Part 11 - New Light

On a Tuesday night in the middle of February, at exactly two minutes to eight, Charlie Weasley finds himself standing nervously just outside a disused classroom on the fourth floor of Hogwarts castle. The short youth is sweating bullets, and is more anxious than he can remember being in quite a long time.

So much is riding on this one meeting that he doesn't know if he's going to be able to handle it. He wishes he were smarter, or nicer, or just not so stubborn. Maybe if he were smarter, like Bill and Percy, or charming, like the twins, or sweet, like Ron, he wouldn't have gotten himself into this horrible mess to begin with.

But there's not much the stocky redhead can do about altering his personality. And comparing himself to his brothers just makes him more nervous. At the moment, he needs to concentrate on persuading a girl who hates him to help him pass his classes, stay on the quidditch team, and graduate as scheduled. He slowly pushes open the door, and peeks inside the small, bright room.

Izzy is already there, seated on the far side of a wide table, her hands folded neatly in front of herself as she stares coldly straight at him. Before she heard the door creak open, she'd been watching the old clock on the opposite wall, hoping that Charlie would be even a second late so that she could leave, but, unfortunately, he's right on time, and the young woman curses silently.

"Hi," The sheepish redhead greets, giving a crooked, friendly smile as he steps fully into the almost blindingly bright room, institutional white walls seeming to vibrate from the intensity of the light bouncing off of them.

"Hello," Izzy answers coolly, her stony expression not betraying any of the anger or fear that are gnawing away at her insides, "Please, have a seat."

Moving with graceful speed that startles the girl, Charlie does exactly as he's told, and he's across from her in mere seconds. Izzy has to consciously keep herself from recoiling.

"I... um..." The freckled seeker begins, sounding very unsure, "I just wanted to say thank you for agreeing to help me..."

Fear is momentarily pushed aside by annoyance, and she snaps, "I didn't agree to anything. I wasn't given much of a choice on the matter, and, that said, I would like to get this over as quickly and with as little chit-chat as possible."

"Oh," Charlie answers, blushing as he drops his gaze, "Ya, that makes more sense. No problem."

Taking a deep breath, the girl across from him tries to calm herself as she says, "Alright then. Which classes do you need help with?" Still unable to look up, the red on his face getting several shades darker, Charlie replies, "Um... all of them..."

The snide comments itching to gush from her mouth scare Izzy. She's never had the kinds of mean thoughts she's thinking now, and she doesn't like hating someone enough to have spawned them. Consciously having to keep the thoughts inside, she states flatly, "Ok then. Take out all your notes, and the assignments you're working on."

Charlie shakes as he complies, and, not used to these kinds of nerves, clumsily drops papers and books over and over. Once they are all in a huge--unnecessarily so, in Izzy's opinion--pile of disarray, he slides them slowly across the table.

"While I'm looking at these," She instructs curtly, her face already concealed behind wild curls as she sorts through rolls of parchment, "You tell me everything you can remember from lessons today." Charlie makes a strange face, but decides it wouldn't be wise to argue, so he uncertainly begins to recite what he recalls, realizing that, since Izzy is in most of his classes, she'll know what he misses.

While he speaks, the girl is pouring over the parchments, having trouble with his jagged handwriting, but still able to understand most of what it says. The frown on her face gets deeper and deeper as the minutes tick by. Charlie's notes don't make sense, they're jumbled, and incoherent, and misspelled all over, complete with tangential inner monologues she doesn't think the boy actually meant to write down. Letters are backwards, and swapped, and there seems to be a very severe issue with 'b's and 'd's, as well as 'p's and 'q's being confused. Yet, as she listens to the redhead speak, Izzy realizes that he seems to have at least an average grasp of all the material. In fact, the ease at which he remembers things she normally would've had to study long hours to retain is quite impressive.

His low performance and seemingly sharp mind don't match up. Something is wrong here, something that isn't at all as simple as the boy being dumb or lazy because he's clearly not either.

