The next morning, Aimee didn't feel hungry. There was toast and cereal and waffles and eggs. Bu she couldn't eat. She wasn't hungry. Nothing would taste good. She didn't want any food.

She wanted Charlie back.

"How is he? Any better?" Sirius' voice said behind her, and Aimee stopped opening the door. She turned to face Sirius. Her bright green eyes looked at his gray ones and then she shrugged.

Aimee opened the door and left the house. Sirius leaned against the wall and sighted. He didn't like seeing Aimee like this. She'd been moping in her room the little time she'd spent in the house the past two days. It was always come in, lock herself in her room, and then cry herself to sleep, thinking that nobody heard her. Then, in the mornings, she'd go back to the hospital, her footsteps echoing across the house as Harry and Sirius stared after her unable to come up with anything remotely comforting to say.

That morning, the room seemed more tense. Charlie's parents and his brother was there, too. So were Benji and Adelaide. They were quiet again most of the day, making little conversation. At lunchtime, Michael told his parents he'd be taking them out. He said they needed to be out of the hospital for a while. His mother wanted to stay behind, but Michael convinced her that it would do her good to distract herself. Aimee volunteered to stay with him. Adelaide and Benji went off to the hospital cafeteria to eat.

Once the door closed and they all shuffled out, Aimee walked to Charlie's bed. She stared at his face a long time. She placed her hand on his arm and moved it up and down in slow, rythmic timing. She hoped the unconscious Charlie would somehow feel the gesture in his sleep mind and know that he was not alone.

She pulled up a chair and sat in it, staring at Charlie, willing him to get better. After a while she reached out for his hand. She squeezed it.

He squeezed it back.

Aimee froze, and she saw that instead of hanging loosely as it had been seconds ago, his hand had curled around hers. Her heart forgot to continue beating. She held his hand tighter, and she smiled weakly. Maybe he would get better.

"Charlie?" She asked softly. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Charlie, wake up. Come on, you can do it."

He didn't move. He didn't even stir.

"Charlie. Come on. Come back."

And then Charlie's eyes slowly opened. He blinked twice. His eyes looked up to the ceiling and then they searched around the room. His eyes fell upon Aimee and he turned his head slowly to look at her. He stared at her for a few seconds. A smile broke across Aimee's face and she whispered, "Hey, welcome back," in greeting. Charlie blinked at her.

"Hey," He said back. His voice was soft, and barely audible. Aimee would have thought he had only mouthed the words if the room had not been dead quiet. He did not smile, his body didn't move. It was sort of alarming. The healers had warned of paralysis.

"Feeling better?" She asked gently. She suddenly became aware to the fact that she was still holding his hand. She made no move to remove it. Instead she made little circles in the back of his hand with her thumb.

"No," He said in the same quiet voice. His eyes wandered back to the room and he looked around. Aimee saw the confusion in his eyes as he looked around the room.

"You're in the hospital, Charlie," She said. Charlie looked back at her and furrowed his eyebrows. He stared at her as if to search for information.

"What?" he asked slowly, as if this piece of information was ridiculous.

"The hospital, Charlie," Aimee repeated, "You… You were in an accident."

And then, his eyes widened. They flicked from right to left in panic and his mouth opened a little as if in suprise. His breathing became harder. He wrenched his hand away from her hand as if it had burned him.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.

The beeping on the machine had accelerated.

"Charlie?" Aimee forced her voice to be calm. She did not want to panic him. "Everything's ok, Charlie. Calm down."

Charlie did not calm down. He tried to sit up, but he stopped short and his hands shot to his head and he groaned as the blood rushed to his head.

"Charlie, calm down," Aimee tried again. She put a hand on his arm, but he knocked it away with his elbow.

"Don't touch me," He said in the same dead quiet voice..

"I'm here, Charlie. It's ok, it's ok. You're back." Without realizing it, she had started crying.

He finally sat up. His breathing was still coming out hard.

After a while, the panicked beeping on the machine slowed down. Charlie's breathing went back to normal. And he just sat there, unmoving, head in hands, staring down at the sheets.

