A/N: Another chapter in the books! Thank you all for your continued support. I love to see how many readers I have from overseas! It makes me feel like a little celebrity. Please continue to review, I love to hear feedback from you guys.
I wake up bleary eyed with a minor headache. Sitting up, the world spins and I fight the urge to vomit. I can't remember the last time I had a hangover, but I would know this feeling anywhere.
"Good morning!" Madame Pomfrey says, far too loudly. I note that she only pulls the curtains around my cot partially open, obscuring the beds next to me from my view. She's trying to hide Colin from me, trying to avoid adding any more traumas to my ever growing list, I'm sure.
"'Morning," I manage, my voice hoarse. She immediately bids me drink water, which I oblige to happily.
"Oh, I need to get you some more calming draught. Professor Dumbledore knocked it over last night, silly man." She's gone as quickly as she appeared.
So that's why I'm not getting an earful for my rash decision last night- Dumbledore got rid of the evidence for me. Now why would he do that? I freeze as the memory comes flooding back in full.
I told him I knew the future! No, I told him I didn't know the future. Either way, what the hell was I thinking?! I get myself inebriated in front of one of the two most dangerous men in the entire world and blurt out my secrets like it's no big deal. What an idiot!
I'm starting to get used to the pattern of panic, as I realize I'm holding my breath. I lean my head back and try to focus on just my breathing, but it's still so shallow and I'm still such a screw up. How am I going to survive this?
"Charlotte. Charlotte!" Madame Pomfrey grabs my arm. The strong, comforting touch is enough to bring me back to the present moment, though I'm still trying to catch my breath. "Drink," she demands. It's only when I reach for the cup she offers that I realize my hands are shaking.
I wonder for a moment if it's bad for my health to have this much of the draught back to back, but I think it would be worse if I black out from lack of oxygen. Part of me doesn't want to take it, for fear what I'll say under its effects, but I remind myself that the medicine isn't supposed to do that normally- I overdosed on it last night. Before I can back out, I take a few sips. I take a moment to focus on my breathing and find it far easier now.
"Better?" I nod. "Good. Your mother and grandmother will be here in five minutes. Why don't you do those breathing exercises we talked about until then?" Madame Pomfrey leaves me to my thoughts, which are greatly slowing down. I don't feel drunk like I did last night, just less frazzled. Now I can dissect my thoughts at my leisure instead of dodging them like incoming projectiles I'm struggling to avoid.
Speaking of which, I would love to dodge the incoming projectile that is my family. What the hell am I going to say? 'Hey guys, apparently I have an anxiety disorder. For no reason. No biggy.' Like, shit man, why do I have to deal with this right now? I can feel the tension over the upcoming conversation worm its way up from my stomach to my chest, coiling around my heart and tightening until I remember the cup in my hand and take another long drink from it.
I take the next few minutes to gain my bearings, trying not to feel overwhelmed. Overall I feel better by the time my mum shows up, albeit marginally.
"Charlotte! How are you? Are you hurting anywhere? I'm sorry your father couldn't be here, but rules are rules." Mum pulls me into a bone crushing hug, and in her arms some of my tension fades.
"It's okay. Nothing hurts. Sorry for worrying you." Feeling ashamed, I look over at Grandma, who is waiting patiently behind my mom. She comes forward and hugs me as well.
"No apologies, little one." Grandma holds me close and I feel so much like a vulnerable child, I'm suddenly sobbing. Mum moves around to the other side of my cot, and the three of us just hold each other for a while as I cry.
After a time, I'm hiccuping softly, feeling hollow but at least not panicked. I try to apologize again, but mum immediately cuts me off.
"Oh Charlotte, please don't worry. Grandma told me everything." I look at Grandma surreptitiously, and she just nods at my mother, who continues, "I knew you were a nervous child, but I never knew you were having so much trouble. I'm sorry for not taking better care of you. I'm glad Grandma had been there for you, but you could have come to me with your troubles. You know that now, right?"
I nod numbly. Not really sure what's happening but I'll roll with it.
"We can't assume nothing stressful will happen again, so what can we do to help you cope?" Grandma asks.
