Chapter 11: Season of No Rest
"In order to heal others, we first need to heal ourselves.
And to heal ourselves, we need to know how to deal with ourselves."
- Thich Nhat Hanh
Dementors.
Madeline didn't have time to react—the dementors were swarming Potter, and Cedric was lost in the storm. Madeline wiped some water off her face and watched, horrified, as Potter seemed to lose consciousness. Madeline flew closer, hoping he was alright, and that's when it happened—Potter fell off his broom.
Falling straight towards the dementors, but Madeline couldn't move for fear—could she fly through the dementors to save him? Shouldn't she try? It took a few seconds for her to decide, and then she sped off towards the dementors, feeling colder and wetter than ever. Their power didn't sway her, for she flew through them too quickly, but she was too late—Potter was already down.
When she reached the ground, she felt herself growing weak, and she stumbled into the mud. There was a dementor directly above her, but before it could draw its rattling breath, it was being warded off by a massive, swooping, bird-like Patronus. She then saw Dumbledore, who looked angrier than she could ever recall him being, walking swiftly across the pitch. The thrashing rain made it hard to see, but she could make out the long white beard and midnight blue robes, drenched though they were. Dumbledore did not bow his head to the wind. A painful heaviness settled in her chest as she ran to Potter and collapsed at his side. Her hands were shaking, one clutching her broom, the other taking Potter's arm.
"Potter!" she shouted, shaking him gently. His thin face was paler than usual and his dark hair was splattered everywhere "Potter!"
When he didn't respond, Madeline pushed his soaking robes back and felt for his pulse. Potter was alive, at the very least. She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around to see who it was. Dumbledore was standing over her, his robes soaked and muddy.
"He's alright?"
"He's al-ive!" Madeline replied, her voice breaking at the effort of being heard over the rain.
"The match is over! Hufflepuff wins?" said Lee Jordan, his uncertain voice reverberating loudly over the pitch.
Though Madeline registered a wave of shock, concern was rippling through her like a heavy current. Dumbledore then conjured a stretcher and levitated Potter onto it. He was alive, sure, but by how much?
"Miss Palmer, please see to it that the rest of the students make their way to the castle safely. The professors will help you," said Dumbledore clearly, his blue eyes dark. "Have you ever conjured a Patronus?"
"N-no," said Madeline, who was shivering and scared.
Dumbledore's furious gaze softened at her response. He nodded and marched off the pitch with Potter floating before him on the stretcher, while her teammates and the Gryffindor players began landing near her. Madeline felt a few tears leak out of the corner of her eyes, but they mingled with the pouring rain and were lost. She turned to face them, and her eyes landed on the twins, who looked as though they had lost a brother.
"Is he—?" said Angelina, whose voice shook.
"He's alive, and he's with Dumbledore, so don't worry," said Madeline. "We need to get everyone up to the castle immediately! The dementors may come back! Come on! GO!"
Madeline began motioning for the Quidditch players to make their way to the castle. They followed her as she ran off the pitch; once they made it to the edge of the stadium where students were exiting the stands, Madeline stood back and kept shouting for students to get back to the castle. Instead of walking with the rest of the team, Cedric came to her side, the Snitch still clasped in his glove. He placed his free hand on her arm as if to keep her from being swept away. Oliver, who had been walking away with his teammates, turned to look for Madeline, and he saw her standing with Diggory.
"Aren't you coming?" Cedric asked.
"I need to help get the students back," she replied, her arm up to shield her eyes from the heavy rain.
"I'll stay with you," he said, bowing his head towards her, his face squinting from a sudden gust of wind, his face still somehow handsome.
He was closer than he would normally stand, closer that he'd ever been, but because of the torrential downpour, this didn't seem odd to her. She held his shoulder, too, to steady herself. His eyes seemed oddly bright, and Madeline realised that he was probably still full of adrenaline from his capture of the Snitch. Oliver watched them interact for a few moments before turning and retreating to the castle.
"Cedric, that's sweet, really. But I don't know—"
"You shouldn't be out here alone—"
"There are students everywhere. I'm not even remotely alone. Go celebrate!"
Cedric grimaced and shook his head. Madeline knew this was not the way he had hoped to win their match.
"I don't like this. I'll go tell Wood that we'll schedule a rematch in better conditions," Cedric said, nodding as he left.
Madeline was soon joined by Professors McGonagall and Lupin, and together they all helped the students make their way safely to the castle. Other professors were stationed near the castle to ensure that no one wandered away. During their walk back, a flustered-looking Hermione Granger ran down to them from the castle.
