"I always pegged you for the 'marrying the crippled' type," she retorted, though sitting up to look at him better jolted the part of her arm that she could feel and it made her wince in surprise. "Ugh," she started, shifting enough that she went back to not being able to feel it. Her expression changed quickly as Edgar stopped looking like he might laugh it all off. "I'm sorry," she offered first, lifting her right hand to apologize as much as she could.
"Shush," Amelia growled at him as he raised his voice. Patting the bed next to her, she moved as much as she could to allow him to sit. "Come here, sit down, and shut up. I'll tell you what happened and then you can look at my arm when we're done. So long as you don't touch it and you don't scream, cry, or hit someone." Bracing herself, she lifted her journal from her side and flipped to the back. "Here," she started, handing him the picture she'd drawn. "I had the perfect seat. The Horntail was laying in the best position for sketching and I was admiring him for quite some time. Unfortunately, he didn't appreciate my watching him, I suppose, and by the time I realized he was moving--I guess I was too involved in my art--he had me by the shoulder. I managed to get away, but only just. Someone found me in the hall and I managed to get up here with their help."
Pomfrey and Keenan had stopped arguing, but Amelia was hoping they were tending to someone else. She didn't want to confront her arm just yet. Or maybe ever. "Just warn me before you look at it. I don't want to see."