'There's no need to holler, I can hear just fine, regardless of where I am' Death commented, sounding entirely too amused for Hadrian's liking. 'And just because the war is over…doesn't make me any less busy.'
'You're trying to avoid the subject' Hadrian said dryly, 'I'm pregnant, care to explain?' anxiety thrumming through him. He was bloody pregnant; he had a life growing inside of him. Surely, surely, it was impossible…he wasn't by any means a normal wizard; he'd greeted death more than twice now. He wanted to rage at Death, to have him materialise so he could curse him to hell and back.
'Everyone always assumes that Death is Death…what people, even you, fail to realize that without Death that could be no…' trailing off purposefully.
'Life' Hadrian breathed, 'All this time…I've been able to…' fall pregnant?
'It's all a natural progression,' Death said, his tone becoming rather soft and fond.
'But I'd lose it…them…wouldn't I?' Hadrian thought, pressing his hand against his stomach as Tom probed through the bond, sensing his turbulent emotions.
'The child will not carry your immortality, that is correct,' Death explained, 'But as a Master Of Death…one must become accustomed to losing people they care for. Death is nothing to be fearful of, it's a part of life, for without Death…there would be no reason to live life to the fullest.'
Hadrian inhaled shakily, 'Why give me this gift as you see it…I don't want to watch my family die before my eyes!' truly horrendously angry at Death's manipulations.
'But you will see them die, Aiden, Fenrir, Abraxas, Orion, Walburga, Lucius, Sirius, James...' Death said, it was a cruel kindness really. 'Enjoy your life with them, every single moment…because life is precious and so many people waste it.' too many people waste their talents and what they could have done…yes, so much waste.
Hadrian swallowed thickly, closing his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew all this; he just didn't like to think on it overly much. The thought of losing anyone he cared so much for…hurt so badly. How could anyone think this was something good? The thought of losing the baby in the future was indescribable.
'Put it this way, do you imagine for a moment your parents regretted even a second of the life they gave you?' Death commented, 'I can tell you now, that they didn't, they could have done it all over again. You were so worth it to them. You had so little time together…here you're going to get significantly longer with your child,'
Hadrian's breath hitched at your child mention, his and Tom's. A child of their blood, his minds eye traitorously imagining what they'd look like. He and Tom had looked alike – besides the eyes – when they were younger. Wavy dark hair, handsome aristocratic looks that spoke of long distinguished magical lines. Although, he'd never really considered himself anything, let alone handsome.
A little boy that looked exactly like Tom with his eyes…or a little girl with his looks and Tom's eyes. Longing shot through him with surprising intensity, he wanted that baby, would already do anything for it.
The anger he felt at Death drained, like a burst balloon.
Would it be worth losing him or her when the time came? It was breaking his heart just thinking of Fenrir passing. Luckily, accepting his wolf entirely, as he did, there was no danger of premature aging, and without the wolfsbane...he'd live an exceedingly long life. Plus, it wasn't as if Fenrir was old yet, he was younger than him.
'As the old human adage goes, its better to have love and lost, than to have never loved at all' Death commented, a bit of a hypocrite since he had never felt love or lost anyone he truly cared about. Hadrian was probably the closest he had come to caring…and it's not like he'd be in any danger of losing him either, for he was now an immortal being. The sooner Hadrian accepted that, the easier it would be. To deal with the immortality and the fact he wasn't normal anymore. 'As ever, the choice is yours, as it has always been' with that Death faded away, leaving Hadrian the only being in his own mind.
Hadrian jumped out of his skin when he heard a sharp rapping.
His first patient for the day was here, Hadrian paused, contemplating not opening. His mind was reeling, he wasn't exactly in the mood to spend his morning helping others when he felt so conflicted.
He wanted to talk to Tom, unfortunately, he knew Tom wouldn't return to the manor until lunch. He was out there trying to get Dragon Pox, so that they could move to the next stage of the plan.
He wouldn't return unless it was vital, and as much as he wanted to let Tom think it was…he couldn't. No, he might as well open the clinic and keep himself occupied until Tom returned home. Then they'd have a talk…he wondered what Tom would think.
Inhaling sharply, truth was even he didn't know what to think. This would need to be something they discussed together…at the end of the day it was Tom's child too. He couldn't be selfish, he rubbed at his flat stomach again, wanting to rage at Death but ultimately, chose not to. It wasn't exactly Death's fault after all, he should have taken precautions. Unfortunately, he had never believed it was something to worry himself over.
