When it finally came to the point that if Rory stalled any longer he wouldn't be able to eat breakfast, he finally grabbed his bag and trudged out of his room at a snail's pace. He really wasn't looking forward to doing any work, especially in his tired and disgruntled state. This just didn't feel like it was going to be a good day.

Of course the Great Hall was crowded, especially at the late hour. With only fifteen minutes left to spare before class, students were scrambling to talk to their friends for as long as humanly possible without being late. Rory hated the sight of so many students in one place, knowing that some of them had struck up conversation about him when they noticed him. Word about the incident between Sirius and Rory had spread like the plague.

"Oi, look who made it!" Darias shouted from the Hufflepuff table. He waved frantically at Rory, gesturing wildly for him to take the empty seat beside him. "Victor was here a moment ago, but he just left; said he had to get a few things from the library."

Rory snorted, taking a piece of toast off of Darias's plate. "Sounds like an excuse to me."

"You know how he is," Darias waved a nonchalant hand. "A closet ladies man for sure. Refuses to believe he can date anyone but still ends up having a girl almost every week. Isn't that strange?"

"It's criminal," Rory agreed around a mouthful of bread. "Stealing all of the beauties from you."

Darias nodded in fervent agreement. "Hey, have you seen Amos?"

Rory frowned. "He said he was coming to meet you here. Did you not get a chance to see him? He was gone before I could summon the strength to get out of bed."

"No," Darias huffed. "I'm going to rip that boy a new one." He paused, looking away from Rory. "Hey, isn't that Sirius Black?"

"What?!"

"He's coming this way," Darias whispered. "Hurry mate, hide under the table, I got your back."

Rory swatted Darias's hand away. "I'm not hiding under the table. If he's coming over here to start another fight, I'll just beat the living hell out of him."

"You might win," Darias snickered. "He's bigger than you but he looks drunk, even with those shades on."

Rory stood, deciding to ignore his friend, and walked around the table, deciding that it would be best if they took what was sure to be a loud argument into the hall, away from the eyes that were trained on the pair. Before Sirius could open his mouth, Rory grabbed his forearm and tugged, pulling him out of the Great Hall.

"Oi, don't touch me," Sirius snapped, trying to break Rory's grip.

"Shut up," Rory hissed. "I'm trying to keep this from becoming a scene. Just be quiet for as long as is possible for the likes of you and let me do you a favor. I'm sure whatever gibberish that is about to come out of your mouth right now will be embarrassing for the both of us."

With that, Sirius was thrust into a stunned silence. He had nothing to say now; thank you just didn't seem appropriate. Instead of saying anything at all, he opted instead for being dragged out of the Great Hall by a boy that was a head shorter than him. After what seemed like an eternity, Rory released him and turned on his heel to face Sirius.

"What do you want?" He snapped his emerald eyes like daggers. "The last time you walked up to me it ended with bruises." Rory yanked up the sleeve of his robe to prove it. Sirius winced at the vicious purple marks marring the boy's smooth pale skin.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning his head.

Rory blanched. "What did you just say?"

"Bloody hell!" Sirius snapped. "I said I was sorry. How many fucking times do I have to say it? You should get your ears checked, mate."

"Excuse you?" Rory hissed, his face tilting a bit up to look the other straight in the eyes. Sirius winced at the harsh sound. Rory's eyebrows quirked at the oddness of it. "Take off your sunglasses," he demanded. Sirius shook his head, his expression twisting into something that could be described as pain. "You are drunk!" Rory said accusingly. He thought back to what his fellow Hufflepuff had said.

"So what if I am?"

Rory glared, "You have to get drunk just to get enough balls to tell me that you were wrong? That's pathetic."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Forget I even bothered."

"Not hard to. Since the effort was half-assed in the first place."

"Oi," Sirius snapped indignantly. "This apology is coming from the heart!"

Rory raised an eyebrow at that. "Your heart, you say? What heart?" He chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. "You practically beat up a new kid without a second thought because his tone didn't set well with you."