"I-I don't know," I answer honestly. I look over at the calming draught on the bedside table. "That helps." But is it a longstanding solution? Are there any longstanding solutions to be had for what's going on in my head? Am I going to have to take calming draught every day to just function normally? Mum and Grandma are looking at me expectantly. I take another deep breath. "I don't know what to do."
"Well how about we start with some food?" Mum asks. My stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought. I am hungover, after all.
"No thanks."
"What's the matter sweetie?"
"I'm just nauseous." I wave mum off, who is trying to look over me like I'm a wounded bird or something. "Really, I'm fine."
"Well I'm going to talk to Madame Pomfrey to get you something for that." Before I can argue, she leaves my bedside at high speed, leaving Grandma and I to ourselves. Ugh, now I feel guilty, seeing how stressed my poor mum is.
"No apologies," Grandma warns. I give her a confused look.
"I haven't said anything?"
"I know that look- that's your guilty expression. There's no need to feel guilty."
"But-"
"No buts!" She argues. I sigh. "You need to focus on you. That is a large part of the reason you're here."
"I've got a lot more to worry about than just myself!" I'm nearly shouting and remind myself angrily to keep my voice down. Hopefully no one else heard me. Grandma probes my mental barrier gently and I drop it just enough for the two of us to connect.
So you told mum that I've always had nervous breakdowns? I ask, trying to piece together what mum had said earlier.
Your mother was completely thrown when she received the news. She was considering pulling you from school since it seemed that it was becoming too much for you. I needed to tell her something.
I appreciate it. I wasn't sure what I was going to say and I've been a bit preoccupied.
Alright, tell me what's going on. Thanks to occlumency, explaining the entire situation and what happened doesn't take long. So that's what caused this. I'm glad you're alright.
What do you mean?
You've been so wound up and have put so much on your plate I was worried you weren't handling it.
You thought I cracked. It's less a question and more an accusation.
That's not what I said.
It's what you thought.
Not that she's wrong. I did crack. I mean, there was a catalyst, but I totally fell apart at the first sign of trouble. I'm a failure, or, I'm going to be. Ugh, this is too much! What am I going to do?
You can start by working on these thought spirals, Grandma adds.
"What?" In my surprise, I say this out loud.
You left your barrier down. Don't beat yourself up about it, she adds quickly. I sigh and rub my eyes. "You need to start working on yourself. Have you been thinking like this all year? It's no wonder you're struggling when you're filling your mind with so much self-loathing." I look away uncomfortably. I wasn't expecting a dressing down from my Grandma today. "You know I'm right."
"I know- that doesn't make this any easier," I grumble.
"Ah, you're hitting your teenage angst, I see," she laughs.
"Grandma!" It's this moment that my mom makes her reappearance with Madame Pomfrey, who hands me another cup.
"Here, drink up!" Whatever she gives me leaves me with an appetite. While I'm eating the food they brought, we all talk some more and I end up coming to a decision over something that's been bothering me all year.
"I think...I'd like to join the quidditch team next year."
"Oh, sweetie, that's fantastic! You should!" Mum gets on board right away. "That would be so fun!" Grandma nods encouragingly.
"It's late in the season, but you may be able to join as an extra this year, if you ask," Madame Pomfrey adds helpfully.
"I will! Thanks!" With the decision made, I feel some of the weight lift from my shoulders. I thought I had buried those feelings, but apparently burying them just meant digging a hole in my chest and shoving them there so they could eat away at me like poison.
"I think it will be good for you to do something other than study," Mum quips, nudging me with her elbow.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I agree," I admit.
Even if things might go off the rails now, there's no guarantee it will end up badly. This is the hand I've been dealt, and this world might not be the same one I remember, but it's real and it's mine and I'm going to fight for it the best I can. I can't give up just because I'm not sure and I can't give in to misery if I haven't failed yet. I have to give this world a shot because it's the only one I've got. And shit now I'm turning into a poet. Maybe it would be good for me to write this stuff down? Nah, too much evidence.
"Thanks for coming," I say to Mum and Grandma as they get ready to leave.
