A Rough First Week of School

August 1996

Alicia had never felt nerves like what she was currently experiencing, as she stepped into an austere classroom at the St. Mungo's Healer Institute. The building was an old, imposing brick structure in London, close to the hospital but separate, with high iron railings around the yard. A formidable, shriveled secretary curtly checked her credentials and wand before informing her to head to the first floor, second room on the right, for her first class.

There weren't many people in line behind her, but Alicia didn't turn around. Instead, she proceeded up the stairs to the classroom in question, finding it just as daunting as the rest of the building. A quick glance around the room sent a partial wave of relief through her, though. Sitting on the third row from the back was a familiar face with sky-blue eyes and long, curly blonde hair — Chrysanthe Hayden.

The former Head Girl's face split into a grin when she saw Alicia. She waved and Alicia hurried to sit beside her, dropping into her seat with an inaudible groan.

"Merlin," Alicia whispered. "This is enough to terrify anyone."

"Isn't it? I thought for sure that secretary downstairs had a probity-probe shoved up her arse…"

Alicia almost giggled and just managed to stop herself. Instead, she glanced around the room again, taking in what she'd missed the first time. Three more students were trickling in.

There were only a couple of other familiar faces in the room. N.E.W.T.'s weren't enough to enter the Healer Program; the St. Mungo's entrance exams were a stringent addition. The only other two people Alicia recognized were Courtney Vanhausen and Ellen Redgrave. She'd had no idea that either of them were interested in becoming Healers, but then, she'd never been friends with either of them at Hogwarts. Redgrave had always been a Ravenclaw snob who moved in a completely different circle; Alicia had never even talked to her, despite being in the same year. As for Courtney… well, they had been prefects together, but Alicia would certainly not call Courtney a friend. Courtney had been a Slytherin elitist through and through, and Alicia had always felt Courtney disliked her. The feeling was pretty damned mutual, if she was honest.

Alicia noticed there were no boys from their year at Hogwarts, though there were a few boys in the room, and some other girls. It was possible for students to pass the required N.E.W.T.'s but not the St. Mungo's exams, and one could retake the St. Mungo's exam up to three times every five years and still be accepted. It appeared a few older students had failed before, but gotten in this round. It was also possible that some of the people in the room had attended schools in other countries. Though unusual, it was not unheard of for St. Mungo's to accept students from other schools so long as they passed the requirements.

At exactly 9:00 am, the door closed with a firm snap that echoed through the room. Silence fell; the only sounds were the footsteps of an old, thin, tall man in lime-green Healer robes. His gray hair was receding and he looked stern and unfriendly behind cold, wire-rimmed glasses. Alicia felt her nerves tauten.

He waved his wand at the blackboard and the chalk zoomed across it, writing out his name: Healer Q. Faust Ecclestone, Professor, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and Healer Institute

He turned to face the class, and the lines in his face seemed to deepen. He began in a sharp tone that, for all it was quiet, carried through the tense room.

"You are all here because you have successfully passed St. Mungo's testing and other requirements to enter the Healer program. However, be warned. Your test scores and entrance exams are only the beginning of the difficulties ahead of you. This program," he went on, as he stood at the front of the room, his hands behind his back, "is immensely difficult. You will find your fortitude tested and your physical and mental capabilities stretched. Those who cannot cope with the coursework, labs, and eventual residency requirements will fail. Re-admittance is highly frowned upon and only occurs in rare instances. Only forty percent of you will actually succeed at becoming a fully-qualified Healer. Look around," he instructed coldly. "There are twelve of you, but only four of you will succeed. Maybe five, if this class is lucky."

A ripple of pressure seemed to go through the students. No one spoke.

Professor Ecclestone's expression did not change. "Despite this high attrition rate, St. Mungo's will not lower its standards for mediocre students. The job of a Healer is difficult, challenging, and ever-changing. We do not risk mediocrity. We will challenge you to be your absolute best. If your best is not good enough, you will need to consider a different profession. For you to do your job effectively, without injury or harm to other witches, wizards, and the occasional muggle, you must be the best. This first term is entirely healing theory and entry coursework, and it is particularly difficult. At the end of the term, those who remain in the program will progress to a combination of classroom, lab, and practical work for the next year and a half, proceeding through the rotation cycle each term to receive extensive experience in all departments, before beginning your residency requirement of two additional years."

Alicia could feel her extremities growing colder. You can do this, she told herself. You have ten N.E.W.T.'s. You passed the entrance exam. You can do this.

But she still felt a bit inadequate as Professor Ecclestone instructed the class to take out their quills and start taking notes on the very difficult theory of healing magic — and finally, two and a half hours later, he gave them so much reading homework that Alicia was sure she'd rather repeat her seventh year at Hogwarts.

At least during your seventh year at Hogwarts, she thought grimly, as she packed her books and parchment away to go to lunch, you had the option of sneaking off with…

Alicia jammed her thoughts with some annoyance. There was no use thinking about that. Her little whirlwind romance was over, and that was all it had been. Just a silly, schoolgirl crush and a few stolen moments in the library, a hidden storage room near the kitchens, the locker rooms, the dungeons, and the Room of Requirement.

