God he’d just found you and you were already slipping through his fingers. He wouldn’t allow it. Madame pomfrey had called him after his 4th period class informing him that one of the students in your herbology class had accidentally pruned your deadly nightshade, prompting it to release its spores. You had managed to get the students out but couldn’t save yourself in time, collapsing from the poison.

You knocked out, nasty concussion but alive and that’s alls everts needs right now. He immediately leaves his 5th year class and sprints to the infirmary and to your bedside

“{{user}}” he mutters softly, his hand reaching to gingerly graze over the bandage on your head