As Fred rounded the first floor corridor he could smell the sterility of it all. Aside from the cold hands Madam Pomfery always seemed to have and sharp tongue depressors she insisted on using, the smell was Fred's least favourite part of the Hospital Wing. Tonight, Fred noticed, there was an odd raspberry scent emanating from the wing too. Shrugging it off as his hunger getting to him [he and George had skipped dinner to get a head start on the dragon] and his craving for hot toast with jam, Fred sauntered into Madam Pomfrey's domain.

"Poppy, my love," Fred said in his most charming tone, eyes closed and arms wide, "Work your magic on me!" Fred knew he wasn't technically allowed to call her by her first name, but she always gave him a disapproving yet amused smile when he did.

Opening his eyes and looking around the room, Fred noticed Madam Pomfrey wasn't napping at her desk like she usually would in the middle of the night… or early in the morning as the case may be. The room was sparcely lit; only one candle was burning under the light he noticed a small woman dressed in light blue healers' robes and white smock sleeping in a hospital bed. She was wearing a name badge and shoes, so Fred added two and two together; she must be covering for Pomfrey. He walked silently over to the bed and in true Weasley twin fashion he was planning on waking her with a start.

Fred took a seat next to the healer's bed side and cleared his throat loudly, making her jump awake. She looked towards the door for the intruder, her eyes wide. Little did she know that Fred was on the other side of her.

"Morning!" Fred said softly, making the nurse scream in horror and whip her head around swiftly enough Fred thought she was part owl.

"Oh my –!" She said, clutching at her chest, "Who are you? You scared the life out of me!" before Fred could answer; the healer noticed his torn singlet and the pussy burn on his chest, "Sit!" she ordered, getting off her bed and waving Fred to take her place. She quickly crossed the room, grabbed her wand and waved it wildly, igniting the other torches and candles in the room.

He did so with a small chuckle at the look on her face, "Fred." He said simply.

"I'm sorry?" the young woman said, walking back over to him; a look of confusion on her face.

"I said 'Fred'. You asked who I was. I'm Fred." He smiled at her, finally able to see who he was talking to in full light.

She was a small witch, about a foot shorter than Fred, her hair such a bright red it was almost unnatural. The badge attached to her apron read 'Hlr Hollander'.

"Ah," Healer Hollander said, smiling understandingly, "You're a Weasley twin."

"You've heard of me." Fred smiled wickedly; Healer Hollander was incredibly pretty in his opinion. Her eyes were icy blue and he was staring straight into them, "Am I all you imagined?"

She rolled her eyes, "The Weasley Twins are nothing but trouble. I expect you'll meet them sooner rather than later." She said in a voice that sounded familiarly like Madam Pomfrey's, "I guess it was sooner than I expected." She finished with in her normal voice, "What of your brother George? You haven't killed him have you?"

It was Fred's turn to roll his eyes, "George remains unscathed. I, however, am falling apart." He ended, sighing dramatically.

Healer Hollander laughed aloud at his antics, "Poppy was right, you are funny." Hollander's laugh was endearing; Fred was enjoying listening to it bit it quickly stopped and cleared her throat, "Well, what have you done to yourself Mr Weasley?"

"Right," he sobered as well, "There was an issue with the fire in our dormitory," he lied, "I was trying to fix it and it swelled against my chest."

"Mmm," she answered, sounding unconvinced, "Shirt off then please."

Hollander waved her wand and Fred's shirt was cut in two up his left side. She then walked to a cupboard and began rummaging through creams and potions as Fred took what little remained of his singlet off, hissing as he pulled it sideways. Unbeknownst to Fred, his shirt was embedded in his burnt skin resulting in one of the pustules on his chest popping. It began to bleed profusely, oozing slowly down his chest. Hollander was occupied in reading a large medical book, meaning she hadn't seen the mess that was now Fred Weasley. He was trying not to make a noise, but the blood and puss was freaking him out a little bit. He took his tattered shirt and attempted to stem the flow. It was working mostly, but the bed sheets below him had already been ruined – blood stained and iron smelling; Fred didn't think even the house elves could make them crisp again.

Hollander grabbed a few herbs she would be needing to attach to Fred's wounds and turned to face him, her face draining of all colour she gasped and ran over to where he sat.

"What happed?" she asked, frantically waving her wand to cut the herbs faster than she ever could.

"My shirt was attached to my skin. I didn't know until I took the shirt off." Fred face had paled too, more so due to lack of blood.

"Lay back and keep talking. The last thing I need is a casualty on my first night alone." Her tone was jovial, but both knew that the blood-loss could turn serious at any point.

Fred complied, "Ok," he groaned as she positioned a hand on his left shoulder and helped as he lay, "talk about what?"

"Anything," Hollander replied, waving her wand over his chest and looking closely at it any signs of broken ribs or bones.

It had taken Hollander fifteen minutes to stop Fred from bleeding and after another 45 minutes she had patched a third of his burns. All the while Fred was talking away.

He spoke about his family mostly. Hollander had some input into the conversation also. Fred discovered her first name was Evangeline but she preferred Evan. She was an only child; aged 17. Fred was confused as to how she was a fully trained healer at such a young age, but she had soon answered his queries.

Evan had attended Beauxbatons Academy and graduated three years early, having done her first six years worth of studying over three years and her seventh year of study in her fourth year. At age fifteen, Evangeline had become an intern at the infirmary at Beauxbatons but had always wanted to move back to Brittan – her family home in country England.

After an hour or so, the potion Hollander had given him was starting to take its toll and Fred could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness.

"Night Evan," he mumbled as he drifted off.

"Night sweetie," She smiled slightly as she continued to wave her wand about, applying salve and creams along his chest.