A/N: I have decided to revive this story. Carry on.

The next day they had Quidditch practice. Adelaide had seemed sort of against it, saying that Aimee was 'still too weak'. Aimee went anyway.

Now Aimee was flinging the Quaffle a little too hard. Jacques caught it after a particularly violent throw from Aimee, almost missing it and having it whacked into his nose, and stared at her with a perplexed expression. "Did I accidentally smack you or something sometime?" He asked, bewildered.

"No," Aimee jerked her broom up. "Sorry."

She needed a way to distract herself. She wanted to tire herself. That way she'd be too tired to think about what a complete idiot she was. She wanted to do something drastic, something risky and not care if she hurt herself.

Something fun!

Aimee wondered if she could maybe just jump of her broom and commit suicide. But then all her spattered remains would have to be cleaned up by her team, and they'd all get detention for letting Aimee kill herself.

Oh, well.

She shot her broom up in the air, going faster, faster. She squinted against the rushing air, slowly pulling her broom into a vertical position the higher she went.

She squinted as the humidity and the air pierced her eyes. It felt so good, going so fast and getting away from all of them.

"Aimee, what are you doing?" Someone yelled after her, but she didn't stop.

Faster, faster. Higher. She wanted to reach the clouds. The exhilaration made her breath catch. She clutched her broom tighter. She loved the way it felt like she was going to die any second. It was sort of weird. And suicidalistic.

I wonder what happens if I just let go. Just like that. Right now. Right here.

She gave a dark chuckle. The others would think she was suicidal. She stopped her broom. She was so high up the school building, with its moss growing on its walls and castle-esque tower which nobody knew how to get to, looked like a speck. She had trouble breathing. Maybe she'd black out from lack of air and plunge thousands of feet below and kill herself.

But then her team would get detention for letting her kill herself anyway.

She turned her broom so that was facing vertical, pointing directly down. She began to descend. Faster. She loved the way her stomach shrank back with butterflies and the distant buzz in her mind telling her she was going to die if she didn't slow down.

Faster. Faster.

The castle and the grounds were getting bigger but she didn't care. The Quidditch Pitch was on her right. She'd gone so far up that she wasn't even going to land inside the Quidditch Pitch. She was going straight for trees.

Wow. The ground suddenly looked really near.

Huh. Maybe she should brake. She pulled her broom up forcefully, but it was going to take a lot more than that to stop. She groaned as she tried to stop, using all her force. She was getting nearer to the trees now. There were panicked yells over by the Quidditch Pitch.

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

"No!" Aimee screamed, but she was plunging down fast. There was about 2 seconds of sheer, I'm-going-to-die panic before going violently through a tree. Her broom was wrenched beneath her and she uttered a shriek, putting her arms in front of her face for protection as she smashed back-first into a tree branch and broke it. There was a blur of brown and green before her eyes, and then everything stopped spinning around as she hit the ground painfully and she felt her lungs lose all air.

Everything was silent for a few seconds. Then Aimee forced her eyes open. Everything seemed indistinct, out of focus. She waited for the two fuzzy trees in front of her to merge into one fuzzy tree.

There was sunlight trying to peek in through the tree branches, clouding her vision. Then, everything seemed to clear and the whole world seemed magnified. She uttered a small moan of pain and turned her head slowly.

A rock. Huh. Pointy, too. Maybe if she had landed just a foot to the right her head would have fallen on it and killed herself.

Her mind felt so groggy and slow. She tried to get up but her whole body hurt. She lifted a hand above her head to shield the sun getting into her eyes, palm up. Something wet and warm fell to her cheek and slid down to her hair, sprawled all around her like a black halo.

Blood. Her hand was bleeding. She turned it, her hand shaking, and saw a small tree branch sticking out of her fingerless gloves, just below her thumb. The vibrant red color was too bright against her muddy skin as it went down her outstretched arm in droplets.

She reached with her other hand and tried to pry it loose. A moan of pain escaped her as a sudden pain shot up her left shoulder. Ooh! A heart attack! So if she didn't die of falling a zillion feet into a tree, then she'd die of a heart attack!

Yippee.

