A few changes were experienced by Hogwarts students during the transition from autumn to winter.
First, the Slytherin Quidditch team found itself with an unusually cheerful captain, whose lighthearted behavior did little to detract his determination to win the first game against the Hufflepuffs, and the rest of the players took Regulus' gentler-than-usual directions at four in the morning with befuddlement. The confusion was only strengthened by the fact that Regulus Black really had nothing to be cheerful about; rumor had it that Mrs. Black, the hidden matriarch of the family, had gone to see an "eye specialist" in France when Mr. Black chose to remain in England with a half-blood consort in one of the country cottages. How anyone who was bitten by an acromantula just several weeks prior could demand everyone to wake up before the sunrise was beyond anyone's comprehension.
On a completely unrelated topic, Elena Rondby and Jeffrey Higgins, the second-year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor who were also discharged from the Hospital Wing the same day Regulus Black was, took to sitting with the female Slytherin prefect when the seats opposite to her in the library were available. This seemed like a classic case of sheep approaching a wolf with naïve curiosity to everyone in the vicinity who watched with trepidation as Alex Wilson explained something to the Hufflepuff girl why the Repellent Spell couldn't be used in water, but it seemed that Wilson had little desire to hurt anyone who didn't bother her too much.
The said Alex Wilson was in fact thinking about a different sort of change that happened the night before in the girl's dormitory, when Leila barged more loudly into the room than was her usual fashion, face scrunched up in indignant hurt that she barely managed to conceal. Alex had looked up from her Potions textbook with concern.
"What's going on?" she asked quickly. Leila looked around the room warily.
"Rebecca's not here, if that's what you're worried about," Alex said. "I think she's in her bathroom meeting."
"Well, then," Leila said. "That's just bloody perfect, isn't it?" She threw herself onto her bed and began to pinch her stuffed animal.
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong," Leila growled, "is that Rosier is the biggest git in the world." She proceeded to tell Alex about her suspicions. Alex tried to remain neutral. Yes, Evan Rosier wasn't the nicest bloke on the block, but would he—
"Yes," Leila said emphatically. "He would. I know he would. I just don't have proof."
Alex sighed. "Have you tried to talk to him about it? Maybe he could explain—"
"That what? That he's not seeing another skank behind my back? Would you believe him if you were me?" Leila's eyes narrowed. "Then again, I suppose that the Prince is somewhat more reliable than Rosier."
Despite the situation Alex flushed faintly. "That's not—"
"Not true, I know, yada, yada, yada," Leila droned sarcastically. "Don't think I haven't seen the attempt at hand-holding after Charms, Wilson—although, to be honest, it was a rather sorry attempt. What was it that you two managed to do—link your pinkies?"
Alex decided that there was no way to get out of this situation dignified. "We aren't talking about me. We're talking about you."
"Right," Leila said, looking marginally more comforted. "But looking at you two makes me wonder, y'know, if—" Leila squinted at the puppet's eyes. Alex frowned.
"What?"
"If it's really possible," Leila said. "For two people to really like each other."
Meanwhile, Alex Wilson learned what it was like to feel constantly uneasy about her own well-being. It had nothing to do with the war, or so she would have liked to have thought; a few weeks after the incident which had brought her several months' worth of detention, Alex overheard a rather unwelcome conversation as she trudged back to the common room from the Great Hall. Regulus had Quidditch practice, and Leila for once had decided to seek help from Professor MacGonagall about the latest essay. As she was about to turn around a corner, she heard a hushed voice say:
"He's always watching her, y'know, you won't be able to approach her head-on..." It was Yaxley, and he sounded very certain about what he was talking about.
"I don't think so," another voice said—Macnair. "Black's been scheduling practices left and right. Flint's not gonna be able to join us."
"Just as well," a deeper voice grumbled. "Knocked down by a girl. By Wilson, no less." A chorus of jeering and low chuckling made their feelings about her clear and Alex pressed her back to the wall, feeling both anger and dread. Whatever they'd meant about "approaching her," she didn't like it.