"I'm glad we could help," Grandma grabs my hand and squeezes it. "Before we go, there is something a little stressful we need to talk about."
"Oh?" They then tell me about Colin. I breathe a, hopefully not too obvious, sigh of relief. I thought it was going to be something more serious...that was a little mean, wasn't it? "Is it safe for me to stay here?" I ask, trying to seem appropriately concerned even though I have no intention of leaving.
"I trust Dumbledore more than anyone," Grandma answers and Mum nods along. "There might be something going on, but if Dumbledore thinks it can he handled, I don't see any reason to worry. Besides, wouldn't you rather stay here?" I nod emphatically. Grandma and I talked about this previously, which is why she is so calm and cool about a giant snake slithering around the pipe system of her grandchild's school- not that anyone else knows that.
"Now sweetie, when we told you about your classmate...Please don't be too alarmed." Unsure of what else to say, Mum pulls back the curtain around my bed. I am heading back to my dorm, so it makes sense that they would rather me see him with them than by myself and be shocked. What I am not expecting behind the curtain however, is another student to be with Colin.
"Harry!?" He's still here?! I thought he was only here for the night! Have I only been here one night? Even so, why isn't he gone yet? It's mid-afternoon! Harry blinks at me owlishly, surprised by my sudden appearance and outburst. He waves awkwardly at me and my family, who seem confused that I'm more concerned with Harry than the petrified boy.
"Hi, Miss Campbell." I can see the blush crawl across his cheeks. I wonder if he remembers my story about my mom shipping us together.
"Hi again, Harry! How are you feeling? I heard you took a rather nasty fall," she goes over to him, leaving me flabbergasted.
"I-I'm going to go get changed," I say quickly, heading for the bathroom. Madame Pomfrey hasn't done it for me yet, and I think I would prefer to do it myself anyway, in this situation. Anything to get away from this awkwardness. How much did he hear anyway?
When I come back out, Mum is waiting to hug me goodbye, as is Grandma.
"Don't forget to write!" Grandma says, giving me a serious look that promises more information later. I smile and nod.
"Goodbye, darling. You know we're just some floo powder away, so don't worry if you want us to come by."
"Okay, okay. I'll see you soon!" I hustle them out of the infirmary, which is a little weird since I'm treating it like my bedroom, but I need to talk to Harry alone. When I turn back to look at him, he's looking at me oddly and I am immediately worried.
"So…" I start awkwardly.
"My nearly falling to my death made you want to start playing quidditch?" Harry jumps straight to the point. Damn, he did hear everything.
"About that-"
"And didn't you say your parents wouldn't let you play?"
"Well, what happened was-" I know that expression, I've seen it on Harry's face more times than he could ever guess; he's suspicious of me. This was definitely not something I had planned for. I wanted to stay away from him, far enough away that he would never think twice about me, nevermind think I'm odd. The beginnings of panic creep into my chest again.
"Why did you lie about wanting to play quidditch?" Harry presses when I'm not forthcoming.
Breathe. He thinks you're talking about quidditch, nothing else. Isn't this damn calming draught supposed to be calming? Fortunately, I'm saved from having to answer when Madame Pomfrey walks in.
"Oh, Charlotte. You're still here? Mister Potter needs his rest. Take some more of your potion with you and you're more than welcome to come by for more as you like."
"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey." I use the opportunity I've been given to grab the bottle of potion, turn tail, and run. I can feel Harry's glare burning the back of my head, but I don't slow down. It makes sense that he wants to know what's going on, I did lie to his face, after all, but he's not going get an answer today.
Once I'm out of the hospital wing, I wander down the hallway, at a loss as to what I'm doing; I feel aimless and confused. I thought things were going to get better, but now I feel all wrong. Without thinking, I find myself in front of The Room of Requirement. I need to be alone, I think at the wall and soon I'm inside a small bedroom. It's similar to the first room I made in here but without the bookshelf- I don't have the mental energy to read right now. Curling up in a fetal position on the bed, I let my emotions wash over me. I'm shaking head to toe and I feel like I can barely breathe. In a moment of desperation, I pick up the calming draught and take another large dose of it. Thankfully, I'm finally calming down.
