Harry Potter and the Girl He Wanted to Kiss Again
The day after Mardi Gras, Harry suffered from a really, really bad hangover. The world was a terrible, cruel place filled with much too bright light and much too loud noises, everything designed to ask him to think and not to sleep, which was the only thing he wanted to do. Luckily Hermione had nursed him a bit, advising more water and juice, but he spent most of the day sipping at something and wishing Madam Pomfrey would Apparate in front of him, like some kind of angel bearing a potion to set him right as rain in minutes.
No angel came, but by the next morning Harry felt a great deal more like himself and less like someone who was going to explode. Hermione had insisted that he eat the day before, but Harry had only half-heeded her, taking tiny bites of food and then hiding the rest away when his stomach rebelled against the abuse. So now he was in the kitchen, absolutely famished, and building a sandwich Ron could be proud of. It would still fit in his mouth -- He was pretty sure it would anyway. -- but Harry didn't care about small details like that at the moment. All he cared about was food.
And then maybe he could think about finding Kate. He wanted to pretend that talking to her wasn't necessary, for fear that it would only spoil things as they sat in his hazy memory, but there was possibility there, too. That was something he couldn't ignore.
No angel came, but by the next morning Harry felt a great deal more like himself and less like someone who was going to explode. Hermione had insisted that he eat the day before, but Harry had only half-heeded her, taking tiny bites of food and then hiding the rest away when his stomach rebelled against the abuse. So now he was in the kitchen, absolutely famished, and building a sandwich Ron could be proud of. It would still fit in his mouth -- He was pretty sure it would anyway. -- but Harry didn't care about small details like that at the moment. All he cared about was food.
And then maybe he could think about finding Kate. He wanted to pretend that talking to her wasn't necessary, for fear that it would only spoil things as they sat in his hazy memory, but there was possibility there, too. That was something he couldn't ignore.