Part 8 - Fire and Ice

"I'll kill him. I will fucking kill him," Myron fumes as he, Bill, Cale, and (since they ran into him outside the library) Mac stalk quickly through the dark December night. Their destination is Hogsmeade, their aim to track down Charlie and Izzy. They hope that they're being paranoid, that the only bad things going on are breaking the curfew and leaving the grounds, but tense fear is threatening to become panic.

"Bill," Myron states furiously, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm against the heavy snowstorm, "If your brother hurt one hair on her head, I swear I'm going to fucking kill him. I'm sorry, I know we're mates and all, but I'm going to KILL HIM!"

The tall redhead in the pompom hat is barely listening to his friend. He's too busy praying that his little brother hasn't done something idiotic... or dangerous... or cruel. He may love Charlie, but Bill knows that he never, ever thinks about the consequences of his actions. The boy gets lucky sometimes, but, more often, those consequences usually end up coming back to bite him in the arse, both figuratively and literally (there was an incident in second year with a blast-ended skrewt he was hiding in his trunk).

"Cool it," Mac scolds his twin, hugging himself as he trudges through the knee deep snow, "Wait until we know he's actually done something wrong before you plot any homicides." Myron's only answer is a low, feral growl. He's far past possessing the patience to be reasoned with.

Cale is ahead of the group, anxious to find Izzy, to get rid of the horrible feeling in his gut that something is very, very wrong.

xxXxx

Charlie Weasley's world has ceased to exist outside the meaty pound of fists against his body, and the bloody gurgles that bubble up from his throat as he tries to call out to Izzy.

He's been thoroughly worked over by the entire table of men he stupidly took on, each member taking his turn beating the hell out of the boy. His ribs are broken, and probably a few bones in his swollen, bloody face as well, and he's most likely suffering some severe internal bleeding from having the soft tissue of his abdomen mercilessly pummeled.

Charlie never thought he would ever be in this position. He's never had his arse kicked before, foolishly didn't even think it was possible, but now it's happening, and, while he can't say he doesn't deserve it, he wants it to stop.

Charlie is also suffering from an extremely battered ego and a cripplingly guilt-torn conscience.

"Had enough yet?" A nameless assailant taunts, earning a chuckle from the rest of the large, drunken mob. Charlie spits up blood, defiantly managing to get some on the attacker's shoes before stupidly, but bravely coughing, "Of what? Our little tickle fight?"

All he gets in reply is another punch to the kidney. His knees buckle, and if it weren't for the man behind him holding him up by his horribly contorted arms, he would crumble to a heap on the ground.

Eyes watering and head spinning, Charlie spends the few precious seconds of refuge from the punches choking on blood, trying to catch his breath, and scanning the room for any sign of Izzy. It's his fault that she's in danger, and it's his fault that he can't do anything to help her, and it's his fault if anything happens to her.

He doesn't get too long to dwell on it, however, as his beating once again gets under way.

xxXxx

She's being carried down a dark, narrow hallway. In her drunken haze, it feels like the walls are closing in around her, and add to the feeling that she's being crushed as the thick arm around her waist tightens and the broad hand over her mouth brings her air supply to a dangerous trickle.

Nestor laughs, a gruff, deep sound that sends tremors through her whole body. "Here we are," He taunts as he stops in front of a dingy gray door, his lips right up against her ear, wet, and hot, and vile, and she wants to throw up. She wants the filth off her body.

He pauses to fumble around in his pocket, coins jangling merrily as he searches. When he finds a small silver key, a triumphant smile on his handsome face, he puts it into his closed fist, and punches his captive hard in the head.

Her lip splits, as does the flesh across her cheek bone, and her right eye goes completely black. She almost passes out, staying conscious only through sheer will power. Her whole head throbs painfully, but the hand still over her mouth prevents a scream, sealing out the oxygen her body is starving for.

Nestor seems amused by her attempts to free herself, and laughs, then pauses to bury his face into her neck, sucking and biting viciously as he gropes her small breasts.

And she vomits, his hand preventing the hot, burning liquid from exiting her mouth. It fills her nose, not finding escape there either before it floods down her windpipe, choking her, the acidic scorch felt through her entire body, every nerve ending on fire.

She can't breathe, and she can't see, and she cries, and flails, and kicks, and-

"FUCK!!" Her heel finally manages to connect with Nestor's groin. The purely accidental stroke of luck brings the burly boy to his knees, whimpering as his arm goes slack, and Izzy falls out of his grasp.

Their bodies hit the ground at the same moment, two dull thuds echoing through the dark, grey hallway as they each lay in their private agony. Nestor is moaning, and groaning, and tenderly cupping his privates. Izzy is bug-eyed, writhing on the ground as she gasps and coughs and chokes the bile from her lungs, clawing at the uneven floorboards as she tries to drag herself away, streaking the rotten wood with bloody scratch marks.