"Professor," she exclaimed, looking wildly at McGonagall, "Harry's broom—I think it might've flown into the Whomping Willow!"
"No! Miss Granger, let's go see if we can salvage it!" replied McGonagall. "Lupin—"
"Be careful," he said, nodding at them.
Once in the Entrance Hall, Madeline told Lupin that she wouldn't be going to her common room. It was nice not to have to strain to hear or be heard over the storm.
"But why the Gryffindor Common Room? Shouldn't you be celebrating with your housemates?" Lupin asked.
"Some things are more important than House pride, professor. Surely you understand," she said, giving him a shrewd look.
"Indeed, I do," he said, sighing. "I'll walk with you. No student should be alone in this castle at a time like this. I'll daresay you and your Prefects will need to be performing rounds more frequently."
"I think you're right. Professor Lupin, Dumbledore asked me if I've ever conjured a Patronus. Is that something I should know how to do?"
"Technically speaking, no. It's neither taught at Hogwarts nor is it set in the N.E.W.T.s, as it is well beyond the average seventh year's abilities. That's not to say that you can't learn, however. In Hogwart's current state, it wouldn't be foolish to try."
"How difficult is it? Richard has produced a Patronus with no form."
"It takes more concentration than many students are used to applying to their magic. Even those talented in Transfiguration, such as yourself, might find themselves struggling with this particular charm," Lupin explained.
"You don't think I can do it?"
"I think you can anything you wish, especially if you continue to work hard," he said, smiling sadly. "Some are not so fortunate."
This thought left Madeline speechless, and they walked up many flights of stairs until they reached the Gryffindor Common Room. Madeline was thankful that Professor Lupin had decided to walk with her, as she did not know the password for the new portrait. It was of a clumsy knight who kept shouting, "Ye cowards! Ye scabbards! Draw!"
"Peony," said Professor Lupin.
"I most certainly am not!" cried the knight.
"That's the password. Please let us enter," replied Professor Lupin, his voice still mild.
"Right-o! Enter wee mongrel!" said the knight, who swung the portrait open.
"Take care," said Lupin.
Madeline turned to enter through the portrait hole, and the portrait closed as she was halfway through the small passageway. Madeline stopped, wondering if the Gryffindors would be angry with her for visiting. Madeline looked down at her bright yellow Hufflepuff Quidditch robes and sighed. She'd just have to ignore them, if it came to that. She needed to see Oliver.
Once in the Gryffindor Common Room, which was always blazing red and gold, Madeline looked around for Oliver, but he wasn't there. In fact, there weren't many students in their common room at all. Percy was sitting at one of the tables writing, so Madeline approached him.
"Hello, Percy. Doing alright?"
"Yes, I—Madeline, what are you doing up here?"
"Is Oliver in your dormitory?" she asked, ignoring his question.
"No, I believe he and many others went to the showers. Everyone was covered in mud and muck—"
"You didn't go to the game, did you?"
"In that weather? No, but I've heard we lost. Fred made a joke about Oliver drowning himself—"
"What?!"
"It was only a joke, you know how those brothers of mine are," said Percy coolly.
"Did you hear about what else happened?"
"I heard something about Harry being in the Hospital Wing, but that's hardly a shock. He ends up there every year, doesn't he?"
Madeline then launched into the story about what happened at the match. Percy's face turned as white as a sheet, and even his freckles seemed to pale.
"I—I should have been out there. I should've—"
"Everything's alright, Percy," said Madeline, placing a hand on his shoulder as he stood from his seat.
"I'm a failure, really, I can't believe I didn't go to the match—Dumbledore must be so disappointed in me. Perhaps I should go speak with him."
"There's nothing to be done. Dumbledore has enough to worry about without you groveling for his forgiveness. He's not disappointed in you; he's furious at the dementors for attacking a student."
"I must apologise. It's only right," said Percy, looking offended, perhaps at the thought of groveling.
"It'd be a waste of your time and his," said Madeline.
"Where are you going?" he asked, and Madeline stiffened.
"I'm going to lie down on that empty sofa, if that's alright with you," Madeline said.
Though she didn't like getting angry with Percy, she certainly wasn't in the right frame of mind to put up with his appeasing tendencies. Before she sat down, she performed the Scourgify charm and a drying charm to clean her robes. There were a few students sitting around talking with one another, a fire was going strong in the grate, and the rain was thrashing into the Gryffindor Tower, leaving Madeline feeling drowsy. Her body was exhausted and her mind must have been as well, because a few moments after laying her head against one of the cushions, Madeline fell asleep.
