Disclaimer: I own nothing.

When Seamus came too, he immediately wished he could just pass out again.

The world was far too bright and far too still and silent. The quiet of this place reminded him of his own home, where the only thing to break the silence was his dad's yelling. He was lying in an uncomfortable bed under some white sheets... actually, everything was white. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, the bedding on the beds, and the sheets surrounding them.

All this white could only mean one thing... Hospital Wing.

"Mr. Finnigan, finally, you're awake!" Madame Pomphry gasped and he was shocked to see her smiling. While a very kind woman, the nurse was stern and rarely grinned at the students except for maybe a small smile at her favorite students. Seamus was sure that he wasn't one of them.

"Um, what happened?" He asked, trying to sit up and wincing in the pain in his back, head, neck, and... well, basically everywhere.

Madam Pomphry pushed him back onto the bed. "I wouldn't try to get up. You took a nasty fall down those stairs."

That's right! He'd been coming back from seeing Myrtle after reading the letter, and he hadn't seen the upcoming stairs. He'd tripped and the last thing he remembered was a horrible crack echoing through the otherwise empty hall and then... nothing.

"Am I alright?" He asked. He felt a dull pain in his entire body, but nothing that suggested broken bones or a concussion or anything. Yet, Shay knew from experience that sometimes you really can't tell when your injuries are worse than they feel.

"You'll be fine. Bed rest is all you really need. That and, well... Seamus, we need to have a talk," she sat down on the end of his bed.

"That doesn't sound good," he muttered.

She smiled softly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Mr. Finnigan, while I was examining you, I found quite a few worrying scars, many of them hidden by glamour charms. Would you like to tell me about that?"

Seamus sighed. "I got jumped by some Muggle kids over the summer. Not sure why, but that beating definitely left a few marks."

Madame Pomphry nodded, not looking convinced. "What about those?" She gestured to his arm, where three circular scars (healed burns ) stood out plainly.

Seamus shivered. He remembered when his dad had given him those...

*FLASHBACK*

"Boy, get your useless ass down here right now!"

Shay jumped at the sound of his father's shouting and he shuddered in fear before staggering to his feet and descending the stairs.

His father was, without a doubt, mad. His posture was tense with his hands balled into fists, ready to come flying at Seamus any second. He had alcohol soaking his shirt and was clenching a bottle by the neck. Red and scrunched up, his face was downright rageful.

"Yes, sir?" He whispered, coming to a stop before his father. The fist came out of nowhere.

Vision blurry at the edges and dizziness overcoming him, Seamus collapsed to the floor in a world of pain.

"D-Dad?" He stuttered, fearfully. He'd had horrible beatings before, but never had so much pain and anger been delivered with one punch.

"Shut up!" And then, his dad was kneeling over him, raining blows down on his only son, who had curled into a ball, trying to escape the pain he felt.

"Father, stop! Dad! Daddy! Sir, please!" Seamus was begging, something he'd sworn to himself he'd never do because it gave his father satisfaction. But he just wanted it to end. He was using every term for his dad in the book from Daddy to sir, but his father responded to none of them.

"Shut your fucking mouth, you freak!"

"Dad, stop, please. It hurts!"

"Good, you worthless son of a bitch!" His dad screamed.

Shay, now on his stomach and feeling like his back would break from the force of the blows, looked up and was suprised to see his mother, her eyes beyond horrified and frightened, standing in the doorway.

"Momma?" He whimpered, his voice choked with tears. "Please?"

"Shut up!" A sharp kick to the ribs.

When Shay returned his gaze to the doorway, his mother had turned her back and was walking away.

"Momma! Momma, please!" Seamus was shocked at how young he sounded. He sounded like he was three years old again, begging his mommy to save him from Daddy's yelling and hitting. "Please!"

"Shut up, you worthless piece of trash! No one will save you. You don't deserve to be saved, you little bastard! You deserve to die."

"No," Shay whispered. "Not... true."

Sean cackled. "Not true? If it weren't true, someone would be here to save you, but do you see anyone? No."

"AHHHH!" Shay's horrible scream filled the air as his father burned his exposed forearm with a cigarette, leaving an angry red mark. Two more followed it.

"Someone save me," Seamus whispered to no one.

*FLASHBACK OVER*

But to Pomphry, he said, "One of the kids burned me with his cigarette. Bastards; oh, sorry!"

"Normally, I would scold you for that, but I will give you a pass for this," Madame Pomphry mumbled, but Shay still couldn't tell whether or not she believed him. "I will release you tomorrow, but until then, rest and do nothing except rest."

"Yes, Madame Pomphry. Thank you for healing me," Seamus said. Shay was immensely grateful that someone other than himself had healed him, considering no one had since he'd returned home after his second year.

Poppy smiled as she walked into her office. None of the students had ever thanked her for healing their injuries and working out their magical mishaps; Seamus Finnigan had been the first.

But there was something not quite right with that story of his. She couldn't put her finger on it; it seemed perfectly believable, but something about it... wasn't.

And then there was Mr. Thomas.

He'd visited Seamus before there would have been enough time for the rumor to circle the school as if he somehow knew that Shay had gotten hurt. Like an emotional connection.

Dean had sat by his bed until Shay started to stir, ever so slightly, and as he left he begged her not to tell his best mate he'd been there for one reason or another.

There was something strange going on with that little boy that used to come it with more burns and scorch marks than any other student. Something was very wrong indeed.

He was surrounded by flames that licked the walls hungrily and danced towards him menacingly yet so beautifully. He watched as his house crumbled around him into burning ashes until all that was left was the fire and him and the boy.

He didn't know the boy. He actually looked a lot like him with shaggy brown hair, pale skin, and a scrawny frame, but this boy didn't have nearly as many scars as he did. Still, his skin was covered in bruises and cuts.

"Shay," the boy whimpered.

"I'm here, Jamie," Shay coughed as he dragged 'Jamie' out through a doorway just as the doorway caved in, coming this close to smashing the pair.

Somewhere along the way towards the front door, Shay tripped over something and went crashing to the floor, bringing Jaime down with him.

Crawling on his hands and knees, Shay pulled him and the little boy out the front door, falling down the steps to land on the grass in an exhausted, hurting heap.

"They're here! Get me an oxygen tank!" A voice demanded and then, Shay was being lifted onto a stretcher with a mask over his face.

"Shay!" A voice cried and Seamus could've sworn it was Dean's voice but his eyes closed and he knew no more.

Seamus shot up in bed, a sweaty, shivering mess.

Looking out the window, he saw that the sun had begun to peak over the horizon, shining in through the floor to ceiling windows.

It was the morning before Christmas Break began and it was time to get packing.

Back to a life of hell.