Bella was, in her opinion, fine, but it was her opinion alone. Despite personally feeling that malaria was a quick conclusion to jump to, the healers and nurses had confirmed that she was most likely suffering from a disease she never thought she'd have to deal with. If she did have to die in some horrid fate, why couldn't it be something more glamorous like consumption? And why before she had someone to bury her in roses and mourn her?
She wasn't going to die, not really. At least she didn't think so. She was Bella Scrimgeour—much like the mosquitoes that bit her, she never died when it was most convenient. Instead, she was left to suffer through her misery.
Regina Lacey was apparently also like a mosquito in that she didn't know how to buzz off when she wasn't wanted. That was the first thought that came to her mind upon opening her eyes and catching sight of the blonde in the corner of the room. There were half a dozen people she'd rather see—Mr. MacFusty, Mr. Gladstone, Gemma, Tilda, Cora, and even Reuben-fucking-Crouch would have been better sights.
"What—Why are you here?" she asked accusingly, wrapping her sheets tighter around her torso.
She wasn't going to die, not really. At least she didn't think so. She was Bella Scrimgeour—much like the mosquitoes that bit her, she never died when it was most convenient. Instead, she was left to suffer through her misery.
Regina Lacey was apparently also like a mosquito in that she didn't know how to buzz off when she wasn't wanted. That was the first thought that came to her mind upon opening her eyes and catching sight of the blonde in the corner of the room. There were half a dozen people she'd rather see—Mr. MacFusty, Mr. Gladstone, Gemma, Tilda, Cora, and even Reuben-fucking-Crouch would have been better sights.
"What—Why are you here?" she asked accusingly, wrapping her sheets tighter around her torso.

— MJ is MAGICAL —