Hannah felt like her eyes were leaking; she couldn't stop crying. She couldn't stop crying, and getting out of her pajamas was just too hard. She managed to shower at least--that was something.
She let Neville come over to visit while making her girl friends wait because...well, Hannah didn't even know herself. But something about a hug from Neville sounded just perfect...and maybe somewhere deep in her, Hannah couldn't bear to let a woman put her back together if that woman wasn't her mother. So many times over the past two weeks, Hannah had sobbed for her family, but it was her mother that she called out for in her sleep. Her mother would have been strong and known what was right and would have never gotten so deep in something so wrong. And Hannah had screwed up, yet again. It was like the flamingoes in her transfigurations test, but this time, the flamingoes were her bad, bad decisions to never speak up with Anton.
Hannah shuffled to the door, one of the dogs beside her--the eldest and calmest, Honey--while the others were trapped up in the bedroom to avoid leaping all over Neville. Hannah knew from Justin that the dogs could be too much. She was in a sleeveless nightdress, simple and white, that stopped just under her knees; it was perfect, because all Hannah wanted to do lately was wrap a huge knit blanket around her body and shuffle around like some kind of miserable Eskimo. But she left the blanket--and her stuffed bear--on her bed. Well, for now.
She opened the door and looked at Neville. Neville and his smile. And then the basket. Rubbing one bare foot over the other, she felt a little unsure, and then sniffled slightly and stepped right through the door to bury her face in his shoulder and hold him tight in a hug.