Inspection.
The Headgirl's weekly inspection was conducted every Saturday in a room at the three broomsticks.
It was a catalog of scars, cuts, scrapes and bruises. Some told a history of the war, their history, others more recent, told of training and hardship.
Her caress would disappear bruises, a trail of kisses, knit a cracked rib, and mere wishing would drain fatigue from his limbs.
"And this gash Ronald?"
"Gash? That's hardly more than a scratch." Yet his skin had darkened in blush.
"What happened Ronald? Was it training?"
"umm no."
"You're going to tell me Ronald."
"It was Harry, we were horsing around, he pushed, and I lost balance...."
Hermione giggled at his discomfort.
"Silly sausage." she said. "This will be easy to heal."
"Why is that?"
"Because it was made with love."
It was a catalog of scars, cuts, scrapes and bruises. Some told a history of the war, their history, others more recent, told of training and hardship.
Her caress would disappear bruises, a trail of kisses, knit a cracked rib, and mere wishing would drain fatigue from his limbs.
"And this gash Ronald?"
"Gash? That's hardly more than a scratch." Yet his skin had darkened in blush.
"What happened Ronald? Was it training?"
"umm no."
"You're going to tell me Ronald."
"It was Harry, we were horsing around, he pushed, and I lost balance...."
Hermione giggled at his discomfort.
"Silly sausage." she said. "This will be easy to heal."
"Why is that?"
"Because it was made with love."