Re: Jazz, Fred & Alex
The world stopped. Alex gripped the edge of the bench tighter to keep himself from falling, swaying a little as this Jazz looked directly at him.
Fred looked pale as milk under his freckles and the expression he turned to Alex was piteous at best, and now this Jazz was giving him one much the same. Alex stared at him for a moment.
Sorry. If there's anything I can do. George... He was at the Ministry...
Making arrangements for Alex's tests.
A chill began somewhere in the pit of his stomach, spreading to encompass his chest, and Alex bit hard on the inside of his cheek, willing it to be an action without feeling, hoping and praying and begging for this to be a dream. He winced at the pain his teeth brought, then tightened his jaw.
His father was dead. His sister. His mother. The room was suddenly too loud, and if he stayed here he'd go mad. His bag sat at his feet and he reached for the corner of it, standing and giving Jazz another numb look before turning and heading for the door.
I've got to get out of here. He pushed everything from his mind but Wolfsbane, and the bulging notebook in his bag, and the book that sat third from the end on the fourth shelf down in the Herbology section of the library, and how much he needed that book right fucking now.