Ch 11
"She will be okay," Madame Pomfrey told Viola and Pandora for the fifteenth time. Yet still, the two refused to move from Bridget's side. Bridget's eyes remained shut, her breathing slow and faint.
"What happened?" Viola asked, her voice filled with shock and frustration. "Not even an hour ago she was fine."
"She suffered an overdose of Bloodroot," Madame Pomfrey whispered, sighing. "It's a poisonous plant. She must've been attempting to make a Draught of Peace potion; all of the other ingredients are there. However, Bloodroot is very similar in appearance to powdered porcupine quills. She must've gotten the two confused and when she drank the potion, this occurred." Pandora felt her stomach drop. She remembered mixing the ingredients so delicately, adding the porcupine quills last and… but had she? As she began to think, she remembered feeling so tired, so fed up with mixing this potion. She had grabbed the ingredients in a hurry in an effort not to get caught, and her mind had also been on other things like her father, her friends, Harry…
"I've got to go," Pandora left the room abruptly, her panic level rising. Viola stared at her with shocked eyes as she raced out. She began pacing in the hall, tears streaming down her face. This had been all her fault. She had been careless, lazy, unfocused. She had done this to her best friend.
"She'll be okay," Viola said quietly, entering the hallway to face Pandora.
"I did this, Vi." Pandora was shaking, her whole body quaking with sobs.
"You didn't do it on purpose," Viola said, giving her a hug. "Bridget is the one who kept demanding potions. You made a mistake. Everyone does."
"My mother wouldn't have made that mistake." Pandora muttered.
"Look, I have to go. I have to go meet Michael-"
"Are you serious?" Pandora yelled, making Viola jump. "You're going on a fate right now? Your best friend is stuck in the hospital wing and you just keep dating? What is wrong with you?"
"She's going to be fine, Pandora." A dark look was cast over Viola's face. "She of all people wouldn't want us wasting time being upset over nothing. There are things to do. Besides…I'm not the one who put her there." She scoffed and walked off, leaving Pandora alone in the hallway, hurt and angry. Tears streamed down her face as she blindly walked through the hallway, not caring who saw her.
"Hey," a strong set of hands took her by the shoulders. She recognized his scent, light and inviting, as she looked up into his familiar, sparkling green eyes. "What's wrong?" She sobbed harder in response. She felt him steering her in a certain way, his hand lightly on her back as he guided her down the hallway. People looked over quizzically, but he kept his eyes trained on what was ahead and led her up sets of stairs.
He led her into a red room with a couch and fireplace. She looked up, sniffling. She recognized the Gryffindor crest. Harry had brought her into the Gryffindor common room. She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine, but he was pulling her to the boys' section and into his room. They sat on his bed and he locked the door to make sure no one walked in. Then he turned to face her.
"What's wrong?" The question was loaded and she struggled to answer. Tears were falling and splattering over his sheets. She began to apologize but he shushed her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her forehead and ran his hands through her soaked hair as she cried against him. They lay together like that for hours, until her crying had reduced to sniffling, and soon she was asleep. He ran his hand up and down her back, holding her tight and eventually falling asleep himself.
When they woke up, hours later, they didn't move to get up. Neither knew the time and neither cared. They lay in his bed, his hand scratching her back comfortingly, her hair splayed out on his pillow and her eyes red from crying. She looked him in the eyes and began to speak. Words tumbled out one after another and she did not stop to think about what she was saying. She trusted him, completely and absolutely. She told him every awful thought, every feeling. He listened wholeheartedly, his hands absentmindedly rubbing her back and occasionally reaching out to stroke her hair. He kissed her neck when she outlined her insecurities and held her tighter when she condemned herself for making such a trivial mistake.
"Pandora," he whispered when she had finished. "You're an amazing witch. You have so many talents and abilities. You made a mistake. So what? You've got so much going for you and you will continue to do amazing things. Stop being afraid or feeling like you aren't good enough. I can promise you that you are." She kissed him in response.
"I just know I won't live up to my mother. She was the best potion maker."
"You don't have to live up to her, Pandora." He told her, kissing her softly. "You are yourself. You are amazing on your own. Stop letting what people expect you to do determine your actions. Do what makes you happy. I know people expect certain things from you but you don't always have to deliver. Do things that you want."
"Easier said than done," she murmured.
"Trust me, I can relate to you completely," he whispered, kissing her behind her ear, then on her lips. "But I can also tell you that it's the best feeling in the world when you do something that you want and succeed in your own way. You don't have to do what people want you to do. Your family wants you to become some powerful wizard that does great things. Your dad wants you to help him run the store. Your friends want you to brew them potions and be someone you're not. All of these people want you to be something, be someone. But you don't have to be anything or anyone that you don't want to."
"What do you want me to be?" she asked suddenly. He looked at her longingly, his lips curving into a smile.
"Mine."