It wasn't a heart attack, though. She put her left arm down and instead lowered her right hand to her left so as not to move it. Her left hand seemed too weak at first, clammy and slow, but then she finally got it out. She cried out in pain as it came out, then, grunting, saw how much had gone in.

The branch was small, not really thick, but it had gone in like a porcupine needle. One inch of it was covered in blood. She dropped it into the grass beside her. Then, there were pounding, frantic footsteps. Someone was arriving.

"Are you fucking suicidal?" Charlie bellowed, and Aimee turned her neck to see Charlie running towards her.

"Aimee! What's wrong with you?" Jacques yelled, just behind Charlie. The other members of the Quidditch Team were following close behind, landing and throwing their brooms aside to get to her as fast as possible.

Charlie kneeled next to her, one knee on the ground. He grabbed her shoulder, breathing heavily and looking uncharacteristically pale. "What was that stunt you just pulled?" He said a little too sharply for Aimee's contentment, which didn't matter much since she wasn't very content right now, anyway. Her head was pounding. Or maybe that was her heart beating in her ears?

"I wanted to see what would happen," Aimee said weakly, blinking as her vision fogged up again and Charlie's face blurred.

"Are you ok?" Laurent asked in awe, as if he had been expecting to find her only her remains on the forest floor.

Aimee sat up. Her hair felt damp, warm blood was pouring down her face and into her neck. All of the quidditch team seemed to suck in their breath as if expecting her to suddenly black out or drop dead in pain.

"I'm fine," Aimee muttered, waving their hands away as they offered to pull her up.

"Aimee, you practically gave me a heart attack!" Adelaide said, pressing her hand to her heart to emphasize and breathing heavily. She was shaking uncontrollably. Oh, well, there was another person who had come in heart attack range!

"If that wasn't an attempt to kill yourself, then I don't know what is." Camille said sarcastically from behind her, but there was a touch of amazement. Awe even. Maybe she'd grow up to be a kamikaze pilot, inspired by Aimee.

Aimee stood up groggily, checking for any broken bones. She felt was a constant, nagging pain all throughout her body. Her shoulder felt particularly pained, and as she moved her arm again experimentally, it was like ice had shot through it and to her head. She let out a small groan as the icy feeling clouded her brain. "I think I broke my clavicule." She said through clenched teeth.

"I'm not surprised," Charlie dead-panned, and slid an arm around her waist to hold her up, putting her other arm around his shoulders. Aimee was glad for it, she felt like she'd fall any second.

"You know, I think that if all those tree branches you just broke hadn't stopped your fall, we'd only have found pieces of you scattered all over the floor." Ulrich, the beater, commented idly, looking up at the broken branches up ahead. There were still some leaves fluttering down.

Aimee looked at the floor, which was littered with leaves and pieces of bark and had mud marks where her body had hit the floor and moved, and a few scattered bits of branches and the occasional tree limb as thick as her forearm. There was one, though, thicker than her torso. Completely broken in two. Wow. She was either really fat or moving really fast.

"Oh, God, it hurts so much," Aimee moaned, suddenly more aware of the pain. Her back hurt like hell. She fumbled weakly with the Velcro straps to take off her glove and shook it off. Adelaide made a hissing noise and flinched as she saw the deep, though small hole just below her thumb. Suddenly her hand seemed to hurt a lot more.

"Wait," Charlie commanded, and slid his arm off, "Oh, God." He was looking at his forearm, which had stuck to Aimee's shirt. Now it had splotches of red on it. The back of her thin t-shirt was ripped and damp with blood. Where skin should have been were not very deep gashes where the tree bark had rubbed against her back as she'd hit it and broken it in her fall. He gingerly lifted up her t-shirt with his thumb and forefinger and his eyes widened. The tree bark had grazed her skin violently.

"That's sooo gross," Camille said, as if the whole situation was a fun field trip.

Aimee tried looked over her non-injured shoulder and winced. "So that's why it hurts so much. I shed my skin," She said feebly.

Charlie carefully put the t-shirt back in its place and Aimee winced again as the fabric brushed against her open flesh.

"Come on," Jacques said, grabbing her arm, careful not to move it so as not to hurt more her injured shoulder, "Let's get you to the nurse."

Aimee walked slowly and carefully and felt the shooting pains up her legs and back. Her punctured hand was throbbing endlessly. She regretted having done something so stupid.

