A/N: I just wanted to tell you guys that this is the farthest I've ever gotten with a fanfiction, and I am so excited for what's been done and what will be done with this story and these characters. Once again, many thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed this story! You all are simply wonderful!

2/11/12 - Sorry for the late update! I tried to log onto FF but it was being weird :1 Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10 - Broken

"Ow."

My voice was hoarse and my lips were dry and cracked. I woke up that morning (or was it the afternoon?) to the sound of Blake and James arguing with Albus laughing. I had the worst headache ever, and no clue as to why I had it. Every part of me hurt, like all of my bones had been crushed and every inch of me bruised and cut.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think.

Why was I here?

"Rosalie?" Blake said tentatively. "Are you awake?"

"What happened?" I whispered. "Where am I?"

Someone took a sharp breath. I opened my eyes and saw three people crowded around me with serious expressions on their faces.

"Do you know who I am?" Potter asked with clear brown eyes.

I wanted to hit him. "Of course I know who you are, you numpty! Now answer my question! Am I... am I in the infirmary?"

"Well, at least we know she has no brain damage," Albus snickered.

"She's always had brain damage," Potter muttered.

"What are you doing here?" I grunted tiredly, bringing a hand to my forehead.

Potter snorted. "I'm obviously here to see whether or not you've died."

I rolled my eyes and turned to Blake, who was sitting in a chair next to my bed. "What happened?"

He pursed his lips. "You were hit by a buldger."

"Then why do I bleeding hurt everywhere?" I snapped testily.

"Because, first off, it was a really fast buldger. Secondly, you fell off of your broom and dropped from quite a height..."

"Well," I grumbled. "That explains it. Did we win?"

"What?"

"Did we win? The match...?"

He groaned. "Is quidditch all you care about? You're in the bloody infirmary with a stitched-up head, a broken leg, broken ribs, and a bloody sprained wrist!"

I gasped. "Blake! I need to ask you something important!"

"Anything."

"Did... did I lose any hair?"

Potter and little Potter started cracking up and I yelled, "This is serious!"

Blake gave me a disgruntled look and decided, "No, Rosalie. I don't think you lost any hair. And if you did, Madam Pomfrey did an excellent job regrowing it."

"Good," I said, laying back against the soft pillow.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey walked over to my bed. "Didn't I tell you lot that if she woke up, you should call me over immediately?" she demanded.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Albus apologized.

"How are you doing, Miss Flint?" she asked me kindly, pouring some sort of potion into a vile, probably for me to drink.

"I hurt," I answered honestly.

"That's to be expected," she said sternly. " You lost quite a lot over a silly match of quidditch!"

"Well, we won, didn't we?" I said, trying to laugh but it came out as more of a wheeze.

She gave me a look that was clearly not amused. "Well, here's some Skele-Gro-"

"No!" I said, pushing it away. "Please, Gods, no! Not that retched stuff!"

I'd taken Skele-Gro once before; in third year, after Potter pushed me down the stairs on the way to Hagrid's hut on Hogwart's school grounds.

"Miss Flint!" Pomfrey said, an eyebrow risen. "You will take this potion and you will take it gratefully!"

I pouted, but took the vile into my hand cautiously. "Bottom's up," I said nervously, before downing the disgusting potion. It was absolutely terrible, just as it had been three years ago. "Ack! Alright, what's next?"

"A potion to numb the pain," she said. "And Sleeping Draught."

"More sleep?" I asked, alarmed. "What about my studies?"

"Only you would care about that," Potter said in disdain.

"Haha," I laughed without humor. "And quidditch practices?"

"I must demand four more days of bed rest from you, Miss Flint," Pomfrey said in a motherly tone of voice. "To allow your bones to heal properly and all of your wounds to close up nicely, without any flaws."

I bit the inside of my cheek anxiously. "But-"

"No buts," she refused. "Now, take these potions and I'll leave you and your friends alone for the rest of their visit."

I nodded, swallowing the potions in single gulps. Handing Pomfrey the empty viles, she scurried over to another bed, where Elliot Guff laid with a huge knot on her forehead. He had gotten a concussion during our game yesterday. Or this morning. I wasn't exactly sure.

"How long have I been knocked out?" I slurred.

"Since you fell yesterday," Albus said.

I paused for a moment, thinking. Guff's concussion... McLaggen getting hit by a buldger... Siobhan's voice... Albus and James...

"Wait a second... it was you who hit that buldger!" I yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Potter.

He winced. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

I scowled. "Bloody arse. I can't believe you'd send a buldger like that at your own brother!"

"Thank you!" Albus said, throwing his hands into the air.

A wave of exhaustion fell over me. I grew slightly dizzy as the Sleeping Draught started to effect me.

Blake, who had remained quiet for a majority of his visit, said, "The potions are starting to kick in. We should leave."

"Okay." Potter jumped off of his chair, as did his brother.