The voices grew fainter as the boys made their way slowly back to the Common room and Alex waited until she couldn't hear any footsteps before slowly following them. So they held a grudge. To be honest, Alex felt stupid for not seeing it coming. Macnair—in fact, all of them—were not the type to take being beaten lightly. And the circumstances in which they were found could not have helped the case. Dumbledore had chosen to deal with the incident as discreetly as possible, which meant that no one beside the ones involved knew what happened. Alex frowned. Crucio—one of the Unforgivable curses. They should have been sent to Azkaban, seventeen or not. Or should they have been? Alex didn't know.
Over the following weeks Alex began to become paranoid about the noises coming from behind her. Every footstep, every hint of murmur set her on edge—increasingly in the library, as Alex found that detentions tended to take free time away from her when she could study. At one point, even Elena asked her if everything was alright.
"'Course," Alex said, thinking that Rookwood was someone who would carry out a plan to the end. And if Elena was tortured for making the Beater's bat slippery—of course, they were probably just looking for an excuse, but nonetheless—she didn't want to think too much about what they were planning for her.
"Time for detention," she said, looking at her watch. "Are you fine with the Grangaulia question?"' Elena gave her a thumbs-up. Alex attempted to grin before taking off.
The fall was definitely coming to an end, Alex thought as she stepped into the first floor corridor. Outside she could see that the leaves had already fallen and that most of the grass had receded into the ground in preparation for the oncoming winter. A rather peculiar sense of wistfulness came over her. In a world where no one felt vengeful—in a world where vengeance simply couldn't exist, because no one could do someone else wrong—there must be great peace there, serenity which would make it possible for her to enjoy the change of season. But that was not the world that she was living in, and she should at least prepare herself for—what, round two of Moonlight Fist-fighting? Alex shook her head. What was she supposed to do when they came back for her again—fight all of them off? Wouldn't they just come back for her again?
The way to detention was chilly, and Alex braced herself against the wind. For the past month or so Professor MacGonagall had been circulating the two errant students to the parts of the castle that needed something done—library books reshelved where the Place-Finding Charm was wearing off, slimes scrubbed off old pots in the dungeons, telescope lenses cleaned and refocused—and she received a note just a few hours ago that today's detention was to take place in Greenhouse three.
"You're late," Henryk said unceremoniously when she arrived. Alex coughed.
"Only by a few minutes," she replied, trying not to sound too defensive.
"Madam Pomfrey needs the Ergopillars replanted," Henryk replied without missing a beat. "And the Cardi flowers need to be covered for winter."
"Covered with what?" Alex asked. Henryk gave a meaningful look at the pile of Skrewt dung in the corner.
"I'll get to it, then," Alex said resignedly, stretching her hands inside her gloves.
If Alex had thought that Henryk would be any different after the night in the Forbidden Forest, she would have been proven wrong. Henryk barely looked at her these days, and the only times he spoke to her was when he had to pass information along for detentions. Not that Alex minded overly—she told herself that she didn't need approval from someone who was set against liking her. So she began to load the nearby cart with the cardi flower pots, calculating how many trips that she would have to make.
Outside there was a giggle. Henryk sighed. Alex couldn't say that she particularly sympathized with his predicament.
She knew that he was popular—or at least, Rebecca certainly made it out to sound like it with her regular bathroom meetings. But Alex didn't realize to what extent he was popular until their detentions began. Despite the fact that they were assigned their tasks on the day of the detention, the band of girls miraculously found where Henryk Lee would be each evening and managed to sneak in—sometimes even when the Professors were supervising. They blatantly offered to lighten his load and relieve him of the menial tasks that he was "unjustly forced to complete." Alex supposed that this was a better way of getting someone's attention than sending a Howler that sang the latest version of Christina Warbeck's love songs (James Potter learned the hard lesson that this was not the way to anyone's heart, let alone Lily Evans'), and she would have admired the girls for taking action had it not been for the fact that they always viewed her with suspicion.
"Hi, Henryk," said one of the girls—Hufflepuff, Alex recognized vaguely. She was one of the nicer sorts.
"Hullo, Fiona," Henryk said rather glumly.
"What's wrong?" she asked concernedly. "Is everything alright?" The concern in her voice seemed to set him on alarm, and Henryk immediately stood up straight with a large smile on his face that was just a tad unnatural. Alex raised her eyebrows as she moved the cart toward her table. The Cardi flowers were wiggling in their pots, sniffing the dung with their petals.
