Five hours is a long time to be flying around. Admittedly we had been training all day for the past week, but training didn't involve the stress of an actual game. Five hours of quiddich final was hardcore stuff. I felt somewhat sorry for the people watching. Five hours of watching the same thing over and over again was probably rather boring for them as well. After three hours, professor Longbottom's voice gave out, so the role of commenting was handed over to Rose's cousin, James, who was the Gryffindor captain.

It was actually rather entertaining, as he merely lamented the performance of the Hufflepuff team. After an hour of that, he moved onto contemplations of theoretical physics. He was relieved of the megaphone. Forcibly. By professor McGonagall, the headmistress. Even in her mid seventies, she exuded an aura of 'you waste my time and I'll waste you.' rumour had it that she was retiring some time in the near future, but that was somewhat doubtful. She wasn't going anywhere. The megaphone was given to the Ravenclaw quiddich captain, who began speaking with cool efficiency, and immense speed. It was almost as if he didn't need to breathe between sentences. But I digress.

I was scanning the field for bludgers, hovering within hitting range of the Hufflepuff seeker and keeper, while Richard stayed on their beaters. Rose was signalling something to Alice. At long last.

She's hot. Shut up hormones. Oh come on. What are you? A monk? You so did not go there.

You can tell you're really sane when you start having conversations with your own brain.

I so did go there. Just ask her out. What's the worst that could happen.

I had been experiencing these lovely bursts of sanity all year.

You want to know the worst? She doesn't like me that way and it gets really awkward between us. Face it, boy, you're a hormone volcano. I've managed to suppress these supposedly raging hormones so far. Calm before the storm. Says you. I'm your brain. Come on. Do you really think I'm going to be wrong? I co-ordinate all this hormonal shit. Was that a threat? Is my own brain threatening me? What's the most you can do? Don't tempt me, boy. I'm capable of things you can't even imagine. Judging by the fact that you're my brain, I'm reasonably sure I could imagine them, actually. Fuck you, good brain.

The less evil side of my brain was about to add insult to injury, when a bludger hit Rose in the shoulder, knocking her off balance, and leaving her hanging onto her broom in a sloth grip, with her left arm just dangling in a remarkably not good manner. I was about ten metres away when she was hit again, in the chest with a crunch I heard with worrying clarity. She let go of the broom and began falling.

I was close enough to catch her, it turned out she was unconscious, and deposit her on the stretcher one of the teachers had conjured to take her to the hospital wing. As I was laying her on the stretcher, she started coughing, and I felt droplets hit my face. Wiping them off, I saw that she was coughing up blood. That was an incredibly bad sign.

At about that time, Alice caught the snitch, enabling us to finish the game. After the fastest post-match shaking of hands and formalities, the rest of the team made for the hospital wing as fast as we could. Outside the unexpectedly locked doors of the hospital wing, we caught up with Rose's brother and cousins.

"What happened to her?" Rose's brother Hugo asked.

"I saw her take the shoulder hit, and when she was hit in the chest, there was a crunch. And she was coughing up blood by the time I got her on the stretcher."

"Shit." Was James' reaction. "That's a punctured lung, which means at least one broken rib, and did you see the way her arm was dangling?"

"That'd be a crushed collarbone at the very least, possibly a fractured shoulder socket." Came Richard's response.

"I just don't get why the door's locked." Said Albus.

We waited outside for another fifteen or so minutes, when Madame Pomfrey unlocked the doors and allowed all of us in. The ten of us (myself, Richard, John, James and Josh, James, Hugo, Albus and Lily) were led to the bed where Rose was lying, unconscious.

"I she going to wake up?" asked Lily, which had been what I was wondering, and judging by everyone else's expressions when she asked, I hadn't been alone.

"Yes, I just had to ensure she was unconscious before I started repairing bones. Bone and organ repair is painful business, especially when you're as injured as she was."

"What were the injuries?" asked Hugo.

"Let's see… five broken ribs, three of which had punctured her right lung; two radial fractures; a broken ulna; eight separate breaks to her collarbone, which had more or less been compacted in on itself, and four fractures in her shoulder socket. As well as extensive bruising. I fixed all the breaks and fractures, and her lung, but I left the bruising as a bit of proprioceptive awareness. One of you inform me when she wakes up."

Madam Pomfrey walked off towards her office.

"Mum and Dad are never going to let her play quiddich again." remarked Hugo.

"Hogwarts doesn't write to parents to inform of injury." Interjected Richard. "They only notify parents of death."

"That's cheery." Said Lily.

"Let's just not tell the parents then." said James.

We lapsed into silence and merely stood around the bed, glaring at each other: Rose's family on one side, and the Slytherin quiddich team on the other.

Eventually, Rose opened her eyes, and swore with surprising fluency. Lily left to notify Madame Pomfrey.

"Painful, Rose?" asked Richard in an attempt to break the silence.

"The shock's gone and worn off. It irks me." Rose forced out through gritted teeth. "So what happened?"

"Five broken ribs, three of them punctured your lung, a break and two fractures in your arm, four fractures in your shoulder socket, and you broke your collarbone in eight places." Supplied James.

"No wonder it hurts." Remarked Rose.

Madame Pomfrey returned. "I assume by now you know what shape you were in."

Rose nodded. "When can I go?"

"When you can do ten push ups."

Everyone in the room except for Madame Pomfrey smirked knowingly. We all knew that Rose could do one armed push ups.

Rose got out of the bed, affording a better view of the bruising covering left arm, shoulder and collarbone, and the bruise that was already showing up black through her white singlet. Getting onto the floor, she did the required ten push ups, albeit only using her uninjured arm.

Madame Pomfrey was not amused, but conceded that Rose was repaired enough to return to her habitat. The rest of the quiddich team went off in different directions to tell everyone that she was alive, and her family went back to Gryffindor tower, after hugging her.

"No telling the parents." Rose called after them.

Rose slipped on her shoes, and walked out of the hospital wing with me standing next to her in case she passed out. Rose almost getting herself killed in a routine school quiddich match highlighted the fact that life was short. Hormones had won the argument, soundly defeating platonic chivalry.

The moment we were out of the hospital wing, Rose leaned herself against the wall, eyes tearing up.

"Are you alright Rose?" I asked, placing a hand on her uninjured shoulder.

Rose took a deep breath, swore, and decided on taking a few shallow breaths. Eventually she responded "Everything is painful. Standing upright is painful. Breathing is painful. The push ups hurt like hell. It's just pain."

"You had me really worried when you started coughing up blood."

"That explains a lot." Muttered Rose darkly, examining the bruising on her forearm.

"Come on, off to the common room. Once we're there you can feel free to collapse into an injured heap."

"I might just take you up on that." Said Rose.

As we walked, Rose tested the range of motion she had in her arms and torso. This involved much arm flailing and twisting around, punctuated by the odd obscenity and occasional involuntary tears. After a while, Rose said, offhand, "Thanks for catching me by the way."

"How did you know? You were unconscious."

"James told me."

"It's all part of the service."

Rose punched me lightly with her good hand.

"I didn't cough any blood onto you, did I?" she asked.

"Not much. I trust you don't have any horrible communicable diseases."

"Just syphilis." She joked.

"Well if that's all."

I paused. "Rose."

She looked up at me.

"I'm glad you're still alive." I said, and cupping her face with one hand, I leaned down and kissed her tentatively.

Although the tentativeness didn't last long. Rose seemed stunned for a moment, and then she hooked her arms around my neck, my hands went to her waist, and then we started really making out.