"What the hell am I doing?" I whisper to myself, only mildly cognizant of the slur in my words. I told Dumbledore that I don't know the future anymore, thereby admitting that I did know the future, and I decided to play quidditch despite the dangers, so why do I feel so good? I shoot up and look around the room, its edges blurring in my vision. "I feel good," I say, the epiphany finally starting to sink in. "I feel good. I feel great!" I shout, throwing up my arms and jumping on the bed. My head spins and I let myself fall back, feeling extremely lethargic.
Is this what freedom tastes like? It feels so weird, feeling so light. Maybe I'm going crazy, but if I am, I wish I had done it sooner. I've never felt so good before! I holler at the ceiling, feeling free for the first time in my life. Who cares what comes next? It's not like I know! Maybe I'll get caught up in a war, maybe I won't, but I'm gonna enjoy the ride. I'll fight for the right to be happy if it comes down to it, but I'm not gonna sweat it beforehand. With these last warm thoughts, I slide into unconsciousness.
…
I wake up in a strange room I can only vaguely remember with a massive headache.
"Oww." Where am I? I rub my eyes and look around again, trying to get my aching brain turned on.
"Oh!" The Room of Requirement! I step out of bed and instantly regret the motion, my head spinning so fast I sit right back down. Ugh, I can't go back to Madame Pomfrey for my headache, since I did this to myself, so I just have to deal. I lay back and take some deep breaths, noticing that the draught must still in my system, as my thoughts are measured and easy to handle, despite the underlying anxiety.
I should probably figure out what day it is and get some food. The idea of daily life makes me feel ill, but I don't have a choice. I can't just disappear because I'm an anxious mess hung over on medicine.
Another deep breath and I force myself to get up. My head is throbbing, but the room stays in place, thankfully. I grab the rest of my potion, fighting the urge to drink more of it, and head down the hall. It's only when I'm passing the Fat Lady that I remember my promise to her, so I stop to speak to her.
"Good morning!" I say, forcing some levity into my voice. She looks the same as ever in her portrait.
"Oh, you came! You said you would be here once a week- you lied," The Fat Lady glares at me.
"What?"
"A week would have been yesterday. Shouldn't you be in class right now? Maybe I should let your head of house know that you're skipping."
"Wait, what day is it?" I was hoping today was still Sunday, since the quidditch match was on Saturday, but if there's class…
"It's Monday. You should know this!"
"I haven't been feeling well. I lost track of my days, I guess." The Fat Lady looks at me suspiciously.
"Maybe I should talk to your head of house. Have you been getting into trouble?"
"No, I'm fine. I just wanted to keep my promise and didn't know what day it was. I'm headed back to my dorm to get more sleep." She gives me one final glare before letting the subject drop.
"Alright. Nice to see you, I suppose."
"I'll be back next week!" I call as I head down the hall.
"You had better!"
As I head down the stairs, I realize that my hands are shaking. Can I seriously not get through a normal conversation without freaking out? I sigh and try to stretch my neck, which makes my head hurt even more. Ugh, this sucks.
Making it to the Ravenclaw dorm, I finally think to check the time. Eleven in the morning? How long was I asleep? I don't bother to try to answer that question, instead focusing on what needs to happen next. I came here to get changed and possibly go to class, but it's way too late to bother with my morning class. I'll take a nap, change clothes, head to lunch, and go to my afternoon class.
One wonderful nap later, I start on my previously decided plan, but pause when I think about heading down to lunch. My headache is marginally better, but the idea of going down there with everyone else makes my chest feel tighter. Okay, maybe I'm not ready for that.
"Tippy?" I call. With a loud pop, the house elf appears. "Can I get lunch here, please?"
"Miss Charlotte doesn't wants to eat downstairs?"
"Not today, thank you." Tippy beams at me, still surprised by my politeness.
"Yes, m'am!" With a salute and a pop she is gone. A few minutes later, in which I've pulled out a book to relax with, she reappears with a plate laden with food and a cup.
"Thanks, Tippy!" Tippy blushes and bows.