Charlie is starting to get very nervous. He's been talking for almost twenty minutes straight, and Izzy hasn't so much as glanced up at him once. He's not even sure if she's listening, and she's bent so low over his notes that he can't see the expression on her face, can't tell if it's good or bad.

When the small girl finally does bring her head up out of the parchments, she's got such a fierce look in her eyes that Charlie is slightly startled and even more unnerved. "Here," She orders bluntly, handing an open book across the table to him, "Read."

"Huh?" He squeaks uncertainly, still shaking slightly as he goes on, "Um, what... what part?" Staring blankly, Izzy shrugs and states, "It doesn't matter, any is fine."

Still confused, Charlie nods, and looks down into the open page. He's never been very good at reading, which is why he only does so when he's alone. The boy often has to sound out the words to himself, and it's incredibly embarrassing. But, he won't argue with Izzy, and starts reading from the middle of the page, "Pom... pom-e-gran-ate jui-ce is used prim... p-rim-ar-ily in the brew-ing of the st-ren-g-th-en-ing... strengthening... sol-u-tion. The s... seeds can be m-ade into the sp-ice an... an-ar... an-ard..."

He stops, glaring at the word he can't decipher until Izzy prompts softly, "Anardana."

Immediately, his face turns deep red, and he mumbles, "Thanks," before repeating the sentence in its entirety, "The seeds can be made into the spice anardana..."

"That's enough," Izzy interjects, having heard more than necessary for the theory she has to have been reinforced. She bites her lip, wanting to observe one more thing before coming to a conclusion. "Write those two sentences, please," She asks, her voice far softer and kinder than before as she slides a quill and scrap of parchment across to Charlie.

Again, he complies, struggling through the exercise. Just the way he holds the quill worries Izzy, his grip claw-like and primitive. After nearly ten full minutes, when she gets a look at his final product, at the swapped, backward, and confused letters, her suspicion is confirmed.

"Have you ever been tested for a learning disability?" She inquires, her expression kind and open as she gazes across the wide table. Frowning, Charlie replies, "Um... I dunno... what's that?"

Struggling with how to phrase her explanation, Izzy answers softly, "Well, I suppose it's not very well-known in the wizarding world, but certain people just have natural difficulties with learning. The one I think you have is called dyslexia, and it's fairly common. The way you confuse letters and sometimes write them backwards are both classic symptoms. You remember more about today's lessons than I do, so that's not where you're struggling. You can't seem to... interpret the words you read, or transfer your thoughts into writing, so it would explain why you get low scores on your tests and essays."

"Oh," Is the only response Charlie can manage, hanging his head in shame. He always knew there was something wrong with him; he just never knew there was a name for it. All the years he's spent fighting to keep up with his peers, all the nights he's sat up alone struggling to read a mere page or two, have already made him certain that he's stupid. Izzy diagnosis just confirms it.

Upon seeing Charlie's freckled face fall, Izzy can feel her heart breaking and immediately leans closer, insisting frankly, "No, no, it's not like that! Being dyslexic only means you have trouble with reading and writing, not that you're not smart. Honestly! It's not your fault at all, and, now that we know, there are loads of ways to make it easier on you."

As he picks his head up, Charlie gives a hopeful half-smile. "Really?" He asks, sort of unsure, "You're not just saying that?"

"Of course not," Izzy insists, sounding passionate and sincere, "Frankly, I'm appalled that I'm the first one to notice your problem. It really does say something about the short-comings of the wizarding educational system, you know? If you'd been born a muggle, the dyslexia probably would have been diagnosed soon after you started school, and you would've had the help you needed all these years instead of having to struggle through and be labeled as slow."

Starting to feel a little more at ease with this situation, Charlie chuckles. The petite brunette across from him quite is a fireball when she gets riled up, and seeing that is really something. Although, he doesn't know what to make of the butterflies he gets in his stomach when he thinks about all that intensity being focused on him...

"Right, well," He states softly, steeling himself to follow whatever course of action Izzy prescribes, "So, what do I do?"