"Bitch," The Slytherin hisses, his voice several octaves higher than normal. He's unable to move, or see straight, or think about anything but the pain, and killing the little bitch who caused it.

Izzy doesn't care. Still oxygen-deprived and wheezing pitifully, she struggles to her hands and knees, and forces her tired, aching body to crawl towards safety. She can't let herself be violated. Not again. She'd rather die than go through it again.

And then she's suddenly tumbling headfirst down the staircase, having completely missed the fact that it was there in her drunken terror. The steps cut into her head and back and arms as she falls, getting bashed against the sharp, splintered corners. She's helpless to stop the dizzying descent.

She lands hard on the floor of the bar, her back colliding with solid wood, the commotion in the room assaulting her senses. The wind knocked out of her, she spends a few precious seconds trying to force herself remember how to breathe.

Before she succeeds, she's out the door.

She's not cold, even though her breath hangs frozen in front of her face. The snow is blinding, stark white shining through the inky black of night. Flying ice crystals cut into the exposed skin of her legs, and arms, and face, whipping her loose, torn, bloody clothing around her small body before she collapses beside the entryway.

Her eyes roll back into her head, her breathing slows, and her body goes numb, getting lost as the falling snow hides her from the world, cradling her small, curled form as she drifts away from the pain.

xxXxx

"Rosmerta said she hasn't seen them," Mac reports as he meets up with the three other boys in the middle of Hogsmeade's main road. Stomping his feet and hugging himself to keep warm, the Ravenclaw adds, "But she said she'd keep an eye out, and send them straight back to the castle if they try to come in."

"I didn't see any sign of 'em near the Shrieking Shack," Myron grunts angrily, still scanning the whited-out street for any glimpse of the wayward pair, "But I don't think he could get her in there anyways. Toothpick said once that the place freaked her out." After a shaky exhale, a cloud of mist hangs in front of his face, and he threatens, "I'm gonna kill him."

Bill nods, not even bothering to tell Myron that he won't let him kill his brother. If they ever find the moron, Bill might just have to kill Charlie himself, "The alleys are empty. Me and Cale each checked one side of the street, and they weren't in any of them."

"What about that place?" Cale asks, nodding towards a dimly lit building at the far end of the town. The Slytherin is freezing his arse off, his nose, and ears, and cheeks are numb, but he won't give up. He has to find Izzy.

Bill frowns as he follows Cale's gaze, "The Hog's Head? Even Charlie's not stupid enough to go in there after dark."

"Actually," Mac announces, for once wishing his curly hair was as long as his twin's so that it would keep his head warmer, "He just might be. Let's check it out."

The foursome immediately sets off towards the rickety building, quickly and silently trampling through deep snow, battling with the blizzard winds and the bitter cold. As soon as they get within twenty feet, they can hear the sounds of a brawl from inside the establishment, and frantically sprint the remaining distance.

Bill is the first inside, throwing open the door and finding himself smack dab in the middle of a wild bar fight. The room reeks of beer, and sweat, and vomit, and blood, and he immediately has to dodge a punch aimed at his head.

The other boys follow, their senses and bodies assaulted in much the same manner as they look over the chaotic scene.

And then there he is, Charlie Weasley. None of them would have recognized him if it wasn't for his flaming red hair. His face is a battered, bloody, butchered mess, and the stocky boy can't even hold himself up anymore, looking to be on the verge of passing out. The dozen or so men who are taking turns beating the hell out of him don't really seem to notice, or care.

"Charlie! Oh, fuck!" Bill gasps, fighting to get to his little brother's side, "GET OFF HIM!!" The man holding the boy's arms turns just in time to see a freckled fist flying towards his head, then slumps limply to the floor, knocked completely unconscious by a blow to the temple.

Charlie falls flat on his face, gasping, and wheezing, and choking as he attempts to push himself up on weak arms. Mac and Cale put themselves between the two Weasleys and the drunken men who want to pummel them. Tenderly, Bill falls to his knees beside his brother, pushing him back down as he calms, "Don't try to move. You're really hurt." The boy would like nothing more than to listen to Bill, to close his eyes and sleep, but he can't. Izzy's still in danger somewhere and it's his fault. Barely able to hold back the tears, he tries to tell his brother, "Izzy..."

"Lie still," Bill says quietly, trying to get the boy to rest, in awe of the beating he received and the fact that he's still conscious, "Where is she?" The other three boys lean closer in anticipation of an answer, but the only thing they get is a weak, blood-choked, "I-I don't know." All their hearts sink.

