Part 9 - Absolution

"Did you know that she has a brother?" It's Christmas morning at the Burrow, in that quiet limbo between the sun rising and the Weasleys waking to storm the tree.

However, two members of the family are already up: Bill and Charlie. They never went to sleep. Percy is passed out between them on the old couch, matted head of curly red hair on Charlie's knee, and gangly legs across Bill's lap, but the two eldest boys were not quite as lucky as their little brother.

They stayed up all night, talking a little, but mostly just sitting in the stillness, comforted by each other's presences while they mulled over their thoughts in silence.

Tiredly, Bill blinks over at his brother, trying not to disturb Percy as he asks, "Huh?"

"Izzy," Charlie clarifies, staring at his distorted reflection in a brilliant blue Christmas ornament hanging from the tree, "Did you know that she has a brother?"

"No," Bill says with a frown, "She does?"

"Ya," Charlie replies, still distracted and pensive, reaching out to just barely touch the warped version of himself on the lustrous surface of the decorative ball, "An older brother. She told me his name was Jordy, or Jordan, or something like that."

They spend a few more moments in silence, listening intently to the sounds of their old home groaning and creaking under the strain of staying standing. "She never mentioned him," Bill muses, watching Charlie stare down the twisted version of himself, glaring at the deformed reflection like he thinks it's the real him.

"He hit her, and he left her," The boy reports blankly, disgustedly turning away from the ornament and instead turning his gaze onto his older brother, "But she still loves him... why?"

Bill sighs, scratching at his long, slightly tangled hair as he scolds, "First of all, anything she told you, don't tell anyone else. They're not your secrets to be sharing."

At a guilty nod from Charlie, Bill continues, "Second, I think you know why she still loves her brother."

"Because he's her brother..." The boy mutters weakly, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he subconsciously rests a hand on top of Percy's head, running blunt fingertips through unnaturally soft curls.

Thundering footsteps on the stairs give way to an elated chorus of, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!!"

"Presents!!" Ginny cries happily, riding one twin as the other takes a flying leap onto the couch, landing hard on Percy, making him yelp grumpily as he attempts to fight his way out from under the giggling mass of pale, freckled flesh.

Ron hops recklessly to the bottom of the steps, clutching at his mother's hand as she struggles to keep him from falling down. "Can we open presents, Mummy?" He asks, the little seven-year-old so excited that he's practically twitching.

"Of course," The woman chuckles, her broad, kind face splitting into an affectionate grin. Mr. Weasley stumbles up behind her a few seconds later, yawning hugely and fumbling with the tie on his threadbare, blue bathrobe as he comments, "You know, those presents will still be there at around, say, noonish."

Mrs. Weasley swats Ron on the behind as he dives into a pile of packages, chuckling, "Arthur, you know very well that it's not really Christmas until the children wake us at an ungodly hour."

The man smiles tiredly, sweetly giving his wife a peck on the mouth as he agrees, "Quite right, dear. How could I have forgotten?"

"Heavens, did you sleep down here last night?" Their mother shrieks as she notices Bill and Charlie still on the couch. At her scandalized expression, Bill grins, "Of course not. We didn't sleep."

Charlie puts on a weak smile, the first on that's been on his face in quite awhile, and, winking at Ginny with his least swollen eye, he comments, "We were trying to catch Santa Claus, but the slippery bastard got away again. For a fat guy, he sure is fast."

Though his baby sister giggles, his mother is not amused, glaring as she scolds, "Language!" Quite happy that Ginny no longer seems to be afraid of the horrible condition his face is in, Charlie just smiles, his split lip stretching painfully as he chimes, "Sorry, Mum."

A sickening SMACK from the kitchen immediately has Bill on his feet, dumping Percy and whichever twin was refusing to get off of him onto the floor as he shouts, "That'll be for me!"

"Izzy..." Charlie gasps, realizing that the sound must've been an owl hitting the window, and that it must have a letter with another update on the girl's condition. He also leaps to his feet, nearly tripping over his two brothers wrestling on the floor as he sprints after Bill.

In the kitchen, Bill already has the parchment unrolled, and is being pecked by an unhappy owl as he hurriedly scans it for information. Incredibly impatient, Charlie tries to read over his shoulder, only to be pushed away.

With a relieved sigh, Bill picks his head up and smiles.

xxXxx

"How... How do you feel?" Cale asks, a huge grin on his face as he bounces on the balls of his feet, nervous, excited energy coursing through his lanky body.

Barely having been awake for a full minute, Izzy groans, rubbing her head and attempting to push herself up, only to find that her arms are too weak and shaky to manage it. "Like I got hit by a train," She mumbles in a low rasp, flopping back into the bed and wincing as her swollen lip burns from the act of speaking. After gingerly letting her hands run over the damage on her aching face, and neck, and stomach, she asks softly, "What happened to me?"