"Of course it is," he said jovially. "Why wouldn't it be?" Fiona, on the other hand, seemed intent on not letting go of a crack that she'd found.
"Do you need any help?" she said kindly. "I'm rather handy in Herbology, you see."
"That's really nice of you," Henryk said. "But I'm supposed to do this on my own."
"Come on," Fiona said, leaning ever-so-slightly against the table. "Professor Sprout would never know that—" What Professor Sprout would never know, they never found out—one of the Cardi flowers enthusiastically grabbed on to some of the dung and decided to hurl it across the room straight to Fiona's face. Alex stared from her position, horrified.
"Sorry," she stuttered. "The flowers, they're a bit—um—"
"It's okay, Alex," Fiona said with a bright smile that was just a tad too bright to be natural. Alex didn't even know how Fiona found out her name. "Just make sure to tickle the flowers below the leaves next time?"
"Oh," Alex said, remembering the trick from her fourth year class. "Right. It's been a while."
Fiona's smile developed a rather nasty edge. "I'm sure," she said, wiping her face. Alex tried to grin sheepishly before going back to her work. Fiona seemed to lose her verve after smiling at Henryk with a what-can-you-do kind of a smile and left soon after. Alex soon remembered that the reason that lesson had never much made an impression on her was because at that time Regulus was going out with Rebecca or whatever it was and she was habitually looking his way when she thought no one was looking…
"Thanks," Henryk said out of the blue. Alex started.
"For what—not having paid attention in class?" she answered, frowning. Henryk shrugged.
"Not you," he said. "The flower. She had a great timing."
"She?" Alex said, too puzzled to be embarrassed.
"You really weren't paying attention, were you?" Henryk said, but she didn't think that he was trying to be patronizing… "Female Cardi flowers have purple stems. Male ones have blue stems."
"If you say so," Alex said.
"Shouldn't you be more concerned? You being a fifth-year, and all." Henryk asked, and Alex felt a surge of irritation—since when did Henryk Lee care whether or not she passed her Herbology O.W.L.?
"How is that any business of yours?" she asked exasperatedly. Henryk raised his hands in defense. The adolescent Ergopillar squirmed uneasily between his fingers at the sudden change in altitude.
"If you must know," Alex said stiffly, "I'm not sure if I want to continue with Herbology next year."
"Why not?"
"You don't really need Herbology unless you want to be a Healer," Alex said. "And I don't. I learn enough about biological ingredients in Potions, which takes up a lot of time."
"Yes, but a lot of advanced Potions is about experimenting with different plants," Henryk said, frowning. "Didn't Slughorn tell your class about that?"
Alex gave Henryk an ironic look. "Yes, because Slughorn receives the Faculty of the Year Award every year without fail. His every word imparts wisdom to his students." Henryk grinned faintly.
"Still," he said. "Never a bad idea to keep your options open—especially when you don't know what you want to do,"
Alex frowned. "Who said anything about—"
"Doesn't every fifth-year feel that way?" Henryk intercepted quickly. Alex gave him a strange look but decided not to pursue further. She didn't need to be on his bad graces when she…
"Lee," Alex said with some resolve. She told herself not to take anything he would say personally.
"Yes?"
"How do you—how do you do that?"
Henryk did not look particularly enlightened. "Do what?"
"Duel," Alex said, violently pushing Skrewt dung into a pot and refusing to look at him.
Henryk frowned. "I don't follow," he said. Alex sighed.
"Flint and the gang haven't learned to let things go," she said dully. "Or so I suspect. I don't want them to catch me in unawares."
Henryk frowned. "Can't Black help?" Alex glared at the newest Cardi flower. She didn't want to tell anyone that she didn't know who Regulus would choose when it came down to her and the rest of the Slytherin house. Would Regulus ever abandon the entire society that his family is entrenched in?
"He's busy," she said. "And it's something that I should know how to do."
Henryk didn't say anything for a while, and Alex began to wonder if he found her so ridiculous that he decided to ignore her when he began to talk, his eyes focused on the Ergopillars.
"It's not something that you just—learn out of a book," he said slowly. "And it takes more than just spells—physical strength, coordination, just to name a few. It takes time."
Alex tried to digest this. "How did you learn, then?"