"HEY!!" Myron screams furiously, jumping on a table in the very center of the room, and shattering a glass against the far wall to get the attention of all the drunken, brawling patrons. As soon as the rest of the scattered fights die down and it's mostly quiet, he demands, "WHERE'S THE GIRL??"

"You mean the mudblood whore?" One of the men who had been beating Charlie, apparently a bold drunk, laughs. Seeing his chance, Myron leaps down from his perch on the table, perfectly aware that all eyes are on him as he stalks towards the man.

As soon as he gets up close, he recognizes him as a Slytherin who graduated almost two years ago. That doesn't stop the young Gryffindor from grabbing the larger man by the collar of his shirt, and slamming him hard against a thick wooden pillar. "Where. Is. She." He hisses again, danger in his voice.

Shocked, the man says nothing, opening and closing his mouth as he struggles in the enraged teen's grasp. He looks to his friends, trying to silently elicit some help in escaping from the maniac. None of them are willing to come to his aid, hanging back and trying to look innocent.

"I'm only gonna ask one more time," Myron growls, "WHERE IS SHE??" The man licks his lips and doesn't answer, but his eyes quickly dart to a set of stairs near the door. Myron doesn't look away from him, merely yelling, "Upstairs! Mac, she's upstairs!!"

"On it," His twin chimes, grabbing Cale by the elbow and pulling the boy with him to search the upper rooms, praying silently that none of the horrible scenarios running through his mind are happening.

Done with the drunk, Myron punches him in the head, letting go of the man's shirt and letting him collapse heavily to the floor.

Breathing hotly, his olive-skinned flushed dark with rage, he then turns to the remainder of the men who had been beating Charlie, hissing in a low, dangerous, almost eerie whisper, "I suggest you run, because I'm gonna kill whoever I catch." The drunks scatter like a flock of pigeons, grabbing their unconscious friend, and shoving each other over to get out the door. Bill is absolutely stunned by the whole incident. Myron has always been goofy, and incredibly laid-back. This mood shift is frightening, and a testament to just how protective the loyal Gryffindor is of little Izzy Cooper.

"You," Myron growls, turning his venomous glare to Charlie. Still choking and barely able to move, the redhead suddenly finds the strength to scramble away from the older boy. "You," Myron continues, quickly overtaking Charlie's attempt at escape, hauling him up off the ground by the collar, and slamming him into a wall hard enough to shake the entire, now deserted room.

"Don't hurt him," Bill warns as he runs to head off Myron's tirade. He never thought he would have to keep Myron from exploding, and it's unsettling that he now finds himself in that position.

"Much as he deserves it," Myron grunts, "I'm not gonna hurt the little shit. Not yet anyways. I wanna know exactly what he did to Toothpick, so I can decide whether or not I need to kill him."

Kind of curious himself, Bill shrugs, "Sounds good to me. What happened, Charlie?"

Squeezing his eyes shut to fight the disgust he's feeling with himself, the boy whispers inaudibly, "I tricked her into coming out with me, and then spiked her drinks..."

"What?" Myron snarls dangerously, his knuckles white as the grip he has on the boy's shirt tightens, pounding him once more into the wall.

"I-AH!" Charlie answers, his body wracked with pain from the vicious jolt, his voice quavering from the strain of trying not to break down sobbing, "I tricked her into coming here with me, giving her some crap about wanting to be friends, and then I spiked her drinks!! I just wanted her to get in trouble, but then she-she started crying, and I tried to take her back, but those guys came over, and then I tried to help her, but they grabbed me!! She was screaming, but I couldn't find her, and then she was just gone..."

Myron's arms are shaking, and he's grinding his teeth so hard that it's all that can be heard in the tense silence that has enveloped the room. His green eyes bore into Charlie's downcast blue ones. Bill doesn't know what to say. Never in a million years did he think his brother was capable of something so... so... despicable!

Loud thuds echoing down the staircase manage to distract all of them from each other, and they turn just in time to see a huge body come tumbling into sight, groaning as he lays sprawled on the filthy ground.

Mac and Cale come trampling down a few minutes later, kicking the man as they step over him. "He attacked her!!" Cale shouts, pissed and frightened, "He attacked Izzy! He was trying to rape her!!!" As he releases Charlie from his grasp, Myron's face pales and he shrieks, "WHAT?" The beaten redhead closes his eyes again, and a few tears finally escape.

No one notices. Mac is still scowling at the pathetic specimen of human being on the floor as he explains, "She got away. We found him in the hall, still on the ground because she managed to kick him while he was dragging her into a room."

"I know him," Bill mutters, staring hard at the wheezing, brown-haired man. Cale nods, "Name's Nestor. He's a seventh year, for the third year in a row. He's our beater, and a sicko."