Also beginning to feel far more relaxed, as well as not quite so spiteful, the girl gives a weak smile, and answers, "First, I'll have to write off for some tests, to confirm it, as well as some books and tools to help you. I'll talk to McGonogall about getting you permission to start taking exams orally. The teachers are all sure to make an exception once they understand the situation... um, in the meantime, you should get yourself a dictating quill. That will help keep your assignments free of the mistakes you make when you write. I believe Scrivenshaft's shop sells a few models. You should stop in during the Hogsmeade trip Saturday.

"I'll do that," Charlie agrees, a large grin splitting his freckled face, his blue eyes shining with happiness, "Thank you."

For some reason, the statement makes Izzy blush. She wants to keep on hating Charlie. Even though it's an unpleasant sensation, she has every right to hate him, and knows that she should, but when he looks at her like that it's very hard.

"Don't thank me yet," She mutters shyly, "I haven't really done anything."

"Sure you have," Charlie insists, his gaze utterly adoring and awe-filled, "You figured out what's wrong with me. Always knew there was something, but everyone, even my own bloody mum, just kept telling me that I wasn't trying hard enough. Really, thank you. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for this."

"I don't want anything from you," Is Izzy's icy reply, her brown eyes narrowing dangerously. She almost let her guard down, almost let herself forget how much she hates Charlie, but the thought of him thinking he was indebted to her, or him attaching himself to her beyond these meetings snapped her back into reality.

He visibly winces, dropping his gaze once more, knowing that he is most definitely not yet forgiven for how he treated the girl all those years ago. He feels horrible because he knows he doesn't deserve forgiveness, but still desperately wants it. There is nothing in his life that he has ever regretted more than what he did to Izzy, and if he could find a way to make her understand that, he thinks, than maybe, just maybe she'd see that he's not the monster his behavior suggests.

"Sorry," Charlie mutters guiltily, unable to come up with anything else to say, "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Fine," She grumbles in reply, checking the clock, and delivering a silent prayer to whatever higher power is in charge of time when it reads that she can leave now. "We're finished," The girl goes on, quickly gathering her books as she prepares to make an escape, "I'll see you here tomorrow at the same time."

"Ok," Charlie agrees, frozen and shell-shocked as he watches Izzy getting ready to leave. He wants to talk to her, to apologize again for what he did to her all those years ago, but isn't sure how to even bring it up. There really is no tactful way to broach the subject of purposeful betrayal, attempted rape, and near death.

But he also can't let her go without saying something, just to let her know that he hasn't forgotten it, that he's not going to pretend it never happened, that he still regrets what he did.

She's already opening the door when Charlie snaps out of his thoughts, and, filled with resolve, he stands sharply. Even before the redhead slams the door shut with his broad, rough hand, Izzy is jumping away from him in a startled panic.

The girl is terrified, her back colliding with the bright white plaster far too soon. She doesn't know what's going to happen now, because Charlie has a fierce, intense look in his clear blue eyes, and he's completely blocking the door, holding her hostage for a reason she has yet to determine, and can only guess about with the pessimistic bias of one who has suffered far too much to trust blindly in fairy tale endings.

"I know you don't want to hear it," He states, seeming very serious and frank, "And you can hit me again if you want, but I'm still sorry for what I did."

Relief washes over Izzy, quickly replacing the fear she was feeling. Charlie just wants to go dredging up the past, he still wants forgiveness for the unforgivable. The girl gets angry.

"Get out of my way, Charlie!" She snaps, her deep amber eyes blazing with fiery rage, "I told you how I feel about what happened, those feelings have not changed, and I most definitely don't want to talk about them with you!"

"I just..." The boy answers, significantly more sheepish, though stubbornly refusing to break eye contact, "I just can't pretend it never happen... I almost killed you, and I think about it all the time. I don't care anymore if you never forgive me. I get that you can't because what I did was too horrible. I'll never understand how you feel, and I can never change what happened, but I figured out that getting you to forgive me isn't important, it not the point..."

