The sunlight in the Hospital Wing seemed to carry healing magic. Under Madam Pomfrey's potions and the Weasleys' constant care, Ginny's complexion grew rosier by the day. Though nightmares still occasionally startled her awake, the cold, hollow feeling that had plagued her for months had completely faded. Aunt Molly held her youngest daughter and wept, while Uncle Arthur gripped Lynn's shoulder and patted it hard, too choked up to form a complete expression of thanks.
Hermione had practically become the Hospital Wing's resident "supervisor." She strictly enforced the Warmth Protocol, delivering Aunt Monica's special blood-restoring soup on time—secretly loaded with double the beef and carrots—making sure Lynn drank every last drop of Madam Pomfrey's magic-restoring potion, which tasted like one of Snape's prized concoctions, and even taking over the organization of all his after-class notes.
At that moment, she sat in a chair beside Lynn's bed, carefully peeling an apple. Under her nimble fingers, the peel formed a perfect spiral. Sunlight streamed through the window onto her lowered lashes, casting soft shadows. Lynn leaned against the headboard, holding a copy of A Guide to Common Magical Birds that Hermione had "recommended," believing it would be "relaxing," but his gaze lingered more often on her practiced movements and faintly pursed lips.
"Here, vitamins." Hermione handed him the peeled apple, cut into little rabbit shapes, with a trace of pride at the corner of her lips.
Lynn took the small silver fork and speared a piece. The apple was crisp, sweet, and juicy, filled with her thoughtfulness. "Your knife work is good," he said, offering rare praise.
Two red clouds immediately rose to Hermione's cheeks. Like a small animal that had been praised, she lowered her head and pretended to arrange the apple peel. "Practice makes perfect... My mum taught me." She