"Morning Mrs Yarrow," Hadrian said, smiling at her as he opened the door, "Come on in, have a sit down…how are you feeling?"
Mrs Yarrow was a sixty-five-year-old witch, who suffered from severe arthritis. She didn't have the funds to pay St. Mungo's for the consultation as well as the potions she required to live her best life. When she'd heard about the clinic, she hadn't thought much of it, how could they help her get the potions she needed? She was ever so glad she did, they paid seventy-percent of her potions and nothing for the consultation.
"The potions are working wonderfully!" she said, with an absolute joyful smile on her face. "I was able to take a walk along the beach this week." normally she could barely get out of bed on a good day, so this turnaround was a life safer, and her husband, oh, he was now able to do things other than sit and worry at her bedside.
"Are they taking all the pain away?" Hadrian asked, casting a diagnosis on her. They'd had to get her on the correct dosage, and it seemed as if this time they had her on the correct one.
"Yes, for a full eight hours," she confirmed, the pain had left her completely bedridden. She hadn't even been able to clutch her wand, which had been the worst thing of all. "I take it twice a day, once when I get up in the morning and in the evening with dinner and stick to a pain relief draught for sleeping."
Hadrian hummed, "How strong is the pain relief?" a bit cautious about that, those two potions really shouldn't be mixed.
"A two point five," she confirmed.
Hadrian relaxed a little, "Try and ensure that there's four to six hours between you taking the anti-inflammatory draught and the pain relief," he told her, "How's the nausea?"
"It's gone, now that I actually feel like eating," she had so much energy it was amazing, she so regretted not coming to the clinic sooner. Not only was Hadrian Peverell-Slytherin an amazing healer, the fact he didn't charge was amazing. He just wanted to help people…and he was a certified healer too. He didn't make anything from this, and he's bound to suffer a loss. "I didn't always use to be like this, you know." she added with a faraway look on her face, "I was very well known in the duelling circuit, I won twenty-two times."
"How many first place?" Hadrian queried, indulging the witch. It wasn't the first person to come to the clinic to give them their life stories.
"Ten, I won ten years in a row," she said proudly, she didn't regret it, even to this day, despite the pain she was now enduring after treating her body like a rag doll. "The rest are second of third."
"That's nothing to be ashamed off," Hadrian said, "I think it's amazing, the new champion is doing well for himself too. Do you keep up to date with it all?"
"Filius Flitwick, yes, he's definitely one to watch out for, I wouldn't be surprised if we see him winning again," Mrs Yarrow said with a pleased smile. "I might go and watch it next year if the potions keep helping, it would be nice to take my husband on a holiday, now that we might be able to save a little money."
"That sounds like a wonderful goal," Hadrian said with a smile, "How did you meet your husband? Was he a duelling champion too?"
Mrs Yarrow smiled, "Oh, we were young when we met, barely little over twenty, married within the year. He wasn't a participant but he was in charge of overseeing everything ran smoothly and is now a promotion manager." He did all that from home, he very rarely left her side.
"It seems like despite your arthritis you're in pretty good health. You need to eat more fruit and vegetable though, and try to add a few herbs to your meals that will aid the anti-inflammatory response. Turmeric is a very good herb for that." Hadrian said giving her a nod, as he handed over the diagnosis sheet to her.
"We love our curries, that shouldn't be difficult to do," Mrs Yarrow agreed, "I can't thank you enough…"
"Oh, think nothing of it, I enjoy my work, and being able to help people that really need it is all the thanks I need." Hadrian said reassuring her, with a genuine smile. It always made him feel warm inside when they thanked him, it was sincere and genuine and he loved seeing them looking so much better. Mrs Yarrow had definitely made a vast improvement, she'd been barely able to walk from the pain of it all. To see her walk in with a smile on her face, yes, it was worthwhile. He might be making a loss with the clinic but his investments and rental properties made sure he'd never be at a loss.
That and the donations the clinic received well; one could argue he wasn't ever at a loss.
"Right, let me get your potions for you," Hadrian said, wandering over to the cupboard, and taking out a brown paper bag that had small compartments in it. And proceeded to put a month's supply of the potions she required into the small compartments. "Where do you get the pain relief draught from?"
