Thoreau's head was killing him as he walked down the corridor, towards the hospital wing. Hopefully he'd be able to beg a potion off Pomfrey because if not then he was going to have to spend the next few hours somewhere dark and quiet. He always got headaches when he had to go "train" with Bellatrix. It was always Crucio this and Crucio that, but at least he'd been able to leave without having to ask her or Rodolphus to heal him this time. They always got snippy about it.
Thoreau was so caught up in resenting Bellatrix and thinking about how good it was going to feel when the headache was gone that he didn't notice the boy in front of him before it was too late. Thoreau slammed into his solid, brick wall-like chest, and stumbled back, vision going black for a moment as he grabbed onto the boy's arm.
"Fuck," he said, closing his eyes and bending his knees, sinking down and swallowing back a wave of nausea. Thoreau concentrated on breathing through it so he didn't end up passing out. He looked up at the boy, one of the new Gryffindor twins from Durmstrang. He didn't remember which was which, but the other one was probably around somewhere. They seemed to spend most of their time together. "You're built like a house."
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