(Merlin, that did seem like a lot of places though…)

If she were perfectly honest, they had been young and probably a little stupid. They had been evading Dolores Umbridge and a few Slytherin thugs, but in reality, that was nothing compared to the horrors happening in the external magical world. There was a war on, but they had been closeted behind the safe walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And yes, sneaking around had been fun. It had also been exciting, romantic, sexy, a little naughty, and even a bit dangerous… but it was still safer than the outside world. All in all, they had been blinded by youth and lust; Alicia had been further blinded by the fact that he had been her first kiss. She was certainly glad they'd had those moments together and she absolutely treasured them. But it had just been a dream. A fantasy. It wasn't her current reality. She didn't even know where he was, now. They had agreed to end things, and that was for the best. The war was real. Her desire to be a Healer was real. She had to focus on those things, instead.

"Let's go," she said quietly to Chrysanthe, who was looking at her curiously, as though she had somehow guessed Alicia's thoughts and was about to say something. "We only have an hour to eat lunch, and we can't be late to our next class."

"Well," Angelina's voice drawled from the doorway to the kitchen, "you look like hell."

Alicia didn't even open her eyes or move the book off her face. It was blocking the light from the baubles near the ceiling after all, because she hadn't had the energy to dim their light when she'd decided to close her eyes for only a moment.

Had it been only a moment? What time was it? Damn, if Angelina was back, that meant…

"Do I even want to know what time it is?" Alicia muttered, groping for the spine of the book. It was probably Theory of Healing Arts in Ancient Greece, judging by its weight. She was unfortunately quite familiar with it after just one week of classes.

"Nearly six," Angelina supplied.

Fuck. She'd fallen asleep for at least an hour…!

"Alicia…"

"No, no. Just ignore me," Alicia said, her voice muffled by the heavy book. "Let me die in peace, yeah?"

There was a pause. "Come on, get up. We're going out for the night."

"I don't have time to go out."

"Taking care of yourself is important, too. Come on."

The book lifted off Alicia's face and she scrunched her eyes closed against the lights clustered in the middle of the ceiling. "Ang, no…"

"Come on…" Angelina repeated patiently, grasping her arm. "Take a quick shower and do your hair nice. We'll go out for drinks."

"Drinks? Where?" Alicia groused. These days, Diagon Alley was a virtual wasteland of somber purple Ministry posters and scowling images of escaped Death Eaters plastered over shop windows. The Leaky Cauldron was a drab, deserted, dark place that few lingered about, and Tom was looking more ancient by the day. Some shops, restaurants, and pubs weren't even open for business anymore. Ollivander had been dragged off the previous month; Ministry wizards had cleaned up the debris left behind from his shop and sealed it off for investigation. Florean Fortescue had disappeared, too. Alicia could remember sitting under the bright, striped umbrellas outside of the ice cream shoppe with Angelina and Katie each summer for the past four years. The three of them would arrange to meet up together to buy their school things, and after they finished shopping (and spending an ungodly amount of time in Quality Quidditch Supplies), they would giggle and gossip about boys while eating ice cream and waving as various classmates walked by. Angelina always got orange sherbet, Katie always got chocolate chip cookie dough, and Alicia always got vanilla and chocolate with swirls of caramel. It seemed wrong that this year would be different, but it was. She didn't even know if she'd get off from class to meet with Katie and Angelina yet. She needed to check her schedule. Hopefully they could meet on a Saturday.

Angelina interrupted her memories. "Thought we'd go to the Gryphon."

The Gryphon was a pub at the opposite end of Diagon Alley. It looked like a hole-in-the-wall from the outside, but it was bright and cheery on the inside, and unlike the Leaky Cauldron, it hadn't succumbed to the heavy atmosphere of the rest of the area. It was a popular hang-out for the younger crowd; those who had only recently graduated from Hogwarts and wanted some good wizarding rock music and a pint.

Alicia looked up at Angelina in exasperation. "I'm not even dressed for the Gryphon." She was wearing sweats and looked like she had been up for days. (Debatable.)

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Then change. Ollie's breaking away to meet us. He and I have had shite practices this week; we need to let loose a bit."

"What about the twins and Lee?"

Angelina shrugged. "I didn't invite them this time. It's just you, me, and Ollie. I would have invited Katie, but she's still underaged. Ollie would murder me if I brought Katie along while she's underage."

That was absolutely true.

"Fine." Alicia groaned. "Give me fifteen minutes. I need a shower."

The Gryphon was blaring the Weird Sisters on the wireless when she and Angelina entered thirty minutes later. Angelina was dressed to kill in a low-cut tiger-print top that clung to her shoulders and showcased her tits, and a sleek pleather mini-skirt with black heels that showed off her killer legs. She'd twisted her hair up and looked like a million galleons.

By contrast, Alicia had put on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a cream-colored blouse with a low V-neck. It might not show off her legs, but it did show off her bloody brilliant tits, and maybe that's what she needed: a good old-fashioned snog (or maybe even a shag; how had she not managed that yet?) to ease off the stress. She just wanted to get a little tipsy first.