Henryk shrugged. "Part of the curriculum."
Alex frowned. "They teach you dueling at Durmstrang?" she asked. Henryk didn't answer.
"Just ask me already," he said instead.
Alex frowned. "Ask you what?"
Henryk gave her a look. "Fine. I'll teach you how to duel," he drawled. "And you should know that I won't go easy on you just because you're a girl."
Alex stared at him, flabbergasted and secretly embarrassed, although she would never admit this aloud.
"What do you want in return?" she asked. Henryk shrugged.
"Help with this might be nice," he said, pointing at the Ergopillars.
"I'm already working on something here," she said spottily. Henryk just laughed.
"Tell you what, Wilson," he said. "Just ask your friend Parkinson to go easy on the Hufflepuffs during tomorrow's match, yeah?" And Alex remembered why Regulus had been scheduling all those extra practices lately.
The weather was dismal the next day. The downpour of rain promised to soak everyone's cloak within minutes, and even Leila looked doubtfully at the open ceiling of the Great Hall, doing silent calculations with her mouth that Alex didn't understand.
"This is bad," Leila said. "Hufflepuff's traditionally strong in bad weather—don't know why. I've never seen them practice in the rain."
"Dimness, no doubt," Rosier said bracingly, clamping Flint on his back in encouragement. Alex gripped her cup a little more tightly. "Good or bad weather, they can't see ten feet in front of them." Flint grinned menacingly.
"We'll get them," he said, sending a particularly mean look toward a Beater in the Hufflepuff team who was, in all appearance, calmly eating his breakfast. Alex coughed involuntarily.
"Not so fast, Flint," Leila said. "I don't know much about Lee, but Harrison—" the other Hufflepuff Beater— "has proven himself more than agile in the rain. Two years ago against Gryffindor—"
"Come on, Leila," Rosier whined. "Don't be such a buzzkill." Leila bit her lips but didn't say anything and Alex discreetly pushed a cup of hot chocolate in her way. Regulus, who had been listening all the while in silence, spoke up for the first time.
"Parkinson's right," he said quietly. "The odds are not with us." Was it just Alex's imagination, or did Regulus look paler than usual?
"That's some pep talk, Captain," Coot Willie, the second-year Chaser, piped excitedly. It was his first game at Hogwarts and not even the daunting weather could beat his spirit. Regulus grinned faintly.
"Just trying to know the enemy, Willie," Regulus said. When others began to chat about the game itself, placing bets loudly, Alex leaned in closer to him.
"Will it be alright?" Alex asked worriedly. Regulus turned to he and grinned, but his eyes were strained.
"'Course it will," he said. "With luck we'll begin the season thirty points ahead of Gryffindor." Giles, the Gryffindor Seeker, had managed to end the first game against the Ravenclaws within five minutes of the start. Harper, the Quidditch Captain, had not been too pleased despite their victory.
"I'm not worried about winning," Alex said gently. "I'm just worried that you might not be safe."
For a moment the strain in his eyes seemed to vanish and his entire face soften until Alex unwillingly blushed to the roots of her hair, but Regulus then simply pinched her right cheek, making her yelp.
"It's not my first time in the rain," he said, chuckling. "I'll be fine." Then he got up and left the table. Leila rolled her eyes.
"Better prepare for my commentary," she said, also getting up. "And between you and me, Alex, I'm hoping that Flint falls off his broom and dies… it can only help the team, y'know." With a mischievous grin Leila left the Hall as well, but Alex couldn't help but feel that Leila had lost a bit of her old spark since the beginning of fifth year. She frowned after her, wondering.
There was little reason for her to remain in the Hall except for the uneaten cup of hot chocolate, and Alex was entertaining the possibility that Leila's problem with Rosier may be deeper than just suspected infidelity when she was suddenly pulled into an empty classroom. Alex automatically reached out for her wand, but a hand stopped her.
"It's me," Henryk hissed. "I don't have a lot of time until the game starts."
"Lee?" Alex said. "Shouldn't you be down the—"
"Precisely," Henryk said. "Eat your breakfast a little faster, for Lech's sake."
Alex frowned. "What?" she said, but Henryk merely shook his head.
"Listen," he said. "Have you talked to Parkinson?" Her confusion grew only more pronounced.
