Hannah gasps in a shuddering breath, finally able to fill her lungs once again to their full capacity. It is done. All the fighting and destruction is over. As the adrenaline slowly fades from her body, she becomes aware of a deep ache in her left shoulder. She lifts her hand to it, and feels a gaping tear in her robe soaked with a sticky substance. She draws her hand back into her line of sight, and realises it is blood. She must have gotten hit with a wayward spell and not noticed in the heat of the moment.
She should probably get it checked out, she thinks, but suddenly all the emotions that she had repressed during the battle come crashing down on her. She slumps to the ground, thankful there is a still intact wall to lean against. Tears leak from the corner of her eyes as her head thumps backward to rest against the wall behind her. Her energy is utterly spent.
She hears approaching footsteps, and a few shreds of lingering adrenaline gather once again in her veins. She supposes there could still be enemies in the castle, and her worst fears seem to be confirmed as a dark figure comes around the corner into the corridor where she's sitting.
Then, a wayward beam of early morning sunlight illuminates the stranger's face, and Hannah finds herself breathing easily again. It isn't a stranger after all.
Marcus Flint, former Slytherin and current Quidditch star, stands silhouetted against the window which is at his back. Marcus Flint, the only Slytherin she would trust with her life. Marcus, her best friend of twelve years, ever since he chased those bullies in the park playground away from her. He glances towards her as she releases the breath she had been holding.
"Hannah? Is that you?" he asks, squinting through the watery dawn light and taking a hesitant step forward, as if he's afraid to confirm or deny the answer to his question.
She scrapes together enough energy to nod, and suddenly he's by her side, pulling her into himself, hugging her like she is his lifeline. She clings to him, resting her head on his collar, finally able to relax in the familiarity of the gesture.
"It's alright," he murmurs into her hair. "We're alright."
She tenses as his hand brushes lightly over the gash in her shoulder.
"What is it?" he asks, immediately sensing her distress. Pulling away from her, he looks directly into her eyes. "Did you get hurt in the fighting? If anyone hurt you-" He lets the end of his threat trail off, as if to leave the horrors he could provoke to the imagination.
She mourns the loss of the warmth his touch brought, and a sudden shiver wracks her frame. Letting out a weak chuckle, she follows it with, "I'm so impressed by your bravery. It was just a stray spell that hit me. I'm sure it'll heal up fine."
"You should get it checked out," he insists. "The risk of spell induced infections is too high." He stands up, offering her a hand.
"Sometimes I think you missed your calling," she says, accepting his assistance in rising from her seated position. "You would have made such a good Healer. You've always had a way-"
The rest of her sentence dies in her throat as she is suddenly much closer to Marcus than she expected, the extra force of his arm causing her to stumble slightly in rising. She feels the blood rush to her face, and curses inwardly. How was she supposed to hide her feelings if she's so stupidly transparent?
She can't pinpoint the exact moment she fell for her best friend. The line between friendship and something more had blurred, and one day, she had realised she didn't just like him. She was in love with him. Too unsure of his own feelings and fearful to risk anything they already had, she hadn't said anything, and tried to squash down what she was feeling.
She feels his arm slip around her waist, drawing her even closer. Her heart hammers against her ribcage, and she finds it hard to fill her lungs completely. Her entire being is waiting, although she's not entirely sure what she wants to happen.
"I'm glad you're still with me," he whispers, and she can hear barely repressed emotion behind his words. "Hannah." Her name is no more than a breath, but her heart stutters in her chest.
Marcus suddenly pulls away, and she feels her inside crumple as she wonders if she misread the entire situation. He was just grateful his best friend was okay, nothing more.
Her insecurities are stopped in their tracks, however, as he blurts out a question. "When this is all over, I'd like you to come to one of my games, and after we can go for supper. A date, I mean, not just as friends. If- if you want to, of course."
Hannah knows that this must be hard for him. He has trouble with expressing his feelings, so it speaks volumes to her that he's willing to try for her. She reaches for his hand before he can retreat further, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "I'd love to," she says.
The smile that grows on his face is nearly blinding, a smile born of taking a risk and gaining more than imagined. He pulls her into another brief hug, then starts towards the infirmary, saying, "Let's go get that wound checked out."
He doesn't let go of her hand.