Aimee sat on his bed next to him. He made no indication that he had noticed, but let go of his head. Then she put her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"It's ok," She whispered over and over again, "It'll be ok."

Charlie let her hold him. His gaze shifted to scan the room once again and his other hand dropped to his lap. He was quiet once again.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then Aimee noticed a button on her side of the bed. It had a little picture thing of a stick person and Aimee assumed it was a picture of a nurse and pressed it. After a few seconds a nurse came bustling in. She went, "Oh, my, you're awake!" with a warm smile on her face. Aimee lifted her head to look at her and she and Charlie stared at her with blank faces.

"I'll call the Healer in charge of him," She said, "Wait just a second." And then she left. Aimee put her head back on Charlie's shoulder. After a minute, a Healer came into the room, chart and clipboard ready.

"How are you feeling, Monsieur Houston?" He asked kindly. He shot a look at Aimee and waved his hand a little to signal that she should get off now. Aimee begrudgingly let go of Charlie, and stood up. He looked up to see her go and then fixed his gaze on the Healer, who bustled to his side and took a stethoscope, pressing it to his heart.

"Not to worry, your parents have already been contacted and they're on their way," he smiled kindly at Charlie, but he did not answer or smile back. "Sit back down, now. That's it," he said, pushing Charlie gently back until his head rested on the pillows. He rested the stethoscope in different places and looked back at Aimee over his shoulder.

"How long has it been since he woke up or showed any signs of consciousness?"

Aimee blinked. "Uhh…" Charlie's eyes flicked in her direction and he stared at her. The Healer and nurse looked at her expectantly. "Fifteen, twenty minutes, I think?" It came out sounding like a question.

"Why didn't you call one of the Healers? Someone should have been contacted immediately to attend to him."

"Uhh…" It occurred to Aimee just now that she could have pressed the green button when Charlie had started panicking instead of just standing there and telling him to calm down and saying everything was ok, especially if everything was not ok.

"I didn't want her to," Charlie said suddenly, and the both the Healer and nurse turned their attention to Charlie.

"Oh, good, your vocal chords are working perfectly fine. I think you'll make a quick recovery, Monsieur Houston." He smiled at Charlie once again.

The door swung open and Mr. and Mrs Houston hurried in. Once they saw Charlie sitting on the bed, Mrs. Houston cried, "Oh, Charlie, honey!" and practically shoved aside the healer to embrace Charlie, who stood still for a moment, and then he slowly put his arms around her as he wasn't sure who she was.

Michael, Adelaide and Benji ran into the room. Aimee saw Benji crack a smile finally. Adelaide looked ready to jump on Charlie the way Mrs. Houston had, but she restrained herself and instead opted for bursting into tears and hugging Aimee.

"Madame and Monsieur Houston," The Healer started, "We need to do some tests to make sure he's ok, so he can be released in a few days," He walked forward, "May I?" Mrs. Houston sniffled and nodded. She and her husband took a few steps back. Aimee joined Adelaide and Benji in the back of the room. The Healer shone a tiny flash light in his eyes, and Charlie narrowed his eyes. He moved it side to side.

"Do you remember what month it is?" He asked gently.

"December," Charlie said in the same quiet voice. The Healer clicked his flashlight off and gestured to everyone in the room.

"Do you know who they are? Are they familiar to you?" Adelaide grabbed Aimee's arm and dug her nails into it. Aimee bit her lip and let her.

"Yeah," Charlie said slowly after scanning the room. The Healer sat him up again.

"Can you tell me their names?" The Healer busied himself sticking some device thing into Charlie's ear and Charlie leaned toward the opposite side. He scrunched up his nose a little and furrowed his eyebrows in a trademark Charlie-is-annoyed sort of way.

"Michael, Mum, Dad, Benji, Adelaide and Aimee," He recited after a moment, locking eyes with each of them as he said their names. Then he went back to his Charlie-is-annoyed face and looking sideways at the device in his ear.

"How are they related to you?" The Healer asked once again. Charlie looked confused as to why he was being asked so many questions.