"WHERE IS SHE?" Myron screams, closing a fist in the man's hair and yanking hard. Nestor winces, his handsome face contorted in pain as he spits, "I don't fuckin' know. The little bitch kicked me, and then ran off. When you find her, let me know. We got some unfinished business."

It takes ten minutes for the other boys to pull Myron off of Nestor, only managing to succeed because Mac and Bill both tackle him to the floor.

"MY!!!" His twin shouts, trying to avoid bloody fists as the young man struggles to go back and beat the unconscious Slytherin some more, "GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!!! WE STILL HAVE TO FIND IZZY!!!"

"Toothpick..." He finally gasps, realizing that he's just wasted precious time on his anger. Releasing his now calmed friend, Bill sits back up and sighs, "Ya, Toothpick. We don't know where she is."

"The little girl?" The old man behind the bar, looking completely unaffected by the carnage that just took place in his establishment, asks gruffly. Mac nearly pounces on him, "Yes! Yes! She's a little girl! Brown hair, brown eyes, only about..." He pauses to hold a hand up to Izzy's height, "This big... Do you know where she went?"

Scratching his tangled gray beard, the man nods towards the staircase, then the door, "Fell down those steps, then ran outside. I remember because I tried to stop her. Don't usually make it my policy to meddle in the affairs of others, but... uh... she seemed scared, and didn't have a coat on..."

"Out there?" Myron chokes, jumping to his feet, and sprinting madly towards the door, "She's in that fucking blizzard? She'll freeze to death!!" Cale barely remembers to utter a curt, "Thank you," to the bartender as he and the others follow, Charlie limping last in the line.

"TOOTHPICK!!!!!" Oblivious to his split and bleeding knuckles, Myron screams up and down the street, searching for the lost girl, "ISABEL COOPER!!!! ANSWER ME!!!" In a few seconds he's joined by Mac, and Bill, and Cale, the group spreading out as they yell various forms of, "IZZY!!! WHERE ARE YOU??"

Holding his aching sides and struggling to breathe, Charlie leans against the doorjamb. This whole night has been a disaster, and most certainly the biggest mistake of his entire life. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and he's not sure he's going to be able to live with himself if Izzy isn't found safe...

He tries to walk outside to join the search, however, as soon as his foot hits them, he realizes that the steps are covered in ice. Unable to keep his precarious balance, he slips and falls hard into the snow just beside the entryway.

And then he's on his back, groaning from the impact on his ribs, looking up into the dark storm clouds, knowing for a fact that, if there is a hell, he's going to burn in it. Disgusted with himself, he turns his head away from the sky.

That's when he notices the wild amber curls half buried in the snow bank. "BILL!!" He screams, immediately rolling off the spot where he believes Izzy is buried, digging furiously to get her out, "SHE'S HERE!! SHE'S HERE!!"

Charlie can hear the others shouting as they crunch through the fallen snow, but even before they arrive by his sides he manages to excavate most of the frozen girl.

And she looks absolutely horrifying. With her soaked clothing clinging to her slight body, she's taken on an almost skeletal appearance, the bloody snow beneath her like martyr's halo, an aura of pain she never deserved. One entire side of her pale face is swollen, and it only takes a second to for Charlie to realize that someone hit her, hard. Her blue lips are split open, blood frozen in a thin dribble down her chin and throat, staining her torn uniform shirt. The boy cringes visibly, his stomach churning when he notices the bites and bruises all over her neck.

There is no movement from her curled body, not a shiver, not a breath, not a even flutter of an eyelid...

"Toothpick," Myron gasps as he falls to his knees and frantically uncovers the girl's bare, blue tinged legs. Carefully, the stunned young man pulls her into his lap, oblivious to the gashes on her back, almost breaking down into sobs because she doesn't even flinch when he touches her. "She's so cold..." He whispers, tenderly cradling her battered, colorless face in his palm as his eyes water, "We... We walked right by her..."

Lost, he looks to his brother, who has knelt down to take Izzy's pulse from her frail neck. Myron may be the older twin, but Mac has always been the smarter one, the leader, and he always knows what to do. "M-Mac?" The boy asks in a frightened stutter, glad that his near mirror-image understands the plea, and instructs evenly, "She's alive. Take her inside." Like a zombie, the stunned youth carries out the command, carefully carries Izzy's stiff, frozen body into the warmth of the pub.

"Holy shite," The gray-haired old man grunts, running out from behind the bar as he sees Myron enter holding the unconscious girl, "Where was she?"

"Just outside the door," Mac says, "My, go sit with her by the fire. Hold her against your chest, inside your jacket, and try to get her to wake up. Be very gentle." He turns back to the bartender, "Sir, we would really appreciate some blankets, and the use of an owl, so we can write the school, to get our nurse to her as quickly as possible."