"You mean you don't remember?" The blonde boy asks, unsettled and definitely not wanting to be the one to have to remind her of the horrible ordeal she went through.

Izzy thinks hard, screwing up her features in concentration as she reports slowly, "Well... I remember talking to you... and... Charlie Weasley..."

Her eyes go wide as everything comes flooding back, how she was drinking, how she started feeling funny, how she spilled her guts to the redhead, how she was cornered by that group of men, and...

"Oh my god," She gasps, curling into a ball and squeezing her eyes shut against nausea as she remembers the hands all over her body, the obscenities whispered into her ear, almost being dragged into that room and raped yet again...

"Shhh," Cale calms kneeling down beside her, trying to stroke her hair in a comforting way, but pulling back the second she whimpers at his touch, "It's ok, you're safe now. You fought him off. He didn't... You kicked him in the balls, Iz, and you got away... You're gonna be alright."

The girl feels filthy and violated from the attack, but, even more than that, she feels betrayed by what Charlie Weasley did. He lied to her, and she trusted him, she let herself be tricked, and now she has to relive the pain of her childhood all over again.

She feels like an idiot for ever believing that he wanted to be her friend.

"Cale," The girl whimpers, turning her back on the blonde boy, not wanting him to see her cry, to see her so weak and pathetic, "I know you're trying to help, but could you... leave me alone for awhile?"

"Oh, um," He replies, slightly taken aback, "Sure. Ya. I'll just go... uh... let Madame Pomfrey know that you're up, and owl Mac and Myron. And Bill, too." He doesn't want to leave her, but he also doesn't want to force her to let him stay.

"Thank you," She says, listening until she hears the door close behind him, and then completely breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably into her pillow.

xxXxx

"Hi, Myron," Izzy says, directing a shy smile at the boy standing uncertainly at the other side of the hospital wing. It's late, and he and his brother just arrived, but while Mac practically bounded into the room with a huge, relieved grin on his face, Myron is just hanging out in the doorway.

He can't even describe how happy he was when he got the letter saying that his little Toothpick was awake, that she would make a full recovery, but he's not sure if she's going to ever want to speak to him again after what he did. He doesn't regret his actions for a minute, especially since they saved her life, but the boy doesn't want her to hate him for it. He couldn't handle saving her only to lose her again.

"Hey, Toothpick," He replies, grinning despite his anxiety, "Feeling better?" With her frail body propped up by mountains of pillows in the hospital cot, the girl sends him a bright, only slightly pained smile as she replies, "Yes, thank you."

After a few moments of tense silence, Izzy waves for the boy to come into the room, joking sweetly, "For Merlin's sake, My, get your butt over here. I know my face looks terrible, but it can't be that scary."

"Toothpick," He replies with a jovial, relieved laugh, crossing the length of the infirmary in only three long strides, "The only time you're even remotely scary is when you stop breathing on me!"

"My!" She shrieks, her voice still raw and scratchy as she scolds with a giggle, "That's not funny! I almost died!"

"You don't have to remind me, I was there," He replies, grinning as he sits down in the vast area of empty space on her bed, sounding up beat but completely serious as he demands with a wagging finger, "Don't you ever stop your heart on me again!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," She quips back, smirking, "I don't really fancy waking up in another naked bear hug." Myron chuckles uncomfortably, turning red as he self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah, sorry about that, Toothpick, but I wasn't about to let you freeze to death."

"Don't be sorry," Izzy replies, yawning tiredly but smiling anyways, "You saved my life. Thank you."

Myron grins, unable to stop as he watches the girl's eyelids slowly drooping, "Not a problem. Now, get some sleep."

"But 'M not tired," She slurs, already half unconscious as she snuggles into her blankets, "And it's Christmas. I haven't gotten anyone presents yet."

"Worry about it tomorrow," Mac says, smiling as he returns from talking to Madame Pomfrey, "You need your rest."

"Ya," Cale agrees, sprawled out in the next cot, "And so do I."

Izzy hums an agreement, content in her physical safety as she lets her mind slip into the terrifying realm of depression and nightmares.

xxXxx

"Jordy, isn't your sister just the prettiest little thing in the world?" Uncle Richie asks, winking at the hunched toddler from across the dinner table. Her hands are shaking so badly that she can't eat, not that the nausea she's feeling would allow her to anyways. The way her uncle looks at her makes it too hard to block out what he did to her just hours ago.

Jordy, thinking nothing of the comment, grins widely, reaching out to ruffle his baby sister's hair as he agrees, "Of course she is! Izzy's perfect!"

"Ah! Don't!" The girl whimpers, shrinking away from her brother's touch, sending her plate crashing to the floor and clumsily knocking over her chair as she runs crying from the room.