"Michael's my brother, those are my parents, and Adelaide, Benji and Aimee are my friends."

"Good, good," The Healer said absentmindedly, removing the device from Charlie's ear and scribbling some notes in his chart. Charlie rubbed his ear and looked at the Healer in a way that stated that he did not like him.

"What's your school's name?"

"Why are you asking me so many questions?" Charlie snapped in an irritated tone. He was still speaking in the same low, quiet voice unlike the normal, somewhat loud voice he used in humorous, amused tones whenever he spoke. Aimee did not like the change.

The Healer chuckled. "I am making sure that your memory is intact. Many people who have survived cases such as yours tend to have amnesia."

Charlie did not answer.

"Now, do you remember what was happening before you lost consciousness?" The Healer asked gently and Charlie frowned at him.

"What?"

"Before you went unconscious. Do you remember anything?" The Healer insisted, and then he looked back at his clipboard to make some notes. He did not notice Charlie's silence.

"Charles?" The Healer asked again, using Charlie's real name. Charlie only blinked at him.

"What day is it?" Charlie asked sharply. There was a note of panic in his voice. The Healer stared at him, and his face fell.

"Do you have any immediate memories? Anything of what you were doing before you found yourself here?"

Charlie was quiet for some time, and he stared at the blankets in a daze, eyes narrowed and silent in concentration. The Healer waited patiently for him.

"What day is it?" Charlie repeated, but this time his voice was barely audible.

"The twenty-third. December the 23rd," Adelaide answered suddenly, and Charlie looked genuinely shocked.

"So we're already out of school?" He asked incredulously, "The Ball is already over and I missed it?"

"No," Aimee said in a dazed voice, "You were there."

The words left Charlie speechless and he could just stare at her.

"Charles," The Healer insisted. "What is the last thing you remember?" This time Charlie turned to look at him.

"I don't know," he said quietly in a puzzled manner.

"No," Adelaide whispered. Her hands grasped Aimee's arm tighter.

The Healer stood up and faced Charlie's parents. "I'm afraid that your son might have lost some of his memories. Sometimes this happens when the oxygen isn't taken to the brain fast enough," The Healer sighted, and Mrs. Houston put her hand to her mouth and she emitted something between a sob and a whimper, "he may recuperate, but one never knows. I will return later to check on him." With that the Healer left the room, the nurse trailing after him.

Charlie blinked at the door, trying to take back his memories, but they would not return to him.

Adelaide fainted.

XxXxX

Two days after Charlie had woken up, he had recovered considerably. They'd celebrated Christmas there in the hospital. He was still quiet, and spoke if necessary, if at all, but in the same low voice, one you had to be near him to hear. He slept most of the time, and apart from when he'd woken up, Aimee wasn't alone with him. There was always someone else in the room.

And Aimee did not want to be alone with him.

He knew why. He was aware of the fact that Aimee now knew he was a werewolf. She didn't speak to him often, she didn't involve herself in long conversations with him anymore. She was civil enough to him, but most of the time, they behaved as if they were complete strangers to each other.

Which was weird, really, since she came to see him everyday, all day, anyway.

Aimee hated it, and she hated herself for acting this way, but she couldn't help it. She did't know how to act around him anymore.

She wanted the old Charlie back. She wanted the Charlie without the dark secrets and the lies, the Charlie who didn't fear the full moon, the Charlie without the sunken eyes and the tired face.

Aimee had forgiven him for their fight, but Charlie didn't know this, nor of the fight, anyway, so what was there to 'forgive' Charlie for, if he didn't even know what? She was still somewhat angry at him; the words that had cut through her like a knife and had hurt her more than she cared to admit. She didn't know why his words had hurt her that much, she'd been called worse things before, and people had said really bad things to her and they had never made her cry. The orphanage had forced her to build walls around herself, and once at Beauxbatons, she'd let her guard down, she'd trusted too much, and now she'd been hurt.

She'd grown distant from him in very little time and Aimee did not like it. Charlie drowning had screwed things up so quickly and Aimee was still adjusting to the changes.