"The apothecary in Diagon Alley," she informed him, righting her shoe.
"Are either you or your husband good at potion brewing?" Hadrian asked, as he filled vial after vial into the bag. Normally, he'd already have it done, but unfortunately, he'd been way too busy.
Mrs Yarrow laughed, a little wheezily, "Neither have so much as touched a cauldron since we were sixteen. Truthfully, we were abysmal, and dropped potions as soon as we could." Her husband had a better grade than her if she recalled, but yes, neither were very good at it nor interested.
"I'm going to give you a level two pain relief draught, now it's not watered down like the potions in sale at the apothecary, so it will be a little stronger than you're used to. You should only need to take half a night time, no more no less." Hadrian warned her, as he closed the paper bag, it was much stronger than the Muggle counterparts, the spells imbued ensured that so the bag wasn't bursting at the seams.
"You don't have to," she protested, but she accepted the bag nonetheless, so very grateful. "How much do I owe you?"
"As always, just put what you can afford into the box," Hadrian said, pressing a hand against her shoulder, "And only what you can afford." The 'box' as he called it was the container where the coins went into. Every week he put the contents into Gringotts, the vault specifically for the clinic. A lot of it was knuts and sickles, but quite a few galleons too. More people were coming here – even if they could afford St. Mungo's – and paying more than they needed to, donating what they could in approval and happiness of his opening of the clinic for those that couldn't afford it.
Moving back over to the cupboard, he fixed up his next patients' potions. Most were brewed by him and Tom, but if they were too busy, they paid a Potions Master to brew them. He ignored the clinking of coins, not wishing for her to become self-conscious about the amount she could afford.
"Shall we make an appointment for next month?" Hadrian said, moving over to the desk, and opening the diary, naming a day and time, asking if it was alright with her.
"Yes, that's perfectly fine," she agreed.
Hadrian nodded, wrote it down in his diary before writing out her appointment date and time on the card and handing it over. "I'll see you then, but if you need me before send a letter, alright?" he liked to get to know everyone who came to his clinic and make them feel welcome and more importantly, reassure them that he wanted them to come to him with anything concerning their health even if they had to send him a letter.
"I will, thank you Healer Peverell-Slytherin," she said, clutching the potions close, they were her lifeline.
"Hadrian, my names Hadrian," Hadrian said with a smile, but he knew he wouldn't succeed in getting her to relent and call him that. A lot of the people he saw were the older generation, and more set in their ways. It was just a sign of respect so he didn't hold it against them. It was what he wanted after all. "You take care!"
"You as well young man," she said, before she left the clinic, and he felt the wards indicate that she'd Apparated away. Glancing down at the diary, he had fourteen fixed appointments, the rest would be drop ins if they wanted to be seen.
A ping alerted him to another patient, just as he was about to sit down. It wasn't Ms Pince, who was due about now, but a wizard, old worn clothes, vividly reminded Hadrian of Remus actually.
But not all those suffering financially were werewolves.
"Can I help you?" Hadrian asked standing up slowly so not to spook the wizard, who definitely looked like he wanted to run. Noticing the makeshift bandages on his right – and possibly wand – arm.
"Is it true?" he blurted out, from his place standing at the door.
"Is what true?" Hadrian asked calmly, arms at his sides head cocked to the side.
"That you…that you don't charge," he grimaced, flushing red in mortification.
"This is a clinic, I see people entirely free of charge, and give them any potions they need." Hadrian confirmed, "They can if they choose to give what they can, a donation if you will, to put into the box but it's not demanded or expected." Tom would be judging this wizard nine ways to Sunday despite how he'd been raised, the prejudice bugger that he was, but Hadrian did no such thing.
The wizard looked as if he wasn't sure whether to stay or leave.
Hadrian smiled calmly, "May I have your name? It is your arm bothering you?" moving slowly around the table, standing patiently, waiting with his arm outstretched for the wizard to make his decision. He could not force him to stay, or be healed.
"Brendan," he murmured, shuffling forward, "It really hurts," he confessed, to the point he actually wanted to cut it off and be done with it already.