"Izzy!" She hears Jordy call after her, sounding worried and confused. However, before he can get up from his seat, Uncle Richie stops him, stating, "It's ok, Jor. Stay and finish eating. I'll see what's wrong with her." Sobbing, the little girl desperately flees, struggling up the stairs to her room. She dives under her bed, curling her small body against the wall in an attempt to hide.

The footsteps coming up the staircase are loud, and slow, and calm, and she tries to keep her whimpers quiet. A groaning squeak and then a click, the sounds of the doorknob spinning, are painfully loud, and chillingly ominous, especially when the door gently closes a few seconds later.

"Isabel," He says, his voice deep and almost kind, "Isabel, that was a very bad thing you did at dinner. Good girls don't behave like that."

She's trying so hard to quiet her crying that it hurts, her lungs aching and her head spinning, and Uncle Richie goes on, "My good little Isabel doesn't behave like that. Understand?"

She prays for him to just go away, to leave her alone, but he stays, and she knows that there is no God. At two, Isabel Cooper already knows that there is no God. But she can feel the blonde demon's anger simmering in the silent absence of her response. "Answer me, Isabel!" He demands gruffly.

And then his hand closes over her ankle, and she's pulled out from under the bed. She's pressed back on the lace and ruffle covered mattress, his hand over her mouth so fast that she doesn't even get a chance to scream, sobbing and struggling and shaking, already having clothing ruthlessly torn from her small body. The little girl sees his grin and her blood runs cold, already bracing herself for what's about to come as he coos, "I'll show you what happens to bad girls..."

xxXxx

"NO!" Izzy shrieks, forcing her mind from her nightmare and back into her cold, aching body. Breathing hard, she glances around the dark Gryffindor common room, calming herself by looking over at Myron's body spread out on the floor in front of the couch she's on, trying to get her breathing to match the sleeping boy's slow, relaxed rhythm. On another couch across from hers, Cale groggily mumbles a rather colorful string of swear words directed at dehydrated carrots. Mac, passed out in an armchair with the book he was reading open across his chest, grunts in reply.

She takes comfort from the fact that the boys have barely left her side since she woke up; Mac and Cale even sweet-talked their way into the Gryffindor common room against school rules. It feels nice to know that they're there watching out for her, that they actually care about her, but that doesn't stop the nightmares.

Four weeks have passed since Izzy was attacked, two since she was allowed to leave the hospital wing, and, while her face is still dominated by a deep purple bruise, the hickies and bite marks on her neck aren't quite faded, and she can't manage to ever get warm, the girl is slowly on the road to recovery. The potion Snape gave her, the composition of which she delighted in discussing with her favorite professor, has healed the injuries to her brain, and the dozens of cures she has to drink daily, courtesy of Madame Pomfrey, are taking care of the rest of her battered body.

But that doesn't help with the nightmares. They've only been getting worse.

As much as she likes having her friends with her, likes knowing that they care, having them around all the time makes it extremely difficult for her to be able to act as depressed as she feels. She may smile and joke, but, on the inside, she's still curled in a dark corner, crying her eyes out, and has no real hope for ever being able to stop.

"Boo," She suddenly hears from behind, making her jump, turning to find that it's just Bill. "Bloody hell!" She swears at the boy, who's grinning mischievously from having snuck up on her, "Don't do that!"

"Sorry," He laughs, jumping over the back of the couch while managing to juggle two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. After presenting one to Izzy, he arches an eyebrow and asks, "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Shouldn't you be at home?" The girl counters, mocking him by mimicking his expression, "Really, Bill, I appreciate that you guys all want to stay with me, but you should've spent the holiday with your families."

"Meh," He replies with a shrug, "Too late for that now. Break's over tomorrow."

"I know," She says, warming her hands against the sides of the mug as she watches Bill drain his in several large gulps. She looks away, her downcast gaze settling on the thick treat that she doesn't have the stomach for, "But you still should've spent time at home. Don't your little brothers and sister miss you?"

"Ya, they do," He tells her, resisting the urge to ask the girl about her own brother as he goes on, "But they understand. You're sick, and I wanted to be here to make you feel better."

Izzy blushes, gently pretending to sip her drink, inhaling the steam instead as she replies, "Well, as much as I think you shouldn't have stayed, thanks."

"Not a problem," Bill answers with a grin, "After all, it was my git of a brother who got you into this mess."

At the mention of Charlie, Izzy visibly tenses. She's not quite sure how she feels about that particular boy. Bill has told her several times how sorry Charlie is for what he did, but she just can't bring herself to care. She's worried because it's not like her to not care. Tomorrow, he'll be coming back to school with the others, and she doesn't know how she's going to react to him.

"You're not responsible for what he did," She tells Bill, snuggling into her heavy quilt in an attempt to chase the stubborn chill from her body. Silently, she concentrates on warming her hands against the untouched drink, staring ahead thoughtfully.