On the fourth day, on late evening, Michael volunteered to stay with Charlie during the night. Charlie's parents had been staying up all night with him and they were tired, with circles under their eyes and sad expressions.

So they left for the night, and Adelaide and Benji did, too. Aimee stayed behind for a moment longer while Michael apparated to his apartment to get his things for the night. So for now, she was alone with him in the room.

She sat in an armchair, abandoned at the far end of the room.

"I had a dream last night," Charlie said softly, and Aimee turned to look at him, "And I remembered what happened at the ball."

"What do you remember?" Aimee asked calmly, but her heartbeat quickened. She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her arms around them.

He was wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. He'd made a big fuss about wearing the paper dress, as he called it, from the hospital, and he'd finally convinced all the healers to let him wear normal clothes. They'd agreed, but he had to wear something comfortable and that would enable him to take it off quickly should there be an emergency.

"You called me a Death Eater."

"And you called me a bitch," Aimee responded, though she meant her words to be calm, they had an icy edge to it. She drew her knees to herself tighter. Charlie didn't seem to know how to respond to that. He was quiet again, and then said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

Aimee turned away and stared into space, but she felt Charlie's eyes on her. "Why didn't you?"

"I had my reasons."

"Which are…?" Aimee asked coldly. What was wrong with her? She hate dbeing called a bitch and now she was acting like one.

Charlie glared at her for a second before answering in a hard voice, "This isn't just anything, Aimee. This is my secret, and what I've guarded with care. Should anyone find out, my life, or at least what I pretend is my life," he added with a touch of black sarcasm, "would be ruined."

Aimee did not answer and stared resolutely ahead of her.

"Don't you see, Aimee?" Charlie asked in a frustrated tone. "This werewolf thing changes everything. I won't be able to get a job, I'll live scared that someone might find out, and I'll kill myself over the fact that there may be people, people I call friends, who may turn their back on me as soon as I tell them what I truly am."

"You know me, Charlie," Aimee said darkly, "You know I'm not like that."

"Aimee, you have to understand. You're Aimee Potter. Everybody knows who you are. And should it slip from your mouth that I'm a werewolf, no matter how small the hint, it would be disastrous for me. With anybody else would be different. I'm just trying to live a normal life here."

Aimee looked away, "Then why are we friends, if it's so disastrous for you to be with me?" She snapped at her knees.

"Because I-" Charlie started, but then stopped, "I don't know, Aimee. You just become friends with a person and that's it."

"Then why did you not trust me to be able to keep you being a werewolf secret? I don't gossip. I'm discrete. I won't tell anybody in anger or vengeance should we ever fight again." Aimee answered angrily, and she let her dark hair fall into her face, hiding herself from Charlie's view. She didn't want him to see her hot tears.

Charlie looked angrily at her and Aimee heard the sheets rustle and the bed creak as he moved. She looked up to see him standing with difficulty. He started to walk towards her, then noticed the needle that was implanted in his hand.

"Charlie, don't-" She stood, but Charlie gripped the tube and ripped the needle out, and he winced slightly at the pain,

"What are you doing?" Aimee made to push the button with gteh nurse picture on it, but Charlie stepped forward, grabbed her shoulders roughly and shook her.

"Stop it." He growled, "Stop that incessant complaining. You're making a big deal out of this. I'm sorry for all the things I said to you, but you aren't exactly innocent in this case." Aimee stared at him a second, then slowly stepped away from his grasp.

They stared angrily at each other until Aimee said curtly, "Your hand is bleeding." Then she strode swiftly past him to the bed and pressed the green button, calling for the nurse. She turned around and they glared at each other, Charlie's face weary and Aimee's angry. She walked to the door and opened it, but before she disappeared behind it, she turned to look at him one last time.

"It wasn't the things that you said that really pissed me off. It's the things you didn't say that hurt the most." Her voice held back emotion, and she was shaking. Then she slammed the door and left the hospital, leaving Charlie to deal with the nurse who was shocked to see him standing and without the needle stuck to his hand.