"Is that what you pulled me in to talk about?" she said.
"Just tell me."
Alex tried to look as dignified as possible. "No, Henryk, I did not talk to Leila because she believes in fair commentary, and besides, it's a ridiculous favor to ask—"
"Brilliant," Henryk said. "Go sit next to her in the Commentator's booth and talk to her."
Alex wondered if the pre-game jitters were more serious than she thought. "What?"
"Go and sit next to her," Henryk enunciated slowly. "It's not a hard thing to do, is it?"
"I really don't know why—"
"It's got better view, you won't get soaked from the rain, and you'll be sitting next to someone who actually gives a care about fair commentary. What else could you need?" Henryk looked wildly at her bewildered expression before cursing. "I'm not really great at this," he muttered.
"Look, I'll sit next to Leila, alright?" Alex said, trying to sound calming. "Just don't get too ballistic and—I don't know, kill someone. It's just a game." Henryk merely glared at the windows, where the thickening rain drummed harder against the glass.
"I'll try," he muttered darkly before suddenly exiting the room. Alex could only assume that the rain was making everyone a bit off and headed toward the pitch herself.
Leila looked mildly surprised when her face emerged from the stairs leading up to the booth.
"Well, well, well," she drawled. "How to I owe you this honor?"
Alex shrugged. "You know. It's raining and I thought I might enjoy the privilege of a roof over my head—oh, hello, professor," Alex said. MacGonagall had climbed up the stairs as well to check in on Leila.
"Miss Wilson, Miss Parkinson," MacGonagall said crisply. "Everything in order as usual?"
"Everything's perfectly in order," Leila said, cooing at her microphone lovingly. "The mic's been clean and polished, I've checked the tabs for jinxes and—the works. Everything's going swell." MacGonagall nodded approvingly. Alex held back a shudder. Two Quidditch lovers bonding over their love was a sight that she could never quite get used to.
"Now we wait," Leila said mockingly to Alex, patting on the stool next to her. "Until Madam Hooch gives us the signal to start. Of course, you would know all this if you came with me a year ago like I told you to."
"My sincerest apologies," Alex said drily, scanning the field. The players were zooming around in the air, warming up their brooms—but she could barely see anything on the other half of the field, and the spectator's faces were a wet blur.
"Oculo claro," Leila said, waving her wand at Alex. "That should clear your vision a bit. See?" Surely enough, now the players were discernible by the numbers on their backs, and Alex could see the usual Slytherin Stinks banner on the side of the Hufflepuffs stands. Alex blinked in marvel.
"This is cool," she admitted. "Does Reg know—"
"Yes," Leila said emphatically. "Merlin, Wilson. Of course I told him. Whether he listened is a completely different matter."
Alex rubbed her shoulder. "Of course he listened," she said placatingly. Leila scoffed.
"Won't be so sure," she muttered. But before Alex could say anything in response, Leila received a signal from Madam Hooch and began to speak into the microphone.
"And welcome to this rainy match, Hogwarts, Slytherin against Hufflepuff. This is the first match of the season for both teams..." Leila fired off, looking as natural as fish in water. Alex looked at her with bemused admiration. Leila didn't even have a script or notes in front of her; all came out in rapid, coherent succession, and Leila for one did not even seem at least perturbed that dozens, if not hundreds of students were listening to her. This was what she was meant to do. Alex stared at her, wondering. Leila might have found a calling, even though it might have been outside the classroom. And her? She had no idea.
"And we're off! Nott's got the Quaffle, passed to Willie, to Cavanaugh, to Willie again, we're getting closer, but what—" a series of groans came from the Slytherin stand. "Excellent defense by Harrison, if I may say, a clean aim on the shoulder, I do always say that Harrison performs well in bad weather, and now the Hufflepuffs, Abbott, to Miles, and—" Leila's commentary went on, and Alex watched with some interest as the players zoomed around in the air. Regulus circled the pitch like a hawk, occasionally purposefully getting in the way of the Hufflepuff Beaters in order to mess their way.
The rain grew thicker.