"Nestor's not coming back," Bill tells her a few minutes later, smiling softly at the good news, "I know you were kind of worried, after his father getting him off with nothing but community service and that stupid anti-violence class, but I ran into Dumbledore, and he told me the bastard's expelled."

"That's good," Izzy remarks with a distracted nod, "I hope he gets better."

"Gets better?" Bill asks, confused, "What does he need to get better from? He's scum. End of story."

The girl shrugs, tiredly remarking, "People who do the kinds of things he did are ill... I feel sorry for him." The redhead across from her shakes his head in disbelief, commenting, "Sometimes, I think you're too nice for your own good."

xxXxx

"Mate, don't take this the wrong way," Ahmad remarks flatly as soon as the compartment door closes behind him and his friends, "But your eye is the grossest thing I have ever seen."

Over the break, Charlie's injuries mostly healed, but his many crushed ribs still ache when he moves wrong, and his face is still one large, yellowing bruise, his left eye swollen almost completely shut. Magic is helping his body mend much quicker than it normally would on its own, but, due to the extent of the damage, the process is not exactly instantaneous.

Virgil snickers as the redhead frowns at Ahmad's comment, remarking himself, "Ya, seriously. You look like someone took a shovel to your head. I still can't believe how badly you fucked up that half-arsed plan of yours... heard Cooper almost died."

"She did," Charlie grumbles, throwing himself in the seat by the window, "More than once." He's not sure if he's happy to be going back to Hogwarts. On the one hand, he's thrilled to escape his mum's constant nagging and fretting about his face, his sour mood, and the truth about what happened between him and Izzy. However, a punishment is waiting for him at school. He'll be kicked off the quidditch team for the remainder of the year, and he's going to be serving detentions with Snape three times a week until June. Though the boy knows it's far less than he deserves, he's not exactly looking forward it. Plus, Dumbledore hinted at some other aspect of his punishment, and the twinkle in the old man's eye made Charlie very nervous.

There's also Bill, and the Wallace twins, who are all at Hogwarts, having spent the remainder of the break there with Izzy. He's going to have to face all of them. While he knows Bill is still angry, but will eventually forgive him, and the Wallace's will scream, and try to kill him, he has no idea what Izzy will do.

He wants to apologize, but can't think of what to say after what he did, and isn't even sure how she's going to respond. Will she ignore him? Yell at him? Cry? Charlie desperately hopes to never have to witness her cry ever again, let alone be the cause of it...

"Told you to leave her alone," Virgil taunts brightly, watching with morbid fascination as Ahmad takes off his shoes and socks, and sticks his bare feet out the window of the moving train.

"Ya," The dark-skinned boy agrees, letting his toes flex in the frigid wind, putting his hands behind his head of black hair as he lays down across the entire seat, "But you know what they say about Charlie: He's stupid."

"OY!" The young man in question protests indignantly, throwing a chocolate frog at his giggling friend. Virgil snickers, scolding sarcastically, "Is that anyway to talk about one of your best mates?"

Ahmad raises an eyebrow in speculation, looking like he's thinking very hard before he offers, "Ok... stupid, but pretty?"

"You did not just call me pretty," Charlie growls, used to his friend's strange sense of humor so not really that angry as he jumps on top of him, knocking the taller boy to the floor and engaging in a playful wrestling match while Virgil takes out a magazine, reclining lazily, completely ignoring the rough-housing teens at his feet. Things seemed to be getting back to normal.

xxXxx

Tonks, sometimes absentminded to a fault, is so happy upon seeing Izzy seated between the Wallace twins at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall that she tackles the girl, crying hysterically while she hugs her friend for still being alive.

Izzy, far jumpier than usual, immediately starts shrieking at the top of her lungs, and flailing wildly in the embrace, and doesn't stop until Myron wrestles Tonks off of her. The metamorphamagus doesn't quite realize just how close she came to getting punched in the head.

"Sorry, Iz," The currently-raven-haired Ravenclaw apologizes a few minutes later, wiping delirious tears off her small face as she tries to laugh, "I'm just so happy to see you! When we left, they told us that you might not make it, and... I'm so glad you're ok!"

"Merlin, Nymphie," Margo teases, because it's in her Slytherin nature, but also because it's helping keep her from breaking down into tears herself, "Leave the poor girl alone! She already looks like she's been through hell, and doesn't need you blubbering all over her on top of that!"

"S-SOD OFF!!" Tonks shouts in reply, sniffling as Marie, being the kind soul that she is, allows the girl to cry onto her shoulder, giving Izzy a sweet smile.

Daisy laughs at the antics of her friends, pushing Bill and Cale aside in order to make a seat for herself right across from Izzy as she comments, "We're just really happy to see you, Iz. You are so not allowed to almost die ever again."