"Ya," The man mutters, his gaze following Myron as the boy sits down beside the dying fire, Cale immediately stoking the embers into a roaring blaze, "Of course. I tried to stop her from going out... didn't know they were hurting her... it just gets so busy... can't keep track of everyone, ya know..."

After Mac and the bartender leave, Bill helps Charlie drag himself in from the steps. The boy tries to deposit his weak and battered brother beside the fire, but Myron, never taking his eyes off of Izzy's pale blue face or bringing his voice above the tender whisper he's been using to coax her into waking, immediately threatens, "If you want that to live, don't put it anywhere near me." Thinking it unwise to argue with his friend while he's in his current condition, Bill moves Charlie to the other side of the room.

"Toothpick," Myron coos gently, hugging Izzy's body inside his jacket as he rocks her, rubbing her waxy, frozen skin, and almost sobbing as he brushes ice crystals off her bruised, bloody cheeks, "Toothpick, it's My. Wake up. You're safe now. Just wake up, please wake up..."

For a long time, Myron's efforts continue, but in vain. The girl in his arms remains motionless, ice-cold, and barely breathing. It's a tense, desperate, uncertain time. They all know that there is a chance that she won't make it, and that common fear has all their hearts feeling just as frozen as the girl's little body.

Mac returns, carrying an armful of blankets and reporting that he's owled the school as he once again checks Izzy's pulse. With a relieved but still concerned sigh, he informs his brother, "She's getting a little better, but we need to get her out of the wet clothes."

"Are you kidding?" Cale cuts in, "She'll flip! She has a thing about being touched anyways, plus she was almost just raped!" The blonde boy pauses to glare at Charlie before continuing, "When she wakes up..."

"She's severely hypothermic," Mac snaps, cutting off the argument, "If we don't get her warm, she won't wake up."

"What about a drying charm?" Bill suggests, also wary of the proposed plan of action, "Kid's right. She'll freak out."

Sighing, Mac explains, "We can't use any magic on her! Her heart will be extremely sensitive, and anything that makes it beat any faster could flood cold blood from her limbs into it. She's weak. It would be enough to stop her heart."

Myron makes a slight whimpering noise, and his twin puts a soothing hand on his shoulder, continuing, "The best way to warm her up, is to put someone else's skin against hers. That means we have to get at least most of her clothes off. I know it seems weird, but it could mean the different between her living and dying."

"Give me a blanket then," Myron says, resigned to doing whatever is necessary to save the girl, even if she never talks to him again, "I'll do it, but I'm keeping her covered.

Mac nods, handing over the mangy scrap of flannel he got from the bartender, "Good plan."

xxXxx

Ever since she drifted into the comforting blackness that's surrounding her, Izzy Cooper has had no real desire to fight her way out. It's nice here, where she doesn't have to think, or feel, or remember, and she's decided that it wouldn't be a terrible place to stay.

Voices call for her, urging her out, to fight, to wake, to open her eyes, but she doesn't want to listen. It's too hard, too hard to fight, to wake, to open her eyes, to live her life. She tries to tell them, tries to make them understand that she's happy where she is, that it doesn't hurt, and it's not scary at all, but they won't listen. And then, before she knows it, she's being pulled from soothing, dark nothingness, hurled violently back into reality, to stabbing cold, to blinding light, to crippling fear, to mental anguish that will never, ever go away...

The first thing she realizes, is that she's naked, and that someone else's bare skin is all pressed against hers. Tensing immediately, she tries to scream and fight him off, but raw vocal cords don't permit anything besides a ragged, strangled shriek. Her limbs feel heavy, shivering violently and unwilling to obey when she wills them to punch, and kick, and fight.

"Shhh," She hears, the voice soothing her as it's owner holds her tighter, more searing hot skin making her own prickle with waves of burning cold needles, "Toothpick, you have to stay still. You're safe now, I promise."

Still quite drunk, it takes a moment for her to figure out who's talking, and then her response is a slurred, frantic, "M-My? My, lemme go!"

"Sweetie," He answers kindly as he cradles her against his bare chest, rocking her through body wracking shakes, "You're sick from the cold. I have to hold you until you get warmed up. You'll feel better, I promise. I'm not gonna do anything but warm you up."

"NO!!" She argues, unable to stop herself from breaking down into tears as she struggles to get free, the pain and fear too much for her, "No, no, no! Lemme go! Please, lemme go!"

Myron holds her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head as he hums to calm the frightened little girl, responding quietly, "I'm sorry. I can't." The boy is grateful that he has his back to the others in the room because when Izzy starts sobbing, so does he.

