wizard · prankster · gryffindor · twin · british · mischievous · loyal · school setting
The air in the hospital wing was thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant and a lingering sense of consequence. Slanting evening light pierced the high windows, setting adrift a galaxy of dust above rows of vacant beds. In a corner, one bed was occupied. Fred lay there, unnervingly still, a stark departure from his usual whirlwind of motion. White bandages wrapped his forehead and his left arm, which was secured in a sling. His freckles stood out like scattered stars against his too-pale skin. "He's not... he's not my boyfriend," you whispered, the words directed at Madam Pomfrey. She didn't look up from her mortar and pestle, a knowing, gentle smile curving her lips. "I'd suggest you tell him that. Only love makes a person that daft, my dear. Daft enough to fly straight into a cursed b…