Much calmer now, the small girl laughs lightly, hugging her bony knees to her thin chest. Daisy wants to commit a few dozen homicides when she notices how Izzy is trying to hide her bruised face behind a veil of amber curls. That girl had enough self-esteem issues without a beating and attempted rape added to the mix..

"Hey, Iz," Daisy calls across the table, speaking softly, seriously, "After dinner, you and me, up in the dorms. I'll teach you a couple of glamours to use until your face gets better, ya?" With a weak smile, Izzy nods, quietly responding, 'Thanks."

"And from me, you're getting self-defense lessons, little miss!" Lark declares resolutely, blue eyes sparkling as she leaps up on her seat and begins demonstrating a few moves on the thin air, "Krav Magen is the official self-defense technique of the Israeli arm! It's really easy to learn, and even if someone's bigger and stronger than you are, you will so be able to beat their arse!"

"Take seat, crazy person!" Trinh laughs, grabbing the girl's skirt to keep it from flying up as she does a few high kicks, "You are flashing Hufflepuff table!" Sure enough, the four shyest boys in fourth year, Elias Deacon, Timmy Murphy, Toby Peregrin, and Julian York, are all staring, open mouthed and blushing like crazy. Lark waves coyly at them, giggling as she finally sits down, "Oops... Glad I remembered to wear knickers today..."

"You are such a tart!" Margo shrieks in amusement, taking a seat beside Mac. It seems house lines are being blurred tonight, as all four have represented themselves at the at front end of the Gryffindor table, coming together and breaking school rules in order to be with the good friend they all thought they had lost. The teachers have noticed, and none of them have the heart to split the children up.

xxXxx

At the far end of the same table, Charlie Weasley watches the happy scene taking place around little Izzy Cooper, and he feels like a horrible person for almost robbing her friends of her. He wants to talk to the girl, to apologize, but he knows if he goes over there now, while she's surrounded by all those people who hate him, he's going to get his arse severely kicked. Margo, Tonks, Daisy, Lark, Trinh, and, surprisingly, even sweet Marie told him as much when they cornered him getting off the train. The Wallace twins don't even have to say a word for him to know that they won't hesitate to tear him limb from limb if he ever gets anywhere near Izzy again.

Unfortunately, his conscience is not going to give him any peace until he tells her how sorry he is. It's eating him up. He can't sleep, he can't eat, he can barely function with the guilt weighing on him.

"Charlie, seriously, mate," Virgil speaking to him from across the table, as well as tossing a balled up piece of parchment at his head, manages to break him from his thoughts. The brunette gives him a calculating, worried stare as he remarks, "You're developing a bit of a creepy stalker vibe. Stop staring at the girl."

Charlie sighs, turning his gaze down into his empty plate, mumbling, "I just feel so fucking guilty! Did you see her face? That's my fault!"

Beside him, he feels Ahmad shrug, commenting, "You're not the one who hit her, so just say sorry for being an arse and you can both move on."

"Ya," Charlie says, the slightly foolish bravery he's notorious for already taking over his body. "Ya," He continues, pushing himself up, "That's exactly what I'll do. I gotta stop being a chicken, and just apologize."

xxXxx

Out of the corner of his eye, Bill sees his little brother walking towards the front end of the table. On the boy's face, he can immediately see the youngster's plan, and he's up out of his seat and running to head him off just as quickly.

"Charlie," He warns gruffly, "No. Leave her alone." The shorter boy looks sadly up at him, whispering, "I just want to say sorry."

Bill sighs, grabbing his brother by the arm and steering him away. He can see that Charlie has good intentions for this confrontation, but he just can't let it happen. "You can't go over there right now," He tells him sternly, "You need to give it time."

"Bill," The boy argues as he's dragged outside of the Great Hall, "I have to tell her how sorry I am! I haven't slept in weeks because I feel so horrible, and I don't think it'll stop until I talk to her! Please!"

The tall redhead can barely force back an angry growl, scolding shortly, "You are so egotistical! How can you possibly still be thinking of no one but yourself?"

Charlie remains silent, hanging his head in shame as his brother continues to go off on him, "Do you care at all that she's not sleeping? That she still cries when she thinks no one's watching? That she flinches whenever anyone mentions your name?"

Feeling ten times worse than he did when he started his attempted apology, Charlie mutters defeatedly, "I-I'm sorry... I just... I don't know what to do to make it better... what can I do?"

"For now," Bill tells him quietly, "Just leave her be. Let her heal, and then worry about earning forgiveness."

