She made to sit up, protesting mildly when he placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her down.
"I'll tell you," he replied tenderly, "if you promise to stay layin' for a while."
"No arguments here…" She grunted, clearly pained.
"Name's Whitaker." The young Scotsman smiled kindly. "Can you feel your toes?"
She blinked dumbly. "Wha- Why?"
"I need to know if your spine's broken. Can you wiggle your toes? Any tingles?" He asked matter-of-factly.
"Well-" She faltered again. Clearly thrown by his tactlessness. "No tingles…" She whimpered, face screwed up in pain. "I think my right leg is broken though."
"Not surprising. They were buried in rubble when I found you."
"Good to know…" She muttered.
Moments passed as he drew up to assess their situation. His mind blazed through possibilities before coming to rest on a plan. Out the dorm would be easier. Simple levitation charm. Splint her. Get her to the Hall.
He chuckled softly. "S'pose I should apologize for my bedside manner in advance. I'm a better fighter than medic." She smiled bemusedly at his comment.
Kneeling again, he slid his hand under her shoulder to help her sit up. "Easy...Careful." He offered lamely.
"Real help you are." She grumbled sarcastically, sitting herself up.
"You just woke up from a couple hundred foot fall. You wouldn't want to hurt yourself just sitting up would you?" He smirked amusedly. "Just my luck it'd happen on my watch, too."
"Ha. Ha." Cho said sarcastically. Returning his amused side-smile.
Pausing for a moment, he gazed up at the moon through the hole. Finally acknowledging the obvious, he asked. "How did you manage to survive?"
"Arresto Momentum, I think… I remember everything up until I hit the ground. I was still falling fairly fast because I had barely anytime to cast it after blasting holes in the walls." She nodded upward. "I don't think the hole was big enough though."
"Hence the leg." He deduced. She nodded.
He let out an impressed, low whistle. "Reductor Curse?" He asked.
"Yeah."
He chuckled appreciatively, putting on his best southern-American accent. "Nice shootin' Tex." The way she smiled seemed to be despite herself.
More moments of silence fell. He was lost in that smile. Now he fully understood why she had earned the reputation of one of the prettiest girls in school, even under the circumstances. Her raven hair was stained a splotchy grey with stone dust, and her face nicked in several places, each cut trickling slightly. Her warm, almond shaped eyes flashed with an amusement defiant of pain as she joked back,
"Well, if you ever need backup…"
"I'll sleep so much better knowing Cho Chang's on my side." He quipped while digging through his bag.
She stopped giggling abruptly. "How do you know my name?" Her tone was oddly anxious, accusatory even.
"What?"
"I never told you my name." He could see she was serious about this.
"Well..." He paused lamely. "We're in the same year."
"I didn't know yours."
"I wasn't as popular as you." He said defensively. Her glare lessened. She seemed to at least accept the plausibility of his explanation.
Less accusatory than before, she mumbled, "I don't know what you mean by popular..."
"Can the modesty." He sighed, half amused, half exasperated. "You were the prettiest girl in our year. Denial is just pretentious."
She balked at this. "Sorry…" She muttered.
Realizing his rudeness, he added, "I don't mean to say you're pretentious… just that it's pointless to deny it."
Her pale face tinted a soft pink in the grim morning light. "Tell that to Harry's little band of harpie fangirls…" She muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"They were idiots." He stated plainly. "Just jealous that Harry had liked you more than them. And they only liked him 'cause he was famous."
"Still… They were never exactly easy on me."
"I know." He answered, remembering the times a tear streaked Cho had pushed past him in the corridors during their 6th year. He remembered the whispers, the gossip. He had always hated gossip… He remembered the howlers that would swoop in during Charms, or Transfiguration, and screech at her in a evilly distorted voice, until she would have to leave class in embarrassment, the wretched things following her all the way out. He remembered the way his soul burned, like the forge of a goblin smithy, with all the anger he felt at all the teacher's pathetic inability to stop anything. He remembered just wanting to comfort her. He had never known why. She had never so much as been assigned a seat by him in class… she never even knew his name. But still, the brutish heavyweight's heart had broken at the injustice of it all.
"Don't worry about it. I know how it feels." He added grimly.
"What do you mean?"
Regaining his wits, and returning to his bookbag, he produced a good-sized canteen. Offering it to her, he said, "You'll have to bribe it out of me by taking some water." He grinned broadly as she all but snatched the canteen from him, and began sucking down huge swallows of water, clearly unaware of just how parched her throat had been until now.
"Careful now," he admonished jovially, "You'll drink yourself sick."
She dropped the canteen from her lips, smiling sheepishly at her exuberance. "Sorry… Just really thirsty."
"I'd have never guessed." They both laughed at this. As the laughter faded to chuckles, he was struck by something. "You know," he began, smiling, "you don't have to apologize to me for everything."
Realization flashed in her eyes. "Sor-" she began. But she caught herself. She looked down reservedly. "Force of habit, I s'pose." She mumbled.
"Then it's a habit tha' needs breakin'." He said kindly. She stared up at him for a few moments, then nodded.
"Anyways," he added, sensing a solemn turn in the conversation, "I need to get you out of here. Now, I s'pose the best way out is through the holes you blasted. Any objections to levitation?"