It seemed like only minutes later when Madeline was being shaken awake. Her eyes opened blearily to see Nicolas, who looked as though he had come from the showers. She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
"Tired?" he asked, sitting next to her. "Are you waiting for Oliver?"
She nodded and then blinked her eyes a few times before they felt right.
"He... won't leave the prefect's bathroom," said Nicolas. He ran a hand through his wet hair. "I tried talking to him, but he just… sat there."
Madeline sighed, knowing that Oliver would sit there all night and beat himself up over circumstances that were completely out of his control.
"Damn it all. I knew it. Did he say anything? Anything at all?"
"No," said Nicolas. "I kept telling him that it wasn't his fault, but you know him, he doesn't listen."
Madeline stood and massaged her forehead for a moment while considering her options.
"I knew it'd be bad. I'll have to go see him. Will you walk with me?"
Though Madeline could have walked alone, she was still wary of Malfoy's warning. But she would walk there by herself if she needed to.
"What? You're not going in there while—"
"You'd let Oliver sit there all night?"
"He'll come 'round, Madeline. He always does—"
"You're impossible! Oliver's your best mate, and you don't give a damn whether or not he's alright," said Madeline, her nostrils flaring.
She clenched her fists, though she knew she wouldn't strike Nicolas.
"I do give a damn! I tried talking to him!"
"A lot of good that did! He's still sitting there! And while we're arguing, he's probably actually considering drowning himself! This is pointless. I'm going down there with or without you."
Nicolas stared at Madeline for a moment; he stared at her as though he couldn't quite see her. Madeline was standing when he spoke.
"You're serious?"
"Am I ever not serious?"
"Fair point. Let's go," he said with a sigh.
They did not speak to one another on the trip to the male Prefect's bathroom. Nicolas considered asking her about the match but sensed that she wouldn't want to talk about it, and Madeline couldn't think of anything to say. They soon reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor and walked to the fourth door to its left, but Madeline didn't give the password.
"Will you go make sure it's empty or that everyone's decent?" she said to Nicolas as casually as she could. He gave her a quirky look but complied.
"Suds," said Nicolas to the door, which opened immediately.
He disappeared behind the door, and Madeline leaned against the wall and waited. A few minutes later, Nicolas' head appeared.
"He's alone. He's not drowned himself, either."
Madeline followed Nicolas into the bathroom and to Oliver, who was sitting with his feet and ankles dangling in the water. He didn't look up when they came in, but Madeline walked up to him and planned on standing there until he did. His hair was wet and he had on nothing save his boxers, so Madeline guessed he had probably been in the bath. Madeline looked to see Nicolas standing near the door.
He wants to watch? Fine, he'll finally see how I deal with him. What does he expect me to do? Snog Oliver into a blissful stupor?
Shuddering oddly at the thought and banishing it immediately, Madeline waited for Oliver to look up, her arms crossed over her chest. Then, when Madeline was beginning to think he wouldn't look up, his head lifted, and his melancholic maple eyes found hers.
"Alright, Oliver?" she asked, her voice softer than she would have liked.
His eyes expressed everything she need know—he was mourning a career he hadn't yet lost, he felt as though he had let his team down, and he was blaming no one but himself. Oliver didn't respond, but he didn't have to. He closed his eyes and looked away from her, his jaw set tight.
"Could you stand for me, please?"
Without speaking or meeting her eyes again, Oliver stood, still facing the water.
"Look at me, please."
This took considerably longer, but eventually, slowly, and tormenting Madeline every second of the way, Oliver turned and lifted his eyes to hers.
"What did I tell you the other day?"
"That Hufflepuff didn't… stand a chance," he said, his voice breaking.
"What else did I say?" Madeline asked, unfazed.
"Madeline—"
"Don't you play this game with me! What did I tell you the other day?"
"That… Puddlemere will take me even if I lose this match," he said, his jaw clenched again.
He was staring at his feet.
"And?"
"And that… I'm not a rotten Keeper," he replied.
"D'you believe me?" she asked, her voice soft.
His whisky eyes met hers, and instead of replying, he pulled her into a tight hug. Madeline closed her eyes, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face leaning into the crook of his neck and shoulder, which was beautifully warm.
"You have to believe me," she whispered.
He pulled away from Madeline and looked at her, his eyes searching.
"I'll believe you when my name's on the back of their uniform," he said. "Until then—"
"Until then, you'll keep working hard, but I'll not let you mope around like some petulant child. Do you hear me, Oliver Wood? You've lost one battle, but there're more to come."
"Have I been acting like a petulant child?"
"Yes, I'll say you have. You've been sitting in this bathroom for ages. Would you like to leave it anytime soon?" Madeline asked.