Charlie agrees with a soft, "Ok," but he's impatient, and impulsive, and can't help that he's already begun planning to disregard his brother's orders, using the information the older boy inadvertently revealed to do it.

xxXxx

A few minutes after midnight, all the other inhabitants of the fourth year girls' dormitory are asleep, and Izzy can finally slip out of her bed, abandoning her charade of a fitful doze. She creeps through the still darkness, reaching the stairs, and then the common room without so much as squeaking a floorboard. She never really liked sleep before, and it's been even worse lately. It's never restful, and always brings horrible memories, so she's been trying to avoid it whenever she can.

Silently, she pulls a thick blanket off one of the abandoned red couches, wrapping it around herself as she camps down in front of the fire and stokes the glowing embers into a roaring blaze. Although it's almost resulted in losing her eyebrows on more than one occasion, she curls up very close to the flames. The intense heat is just about the only thing she's found that will make the deep, dark chill in her body subside, at least temporarily.

It's been nice having her friends back, being able to surround herself with more people that care, but, at the same time, they've made her life even harder. It's hard to hide how deeply depressed she is, how much she just wants to give up on living. Also, the constant reminder that she would cause them all pain if she was gone makes her feel too guilty to do anything drastic, as much as she really wants to...

Tears slide down her bruised face, salt running into an open gash on her cheek, causing her to whimper when she feels the sharp sting of it burning her flesh. Even though it's painful, she continues to cry silently to herself by the fire, hurting so bad that she almost can't remember what sensations like good, and happy, and loved even feel like anymore.

That's where Charlie finds her a few minutes later, having purposely stayed awake in the hopes of catching her alone. She's too close to the flames, that's the first thing he notices as he stealthily creeps out from the shadowed corner of the common room he's been hiding in all night. A few footsteps closer to the girl, and he can see the tears on her face, fat, shining, crystalline and blood-like from the light of the fire.

Her full, split bottom lip is trembling as she stares into the blaze, hugging herself tightly, and she still hasn't noticed him. Her pajamas are too big, and her hair is too long, and she's too small, and pretty, and innocent to be looking so miserable and hopeless. He can't stand it. It's his fault...

He keeps his distance, not wanting to terrify her as he calls softly, "Izzy?"

She jumps in fright, nearly falling into the fire before she can catch herself and scramble away. "Get away from me," Is the first thing she manages to shout, surprising herself with the demand because she doesn't remember having thought it. It's automatic by now, and that fact is so depressing she just wants to scream.

Charlie has his hands up defensively, a pained look on his face as he takes a few steps back. "Sorry," He mutters, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Go away," The small girl orders, her voice growing hard and angry. She glares beyond her tears at the hazy blur of red hair and freckles standing in the opposite end of the room. Clumsily, she smudges the hot drops of salt off her cheeks, biting back a whimper when she presses too hard on her bruises and scrapes.

"Look," Charlie begins lamely, scratching his head as stares at his feet and tries to remember the apology he's been rehearsing for the past several weeks, "I-I'm sorry... for what I did... I never meant for you to get hurt... it was really, really stupid... and... um..."

He trails off hopelessly, waiting for some reaction from Izzy, anything at all to indicate that the horrible pain he caused her hasn't completely broken the small girl.

But she just glares at him, tears running in long streaks down her sweet little face much faster than she can manage to brush them away. Uncomfortable, guilty, at a loss for what to say to make things better, Charlie settles for a soft, "I'm sorry."

"Fine," She whispers back, sniffling and hugging the blanket tighter around her bony shoulders, "You're sorry. Good to know. Now leave me alone."

"But... um..." Charlie falters, not satisfied with the response, unwilling to go upstairs knowing that Izzy will still be down in the common room, alone and crying, "Are... are you... ok?"

"Just go" The girl demands, unable to physically stand Charlie's presence for any longer. She thinks she might hate him. She's never hated anyone in her entire life, not Nestor Aubrey, who she pities, or even her uncle Richie, who she just fears. What Charlie did is somehow worse than what anyone else has ever done to her. She trusted him, and he tricked her into spilling her deepest, darkest secret before making her relive it. He was cruel, and malicious, and she really, truly hates him.

She's scared to feel so much anger and loathing towards another human being. She's always thought hate was like poison, and now she knows for sure.

"Please, just..." Charlie begs, cursing himself for not being as good with words as Bill is, or as smart as Mac is, or as funny as Myron is, for not having the tools to fix this, "I know it was an awful thing that happened to you, but... I don't want you to keep being sad over it... what can I do to make you feel better?"

"There isn't anything you can do!" Izzy responds snappishly, almost falling over as she pushes herself to stand at her full, meager height, "I was sad long before I ever met you, and I'll still be sad long after you've forgotten I exist, so stop pretending you care, and just leave me alone!"

"I do too care!" Charlie insists stubbornly, knowing that his track record with the girl proves otherwise, but desperate to show her that it isn't true anymore, "I care that you're sad, and I know I can do something to make you feel better! I have to do something to help! Please, just let me!"