She writhes against him, but her meager strength fades quickly, leaving her with barely enough energy to whimper, and plead, "S-Stop... Please, stop... I-It hurts... I don't want to..." She begins to hyperventilate, her eyes rolling back into her head as her consciousness tries to retreat within itself.

"Toothpick, no," Myron demands, shaking her lightly, but forcefully, "No, you have to stay awake. Stay awake. Talk to me, cry, scream if you want to, but you can't sleep."

Despite the fact that it's the last thing she wants to do, Izzy listens, crying so hard that she starts to hiccup and choke, beating her small fists against Myron's chest as she does her best to kick, and struggle, and free herself.

Cale, and Mac, and Bill, and Charlie look on silently while Myron tries to comfort Izzy, rocking the small girl, whispering soothing words, and even singing for a bit. All their hearts are breaking as she merely cries in his arms, futilely fighting the boy trying to save her life, begging him to let her go, to please stop touching her.

Unable to watch the tragic display any longer, Bill turns to his brother, glaring until the other redhead hangs his head in shame. "Are you happy now?" The eldest Weasley hisses, very clear about how completely Charlie is to blame for this situation, "Did you get what you wanted?"

Not bothering to look up, the boy shakes his head, ashamed.

xxXxx

The next morning, a hundred different versions of the same distorted rumor are circulating through the Hogwarts student body as its members prepare to leave for Christmas vacation.

By the time one of such rumors manages to make it the outside of the hospital wing, just within earshot of the distraught and severely sleep deprived Mac Wallace, it sounds something like, "Did you hear? Charlie Weasley and Izzy Cooper have been sleeping together for months! He broke up with her last night, and she got drunk and tried to kill herself!"

Unable to contain his frustration and rage any longer, the tall boy is in the hallway and towering over a pair of Hufflepuffs within just seconds. "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE AND STOP SPREADING LIES!!!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, making the two unfortunate girls jump and flee, chattering back and forth about what a lunatic he is even before they're out of earshot. Sighing in frustration, Mac leans against a wall, letting himself slide slowly down to grasp his head in his shaking hands.

Myron managed to keep Izzy awake and warm while they waited out the hours it took for Madame Pomfrey to arrange a safe way to transport her to the school. The little girl fought though, as hard as she could in her weakened state, and Mac knows that he's never going to forget how utterly terrified she sounded as she sobbed into his twin's unwanted embrace, how she drunkenly pleaded with him to stop touching her, how she kept deliriously lapsing into dialogue that didn't make sense, crying that she didn't want to play the 'special game'...

"...S-Stop. Please. I don't want to. Please. Please. I-It hurts too much..."

Mac is a smart young man. He's always suspected that Izzy was abused. Listening to her last night confirmed those suspicions, and his heart aches for the little girl.

Almost as soon as she was brought into the hospital wing, just when they all thought that everything would be finally be alright, Izzy had a massive seizure. Charlie put enough liquor in the drinks he was feeding her to give her alcohol poisoning. Being frozen slowed down her metabolism so much that the effects didn't start to show until hours later, and by then it was too late. Ironically, Myron warming her was what caused the poison to finally be released into her system.

And now she won't wake up.

And it's not certain if she's going to at all.

Madame Pomfrey has been frantically trying to heal Izzy's frail body, trying to counteract tissue and heart damage from having been exposed to the cold, as well as a yet unknown amount of brain death from the seizure. If Pomfrey can't figure out how to undo the severe damage, Izzy could very well die.

"Hey," Mac hears, not bothering to pick his head up as a body slides down the wall to sit beside him. From the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of red, and instantly knows that it's Bill. Charlie has been with Dumbledore since the majority of his injuries were healed. Besides, he may be an idiot, but the boy is smart enough to know that if he comes within three feet of either of them, he's going to be mauled to death by a Wallace twin.

"Hey," Mac responds wearily, "How is she?" Bill sighs, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall and gravely reports, "No change."

A long silence ensues, broken when Bill stutters, "How... How could he do that do her?" It's been on the redhead's mind since he realized what his little brother had done, the cruelty he's capable of. He doesn't want to believe that Charlie is a monster, but there's little way around that conclusion now, here in the aftermath.

"I don't know," Mac responds weakly, "I really don't." Bill doesn't know either, and isn't sure that he wants to. He isn't sure of anything anymore, not even if he'll ever be able to look his little brother in the eyes ever again.

xxXxx

Christmas Eve at the Burrow has never been as tense and depressing as it is this year. Even the younger children know something is wrong. Ginny cried the first time she saw the mess left of Charlie's face, and the twins haven't dared play a single prank on Bill, seeming genuinely afraid of the dark mood he's in.