"Okay, lets get you sat down," Hadrian urged the wizard to sit, the makeshift bandage was badly done with dirty cloth, old clothes by the look of it. He wondered why it hadn't been done with magic…the bandage spell was very easy to perform. "Do you have a wand?" he quietly asked the wizard, as he began to remove the soiled bandages. He made no grimace or show of disgust at the smell emanating from him.
"It got broken," the wizard confessed with a shudder, looking entirely lost. He would have rather lost his arm than his wand if truth be told. Unfortunately, the wand was such a delicate piece of magic, and no so surprising it had snapped when he'd been attacked by the three wizards just because they could.
"I see," Hadrian murmured, putting the cut-up fabric in the bin. "How did it happen?" he asked with sympathy. Staring at the wound, he'd allowed it to become infected, sepsis, blood poisoning.
"I was attacked," he murmured morosely.
"Why didn't you go to the Ministry?" Harry asked, as he left the wizard to grab a bowl and poured purified warm water into it.
"You think they care about some homeless bum?" he snapped, before folding in on himself. He could barely believe that Lord Peverell-Slytherin was helping him. He thought the clinic belonged to him, yes, but he didn't know he was the one that actually ran it.
Hadrian pursed his lips, "This has happened before then," he said unimpressed, "Sometimes I truly despair for the Ministry, you shouldn't be treated this way." He or Tom could have very well ended up this way, anyone could have really.
Brendan just shrugged, he was used to it, tired but so very used to the indignities he faced. Wincing and flinching when the healer began to clean the wound. Sighing when with a touch of the wizard's wand, his entire arm and their nerves went numb. He could no longer feel the blazing agony that was his arm.
"Does that feel better?" Hadrian asked, green eyes filled with concern, belatedly realizing…or rather wondering…how on earth the wizard had got here without a wand.
Brendan just gave a strange sound that Hadrian in no way knew how to interpret.
"Brendan? Can you feel this?" Hadrian asked, touching him carefully in case it hurt.
"No," Brendan answered when it become clear the healer wouldn't continue if he didn't answer. Any answer was inadequate, the pain was gone for the first time in weeks.
"That's good, let's get this washed out, hmm," he murmured, quietly as he worked, prodding his magic to aid in Brendan's healing. "What did you do when you left Hogwarts? What was your job?" he asked as he worked, getting rid of the debris and dirt that had gotten into the festering wound, his veins stood out stark red. If he hadn't gotten help, he would have died of blood poisoning.
"I got my Mastery in Art and Charms," he confessed, "Tried to make it as an Artist, got a few commissions, that all dried up a long time ago." he murmured.
"Any good?" Hadrian queried, keeping him occupied.
"I was," he said without pride or smug satisfaction, just stating fact.
"What happened?" Hadrian then asked, he wasn't ashamed to ask. He understood not everyone who ended up on the street were to blame, sometimes circumstances just kicked you in the teeth when you were down.
He scoffed, "My father passed away, lumped me with nothing but debt he built up, from Gringotts of all places. When his life insurance couldn't cover everything, they took the estate, my studio, my paintings, what was left of the vaults…all I had left at the end of it was the clothes on my back and my wand." And his so-called friends had turned their back on him.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Hadrian said, "Now this wound is severely infected. You have septicaemia, blood poisoning, you need to stay here for a few days. If you don't…well, it's highly likely that you'll die within the next few days." He told him the truth of it.
"Why? Can't I just get a potion?" Brendan asked, shifting uncomfortably, "I can't afford…"
"It's nothing to do with affording, or charity by the way, before you think it," Hadrian ordered him, "The potion has to be given at very precise times, to early can cause an overdose, to late can set your progress back. It's an extremely highly regulated potion for a reason."
"Oh," he murmured, he didn't know much about potions so he couldn't say whether it was lying or not.
"There are three small rooms set aside for anyone that has to stay in the clinic overnight. Just enough room for a bed, a cabinet and a lamp. You'll rest there until I give you the all clear. Do you understand?" Hadrian said firmly, "Healers orders." Giving him a small grin.
Brendan nodded, "Yeah," he murmured.
"Good," picking up a clipboard, "Can you write with your left hand?"
"I…yes," he said, blinking at the pen and clipboard that was set in his hands.
"Fill it out, especially the bit about any allergies you are known to have. I need to know everything before I give you any potions." Hadrian explained, banishing the bloody and dirty water. Cleaned out the bowl and returned it to its normal place. "I'll be back in a few minutes, I have another patient to see, don't go anywhere." He warned him, "Would you prefer privacy?" gesturing towards the curtains, Hadrian drew them when the wizard nodded his confirmation.