"Thanks yous, Miss Charlotte!" I smile as she leaves. I sigh deeply. Why was that so hard? My breathing is shallow and rough, and it takes me a few minutes to readjust before I eat. How am I going to handle class today?
After lunch, in which I've tried my absolute hardest to stay calm, I realize that I'm even more wound up than I was before. The calming draught from yesterday is definitely out of my system now. It should be fine to take more, right?
I pour the potion into my, now empty, cup and drink. Now I just have to wait and see how I feel. I dawdle for a few minutes before gathering up my belongings for class, but I notice that my hands are still obviously shaking. There's no way I can go out like this. I pour myself another glass and take that as well and notice almost immediately that my breathing is far more controlled. Perfect.
Before I can chicken out, I make my way to class. Monday afternoon is Transfiguration. I'm not looking forward to seeing Professor McGonagall, since she saw me in the hospital wing. When I walk in a few minutes early, she immediately calls me over- exactly what I didn't want.
"Miss Campbell, Professor Flitwick informed me that you were not in his class this morning. Are you feeling alright?" The concern in her eyes is apparent but not very soothing.
"I'm fine, thank you. I ended up oversleeping, is all," I lie, quite smoothly, in my opinion. I hold my hands behind my back for fear that the professor will see them shaking. She gives me a long, searching look before dismissing me to my seat. I have to resist the urge to run there, but I make it without incident.
The classroom, filled with people, is suffocating, and I barely hear a word of what Professor McGonagall says. The lesson feels like it drags on forever and when we are left on our own to practice, I have no idea how I am going to get out of this situation.
"Miss Campbell, are you sure you are alright?" She asks me again, snapping me out of my reverie. I've been staring at the teacup in front of me for some indeterminate amount of time.
"Oh, sorry. I'm just... really tired." I can't bring myself to look her in the eye as I lie.
"Well, that's not the kind of energy needed for intense work like Transfiguration. Please don't practice in class today. You can show me your technique next week," she says quietly and not unkindly. I finally look up at her and she is smiling at me gently.
I'm touched and confused by her generosity. I don't deserve this. I should be getting into trouble for not doing what I'm supposed to. I shouldn't be able to get away with not doing anything just because I'm upset. That's not fair to anyone else.
"I-" I start to argue, but I'm too late. The professor has already moved on to helping the next student, and I'm left alone to continue staring in confusion at my teacup.
…
After class I decide not to bother with dinner. I don't feel like I can stomach it. Instead, I head up to my bed and draw the curtains around me, putting up a silencing spell and an alarm charm in case anyone thinks to bother me.
Feeling safe in my isolation, I decide to write to grandma and mum; well, I would like to write, but my hands are shaking so badly I can't hold my quill properly. Another cup of calming draught gets me stable enough to put quill to paper, and the lies come pouring out of me before I even realize what I'm doing.
I'm doing so much better after you came to visit! Everything is great!
I lie and lie and lie. It takes me a while to finish writing because I have to take breaks to avoid my tears landing on the pages.
…
After sending out my letters last night, I'm surprised to get such quick responses from both Mum and Grandma the next morning. I manage to get down to breakfast alright, mostly because I'm starving and need to get more calming draught from Madame Pomfrey. My family's relief is almost palpable through the parchment.
Luna seems to notice that I'm acting differently despite my trying to fake it- I can see it in the way she stares at me more frequently, but since she saw what happened at the quidditch match, I suppose she doesn't want to say anything. She's always had a surprising amount of tact when it comes to important things.
Once I finish with breakfast, I immediately head to the hospital wing. I'm in desperate need for more draught. I took the last of it to get out of bed this morning and know for sure that I can't make it through potions without it.
"Good morning, Miss Campbell. What can I do for you?" The hospital wing is quiet today except for Colin, who lends a melancholy air to the otherwise bright space.
"You said I could come and get more calming draught?" Madame Pomfrey stops what she is doing to turn and look at me, making me extremely nervous.
"You finished the bottle already?" Her surprised expression tells me that I should not have. I immediately backpedal.
"Well, no not really. I...dropped it, so I didn't get to take very much of it at all." Another lie.