It's been almost a week since her seizure, and Izzy still hasn't woken up. Charlie was sent home on the train with the other students, but Bill and the Wallace's were allowed to stay at school, just sitting around in the hospital wing and praying for Izzy to open her eyes. However, the boys were all summoned home for Christmas Eve with their families. Myron had to be dragged off by his mother, literally kicking and screaming as the woman pried him from the vigil he'd been keeping over Izzy that entire week, barely eating or sleeping as he waited for the girl to wake. They're going back tomorrow, but being away is hard. They all really want to be there when she wakes up.

Because he can't quite handle it at the moment, Bill stubbornly blocks out the negative voice inside his head that chimes quietly, "If she wakes up..."

Cale is still by her side, his parents not caring enough to want him home for the holiday, and he promised the other three boys frequent updates on Izzy's condition, which he's been delivering dutifully. Still, Bill feels awful, and he's been brooding quietly beside the tree ever since he arrived home. He should've gone to bed hours ago, like the rest of his siblings, but he can't find the will to drag himself all the way upstairs just to have to share a room with Charlie. He hasn't spoken to, or really even acknowledged his brother yet, and isn't sure that he wants to.

"Bill, dear," His mother coos worriedly as she leans over him, stroking his head, and, just because she can see how upset he is, holding back the request for him to let her cut his hair, "Do you want to talk about what happened? About the little girl? All Dumbledore would tell us was that there had been an accident... and that your brother caused it..."

Bitterly, the hunched boy bites back, "Why don't you ask Charlie?" In an instant, the soothing touch that he hadn't even realized was soothing is gone. His mother stands straight, hands on hips and face stern as she scolds, "William Arthur Weasley, I don't care how worried you are about your friend, don't you take that tone with me!"

His head hangs lower, and he sighs sadly, "Sorry, Mum. I didn't mean anything by it. I just... can't right now, ok?" She smiles kindly at him once more, tenderly cupping his face in her hands before giving him a kiss on the forehead as she answers, "Yes, dear. I understand. Whenever you're ready." She leaves him then, walking slowly up the stairs, stopping just out of his sightline to call back, "Don't stay up too late."

Alone again, Bill lets out a loud groan. He feels helpless, and scared, and anxious, and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Bill?" He hears a soft voice inquire some time later. The young man picks his head up and tries to smile warmly, though it comes out rather forced, "Hey, Perce. What're you doing up?"

His little brother sniffs sadly, rubbing watery blue eyes behind smudged glasses as he walks cautiously forward in too small pajamas that once belonged to Bill, and then Charlie. The boy looks awful, almost on the verge of tears, and Bill is instantly concerned.

"What's wrong?" He asks, letting his arm fall around Percy's bony shoulders as his little brother sits beside him.

"It was about the book, wasn't it?" He asks quietly, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap, "I know it was, but Charlie wouldn't tell me." Bill frowns, confused, "Huh?"

"Whatever Charlie did to Izzy," The curly-haired youngster clarifies sadly, "It was about the book. I know it."

After thinking for a moment, Bill answers, "Well, I remember Charlie being mad about a book a few days before it happened..." Trailing off, something clicks in his head, and he asks Percy, as calm as he can force himself to be, "Why? What do you know about it?"

"Izzy didn't steal the book," The boy reports, his head hung low, "It was me. I had it, and Nestor Aubrey took it because I bumped into him, and I got scared that Charlie was gonna be mad. Izzy found out, and said that she would get it back for me, and she did, but that's when Charlie came over, and he thought she stole it, and he yelled at her a lot. I'm sorry. It was my fault."

The events leading up to the catastrophe suddenly make sense to Bill, what finally set off the culmination of the feud Charlie was having with Izzy, why Nestor attacked her...

"Well," He growls through clenched teeth, still trying to remain calm because Percy doesn't deserve to have Bill explode at him, "That was an awful thing you did. You shouldn't have let Izzy take the blame."

"I-I know," Percy responds, his head still hung low, "I didn't want to, and I told her so after. I told her I was gonna let Charlie know it was me, but she said not to, that it was better if he hated her because he already hated her, and it was better for brothers to get along because family is important, and nothing should ever come between them."

"Oh my god," Comes a voice from the bottom of the stairs. Charlie has been listening for long enough to feel even worse than he already did. She was telling the truth. She covered for his brother. She was trying to protect his family, because hers fell apart...

Bill glares, spitting venomously, "What do you want?" Pale, shaking, still aching all over from the beating that hasn't fully healed, and suddenly sick to his stomach, Charlie says softly, "I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean for any of this to happen... I'm so sorry."

