Al raced to the Hospital Wing as soon as he could get away from the massive crowd of Gryffindor supporters who had smothered him up to the Common Room.

He ran past the beds, checking each one hastily, until he found Sam sitting up, with fellow Slytherin beater Isobel Gudgeon in a chair by his side.

“Merlin, how are you Sam? Are you all right? I got here as fast as I could, that crowd was a menace.”

“I’m fi-”

“You are not fine!” Isobel shot Al a look of contempt before continuing, “Scorpius has three broken ribs, a punctured lung and a concussion. All because he took a Bludger to the chest for you, Potter, which essentially allowed you to win the Quidditch cup.”

Had broken ribs and a punctured lung, Inglebee’s fixed me up now.”

“That doesn’t-”




Sam rolled his eyes, “Oh pipe down Izzy, that Bludger was heading straight for his head and I’ve had too much trauma with allowing Bludgers to hit my friends in the skull to just stand by and watch it happen for the sake of a stupid Cup.”

Al and Sam shared a look before bursting into laughter while Isobel looked at them both confusedly, completely missing the reference.

Al sat down on the bed next to Sam, looking at him seriously, “Honestly though, thank you so much Sam. You really saved my neck out there today, and she’s right, you’re the only reason we won.”

Smiling he hurled his arms around Sam’s neck and embraced him in a very tender hug.

“I love you Sam.”

“I love you too Al.”

Al only eventually let go for fear of damaging Sam any further, otherwise he’d probably have kept hugging him for a good few hours.


                    ~                   ~                  ~                  ~                  ~                   ~


It was the morning after the Quidditch final when an open book flew into the Hospital Wing and onto Sam’s bed, like a bird.

Curious, Sam picked up the book.

It had a soft brown cover and creamy parchment within.

He opened it to the first page to find a stick-figure animation beginning at the top.

A familiar looking stick-figure with a huge green and sliver tie was running circles around a stick-figure with two huge red plaits waving a page with ‘Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology’ and a large ‘O’ grade written on it.

Stick-Rose’s facial expression grew angry as her head gradually swelled, growing redder and redder, until it burst splattering Stick-Sam with large chunks of brain and blood.

Stick-Rose then ran down the page and stuck her neck in a large inkpot, popping out with a head and huge yellow plaits.

Sam chuckled as he followed the animation, fondly recalling his first-year escapades with glee.




Suddenly a Bludger emerged from the side of the page, zooming around as Stick-Rose and Stick-Sam fled in vain.

First Stick-Rose was bopped on the head, then Stick-Sam was hit in the chest, until they both lay horizontally in the middle of the page, seemingly dead when a speech bubble saying, “You are just a buttbunch – No one likes a buttbunch!” emerged from Stick-Sam’s mouth.

Sam snorted so harshly he choked on his own saliva, which only made it funnier when a shrine to Dana Belby (a collection of photos, flowers and a lock of hair) with legs walked past and kicked both Stick-Sam and Stick-Rose to the bottom of the page.

Finally, Stick-Rose picked up a trowel that she found lying on the bottom of the page and flung it at Stick-Sam’s head where a fountain of blood proceeded to burst forth from his head as he ran around in circles waving his arms in distress.

The spouting blood from Stick-Sam’s head eventually formed the words ‘Dear Jack,’ on the next page.

Then the rest of the letter appeared on the pages.



Dear Jack,
Congratulations, It’s a Girl! Just kidding, no one could stomach conceiving your child (pun very much intended).

I hope you liked my animation, and remembered how much violence we’ve enjoyed over the years. What I drew was just a little taste to remind you. I put quite a lot of effort into the violence aspect, seeing as I won’t be able to abuse you over the coming weeks as a result of your recovery.

Of course you wouldn’t be injured in the first place if it wasn’t for Avery Higg’s blooming bludger that was aimed at Bole, and Al’s complete obliviousness of deathly Quidditch injuries. He could’ve ended up in a bloody coma if that Bludger had hit him, so from the bottom of my dark cavern of bats (heart), thank you.

You know, a thought’s just struck me. Maybe the reason Bludgers really don’t like us is because we don’t pay homage to the Bludger deity? It’s clear that ignoring her and refusing to offer sacrifices such as broom twigs and old gloves isn’t working out for us.

Anyway, I hope Sir Inglebee’s fixed you right up and that you’re out of the Hospital Wing soon, although the fact that you beat me in Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology really does make my head want to explode, so excuse me if I use your time out of action to try and overtake you.

Cherry over and out.

P.s. This book is something I charmed, it has a twin. You write on the pages and they appear in the twin (which I have in my possession). Likewise, if I write in my book (like I have for this get-well message) it appears in yours. Think of it like muggle instant messaging, but with books. It’ll help us keep in contact when I’m busy trying to overtake you in Herbology and you’re in the hospital wing.