"Oh!" Her concern fades. "You silly girl. Be more careful next time, alright?" She walks away, rummages around in a cabinet for a moment, and then hands me another bottle. "There you are!"
"How long should this last, anyway?" I ask, trying not to sound too curious.
"Oh, about a week, I would say. Though I'm sure you won't need the whole bottle anyway," she says flippantly as she goes back to close the cabinet.
"Right. Thanks, Madame Pomfrey!" I head out quickly as I mull over this new situation. I finished the first bottle she gave me in two days. I can't make this stretch out for a week! I hold the bottle up and shake it for a moment. Would it be worth trying to water down? No, I need it to be able to go to class, there's no way I can deal with a less potent version of it.
Taking a small but necessary swig of my bottle, I head to Potions, which I notice I am facing with my usual amount of dread. I suppose I can't loathe this class any more than I already did.
Despite the draught and trying my best, my shaky hands keep making me drop things and Snape over my shoulder only makes it worse; mix it all together and it's a recipe for disaster.
"Get out!" Snape shouts, waving a textbook at me as I run out of the room. Now I'm shaking head to toe and trying my hardest not to cry. I feel like I deserve this, a lot more than I deserved Professor McGonagall's kindness, but knowing that Draco and Theo saw that embarrassing mess makes me feel awful. Thinking of Theo, I hide out in our usual spot, wondering if he'll come by. Eventually, my patience is rewarded.
"Raven!" Theo calls as he walks in, using my pet name.
"Hey, Theo." I'm surprised when he is the one to initiate the hug today.
"Are you alright?"
"I guess," I don't want to lie to him, but the truth is too exhausting so I dodge the question. I have barely managed to convince myself not to drink my entire potion bottle while waiting and it's taken more energy from me than I would like.
"You had it rough in there today." Theo looks guilty.
"It's been a rough week. I was in the hospital wing this weekend."
"You were? Are you alright?" Theo looks me over, as if trying to find my previous injury.
"Yeah, I-" Oh crap. I hadn't really thought what I was going to tell him. I've been telling so many lies lately, and I don't want to do that to Theo, but the truth is out of the question, leaving me lost for words. Theo is looking at me expectantly; I need to say something.
"I...They told me-"
"Raven, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Theo interjects. I blink at him in surprise.
"But, didn't you want to know my secret?" I try to ask this jokingly, but it falls flat.
"I think we're past that. Besides, there's a difference between hiding something from a friend and not being ready to talk about it. I appreciate your loyalty, but I can wait."
"What if I never tell you?"
"I think you will, but if you don't, you probably have a good reason not to."
"Who taught you to be such a good friend?" I ask, the joke genuine this time.
"I don't know, but I should really thank them." Theo smiles and so do I. "Now, let's get you back up to speed on potions. It looks like you could use the help."
"Actually, could we make something specific?" I ask.
"Like what?"
"Calming draught?" I don't know where I'm going with this, but the idea of running out of the potion is making me feel desperate. Theo pulls out his textbook and flips through it.
"We don't learn that this year. Why that in particular?"
"I-" Do I lie or tell the truth?
"You're considering whether or not to lie to me." Theo looks at me shrewdly. I would be more concerned about the adult way he speaks to me if I knew less about his family situation. I look away, unsure of what to say. "I would prefer it if you didn't lie to me."
"I know," I manage to say.
"Well, if I don't show you how to make this potion, would you try to make it without me?" I nod. "Okay, then let's get to work."
"What?" I look at my best friend in total confusion.
"What?" he asks as he gets off his stool.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because you're my friend and you need help?"
"But I won't even tell you why."
"Well it's not like we're making a draught of the living dead. I doubt you're trying to kill anyone or do anything horrible. Not that I wouldn't help you if you were, but I would at least like to know why if we are moving on to murder."
"I can't tell if you're kidding or not."
"I'm not," he says matter-of-factly.
"But-"
"I don't know what's stressing you out, but if I can help, I don't see why I shouldn't. I'll go ask Professor Snape for ingredients while you go to the library to get the right book."
"Dang, Slytherins really are loyal," I whisper to myself as we head out of the classroom.
"I heard that."