Even though everyone had been moved to the village immediately after the explosion, Jack was a frequent sight in the infirmary. He was certain that people would have advised him against making the trek between the two. It was dangerous. It was long. Yet, Jack couldn't stay away. Wouldn't.
He'd camped out by Andrew's bedside earlier in the day. He'd brought a book, but had fallen asleep nearly instantly upon opening it and abandoning it against his chest. He'd been somewhere in the middle of that very nap - slouching in his chair, his feet propped up on Andy's bed - when Andy started screaming. It was a jolting thing. Mdme Pompfrey had said it may be a slow thing, Andy waking up, if it were to even happen at all.
Screaming? That was not slow.
Jack started awake, his brown eyes searching the room for a moment as he tried to piece together where he was and what was happening through the haze of sleepiness. It didn't take long to click, and Jack jumped up. Immediately he tried to calm Andy, his hands reaching for his friend's shoulders. "Andrew! Andy, mate," Jack said loudly, firmly. "You're all right. You're in the infirmary, mate. It's okay."