Smiling warmly at Rose’s present, Sam tucked it under his pillow.



                   ~                  ~                ~                ~                   ~                     ~


Hey loser, how are you feeling?

Sam grinned as the new message appeared in his book.

I’d feel a lot better if I had some of my favourite desert.

Rose snickered as she wrote her reply

If you think I’m going to steal something from the kitchens for you, you’re wrong.

But I’m sick!

Boohoo, I’m in the middle of potions. Like I’m going to go to the kitchens for a slice of lemon tart.

But you could have some lemon tart too! Plus, knowing you, you’ll finish your potion early anyway. In fact, you wouldn’t be writing right now if you hadn’t already finished! And Professor Thickey would totally let you out to come see me. I’m a Quidditch Martyr.

Yes, a Slytherin Quidditch Martyr.

Yes, yes, we all know your face and hair scream Gryffindor louder than that lion enchantment Lysander made – but Thickey knows we’re friends and that I saved the Gryffindor team.

Only if I get some tart.




                   ~                   ~                   ~                 ~                 ~                  ~



“Hey Malfoy, still feel like some lemon tart?”

“Don’t I always?” Sam smirked.

As Rose handed him a plate and fork, she rolled her eyes.

Digging in with her own fork she pondered out loud, “You know, I think you’re inner Gryffindor made a show on the pitch yesterday, despite the fact that you were playing for Slytherin.”

Sam snorted, “What makes you say that?”

“Well you flew into the path of an oncoming Bludger to save Al from a blow to the head.

“That’s about the size of it, yes.”

“It was brave, and completely stupid, seems to me that Godric would have been rather proud, Malfoy old boy.”




Sam swallowed thoughtfully, “Blimey, I guess your Gryfindory-ness is rubbing off on me… Merlin’s pants, can you imagine if we were in the same house?”

Rose snorted loudly, “The Common Room would have been blown to pieces at least twice by now.”

They both looked at each other and laughed, before Sam quietly commented, “I guess Slytherins are always looking to save their own necks until they love something enough to risk it. Like my Grandmother.”

Rose looked up at him in surprise, Sam hardly ever mentioned his grandparents because of obvious reasons, but Rose attempted to take it in her stride, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t be standing here if she hadn’t put her life on the line to save her son.”

“So I guess you could say, not all Slytherins are complete morons.”

Rose flashed him a devilish smile, “Not all of them no, but that percentage does not include you.”

“Hey! I would be offended if this tart wasn’t so damn good.”

Rose poked her tongue out at him as Sam spooned in another mouthful of tart and attempted to casually change the subject and mention what had been occupying his thoughts, “Scho I hrrd you cas a cuschioning cham for meh,” he mumbled through the pie.

“Swallow you ninny,” Rose ordered as she rolled her eyes.




“I said: So I heard you cast a cushioning charm for me.”

“You heard right, it broke your fall a little, clearly not enough seeing as you still received a concussion. But at least you’re alive! Al would be about as fun as a wet blanket if you died. Besides, I care about him and he cares about you so you catch a little care from me by default.”

Sam probed a little deeper, “So it was all for Al?”

“Of course not, you prat! Hard as it is to believe, you’re actually one of my closest friends and I care about your wellbeing. A lot.”

One side of his mouth pulled into a smile, “How blasphemous of you Weasley,” Sam replied.

Smacking Sam’s shin, the only part of him that Rose knew couldn’t affect his injuries, she scolded him, “Oh shut up. And stop smiling at me like that!”

She bit her lip as she attempted to repress her own grin.




“Oh, and I meant to say, thank you for the book. It’s really rather convenient.”

“Not a problem, thought you might enjoy the little charmed stick-figure animation too.”

“Enjoy? I laughed so hard I choked, Sir Inglebee nearly tried to sedate me so I didn’t inadvertently kill myself.”

Rose burst into laughter at this, “Well I’m glad you liked it. Anyway, I should probably get to the library, not all of us are excused from homework you know.”

“All right.”

Standing up to leave Rose waved goodbye, “Get better Malfoy.”

“I’ll try.”



As she turned to go Sam called her back, “Hey Rose.”


“We’re all right, aren’t we?”

Rose pretended she didn’t have a clue what he was getting at, “Of course we are.”

Sam looked at his hands trying to gather up his courage, “Well, look, it’s just, I mean, well - ugh.”

He paused and took a deep breath, “Okay, you’ve been a bit weird since what happened last term, and I’m sorry, I really am. I just wanted to know if you’ve, well, forgiven me, for doing that…”

Rose smiled, “I forgive you. What happened yesterday reminded me of what’s really important, and, being sore about something as ridiculous as,” She paused to phrase her sentence carefully, “what happened, is not important at all. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Sam grinned in relief, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Sam listened to her footsteps fade away until she reached the doors and exited the Hospital Wing, and then he slept more peacefully than he had in months.

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