"Good morning, Ms Pince, how are you?" smiling at future librarian at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"I'm doing well, it's healing plentifully," she reassured, her young face sombre and far more mature than it should be considering she was only eighteen-years-old.
"How did the job interview go?" Hadrian asked, "Take a seat and let me see your shoulder." She had taken a serious slashing hex to the back. The culprit was already in Azkaban for her actions. Silly idiot of a girl, all because her grades weren't as good as Ms Pince's.
"They picked someone with far more experience," she grumbled, as she bared her back. Allowing Hadrian to poke and prod, answering that no, it didn't hurt anymore, and no she didn't need potions when he asked.
"It seems to have healed well, then," Hadrian said pleased, "I can give you a potion you can put into your bath when you bathe, it will help reducing the scarring or a salve? The potion for your bath will work quicker, get under the skin and help it knit back together easier." He told her as he helped her put her top back down.
"The first one sounds good," she agreed, grateful, she was still paying her St. Mungo's hospital bill off. They'd saved her life, so she couldn't complain.
"Alright, let me go get it!" Hadrian said, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he ambled over to the cupboard to retrieve the potion. "How's your brother?"
"He's doing well, he got a job at the local newspaper," Pince told him, "He's just printing for now but hopes to get into actual journalism when he leaves University."
"That's good, everyone has to start somewhere," Hadrian said in agreement, "Three drops per bath, you'll notice a significant improvement within the first few days." He told her, handing the single vial over. Plucking the newspaper off his desk he opened it at the job section, and circled the one he'd put in just last night. Giving it to her with a wink, she accepted the paper with an air of bemusement, glancing at the job opportunity and her entire countenance changed to genuine excitement.
Truth was she loved books, and to be around them all day? Why hadn't she thought of that? A librarian! It was admittedly in an orphanage and the books might all be for the younger years but it would be fascinating nonetheless.
"Thank you, Healer Peverell-Slytherin," she said with a rare smile, "Bye!"
Hadrian watched her go thoughtfully, she may still end up at Hogwarts if it was something, she truly desired. It was said to be the best library in the UK, so naturally, if there was a library, you'd want to oversee it would be that one.
Shaking off his thoughts, he turned back to his only other patient for the moment. He opened the curtains again, and picked up the clipboard, humming to himself as he read everything.
Brendan Burke.
He was a Burke; they were one of the sacred twenty-eight families. He wondered if he was in any way related to the guy working in Borgin and Burke. Evidently, they mustn't be close, if he wasn't helping him…unless Brendan hadn't gone to him for aid.
No known allergies, that was good.
"The potion will make you very sleepy," Hadrian went on to inform the wizard. "Can I ask how you got here?" remembering his earlier thoughts.
"I walked," he told him, giving him a strange look. He didn't have a single Knut to his name, he didn't have a wand to call the night bus or Apparate, not that he would have done that in his state. He felt feverish and weak, he would have splinched himself.
Hadrian stared at the wizard in disbelief, glancing at his shoes, which were caked with mud and he realized he probably had walked. For miles, for days, just to get here. Inhaling sharply, "Alright, I've got pyjamas here that will fit you, do you want a bath or shower before you take the potion? It's better if we prevent any more germs getting into your wound." Making it sound like it was for the sake of the injury. "Leave your clothes at the entrance of the door, we'll get them washed for you before you leave." Gesturing towards the door which held the small washroom.
The clinic was by no means big or extravagant, it wasn't meant to be. It had everything it needed through, and more importantly it was clean and ran by a certified healer. It also had wards up the wazoo, since there were a lot of potions on the property. He wasn't going to have someone breaking in and stealing everything to sell like the likes of Mundungus Fletcher, who he had come to realize, had been nothing but a thief his entire life.
Being an Order member didn't make him a good person as far as he was concerned. He'd stolen from the Black's like they were common, and that made it worse.
Hadrian continued to see to his patients while Brendan bathed, luckily there were supplies in there. Some bubble bath, shower gel and some shampoo and conditioner. It was used mostly be anyone that came in bloody, to clean themselves after being healed. It had been used perhaps nine or ten times in total, since people preferred to head home.
