equipment around you it's obvious you're in a hospital. There's no way of knowing what time it is or how long you've been here.
The curtain whips sharply to the right and you snap your face suddenly towards the source of the intrusion. Your wild expression is lost on the nurse; she only has eyes for her endless list of tasks. She looks exhausted as she puts an armful of clean sheets onto a nearby shelf in the cubicle. You watch her as she wipes her arm across her brow and sways on her feet. You can see she's clearly exhausted. You wonder why she isn't looking back at you, making some kind of contact.
It's only as she turns to leave that she looks at you. Pale, sad eyes glance at you sympathetically as she backs away and ducks round the edge of the curtain, as if you're a creature to pity. Your eyes feel heavy and sore and, suddenly, it's too much to focus. Slowly, you allow yourself to sink back onto the crisps pillows and tumble into a fitful sleep.
George
The atmosphere in the waiting room was tense and suffocating. No one spoke. Instead, they exchanged occasional glances of worry and cradled cups of tea in their hands, casting the occasional warming charm as they cooled beyond drinking temperature.
Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a harried looking nurse holding a clipboard. Almost immediately, George was on his feet.
"Are you the family of Angelina Johnson?"
"I'm her fiance", confirmed George firmly. "Is she okay? Can I see her?"
"Miss Johnson is, unfortunately, quite unwell. It seems that, during her team practice, her broom malfunctioned, causing her to fall 40 ft. She was unconscious on arrival and we immediately began diagnostic spells to determine her injuries." The nurse paused for a breath.
"And?" demanded George, "What's wrong with her?"
"She has several broken ribs, a broken arm, a fractured skull with some minor swelling to her brain. Also, I'm sorry to say, she lost her baby."
"Baby?" gasped George in shock, "I had absolutely no idea! Oh, Angelina."
"She's stable at the moment, but the next 24 hours are critical." The nurse explained with sad eyes. "She hasn't been told of her injuries as yet."
"Please, can I see her? I need to see her?" begged George.
"Just one visitor, and only for a few moments. Come with me."
Absently, George followed the nurse out of the room towards the woman he loved.
Angelina
The nurse is back again. She ducks round the curtain, clipboard in hand and stops dead as the sight of your body straining halfway out of the bed. Perhaps her vision is based on movement like a T-Rex, she won't see you if you don't move. You stay rigid in your hunched position as she slowly moves towards you, murmuring soft directions to get back into bed and rest. How you're not well. You think her words are meant to calm you, but instead they make you feel caged. Only your eyes move as they follow her progress towards the bed. The lilts and dips of her soft whispering are soothing like water trickling over dying embers.
Suddenly, a hand appears on the nurses shoulder and you realise George is next to her. "Stop," you hear him say, "you're frightening her."
George. Where has he been? You reach your hand out towards him and he's by your side in an instant.
"I've got her." he assures the nurse, "you can go."
You watch the nurse worry her lip as she thinks the situation over, before watching her nod once in agreement and leave the cubicle.
Carefully, George helps you back into the bed properly and lies down snug against your back, his arms around you. Keeping you safe.
"Hush," he breathes in your ear. "Hush baby. I'm here."
The 'sh' sound imitating the last words of the embers as they were smothered by the brook. The blanket drops a little, then a bit more as your fingers start to relax. There's a black edge to your vision, just out of sight enough for you not to know what it is. Your neck droops and your shoulders sag as the panic that has filled you billows out in one loud swooping breath.
George keeps up his sh-ing and murmuring as you slump heap-like in his arms.
George
A yawn forced its way out of George's mouth as he sat exhausted next to Angelina's bed. He clutched her hand as she slept, grateful that the nurses had taken pity on him and let him stay. He thought back to how panicked and scared she had been. Merlin, it had taken ages to calm her. He shook his head at the memory and simply thanked Godric she was still here with him.
He had already dashed back to the waiting room to let his family know it was okay for them to go home. His mother had only agreed when he promised to floo the second anything changed. George smiled fondly at the thought of how worried she had been, how they all had been. It seemed Angelina was well and truly part of the family. He really wouldn't be surprised if there was a Weasley jumper on its way to her as he sat there.
Angelina had woken twice since George had been keeping watch over her, and both times she seemed a lot better. Less groggy, less panicked. She had even smiled at a joke he cracked out of nervousness. He still hadn't mentioned the baby to her, but it didn't matter. Not really. Not now. She was going to be ok, that was the main thing. When she was better they could talk about the baby and grieve together for what might have been, but now? All George wanted for just now was to look after her. After losing Fred, she was his home.
With that thought held firmly in his mind, George settled down and waited for the rest of the night to pass, his hand firmly holding onto hers.