"Get better. "We have to win the match against Louis Friday night," Albus said with a wink.

I laughed drowsily. "I'll be out of here before you can say sneaky snitches. I'm going to go mad!"

"See you later, Rosalie," Potter said, waving at me with a grin on his face.

"You're on my hit list, Potter," I grumbled. "Watch your back!"

His grin faltered, as if he was deciding whether or not my threat was serious. He must have thought my command wasn't dangerous, though, because he replied with a "get better, my love!" and blew a kiss.

"Potter!"

Madam Pomfrey always had injured students put on bed rest for far too long. Nevertheless, she was an incredibly stubborn healer and was not to be trifled with. So, in the end, I suffered exactly four days of practically being chained to the bed before I was released. During my stay, Mariette brought some flowers for me and sweets. Mother wrote to me and said she and Father were swamped with work, so they couldn't visit and wished me "the best".

It was late Wednesday afternoon when Pomfrey let me go. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but I was starving. So, before I walked back to my dormitory, I decided to stop by the kitchens.

The halls were empty, which concluded that classes were still in session. I retrieved a sandwich from the kitchens, gave Polly a quick but sincere "thank you", and returned to my dormitory for the first time that week.

Surprisingly, my bed looked extremely tempting. But then I saw huge piles of homework and the determined side of me decided that I should get started on it. I reached into the relentless pit, finding all sorts of Potions homework and History essays to be completed.

It was difficult to work with my right hand trapped inside of a cast. As I had only sprained the tendons in my wrist, and hadn't actually injured any of the bones, Skele-Gro couldn't help. I was forced to let it heal slowly and naturally. But I made do, scribbling words down messily with my left hand. The script was just barely readable.

An hour later, Georgiana and Veronique walked in together. They were always together.

"Rosalie. Good to see you're back," Georgiana sneered, placing her books down on her comforter. "Well, you're not that injured. And Roland was making such a big deal about it."

I gritted my teeth. "Well, its not like you would know. You didn't visit me while I was on bed rest. At all."

Georgiana and Veronique had always been best friends, the closest in our group. It had always been that way, since day one. I was shoved out of their little duo, and they didn't pay much attention to me. As an eleven year old, that had hurt. Bad. And it still did, not that I'd ever say that out loud. So, while in the infirmary, I had been blindly hoping they'd drop by.

Just once.

They didn't.

"I don't know why I hang around you two. You both realize that without me, you're nothing, right?" I bit, snarling.

Georgiana stiffened, but didn't reply. Veronique looked at me with deep brown eyes, waiting.

"You didn't choose me, Ruthford. I chose you. But I could drop you, too. At any minute. At any second. And you'd lose everything you've built here at Hogwarts." I stood, ignoring the pain that vibrated in my body, and smirked cruelly. "Just food for thought."

"You're just a cold-hearted bitch!" Georgianna screamed at me, while my back was turned.

"But I'm a powerful, cold-hearted bitch, Georgiana. And you'd do well to remember that."

James sat at the long wood table, his head resting in the palms of his hands and his eyes glinting with couldn't take his eyes off of Matthias Avery.

He sat with other Slytherins, but didn't converse with them as he sat, brooding. His arms were folded tightly and coldly, while his eyes lingered on Rosalie's pale frame. She was either oblivious to his stare or ignoring him; either way, he was discontent and agitated with her.

"Who are you staring at?" Molly asked with her mouth full of potatoes.

He turned to her slowly, as if he took his eyes off of Matthias for too long, he'd do something unfathomable. "No one."

She snorted, pushing a lock of Weasley orange hair behind her freckled ear. "Please, James. You're a terrible liar."

He sighed. "Fine. I'm watching Avery."

"Why? Have a man crush?" she joked lightly.

James looked horrified by her nonsensical assumption. "Of course not! That's revolting!"

She cleared her throat. "Ah yes. Right."

He turned his head back to Matthias, who's dark features were magnified by the lack of lighting in the Great Hall.

"But seriously, James. Why the bloody hell are you stalking Matthias?" Molly continued, pressing him for information he didn't feel obligated to share with her. She watched him with clear blue eyes expectantly. "Where ever he goes, you follow. Its like you're afraid if someone leaves him by himself, he'll do something completely evil."

He clenched his jaw. "That's because he will, Molly. I can just feel it in my bones."

"You're being ridiculous," she muttered.

"You wait and see," he retorted, his glare returning once more to Matthias.

And it was true; James could feel something. It was right around the corner, right out of his sight. Matthias wasn't a fool, and being publicly ridiculed by Rosalie was going to cost her.

Speaking of Rosalie, she was on the receiving end of not one, but two glares. That Ruthford girl, Georgiana, was staring at her, pug-like features full of anger and spite. She was whispering with Veronique about something, who sniggered in response.

What had Rosalie gotten herself into?