Healing
Despite Madame Pomfrey's insistence that Mycroft wasn't particularly injured by the violent ordeal with Greg, the hufflepuff had nevertheless managed to convince the nurse that he had a concussion. Placebo effect? Quite possibly, but it worked and Mycroft is now lying in bed, reading a book on the development of mandrakes, lounging under the pretense of bed rest.
The hospital wing, he has decided, is not that bad at all; it has food, comfortable beds and Anthea visits at regular intervals to fawn over him, express sympathy and gossip about other students. Most importantly, though, it's safe from that beast of a Gryffindor. After what Greg did, Mycroft thinks it highly unlikely that he would dare show his face in here. The thought of Greg coming here makes his stomach flip, a sensation which he puts down to anger and nerves at the prospect of facing another similarly violent encounter. The possibility of the feeling being the development of some ridiculous crush is immediately refused and ignored. The idea is ridiculous. Having oddly sentimental feelings for a young man who is frighteningly violent and unpredictable is and stupid and Mycroft is far too smart for that. Greg should just keep away from him and this hospital ward ensures that.
Mycroft reclines casually on his bed as if it were a chaise longue and flicks through the pages of his book, a small plaster over the bridge of his nose. Yes, Mycroft likes this haven of white walls and fluffed pillows.
The hospital wing, he has decided, is not that bad at all; it has food, comfortable beds and Anthea visits at regular intervals to fawn over him, express sympathy and gossip about other students. Most importantly, though, it's safe from that beast of a Gryffindor. After what Greg did, Mycroft thinks it highly unlikely that he would dare show his face in here. The thought of Greg coming here makes his stomach flip, a sensation which he puts down to anger and nerves at the prospect of facing another similarly violent encounter. The possibility of the feeling being the development of some ridiculous crush is immediately refused and ignored. The idea is ridiculous. Having oddly sentimental feelings for a young man who is frighteningly violent and unpredictable is and stupid and Mycroft is far too smart for that. Greg should just keep away from him and this hospital ward ensures that.
Mycroft reclines casually on his bed as if it were a chaise longue and flicks through the pages of his book, a small plaster over the bridge of his nose. Yes, Mycroft likes this haven of white walls and fluffed pillows.