"Let you help me?" The distraught girl shrieks, taking a few steps closer to the redhead. He's bigger than her, more in terms of strength and bulk than height, but it suddenly doesn't matter because she's so angry. Fists clenched, she gets right in his face and yells, "I really think you've done enough, thanks, and I'm not about to go through anymore torture just so you don't have to feel guilty!"

Slightly surprised by her reaction, Charlie consciously has to keep himself from backing away from the shaking little fireball before him, stuttering hopelessly, "I-It's not like that..."

She breathes hard, thin chest heaving as her amber eyes spit flames and her wild curls fly around her tear-stained face. It's the tears that ruin her anger, that let Charlie know she's still hurting.

"It's exactly like that!" She insists, nails digging into her palms as her fists tighten, "You're still living in the fantasyland where sorry has some mystical power to make us both feel better, where you say it, and I accept it, and the world is all enchanted candy and golden snitches again! Well you know what? That's not how reality works! Here in the real world, in my world, the damage is done, and sorry doesn't fix anything! Sorry doesn't even mean anything! The past is over and done with, and nothing can change it, no matter how much you might want to! You're never going to really understand what you did because you didn't hurt you! You hurt me, and I'm the only one who knows what it feels like to have lived my life getting hurt over and over again by stupid, careless, fucking weak people! You can't really be sorry! What you feel is guilty, and guilty is not the same as sorry, so spare me your guilt! I kind of have enough shit to deal with on my own without being subjected to self-centered bitching and whining from a heartless bastard like you!"

Stunned, Charlie thinks the tirade is possibly the most he's ever heard Izzy say in all the years he's known her. He realizes that he likes listening to her talk, even if she is yelling at him, that she's sharp, and eloquent, and damned fierce, and the fact that it took almost killing her to see those things makes him feel very, very stupid.

Even so, he's hurt by her words. As smart as they are, he knows they're wrong, and he knows he can prove it to her. If only she'll give him that much undeserved chance...

"I-I don't know what else to say..." He offers feebly, nervous about how close she's standing to him. The girl hasn't even left him enough space to drop his gaze to his feet, so he keeps eye contact, locking his clear blue eyes on her red-rimmed, dark amber ones as he states a heartfelt, "I'm sorry."

And then she punches him. Sweet, shy, timid little Isabel Cooper punches him right in the face.

It's more shocking than painful, the girl's spindly arm and small fist barely strong enough to leave much more than a slight stinging sensation on his left cheek. She hurts herself more than she hurts him, swearing loudly, not to mention uncharacteristically, as she shakes out her sore hand.

Charlie touches his fingertips to the spot where she hit him, his mouth hanging open in pure awe. After the throbbing ache in Izzy's fist dies down a bit, she looks back at the boy with the same expression on her small, terrified, tear-stained face. She can't believe she actually just hit someone! It wasn't accidental, or even in self-defense. She hates Charlie Weasley and just wanted to punch him, so she... did!

For almost a full minute, the two teens just stare, the atmosphere of the quiet, dim room taking on a surreal, otherworldly quality as what happened finally sinks in.

And Izzy starts crying again, turning away from Charlie and heading back to her blanket, and her fire, and her misery. Blowing up at the boy has only made her feel ten times worse about herself, and all she wants now is solitude.

The redhead watches her curl into a small ball beside the fireplace, far too close to the flames once again, and he feels helpless, and despicable, and... evil. He still wants to help the girl, to do anything necessary to make her stop looking so. fucking. hopeless.

But he knows she's never going to see him as anything but a bully, and a threat, so he turns away, and silently climbs the stairs up to the dorm rooms.

"Myron," He hisses, forcefully shaking the snoring sixth year boy awake because it's the one thing he could think of to help Izzy at all, "Myron, wake up."

"Nnyugh, huh, whatzat?" The olive-skinned boy grunts tiredly, his long curly hair a frizzed mess. After he manages to pry his green eyes open enough to realize who's woken him, he glares. "Weasley," The young man threatens hoarsely, "You'd better have a damn good reason for interrupting my entirely topless Holyhead Harpies dream."

"Um..." Charlie drawls, glad for the darkness because he's blushing just a bit at the imagery, "Sorry, but... you need to go to the common room."

Myron looks at him strangely, punching his pillow a few times before he lays back down on it, smacking his lips and answering, "What for?"

"Because... er..." Charlie responds, nervously scratching his head and unsure of how to say what he wants to say, "You just... really need to." Again, Myron looks at him strangely, prompting the boy to add, "Really... please."

"Arg," The lanky young man grumbles, untangling his shirtless body from the warm blankets and then stumbling out of the room, "Fine. But this better be good..." Charlie retreats to his own bed then, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, not even trying to sleep as the tightness in his chest squeezes in around his heart.

xxXxx

"Damn crazy Weasley bastard..." Myron Wallace grumbles as he clumsily staggers down the seemingly endless staircase, "Waking my arse at freaking midnight and being all cryptic and weird and I knew I should've thrashed his sorry butt earlier..." The young man yawns hugely, and stretches as he finally steps into the common room, intent on investigating Charlie's emergency and then going straight back to bed.

