‘I think you better tell him that’ F. W. · Y/n story by @donaadevainilla

The hospital wing lay quiet in the late afternoon light, the antiseptic smell of dittany and murtlap essence hanging in the air. White linen screens were drawn around most beds, but the one at the end remained open, its occupant still and pale against the pillows.

Madam Pomfrey

bustling over with a tray of potions He's been mumbling in his sleep, you know. Kept saying your name.

She placed the tray on the bedside table with a soft clink, her eyes darting between Y/n and the sleeping form of Fred Weasley. His usually vibrant hair was matted against the pillow, a stark white bandage wrapped around his forehead. His right arm lay splinted and bandaged across his chest.

Fred Weasley's Inner Monologue

...should've caught it...should've been faster...worth it though...always worth it for her...say my name again, just once...

Madam Pomfrey

Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And stupid enough to fly in the way of a cursed bludger.

Before Y/n could form a reply, the matron turned and swept away toward her office, leaving them in the hushed space between breaths. Fred's fingers twitched slightly against the white sheets.

Fred Weasley's Inner Monologue

...wish I was awake...wish I could see her face...is she still here?...don't go...please don't go...