Slightly intrigued, Izzy's expression softens almost indiscernibly. She cocks her head to the side as she listens. Charlie sounds almost shy as he continues, "I guess... I just wanted you to know that I'm not like that anymore, that I'm different because I realized how much I hurt you, and how much you didn't deserve it. I was stupid, and stubborn, and selfish, and I didn't want to be that kind of person. So now... now, I'm just sorry for everything."

Before that moment, neither of the teens had noticed that the bright, pure white lights illuminating their small, clinical room didn't seem to have any origin. No torches are mounted on the walls, nor lamps from the ceiling, and, though the bright white plaster seems to reflect and amplify the light, it is not the source from which it comes. It's inexplicable, and comes from nowhere.

Charlie has already been finished with his speech for a few long, trembling, heavy-breathing moments when the blinding light begins to go dim. At first, the change is unnoticeable, but, gradually, gentle shadow begins to pull at all the shapes scattered throughout the tight space, the furniture and books, Charlie and Izzy.

Secretly, Charlie has always thought Izzy was beautiful, but the soft light falling on her delicate features makes her look absolutely stunning, almost frail, but, on second glance, carved out of stone by fire and horror. Polished smooth by her stubborn will to not crumble under the strain of living. Radiating with an impenetrable glow of strength, and intelligence, and kindness. Unbreakable. Untouchable.

Unlike the redhead, Izzy has never had any secret admiration for her nemesis. She has always seen Charlie as nothing but cruel. Now, however, the faint light seems to pierce to a depth that she in no way before would have even suspected in him. He's warm, and sensitive, and caring, and brave, and even his stubbornness, when it's channeled towards good instead of hate, is a wonderful quality in him. Obviously, he's matured since last she acknowledged his existence. He's not a mean, spiteful little boy anymore; he's a young man with a strong mind and an even stronger conscience, neither of which she thought him capable of possessing.

The dim turns to pitch blackness in an instant, and the two teens are still reeling so much from their brief glimpses into one another's hearts that it takes them a moment of having their heads spin in the dark to realize that the mysterious, blinding light has completely left their small room.

"What happened?" Izzy demands into the abyss that has engulfed her. Groping for his wand, cursing softly to himself when he bangs his shin on a chair and still comes up empty-handed, Charlie replies, "Aside from that the castle is a bloody mental patient? No clue."

In a blind daze, disoriented, he stumbles about looking for the door. However, the girl chooses the exact moment that his thick, freckled body has come within barely a few inches of her own to regain her wits, and light her wand. The softly muttered spell quickly becomes a blood curdling shriek as his pale face is suddenly illuminated so close to hers, appearing out of the dark like a phantom.

Completely on edge, she tries to jump back from the sight, only to meet with the wall her back was already firmly pressed against. Still, rationality no longer has a place in the girl's normally brilliant mind, and her need to escape becomes a frightening, urgent compulsion. She twists off to the side, shielding her face behind her forearms as the light on her wand gutters out, throwing the room back into the darkness.

His ears still ringing from the scream, and his eyes still throbbing from the sudden, brief flash of light, Charlie barely has a moment of calm amidst the black before he hears clumsy, terrified feet scuffling against the floor, tripping over one another, and then the whooshing, airy nothingness of a body falling, giving way to the sharp, sickening crack of skull meeting a hard surface. And then, almost imperceptible, a little thud as a slight mass of human being crumbles to the floor. Even it's motionless collapse afterwards seems to have a sound, faint, pained breathing which grips him like a vice low in his gut as he goes about groping blindly for the dropped wand.

When he finally manages to recover it, the young man conjures light in an instant, and the small room is bathed in a dim blue glow. Izzy is on the floor, and the crack he heard must have been her head hitting the table, he realizes, because she's got a hand pressed feebly to her right temple, and her eyes are barely open, looking glazed over and unfocused behind heavy lids. She's reeling from it, he can tell, a bit of an expert on knocks to the head, having been educated on the matter first hand through the observation and experience that come with being raised among a handful of rough-housing brothers, as well as an immersion in quidditch and all the injuries that come with the sport.

"Are you alright?" He asks, immediately kneeling beside the girl's sprawled form, his heart breaking as soon as she whimpers out of some overwhelming combination of pain and terror.