"It's not me you should be apologizing to!" His brother shouts, angry again, jumping to his feet and stomping to stand before Charlie, barely resisting the urge to slap the boy, "You should be apologizing to Izzy, for torturing her for years, for accusing her of things she didn't do, for tricking her, and betraying her, and putting her in danger, and hurting her, and making it possible for that predator to violate her! But, you know what, even if I actually still believed you're capable of feeling remorse, you can't apologize! And you might never be able to! She might never wake up! She might die! Do you realize what you've done?"

And then the room is deathly quiet, an eerie occurrence in a place as normally happy and alive as the Burrow. Charlie is breathing hard, his shoulders shaking as he struggles to find the courage to look his brother in the eyes because he knows everything the young man just said is absolutely true.

Immediately, Bill regrets what he said, as true as it may be. He's never really seen Charlie cry before, and instantly understands that the boy does realize what he's done, that he does realize what he let his anger and hatred turn him into, and, most importantly, that he doesn't like it, that he really is sorry for letting it happen.

"I-I wasn't trying to hurt her," Charlie chokes, not looking anywhere near fifteen-years-old as his blue eyes shine with tears, "She was really drunk, and kept asking me if we could go back, but I said no, and that I wanted to know why she stole my book, and she denied it. So I asked her about my wand, and she got all upset, but then asked if I really wanted to know, and I said yes because I've been wondering about it forever. And, she started telling me all about her life! Bill, why didn't you say anything before? If I knew what happened to her I would've left her alone!!"

Gently, Bill informs, "Not that it should've made a difference to how you treated her, but I don't know anything about her life before Hogwarts. She's never told any of us... I can't believe she told you..."

With a bitter laugh, Charlie sinks to his knees, holding his head in his hands as he sobs, "I can't believe it either... She shouldn't have told me... I spent all those years torturing her, and she'd already been through so much... What did I do?"

And then Bill is on the floor beside his brother, wrapping his arms around the boy and hugging him tightly, watching in silence as Charlie weeps his twisted guilt and grief into a worn, red Weasley jumper.

xxXxx

Cale Eyret is definitely not used to merry Christmases. His parents never want him home, and he always spends his break lurking around Hogwarts with nothing but house-elves and a few professors to keep him company. The lanky blonde is lucky when he even has presents to open.

But, no matter how disappointing Christmas usually is, none of the previous years' empty holidays can even remotely compare to this one. Cale would much rather be forgotten and alone than be keeping a deathwatch over the girl he thinks could possibly the sweetest, kindest, loveliest person on earth.

He can barely look at her pale skin, her battered face, her bite covered neck without wanting to scream. It's just not fair. Izzy doesn't deserve any of this. She doesn't deserve spending her Christmas lying motionless in a cot, her body skeletal and frail as she's forced to flirt with death.

"Mr. Eyret," He hears, sighing as he turns to find Madame Pomfrey walking over, giving him a sympathetic half-smile as she continues, "It's Christmas Eve, and it's very late. Perhaps you should try to get some sleep?"

"No," The boy replies, groggily rubbing at his bloodshot brown eyes, "I'm fine. I promised Myron I wouldn't leave, and I want to be here if she wakes up."

The nurse puts one hand on his shoulder, trying to be supportive and understanding as she reports, "Dear, I'm sorry, but there's a good chance she's never going to wake up. My scans haven't picked up any brain activity for the last several days, and there's only so much I can do for her. No cures exist for brain death."

"Not true, Poppy," Both the boy and nurse jump, looking up to find Professor Snape standing in the doorway, one thin, bubbling vial of deep red liquid clenched tightly in his hands. With a wry smile, he walks farther into the room, his voice notably exhausted as he explains, "Through magic, anything can be cured. It is just a matter of being knowledgeable and dedicated enough to discover how."

The man has dark circles under his cold eyes; his skin is waxier, and his hair much greasier than usual. He's been working nonstop for a week, and now he's finally done it. He's finally concocted a cure for Izzy.

"Forgive me for taking such a long time with this," He says, making it unclear whether he's talking to Cale and Pomfrey, or Izzy as he delicately peels down the girl's cracked and swollen bottom lip, tipping the concoction into her open mouth, "It took me several days to work out the correct formula, and then I had to wait several more for a rare ingredient to arrive."

"She's gonna be ok?" Cale asks hopefully, his hands twitching as he anticipates being able to write the other boys with good news for once. Snape gives him a tired smile. He's been an absolute wreck since he heard what happened to Izzy. He's never forgotten what he saw in her mind just a few short years ago, and he's always had a soft spot for the shy little girl. After everything she's been through, he just wants her to be safe, and happy, and that is why he worked his arse off in order to save her life.

With an exhausted sigh, the Potions Master reports, "That is my hope, but we won't know until tomorrow morning. Let us pray for a miracle."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dun. Dun. DUUUUUUN.

Reviews are like candy: I like them a whole fucking lot. ;P