"And now Slytherin's leading by seventy to forty, but Hufflepuffs are showing no sign of retreating! We're back to Miles—LOOK AT HIM LOOPING THROUGH THOSE CHASERS! Blocked by Flint, but Abbott's quicker—he's now in the second zone, he's close by, HE SCORES! Seventy to fifty!" Leila's shouts were overshadowed by the roar from the Hufflepuff stand and Abbott did a sort of victory jiggle midair.
"And now we're back to the Slytherins, Cavanaugh takes lead and Abbott is tailing him close behind, folks. And—an excellent aim from Lee! Now, from that distance, it would've taken quite a bit of muscle—the rumors in the girl's bathroom must be true..."
"Miss Parkinson!" MacGonagall said, but there was no scolding in her voice. In fact, her twitching lips told a rather different story.
"Sorry, Professor, just trying to reflect the views of different students. Miles is taking things by the storm, and—was that the Snitch?" The whole stadium grew quiet for a second, and even the players seemed to freeze momentarily in midair, not knowing what to do. Then everyone broke loose.
"IT IS THE SNITCH!" Leila screamed into the microphone. "IT'S THE BLOODY SNITCH, AND REGULUS BLACK IS GOING AFTER IT, BUT WOULD HE BE FAST ENOUGH? MASON'S CLOSE BEHIND, WHERE'S THE SLYTHERIN BEATERS WHEN YOU NEED THEM—" Then Leila frowned, looking confused. "Wait," she said quietly away from the microphone, squinting at the pit. "What are they doing?" Flint and Lestrange were flying side-by-side and passing Bludgers between themselves around the stadium as if they couldn't care less about the game. They circled the pitch several times, as if they were looking for something, but then suddenly Flint changed his direction and took his aim—
"IT'S COMING HERE!" Leila, in a moment of panic, forgot that she was holding a microphone. "YES, THAT IS A BLOODY BLUDGER HEADED OUR WAY, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE FLINT, IF YOU CAN'T TAKE A BIT OF CRITICISM—"
"Get down, now!" MacGonagall snapped, trying to pull both of them onto the ground, but Alex squinted into the rain, watching the faint, dark dot grow bigger and bigger. Was that the Bludger? But it was coming her way—
There was a sound of several bones breaking. A loud roar came from the stands.
"What—" Leila said, stumbling to regain her balance. She scanned the pitch.
"Regulus Black's caught the Snitch," she announced, sounding neither excited nor surprised. "And he's giving Flint some serious talking to, well, that's to be expected, I suppose, and—" Leila paused. She turned around from the window, looking uncharacteristically pale.
"Lee's on the ground," she said quietly. "I think he fell from the hit."
"I want a rematch." Those were the first words that Alex heard Regulus Black say after the game.
They were all gathered in the Hospital Wing, once again, and Alex wearily reflected that she'd seen far too many people in the Hospital Wing that fall. Lee was lying unconscious in bed, and the entire Hufflepuff stood around him, drenched and dripping water on the floor. Regulus was standing nearby, giving them enough space so that he wouldn't seem like he was intruding. Alex sat by a nearby bed and Leila sat next to her, watching the interaction with unusual sincerity. Madam Hooch was talking softly with Madam Pomfrey, who was busily taking things from her cabinet.
"It's fine, Black," Conrad Thomas, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, sounded like he was barely containing himself. "Slytherin won. Fair and square."
"The Beaters aimed at the commentator's box. That goes under maiming and intentional harm. They took their aim before I caught the Snitch. They're disqualified. I demand a rematch." Regulus sounded far too calm for Alex's comfort. He had the tendency to sound very, very calm before he—
"Black, Flint and Lestrange took aim UNDER YOUR WATCH. If anything, YOU failed in your responsibilities as a captain. Tell me why I shouldn't report YOU to the committee." It seemed that Thomas beat Regulus to the punch and exploded first. Regulus' eyes became steely and glinted.
"Thomas," he said quietly. "I regret what happened to Lee. But I hardly think that I told the Beaters to aim at my girlfriend, do you?" At his words, Thomas looked slightly contrite, but he was still fuming.
"Alright," Madam Pomfrey said briskly. "Stop this jibber-jabber. Black, the Bludger hit by Mr. Flint never reached the commentator's box. The rules state that the Bludger must hit its mark in order to determine what its mark was in the first place. Therefore, Mr. Flint and Mr. Lestrange are not disqualified." When Regulus opened his mouth to protest, Madam Hooch held up her hand.