"Izzy," He presses insistently, barely remembering not to touch her, "Izzy, can you hear me?"

Very weakly, she nods, her amber curls spread into a halo on the stone floor, shifting with the movement. "Good," Charlie responds, pleased that at least she's not unconscious, "Move your hand then so I can see if you're bleeding."

She does as she's told, compliantly revealing a growing knot, but, thankfully, no blood, and the boy still kneeling over her gives a sigh of relief. "Lucky break, just a nasty lump. Can you sit up?" He continues, trying not let himself sound as scared as he is, especially when Izzy tries to do what he says, and falls back to the floor with a low whine of pain.

"I'm dizzy," She mumbles, her half-opened eyes starting to drift shut, "But don't tell Tonks. She'll make that stupid joke again."

After pausing briefly, Charlie suddenly understands, and can't help but laugh. "Ok," He reassures the girl, thinking of how cute she is even though she's hurt as he starts gathering both their belongings, "I promise I won't tell her."

Once he has his own backpack, as well as Izzy's heavy, overstuffed satchel slung over his shoulders, he kneels beside the girl once more. "Alright, Iz," He soothes, quite used to the procedure for head injuries. Hell, he had to take two of his teammates to the nurse just yesterday. His beaters, while skilled, are careless, and often don't pay attention to where their serves go. He'd much rather have his little brothers, Fred and George, but they're just first years, so not eligible.

"Izzy," He states firmly, getting her to pay attention to him when he talks to her, to look up at him with those big brown eyes that do weird things to his stomach, "Ok, we're going to the hospital wing now. Since you can't walk, I'm going to have to carry you."

"No," She insists, sounding like a grouchy, misbehaving toddler, "No, don't touch me."

"But..." Charlie argues, racking his brains for some other way to get her to the nurse. He'd levitate her, except that he's very bad at that charm, and it's very likely the boy would just end up dropping her on her head again. Briefly, he considers leaving her and going for help, but that isn't an option either. She needs to be kept awake, or her condition could turn a lot more serious.

"How about this," He offers, grinning to put her at ease, "I won't touch you, but you've got to grab onto me so that I can take you to the hospital wing, ok?"

Charlie's gamble on the girl's lack of rational thought seems to pay off. She gets a very concentrated look on her face, mulling over the suggestion, and, not able to find anything wrong with it, agrees, "Ok."

"Excellent," He responds, beaming as he leans over her, "Go ahead, put your legs over my arm, and your arms around my neck, and hold on tight." Slowly, clumsily, she does so, making quiet, pained noises that have Charlie frowning. He's rather worried, but doesn't want to alarm the girl, so tries to stay upbeat, warning brightly, "Alright, I'm going to pick you up now, so make sure you're hanging on. Are you ready?"

"Ya," She breathes weakly, cuddling very close to the redhead's chest, clinging to his body heat and smoky smell because everything else is so blurry and frightening and painful, "Charlie, why does my head hurt?"

Once he's hoisted Izzy off the ground and maneuvered both of them out of the room, the boy answers softly, "Because you hit it on the table, remember? That's why we're going to the hospital wing, so that Madame P. can make you feel better."

"I don't like the hospital wing," She reports grumpily, resting her head against Charlie's shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut.

He gives her a light shake to keep her awake, picks up his pace, and responds, "I know. I remember that time you broke your ribs in Charms, and Professor Archer had to order you to go."

For a few moments, Izzy is silent, and Charlie continues to walk through the mostly dark and deserted hallways. But then he feels the girl tense up, and she gasps, "OH! I remember that, too! I jumped into my shield charm, and... and... you called me a COW!"

Turning bright red, the boy states, "Ya... I'm sorry for that." Izzy just shrugs, relaxing in his arms as she mumbles something sounding suspiciously like, "It's ok. I am one."

"What?" Charlie demands, surprised and a little bit outraged that she would make such a statement. "I am a cow," She clarifies, louder and clearer this time, her eyes drifting shut again, "I am. Jordan used to say so all the time. Cow. Fatso. Stupid. Ugly. Bitch. Whore. Fucking useless baby. He was always right about everything, so he was probably right about that stuff, too."