"There. You happy now?" Adelaide was telling her angrily, "You almost got yourself killed! Is that enough punishment for breaking up with David? 'Cause if you're not done I swear I will hit you. I can't believe you would do this to me! You had me worried sick! I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea-"

And so on. Adelaide kept ranting and nagging her all the (painful) way back to the castle.

"Practice is canceled," Charlie muttered as they neared the gates, "In case any of you hadn't guessed that by now."

"Why the heck did you go and do something like that for?" Camille sqwacked at her as if Aimee's behavior didn't make any sense, and considering all the twitching Aimee was doing, she wasn't sure if she could be called completely sane, anyway, "Come on. Boys aren't worth stripping the skin off your back for."

Then she added, "No offense," to the raised male eyebrows she got. "Well, bye." She said to them, and went up the stairs.

After Ulrich, Charlie, and Jacques assured Laurent that they could handle Aimee, he left after Camille, and the three boys struggled with Aimee up the stairs (she had finally accepted being carried) with Adelaide following behind them still making sarcastic retorts when Aimee complained about the pain and starting up on anti-suicidal lectures.

"My dear, what happened to you?" The nurse gasped at her as the five of them trudged in.

"Broom accident," Ulrich grunted out of breath, then reached over and grabbed Aimee as she started to wobble.

"Broom accident?" The nurse gasped, "What did you do, fly through a tree?"

When all they did was stare at her, her eyes widened. "Oh."

The nurse said some inviting words and sat Aimee up, then started inspecting Aimee's injuries.

"Well, I'm surprised you didn't black out," She said, sounding genuinely impressed as she gingerly held Aimee's bloody hand and turned it over to make sure the tree branch hadn't completely perforated it.

Aimee caught sight of herself in the mirror, and she was a mess. Her hair looked seriously wind-blown, and there were bits of leaves and tiny sticks clinging to it. There was a scrape on her forehead, just entering her hairline, and dried blood stuck to her hair and face. There was a cut on her cheek, just below her eye, and about a dozen scratches on her neck, and few yellow-green bruises on her jaw. Her arms were covered in cuts and bruises and scrapes and the occasional thorn, which Jacques all too happily plucked out when spotted.

The nurse confirmed that she did have a broken clavicle, and after strapping her shoulder into some strange contraption specially made to unable her to move her arm or hand or neck ("That's a great idea," Adelaide had said upon seeing it, "Let's ask the nurse if we could borrow a straitjacket for Aimee after she gets better! Then maybe then she won't try to kill herself."). Aimee felt incredibly stupid in it. But then again, she was for getting herself into the stupid thing in the first place.

And Ulrich had all but guffawed, and when Aimee shot him a glare, he made a polite attempt to stop and commented on how sexy she looked with that thing on her neck. Then he burst into laughter and told her to get better, and left.

Then the nurse shooed the rest of the boys out of the room and stripped Aimee of her torn t-shirt, and poured a hot flesh-colored thick liquid on her back, which stung and made her whimper as it restored her skin back to normal. She did the same on her hand, and the little hole stitched itself back together before her eyes, leaving a small pink tissue circle behind, a few inches above the scar on her wrist. Had the scar been straight, maybe the little circle could have dotted it and it'd be an i.

"That scar will disappear gradually over the few next days, Mademoiselle Potter, don't worry," The nurse assured her as Aimee inspected it. "I would advise you to stay out of the hospital wing for the next few days, dear. Though I will be keeping you here tonight while you clavicle heals, ok?"

"Ok. Thanks," Aimee nodded, then looked at herself in the mirror. The stupid contraption held her arm in a weird angle. She couldn't wait to have it off. Adelaide was kicked out, bidding her goodnight, and the nurse handed Aimee a goblet with a bone-healing potion.

"I put a dormant in that," The nurse warned her, "I figured you'd need it. I doubt you'll be very comfortable in that thing all night." Aimee nodded, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She forced it down her throat, the stupid thing tasted so bad. It even left aftertaste! She quickly reached for the pumpkin juice the nurse had left on the table and gulped it down. Much better. Aimee lay down on the bed and waited for the potion to take effect. She was feeling drowsy already.