"I suppose so," he replied.
He released Madeline from his arms and began getting dressed. Though part of her wanted to watch him dress, she averted her eyes.
"I fell asleep in your common room waiting for you," she said, looking around.
Madeline noticed that Nicolas had exited the bathroom, leaving she and Oliver alone. When had he left?
"Really?" asked Oliver, looking at her with his eyebrows knit together. "You haven't been celebrating with Diggory?"
"Does everyone think he's my only Hufflepuff friend? Honestly!"
"You've been with him a lot lately. People've been saying he's the reason you broke up with Nick," Oliver replied.
"What?! Nick did all the damn breaking! And I haven't been spending more time with anyone than usual. Oh but yes, I was celebrating my House's first Quidditch victory in ages while my best mate was drowning himself in a mermaid-scented bubble bath."
"You can get cheeky with me if you want, but it won't change the fact that Diggory fancies you," said Oliver coolly.
"What utter rubbish!" cried Madeline indignantly.
Oliver was now fully clothed, his bag swung over his shoulder, and he looked at Madeline dead-on, expression serious.
"Madeline," he said, his tone chastising, as if he was trying to get her to see reason. Madeline averted her eyes from his gaze, which was all too knowing.
"Utter rubbish," she repeated.
"Madeline," he repeated, his voice lower this time.
"What, Oliver? What d'you want me to say? That I have feelings for a fifth-year?"
"No," he said, frowning. "I want you to tell me... what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and I'm beyond relieved you didn't get hurt today."
"I forget that your mind likes to change the subject. Cedric fancies you. What d'you think about that?"
"I think he's… got every right to fancy me, I suppose."
"And?"
"And what? You know, you're being awfully nosy for someone who's supposed to be upset," said Madeline as they left the bathroom.
"Fine. When he asks you on a date to Hogsmeade, I'll tell you I told you so."
"Fine. I'll see you there with Margo, shall I?"
They were standing a few feet away from the statue of Boris the Bewildered when Oliver stopped and stared at her, his expression unreadable. Madeline raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"What, d'you think I didn't notice? When were you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what? That Margaret attached herself to me and I didn't stop her?"
"Sure, and perhaps you could mention whether or not you and Roger Davies got into a fight? I was worried."
"You have to stop worrying or you'll get sick again," he said sharply. "Davies and I didn't fight, but I have learned my lesson. No more snogging Ravenclaws."
"Was she even any good?"
"Not really," said Oliver, shrugging. "I'd say something about Ravenclaws not being good kissers, but Claire and Richard aren't here to appreciate the joke."
At this, Madeline laughed. It felt like ages since she had seen or spoken to Claire or Richard.
"I wonder if dinner's ready?" asked Oliver.
"I hope so," she said. "Let's go have a look."
When they reached the Great Hall, they were both pleased to see plenty of food.
"See you tomorrow?" Oliver asked.
"Library?"
"I'll bring coffee," Oliver replied, smiling.
"Looking forward to it."
"Alright. G'night."
"Night."
All of the Hufflepuffs were in their common room, so Madeline found Claire (who gave her a big hug) and Richard at the Ravenclaw table, and she spent time catching up with them before heading to the Hufflepuff party. Madeline tried to sneak through the room, but Murray and Peter caught her just as she reached the door. They pulled her over to a table of sweets and butterbeers and offered her loads of snacks. Madeline tried to politely refuse everything, but moments later, there was an open bottle of butterbeer in her hand.
Cedric saw her struggling and moved joined her. His eyes were still bright, and he looked pleased, if not as thrilled as the others.
"I spoke with Wood about rescheduling the match. He reckons we won fair and square," he said, having the decency to look put out.
Madeline smiled and eyed Cedric carefully. He really was too good, too kind. Why wasn't everyone as upstanding as him? He casually moved closer to her, and Madeline suddenly became aware that he could think she was flirting with him. She felt her neck growing warm.
"Ced, I'm too tired to celebrate," she said, handing him her butterbeer. "Celebrate for me?"
"It's..." he began, but looked too embarrassed to finish his thought.
"What?"
"It's not much of a celebration without you," he mumbled.
He closed his eyes, shook his head as if feeling foolish, and then chanced a glance at her.
So he did have feelings for her.
Damn it all.
Madeline took a deep breath. She needed to process this. She needed to sleep.
"I'm sorry, really," she replied, smiling sadly. "You were amazing today. You deserve to celebrate. I just... really need to sleep."
Chapter 12: Child's Play
"Madeline, I was wondering…"
"No, alright? The answer is no," she replied, frowning. "I'm sorry."