"No," Charlie snaps, extremely pissed, "He was wrong. You're none of those things, and your brother never deserved you for making you think so."

For a few moments, the girl in his arms is quiet, but then her head forward flops, like her neck can't support it any longer, and she whimpers, "Charlie, why does my head hurt?" Trying to mentally estimate how much longer until he reaches the hospital wing, the boy gives a heavy sigh, and answers, "Because you hit it on the table, remember? That's why we're going to the hospital wing, so Madame P. can make you feel better." Izzy squirms, whimpering, "I don't like the hospital wing."

This time, the boy limits his response to a curt, "I know."

xxXxx

For Cale Eyret, doing his prefect rounds is almost never fun, but, tonight, it's downright annoying. He's stuck with Nymphadora Tonks, and she's been staring at him and giggling for the past hour. If the neon Ravenclaw weren't one of Izzy's best friends, then he most definitely would've hexed her by now. He really has very little patience.

"What's so damn funny?" He finally demands, trying not to blush because he already knows the answer. Sure enough, Tonks gives another light snicker, and then sings teasingly, "You like Izzy!"

A slight pink blush spreads over his cheeks, and the boy tries to hide it by letting his long, messy blonde hair fall to cover it. "So?" He demands gruffly, trying with all his might not to let his face turn beet red.

Giving another giggle, Tonks soothes, "There's nothing wrong with it, mate. I just think it's great that you finally got your head out of your arse and made your move."

"Um..." The boys drawls, still a bit embarrassed to be having this conversation, "Thanks? She told you guys about our date, huh?"

"Yup," The girl states, absentmindedly wrapping a hot pink curl around her fingers, "She's excited, but scared as hell, so you'd just better not muck it up." He nods gravely, and gets very thoughtful, letting Tonks go back to her giggling as he gets lost in his own mind.

A few minutes later, both prefects are about to turn a corner when they hear a soft, familiar whisper of, "Charlie, why does my head hurt?"

"Because you hit it on the table, remember?" Comes the gentle answer, getting closer by the second, "That's why we're going to the hospital wing, so Madame P. can make you feel better."

"What the..." Cale gasps quietly, picking up his pace as he hears, "I don't like the hospital wing." Izzy. It's Izzy, he's sure of it, and she doesn't sound right.

He would never have guess what comes next, Charlie Weasley rounding the corner carrying Izzy's small body in his arms.

Cale really doesn't like the tender way the redhead is looking at the girl, his girl. "I know," Charlie tells her, continuing to keep a close eye on her face as he walks at a brisk pace.

"OY!" Cale shouts running forward, "What the hell do you think you're doing to her?" Charlie is startled, but Izzy is scared, whining softly as she clings tighter to the redhead's chest.

"Shh," The boy soothes quietly, glaring at Cale as the Slytherin stops in front of him, "It's ok. It's just your mate, Cale. No one's going to hurt you."

"What are you doing with her?" Cale shrieks, irate, and feeling irrationally possessive. Glaring, Charlie snaps, "She got herself a knock on the head, so I'm taking her to Pomfrey."

Immediately concerned, Cale demands, "Ya? And how did she do that? You feed her another spiked drink, you psychopath?"

Charlie flinches, and feels guilty, but responds with a defensive, "No. The lights went out in the room we were in, and she tripped, and hit her head on a table. Stop being an arse so I can take her to get looked at."

"You're not taking her anywhere!" The tall Slytherin insists, immediately trying to seize Izzy, "Give her to me right now!"

"AHHHHH!!!" Upon being touched, the girl starts screaming at the top of her lungs, kicking clumsily as she clings tighter to Charlie. Slightly hurt by the reaction, Cale still keeps pawing at Izzy until she's shrieking and crying into Charlie's chest.