Sirius had nothing to say to that. Rory nodded and took a step back, as if he were about to leave. "You're pathetic Sirius. When you come to me sober and apologize, maybe I'll accept it. But you're not fooling anyone. Grow up."

That struck a nerve. "What did you just say?"

"I said to grow up. Only a child apologizes when he's drunk." Rory snapped. "Sirius Black, you are a child; whether or not you choose to be one is not the point. When certain circumstances call for you to act like an adult, you don't question it. End of story."

"Stop saying that." He gritted out with a stricken look on his face.

"No, I won't, because my mercy is something less than you deserve. I won't sit back and let you be a prick because you're not happy." Rory growled. "You made fun of me about circumstances you have no idea about, but because I'm not a CHILD I won't stoop that low. I'm plenty okay with just making you feel like the dirt I walk on."

Sirius's mouth opened and closed several times before he decided to shoot the ginger haired teed a furious glare and march angrily back to the Great Hall. Rory waited for a moment, watching Sirius as he walked away. With a sigh he shook his head and followed after.

"What was that about?" Darias asked through the pancakes that he stuffed down his throat, glancing at Rory as he sat beside him.

Rory shrugged, "It wasn't anything."

"I don't know," Darias muttered dubiously, swallowing his food and glancing anxiously between the dark haired Gryffindor and Rory. "The bloke looks livid."

"He's a child," Rory shrugged, idly spreading jelly onto the toast he knew he wasn't going to eat. He was doing it so he could have something to look at other than Sirius or Darias. "He doesn't want to listen to anyone except himself, and when he does finally listen, he gets angry when he knows he's wrong. He's a child."

Darias was silent for a moment. "That doesn't sound like nothing."

"Damn it!" Rory exclaimed, giving up on the toast as he threw it onto the plate, willing his hands to stop shaking as he clenched them into fists. Why was he so worked up over this? It wasn't like him. Normally if someone didn't like him he moved on, but why did Sirius seem different? Why couldn't he be like the rest of them and allow Rory to forget him in peace? "Damn it!"

"Are you okay, Rory?" Darias asked quietly, looking around at the people staring at them. "People are staring at you."

"Damn it," Rory stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Tell our teacher than I went to see Madam Pomfrey."

"Oi," Darias shouted after Rory, but the ginger haired teen ignored him, hurrying out of the Great Hall as fast as he could without doubling over. He didn't keep his medicine with him, but like hell, he wished he did right then.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest and he held back a cough. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he climbed the stairs. "He's so infuriating. Why did he have to come up to me that day?"

Rory leaned against the wall for a moment to catch his breath when he reached the top of the stairs, closing his eyes. "He's just a child. An infuriating, idiotic, rude, child. Nothing more and nothing less. I just need to forget about this. I just need to calm down." Rory nodded to himself, trying to control the tremors rocking his body, clenching and unclenching his hands. "I just need to breathe. Breathe, Rory… just breathe."

Rory growled under breath and opened his eyes. For every person that had ever made him mad he had taken ten deep breaths. Every breath calmed him down and eased the erratic pace of his diseased heart. It helped him look at the situation in a new light, but with every breath he took, his anger just got worse and worse.

He dropped his bag and suddenly rounded on the wall, slamming his fist against the stone surface. Rory gasped and retracted his hand, clutching it against his chest. When the throbbing subsided slightly he grimaced and glanced at the wall; then he punched it again. And again and again and again until there was a dark crimson stain on the wall and the rapid swelling of his hand prevented him from moving a finger. He shuddered once, leaving his fist pressed against the wall. How was this solving anything?

Rory grabbed up his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder, cradling his injured hand to his chest. As he walked he shook his head, laughing at his foolishness. If he allowed a pathetic and spoiled brat to get to him the way Sirius had, how would he be able to live the rest of his life in peace.

"It might be best if I ignored him from now on."

"Madam Pomfrey?"

