Le'Strange the not-so-death-eater

Emma Lestrange. What can you say? She's a girl. She's different. And she's got a hell of a lot of crap being thrown at her.


7. chapter five

Chapter five: if Godric Gryffindor were alive, I would bet him with a pole.

That morning I walked back to the dorms at around three O'clock in the morning, effectively waking up Luna.

"Emma?" She asked into the darkness.

"Present," I responded and I heard her get up. My ears turned out to be correct when she flicked on the small lamp on her nightstand.

"Hey," she said as if I hadn't been gone the whole day. She walked over to my bed and returned to me with my bag. "George dropped this off on his free period. You should go there, by the way. Knowing home he won't go to sleep unless he knows you're safe."

I mentally face palmed and cringed. *George*! He would be so worried! And Fred too.

"I'm gonna go now. No assignments, I assume?"

"Nope. You're lucky it was the first day."

"Yeah," I sighed, "see you later, Luna."

"Night, Emmy."

I left immediately, heading down to the Gryffindor common room entrance.

"Hem Hem," I clear my throat.

"Yes?" Asks the Fat Lady.

"Mimbulus Mimbltona," I say.

"The red head is in the common room."

I decided not to dignify that notion with a response.

When I walk in George is sitting on the red velvet couch in front of the slowly dying out fire, head in his hand.

"Hi," I said, only now realizing how scratchy and dry my voice was.

"Emma," he said looking up at me. "That was a crappy thing to do," he walked over to me, enveloping my in a hug, "but I'm glad you're okay."

I pulled my arms around him.

"Thank you," I said. He smiled slightly, and I laughed. The laugh soon turned into a coughing fit.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked urgently, ushering me out of the common room. I had enough time to choke out "no" before I began coughing again. I stumbled, my knees nearly buckling.George quickly put his arm under my shoulders , supporting me.

"C'mon, Em, we're going to see Madam Promfrey."

Normally I would've objected, but I was clearly in no state to do that. He tried to help me walk, but after about three yards and two stops to throw up, he picked me up bridal style. He was obviously worried, and when he felt my forehead (which was about every thirty seconds) he would cringe. I was seriously cursing Godric Gryffindor. I mean, why the hell would you want to live in a place with so many stairs?

The fourth time he stopped to hold my hair back while I puked into a 13th century vase we were at the the bottom of the stairs, I actually cried. And Emma Le'Stramge did *NOT* cry. I shouldn't have slept in a wet tree when it was around -12.2° Celsius, I suppose.

He finally got me to the infirmary about three minutes later, whispering to me when I tried to tell him to stop that his cloak was dirty anyways, and getting me medicine was more important. He knocked on the door with his knee, apologizing for making such a loud noise when I groaned. Stupid fucking head aches, I thought.

Madame Promfrey opened the door in a long night dress, opening her mouth to begin some sort of lecture, when I puked on George's cloak. Again. Her eyes widened.

"Lay her down here," she commanded, and George layer me on the hospital bed. The woman muttered a spell, holding her wand, and the end of her wand turned purple.

"She's got the Flu. Nasty sickness, but not contagious and it should be gone by next week. I'll have her stay here for-"

"I've got a free day tomorrow!" Said George,"the uh the seventh years are practicing apparition and I've already learned."

"Alright then. Why don't you take her up to your dormitory, give her this if she's in pain, and a teaspoon of this every two hours. She'll be gone by Thursday at the earliest, Saturday at the latest," said madam Promfrey, handing George a bottle of pills and another bottle of brown liquid.

He thanked her, and then picked me up. I fell asleep in his arms when we were around halfway to my common room.

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