"CALE!!" Tonks shouts, finally shoving him away, "STOP IT!! Leave her alone!!" She's been watching the entire scene with a feeling of impending disaster. Cale and Charlie can't stand each other, and have never been able to stand each other. They're glaring at each other like a pair of rams about to butt heads because it seems like seeing Charlie holding Izzy is making Cale unbelievably jealous.

"She's hurt, you idiot!" The young Ravenclaw growls as she pulls the taller boy back, "Stop touching her, and just let Charlie get her to Madame P!"

Reluctant, swearing under his breath, Cale finally complies. 'Why is she letting Charlie touch her?' He thinks angrily, 'Why will she let him touch her, but not me?' Already, seeds of jealousy are germinating inside him.

Quickly, the small group walks the rest of the way to the hospital wing, with only the sounds of Izzy's frightened sniffles being heard.

When they arrive, Charlie tries to put the delirious girl down into one of the vacant cots, but she's terrified and confused and won't let go of him. Desperately trying not to like her face pressed into his chest and her arms around his neck, the redhead settles for sitting down on the cot, holding Izzy in his lap as he waits for Tonks to come back with the nurse.

Which would have been fine with him if it hadn't been for Cale Eyret. The boy sits down in the next cot and just glares, absolutely seething mad at both Charlie and Izzy.

"Charlie," Izzy whines softly, slurring her words just a little bit, "Why does my head hurt?"

And suddenly Charlie doesn't care anymore that Cale is mad. He's just worried about the slight girl in his arms. "Because you hit it on the table, remember?" He states once more, keeping his tone gentle, "We're in the hospital wing, and Madame P. is going to fix you up."

Not even halfway through the explanation, Izzy's eyes start drifting shut again. Charlie has to shake her light again, to keep her awake until she gets a potion. He doesn't want to be responsible for putting her in another coma...

"What were you doing with her when she fell?" Cale demands gruffly, his long arms crossed over his broad, wiry chest. Charlie doesn't want to admit what a fuck up he is. He's embarrassed of his learning disability and doesn't feel the need to let this Slytherin jerk-off know about it. "None of your business," He bites back, his cheeks burning red as he keeps up a close watch on Izzy's face.

"What have you done this time, Weasley?" The nurse demands immediately upon stepping into the room, her hands on her round hips as she glowers dangerously from beneath her disheveled gray bangs, "Another live target day for your beaters? Or perhaps more dangerous and prohibited pet of yours have escaped and been reeking havoc? Well, what'll it be today then?"

With a slightly mocking smile, glad to, for once, be mostly blameless in this hospital visit, Charlie responds, "Izzy tripped and bumped her head on a table."

After a moment of stunned, uncomfortable silence, the matron softly mutters, "Oh... well... let's a have a look then."

"AHHHHHH!!!!!" Izzy immediately screams, crying and almost squealing as she tries to escape from the woman's touch. "No!" She whimpers, sobbing and clutching tightly to Charlie, "No! I don't want to! Where's Jordy? I want Jordy!"

An expression of confusion passes over the faces of both Cale and Tonks. Eventually, the young Slytherin inquires, "Who's Jordy?"

"Her brother," Charlie answers plainly, not skipping a beat and making Cale instantly see red, literally and figuratively. He's glaring so hard at the top of Charlie Weasley's flaming red head that the color seems to bleed into the surroundings, coloring everything around the Gryffindor, including Izzy... his Izzy...

"Izzy, shhh," Charlie soothes, choosing to ignore Cale's obvious anger in favor of comforting the distraught girl in his arms. His heart aches for her, for all that she's lost, for the fact that she still just wants her big brother back. "It's alright," The redhead murmurs, rocking her softly as his arms tighten into a safe, protective embrace, "No one's going to hurt you. Relax. I promise."

She's not comforted by the assertion, grabbing handfuls of a white cotton shirt as she weeps and shudders against a chest that she can't remember the owner of. The strong arms wrapped around her small body should be just as terrifying as the rest of the situation, but, somehow, they're not. They're attached to the chest, and she's the one holding onto that. It's calming just to have something to hold on to. The muscles beneath her palms are hot and firm, and she's never known touch to feel like this... actually good.