Three drop ins and four patients had come and gone before he emerged. He wondered briefly how long he'd been living rough. He looked entirely different by the time he was standing there, cradling his arm.
"Numbing charm worn off?" Hadrian winced, and the wizard nodded once in confirmation. "Come on then, let's get you settled," potion already in hand, he was surprised the wizard was still walking to be fair. That was determination for you though.
Hadrian showed him through to room one, "A house-elf brought you some stew, and a little bit of dessert, eat up, once you're done, I'll give you the potion, you'll be out of it pretty quickly." He needed the rest; his body was one massive infection. If he had been a Muggle he would have almost been beyond help. His malnourished state wasn't doing him any favours either.
For the first time Brendan didn't argue the slightest, food wasn't something to protest. Hadrian conjured a warm fluffy comforter, and added it to the bottom of the bed. "I'll be back in ten minutes." That would be enough time for him to eat.
He felt for him, but he also couldn't help everyone…it was an impossibility. He was a Burke though, a pureblood, from a very prominent family…with only one member left in his time from what he could recall. He had a feeling that Brendan will have died without the clinic here…maybe this could be a new start for him?
Prevent the steady decline of wizarding families, including this one.
He couldn't give him charity, he'd need to work for it, ideas filtered through his mind. A way to help him without giving handouts, yes, he could do that.
He helped another appointment patient before he headed towards room one, and handed the wizard the potion after him sitting down properly in bed. "I'll be by later, just rest, a House-elf will bring you food if you feel up to it, you should try to eat something."
The wizard nodded, eyes going glassy already pretty much out of it.
The rest of his morning was just as busy, and surprisingly, Hadrian barely had any time to think, let alone dwell on the news he'd just been delivered very early that morning.
Merlin only knows how Tom was really going to react, he didn't take sharing well with others. He'd been exasperated when Fenrir came along, but he'd made a very good father. Fenrir had turned out very well, if he didn't say so himself. Fenrir had been at an age where he didn't need constant monitoring, a baby would take up a lot of time…both their times.
Sighing softly, so much for not thinking on it, he thought wryly. Closing the door, he flared the wards up, so nobody could Apparate the clinic, they'd know it was closed. He kept the oil lamps burning, so that if his patient woke up, he wouldn't be immersed in total darkness.
"Dobby?" Hadrian called, as he continued to clean up.
"What can Dobby do for Master?" Dobby asked, dressed smartly in his robes, waiting for Hadrian to answer.
"I have a patient that will be staying the night, he'll be pretty much out of it. I'd like you to make him some dinner at seven o'clock and see if he'll eat. His body can use it, for certain he's a little malnourished. Then at midnight a small snack before giving him this potion, not a second sooner. Midnight on the dot do you understand?"
"Dinner and supper then potion at midnight, Dobby understands," Dobby said easily, unafraid of his Masters who treated him and his parents well. A few other House-elves had joined them, but Dobby noticed that Master always called him, and it made him feel special.
"Perfect, if anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to come and fetch me," Hadrian told him, "He's in my care, and I have a duty to him." Anything could go wrong, so yes, he'd be prepared for any eventuality.
"Dobby will collect you if anything happens," Dobby declared, "Dobby can do this, Master Hadrian, I will clean." Finding it excruciating watching Hadrian clean when he should be.
Hadrian paused, before sighing, giving a nod, "Alright, remember to get some sleep Dobby," he added, handing him the potion to give to Brendan when it was time.
"I'll see you at home," he told the House-elf before Apparating out of the clinic and back home.
"Ah, finally, what on earth happened earlier?" Tom asked, the very moment Hadrian Apparated into the sitting room. He'd felt every single one of Hadrian's emotions…and had taken it out on his contacts, some of which would probably avoid him in future.
"I hope it didn't disrupt your morning?" Hadrian questioned, asking whether he was successful or not.
"Of course not," Tom told him wryly, as if he'd let anything get in the way of his goals. Even pesky little things like emotional overload, although, he was worried. "And you're avoiding my question." Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, wondering what on earth it could mean.
"I'm pregnant," Hadrian said, watching Tom keenly, giving him an expectant look.
His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when Tom passed out. His hand slapped over his mouth he giggled at the hilarity of it, if he ever told anyone this, Tom would so kill him.