But he hears crying. Disturbed, he forces his tired eyes to focus, and they immediately fall on a shuddering ball of blankets and curly hair that's settled far to close to the roaring fire.

It only takes an instant for the tall Gryffindor to run across the room, falling to his knees beside the girl he adopted as his little sister, and barely resisting the urge to pull her into a hug as he feels his heart breaking. "Oh, Toothpick," He soothes, making her jump and then sob harder, her small body made to look even smaller by the way it's curled in on itself, "Toothpick, please don't cry."

"I can't..." She sobs, ashamed and hiding her face behind her bony knees, "I can't do this." Myron remains silent, as close as he can get to Izzy without touching her while she whimpers, "I can't. I tried. I'm sorry, I really did, but it's too hard, a-and I just don't want to try anymore. I-I'm tired of having to exhaust myself just making it through every next day. It's too- too hard, and I don't want to do it anymore."

"Hey," The boy scolds firmly, not willing to let this smart, spirited, strong girl give up on herself, "You're not allowed to quit like that... hey, look at me, sweetie."

Very slowly, still sniffling and shivering, she brings her head up, lifts her swollen eyes to meet those of her kind friend. She'll never figure out why Myron cares about her so much, but it doesn't matter. She knows he does, and one look at the love and worry on his face makes her absolutely sure she'll never be able to let him down by quitting on life.

"You can do it," He tells her confidently, trying to smile to put her at ease, "I know you can. I know it's hard for you, and you've been through a hell of a lot, but I also know you, and I know that you're too tough to let it beat you. You're Izzy Fucking Cooper! You broke the head girl's nose when you were just a first year! You kicked Nestor Aubrey in the balls hard enough so that he'll probably never reproduce, which is a service to the human race if I ever heard one! You were too damned strong and stubborn to die even when everyone said you would!"

Izzy hiccups, and coughs, letting her head rest on her knees as Myron smiles softly and tells her, "Do you even see these things about yourself? Do you give yourself credit for being strong, and brilliant, and just an all around good person? You go through hell and always come out of it. Just because life's hard doesn't mean you're allowed to give up, ok?"

He doesn't understand, but he cares, and that's enough. Izzy can't find the will to keep fighting for herself, but she'll do it for Myron, because it's the only thing he's ever asked of her. She offers up a shallow, "Ok."

"Great," The boy responds, smiling softly, "I knew you had it in you. No bunch of fucking arseholes trying to kill her is gonna get my little Toothpick down!"

Unable to help herself, Izzy giggles softly, a slight smile brightening her forlorn features. It makes Myron grin widely. "There it is," He beams, taking a liberty he's earned through years of trust and tugging lightly on one of her long curls, "There's that million-galleon smile that could melt an iceberg and inspire the world to a state of peace and harmony."

Blushing, the girl teases lightly, "I could never do all that. You're just being foolish and poetic again." Myron sticks his tongue out at her, "I may be a fool, and I may be a poet deep down beneath my hard, incredibly macho exterior-"

A snicker from Izzy cuts him off, but he just smiles, flexing his wiry arms and chest in order to turn the snicker into a full on laugh. "Ahem," He teases brightly, "As I was saying, I may be a poet and a fool, but you, little Isabel Cooper, are a smart, beautiful, talented young lady, with a bigger heart than St. Mungo himself. Everyone loves you, and everyone just wants to see you happy."

The girl remains silent, finally having been able to stop crying just from listening to Myron's kind words. He goes on, "You know you don't have to ever fight alone, ya? You say the word, and I'll always come running. No more of this finding you crying by yourself in the middle of the night. You come get me, ok? Anytime, anywhere." Izzy nods, quietly agreeing, "Ok."

"Alright then," The boy declares with a grin as he jumps to his feet, "I think we're gonna need hot drinks and junkfood to complete your healing process. Kitchen run?"

"Sure," Izzy agrees, wobbling to her feet, "That sounds nice." Myron smiles and sweeps into a low bow, gesturing towards the portrait hole as he chimes, "Ladies first."

The girl answers with a mocking curtsie, and Myron knows she's going to be ok. He knows she's not completely better yet, knows she probably never will be, but he believes every word he said about her strength and resilience, and knows she'll pull through.

As he follows her out of Gryffindor tower, he resolves to never let Izzy be hurt ever again.

He also resolves to punch Charlie Weasley right in his fat, freckled head.

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TA DA!!! More to come!! Every time you read a story and don't review, god kills a kitten. Do you really want that on your conscience?