Booked
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, are you all right?"
Justin's just sitting there, watching his hand tremble against the table top when he realises he's being spoken to.
He looks up to see Madame Pince peering at him over her spectacles. He's never seen her look quite so... her brow is furrowed and her thin lips are pursed, but not in their usual expression of exasperated disapproval.
"Do you need to be sent to the Hospital Wing? Shall I ask someone to go along with you?"
He shakes his head so vigorously he wishes he hadn't.
"I'll ... I think I'll be all right in a minute." Or seven. teen.
He's desperately glad when she lets him be.
Gods! He can't think of anything so horrible as what he's just experienced in Snape's lab. He just really, really wishes he could stop thinking about it.
Please, please, don't let this day be an omen of what's waiting out there, he thinks, he prays, to whatever greater power might control such things or might care to protect an a-religious Muggle-born like him.
Even the dimmest torch would have to admit that his had not, so far, been an auspicious day for beginning the transition between school and ... yeah, between school and the world.
Justin's just sitting there, watching his hand tremble against the table top when he realises he's being spoken to.
He looks up to see Madame Pince peering at him over her spectacles. He's never seen her look quite so... her brow is furrowed and her thin lips are pursed, but not in their usual expression of exasperated disapproval.
"Do you need to be sent to the Hospital Wing? Shall I ask someone to go along with you?"
He shakes his head so vigorously he wishes he hadn't.
"I'll ... I think I'll be all right in a minute." Or seven. teen.
He's desperately glad when she lets him be.
Gods! He can't think of anything so horrible as what he's just experienced in Snape's lab. He just really, really wishes he could stop thinking about it.
Please, please, don't let this day be an omen of what's waiting out there, he thinks, he prays, to whatever greater power might control such things or might care to protect an a-religious Muggle-born like him.
Even the dimmest torch would have to admit that his had not, so far, been an auspicious day for beginning the transition between school and ... yeah, between school and the world.