When Rory entered the infirmary, an elderly woman was standing beside a bed, folding the linens that had probably just been washed at the foot of the bed. Upon hearing her name being called, the witch turned, only to do a double take. Rory stood near the entrance, holding his left hand against his chest. It was swollen and nearly as red as his hair; multiple gashes marred the surface, and blood oozed from the wounds. He was breathing heavily and his unnaturally pale skin glistened.

Madam Pomfrey hurried to his side and urged him in the direction of the nearest bed. "Lie down, lie down! Is this an attack?"

"No ma'am," he muttered sheepishly. "I was having trouble with my heart... and then I took my anger out on the wall."

The matron tusked. "You need to be more careful and learn how to control that temper. Your mother will not be happy when I tell her about this."

"Don't tell her," Rory groaned, adjusting himself on the thin mattress until he was comfortable. "She'll have my head on a platter."

"Now you know your mother has requested to know about every time you've visited me," Madam Pomfrey said as she cleaned the blood from his hand. "I can't deny her that. You're her son."

"Well yeah, I guess..." Rory muttered. "Just don't tell her about this," he gestured to his hand, "because then she'll be really upset. I know she needs to know about things like this but I'll tell her when I'm ready to. No doubt Aine will tell her about it."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "How is your little sister?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since we were sorted into our Houses. I'm hoping I'll get to see her this weekend. We promised we'd focus on our schoolwork during the week and leave catching up to the weekends. But I wasn't able to see her last weekend. Something held me up."

"And that was...?" The matron prompted.

"Nothing to be worried about," Rory said evasively. "Nothing that will ever happen again, to be sure."

She set him with a stern look. "I hope you're right."

Rory pursed his lips. "Hey, uh, I was wondering if I could get a pass?"

Pomfrey nodded, "Of course. I would suggest that you lay here for awhile first; to help settle yourself down."

Rory nodded once and then leaned back against the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge. "Madam, do you ever think about when you'll die?"

"Of course not," she said evenly. "And you shouldn't either."

"Witches and wizards have really long life spans. We can live until we're a hundred and even past that," Rory whispered, staring up at the arched ceiling. "But sometimes I wonder if I'll even live to be twenty. When I was a kid it was bad. It's gotten better, but I still get the coughing fits. I still get tired easily. I can't use magic often. What do I have going for me?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You have the world, Rory, believe me. It is true you might not live very long, but I heard once that it's not how long you live that makes life worth living, but what you do in your lifetime that makes it all worth it in the end."

"Those are very morbid words," he sighed, closing his eyes. "It still hurts."

"I'll go get your medicine. Is there anything else you need in the meantime?"

Rory shook his head, "No ma'am, I'm fine. I just need to rest."

"That's a good boy."

Rory listened to the quick steps of the matron fade until he could no longer hear her. He knew that she stored his medicines in a special place where she wouldn't lose them or accidentally give them to other students, mistaking it for something else. He let his eyes open slowly and lifted his injured hand. As the blood rushed down his arm, unable to flow upwards properly, his hand began to throb, distracting him from his heart's uneven and frantic pace.

He grimaced and bit his cheek. "I hate this," he hissed under breath. "I really hate this."

Pomfrey came back after what seemed like an eternity to Rory, seeing as how he had been so preoccupied with his thoughts. After giving him his medicine, she handed him a small sheet of parchment with a short note scribbled on it and an elegant signature. "You're free to go," she said to him, "but you have to avoid stressors. They'll wear you down fast."

"That was my plan before I even got here," Rory sighed, swinging his legs around so he could slide off the bed. He took the slip of parchment from Madam Pomfrey and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"It's no problem at all Rory," she smiled and patted him on the head. "That pass I gave you gives you the option to skip all of your classes today. I take your condition very seriously," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Get some rest, boy, and come see me tomorrow morning after breakfast before you go to class."

Rory nodded and pocketed the pass. "Okay, I think I can manage that much. I'll see you tomorrow."