"However," she said, "that does not mean that you as the captain do not have the right to suspend them from further games." She looked at him significantly. "I'll trust your discretion. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey assures me that his arm and shoulders are broken and that he has a head concussion, but his state is not critical. All he needs is rest. Which means, Mr. Thomas, that your team should leave him be for now." With those words Madam Hooch ushered all of them out of the Hospital Wing, aided and abetted by the eager Madam Hooch. Alex trudged behind Regulus and Leila reluctantly, taking one last look at Henryk. He looked so oddly vulnerable, lying on the bed with his eyes closed…
"Thank Merlin you're alright," Regulus breathed out in the corridor, pulling Alex into his arms. "For a second, I thought—"
"Hmm," Leila coughed conspicuously, "there are people here?"
Regulus ignored her. "Alex, I—" But Alex pushed him away.
"Flint's been after me," Alex said, looking into the thin air. "Along with Lestrange and others. Ever since that time when we had to separate during rounds? This is all my fault. I told Henryk, and now he's—"
"Wait, back up," Leila said. "Flint's been after you? And Lestrange? That just doesn't make any sense—"
"And you told Lee," Regulus added. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"That's not the point here, Black," Leila snapped. "The point is that they're threatening her for some reason—"
"And why didn't you tell me?" Regulus demanded, still looking at Alex. "I could have kept a closer eye on them, this whole thing might not have happened—"
"Would you two just stop?" Alex said exasperatedly. "Flint and the gang are mad at me because I caught them torturing a Muggleborn and I stopped what he was doing. And I didn't tell you because I thought that you would—" Alex hesitated. Regulus narrowed his eyes.
"What, Alex?" he asked. "What did you think that I would do?" Alex sighed.
"That you would take their side," she said quietly. "You've already decided who you stand with, remember?" Regulus' usual cool gray eyes became stormier with every word she said.
"Then you're mistaken," Regulus snapped. "Decided or not, I would never stand by someone who wanted to hurt you. And if that's all you thought of me, I don't know what I'm doing here." He gave her a spiteful look before turning around and marching toward the staircase. Alex leaned weakly against the stone wall, feeling drained for some reason—she didn't just fall thirty feet off from thin air. She didn't just come back from a Quidditch game in the rain. But everything felt fuzzy and indistinguishable from one another.
"We're always fighting," Alex murmured to the ground. "I don't know why. We care for each other. At least, I think he does."
"You think he does?" Leila scoffed. "No, Alex. He just got upset because he didn't care for you and couldn't believe that you figured out how indifferent he was. No, he doesn't care for you at all."
"Thanks a lot," Alex said.
"You're being a complete idiot, you know that?" Leila continued. "Going to Lee? I admit that he's not bad on the eyes, but Regulus has been looking over you since first year—you do know that, right?" At Alex's puzzled expression, Leila growled in frustration.
"I can't believe that I have to explain everything," she muttered. "You're supposed to be smart. You get O's on your DADA essays. What's wrong with you?"
"I didn't know that Reg was—"
"What, you think Rebecca Goyle would have left alone a half-blood sharing a room with her?" Leila said sarcastically. "Or—or would Mulciber ever tolerate a half-blood taking from the same plate during dinners? Really, Alex?"
"Is that why you talk to me?" Alex said quietly. "Because of him?"
Leila's face grew colder than ice. "I can't believe that you would even ask that question," she said icily, and turned away to walk away. Before she did, however, Leila turned around and said:
"You know what, Alex? I'm glad this happened. Because now we all know what you're really thinking, and I don't have to deal with your incessant self-pity and Regulus Black can move on to someone better." And Leila walked away from her.
Alex slowly sank to the ground. There was a boy on the other side of the wall who was unconscious just because he wanted to help her, a friend fuming alone in hurt and jealousy in their dorm, and Reg—probably going over the game with Altair Wymond's book, trying to pretend like nothing happened to upset him in any way. Alex curled her hands into fists and dug her fingers into her palm to stop herself from crying.
"You complete idiot," Alex repeated Leila's words, burying her head between her knees, "why can't you do anything right?"
A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed—y'all made my day:)