"Oh, not you too," Neville protested, though he was smiling. "Ginny's always on at me about the Hogwarts job. Pomona's not on death's doorstep, I really don't think it's something we need be thinking about at all, yet."

He looked around the small hospital room, at the knitting spread across Hermione's lap and the books stacked beside her bed. "Merlin, you must be losing your mind in here. Do they let you get up at all?"