"Please," She begs breathlessly, hiccupping as she finally starts to settle down in Charlie's embrace, "Don't hurt me."

Charlie's own breath catches in his throat and he can feel that familiar guilt squeezing in around his heart. He's already hurt this girl once before, and he's never gotten over it. He doesn't think he ever will.

"Have her drink this," Madame Pomfrey instructs quietly, handing Charlie a steaming glass of sedation and healing potions that he doesn't have much trouble getting Izzy to swallow down. Slowly, the petite brunette's breathing evens out, her eyes fall shut, and she drifts off to sleep.

"Set her down in the cot, Mr. Weasley," The nurse instructs, already shooing Cale and Tonks from the room. Charlie does what he's told, so very careful with the delicate little china doll in his arms that Pomfrey chides him, "Some time today, Mr. Weasley."

"Ya, sorry," He mumbles, his cheeks burning as he stands upright. He only has a few moments to look over Izzy's finally peaceful face before the nurse hurries him out of the room.

xxXxx

It's early the next morning when Izzy finally wakes up, slowly opening her eyes to the dim light of the hospital wing and then spending a few moments trying to figure out where she is... and why someone's head is resting on her stomach...

"Shit!" She yelps, immediately panicking and shoving the offending person off of her. Grunting in pain as his forehead smacks hard against the metal bedframe, Cale receives a pretty rude awakening.

The boy knew that it probably wasn't a good idea to sneak back into the hospital wing after dark, just as he knew it wasn't a good idea to touch Izzy just because she was unconscious and unable to stop him. However, he couldn't help himself. And, besides, she didn't seem to have a problem with that arsehole Weasley carrying her. Cale had been her friend for years and felt that he earned more privileges in that department than just about anyone else.

So he's shocked when he looks up to find Izzy staring at him wide-eyed and frightened, breathing hard and shrinking away from. "W-What are you doing here?" The girl asks, panting and looking close to panic. Cale was touching her and she was too out of it to stop him. He could've done anything to her..

'No, Cale is my friend,' She berates herself, 'He understands I don't like being touched, and he wouldn't take advantage of me like that... he wouldn't... he... probably just fell asleep and his head dropped onto my stomach...

"Sorry, Bel," The tall blonde soothes, sending her a tired grin, "You just looked too comfy. How do you feel?

"My head hurts," Izzy responds, infinitely more freaked. He did lie on top of her on purpose. Why would he do something like that? He had to have known she wouldn't want him to... and yet he did it anyways... The girl begins to shake slightly, for the first time in their long friendship feeling mistrust and... fear for Cale.

"Well, you smacked it pretty hard," He reports, yawning obliviously as he gets up and stretches, not even seeing Izzy flinch and shrink away from him as he stands to his full, towering height, "You supposedly tripped in a dark room with Charlie Weasley around, or at least that's his story. Tell me you remember different because I'd love an excuse to give the damn prat a black eye or two."

"I-I..." Izzy begins, trying hard to remember, getting a headache she does, "No, don't hurt him. He was telling the truth... I was assigned to tutor him. The lights went off and I fell... and... he carried me here..."

The memory is a strange one, feeling vague and fuzzy but still mostly complete. She let Charlie carry her. She let him touch her. And she can't remember feeling afraid of him... why?

Pouting disappointedly, Cale remarks, "Oh. Alright then. As long as he wasn't picking on you again. I'm going to get a shower and I'll be back before breakfast. Hopefully Pomfrey will let you go, ok?" At a slight nod from the small Gryffindor in the cot, Cale smiles and strolls out, whistling happily over having gotten to spend an evening having his fill of stroking soft cheeks, and petting amber curls, and even stealing a kiss before finally using the girl of his dreams' stomach as a pillow. Izzy won't care if she never finds out, and, besides, she let Charlie carry her all the way to the hospital wing. It's only fair this way...

Cale is gone, but the wild-haired girl he left behind is still no closer to coming to terms with the fact that she no longer trusts one of her best friends and can't stop thinking about her worst enemy, the gentle redhead with the crooked grin...

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