Oliver looked as burly and surly as ever when they found him in a booth near the back of the pub, like he'd had a rough week of practices and was dead on his feet.

"Just the three of us then?" he asked, eyeing them both.

"What's that look for?" Alicia asked.

"Nothing."

"He disapproves of my attire," Angelina suggested, sliding into the booth and cutting her eyes at Oliver.

"I didn't say that. You did." Oliver downed the rest of his pint and raising his hand for another.

Sympathetically, Alicia said, "We couldn't invite Katie tonight, she's underaged."

"Good. I would have had words with you lasses if you had."

Angelina and Alicia ordered hard liquor, because damn it, it was that kind of night. But two drinks later, Alicia was feeling a lot more relaxed than she had been two hours earlier. This was what she needed; Angelina had been right. And without the twins and Lee, she felt like she could do anything without getting teased.

"Enough," Oliver said suddenly, after she threw back her second shot. He pulled the empty glass away from her. "No more for you, Spinnet."

"That's not fair, Oliver… You've had at least three!"

"First, I'm drinking lagers, and you're drinking hard liquor. Second, I'm over twelve stone, and you're, what? Eight? No, Spinnet."

She pouted. "Fine. I'm going to dance."

"I'd rather you not," Oliver started, but Alicia was already moving towards the dance floor, swaying as she went. She felt a lot more mellow with the alcohol buzzing nicely in her system. Maybe there would be a cute boy on the dance floor. She wanted to forget about the shite week she'd had at the Healer Institute, battling Imposter Syndrome and almost dropping out at least twice.

Sure enough, a minute after she started dancing in the small crowd, someone grasped her hand and pressed up behind her. "Hullo, Alicia," a voice murmured in her ear.

Alicia tensed for just a moment, but the voice wasn't the one she remembered. It wasn't quite as deep. It was more gentle. Softer.

"Mind if I dance with you?" the same voice asked.

She twisted in the guy's arms, and her face suddenly broke into a bright smile. "Gilbert! What are you doing here?"

Gilbert Royle smiled back. She briefly remembered a moment from a few months earlier, after the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game, just outside the hospital wing. Angelina and Alicia had both been injured in that game, though Alicia's injury was minor compared to Angelina's. Still, Gilbert had rushed up to check on both Gryffindor Chasers as soon as he got out of the showers, and afterwards, before they went their separate ways, he had hinted that he fancied Alicia. She remembered thinking that, had he approached her before Valentine's Day, she might have gone out with him… but by the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game, Alicia's mind was completely wrapped up in Adrian Pucey.

Now her eyes took in what she'd missed for months: a very fit young man with golden brown hair; the highlights glinting in the warm glow of the pub. He was still in shape from Quidditch the previous year, and while not quite as tall as Adrian, he wasn't short like the twins or Lee. His eyes were a friendly, rich brown — inviting and considerate.

Alicia felt something stir inside of her that she hadn't felt since June. It felt… nice.

Speaking loud enough so she could hear him over the music, he said, "I was supposed to meet Kenneth tonight, but Karen wasn't feeling well. I hope she feels better, but now I'm rather glad Kenneth cancelled on me." His smile reached his eyes.

Alicia grinned. "So am I. Did you say something about a dance?"

He grinned back and held his hand out, and Alicia took it.

Gil was a good dancer. Even though they hadn't been terribly close at school, she had counted him a good friend at the very least. Perhaps that was the right adjective for Gilbert: good. He was just a good person. He had a good sense of humor and he was loyal and fair. Like right now, she thought distantly. Even though she was slightly tipsy, he clearly had no intentions of taking advantage of her. He laughed with her and danced close to her — heck, he even danced a little sexy with her a couple of times, though something in the far reaches of her brain noted it wasn't quite the same as one particular dance she'd had at the Yule Ball back in 1994. Gil kept more of a respectable distance, hardly even brushing against her. He kept his hands light and on her waist, never anywhere else. He was just a decent bloke.

Thirty minutes later, they finally returned to the table in the back of the room, only to find a very surly Oliver, who was watching both Alicia and Angelina like a hawk. Angelina, it transpired, was dancing with a Hufflepuff who had been a few years above them at Hogwarts. When Alicia and Gil slid into the booth and flagged the waitress, Oliver's eyes snapped back to Alicia with annoyance.

She gave him an exasperated look. "Angie and I aren't children, Ollie, we don't need to be chaperoned," she snapped. "We can take care of ourselves."

"You're still my Chasers," he said stubbornly. "I look out for you." His eyes slid to Gilbert. "Royle, isn't it? Hufflepuff? Reserve Chaser, if I remember correctly?"

Gilbert looked bemused that the famous Oliver Wood would remember even that much about him.

"Gilbert was first string last year," Alicia admonished, giving Oliver a light kick under the table. "And he was great."

Gilbert blushed. "Took me long enough to get out of reserve, though."

She smiled at him. "He even came to check on me and Angie in the hospital wing after the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game."

Oliver's eyes changed slightly, as though the information softened his annoyance that this bloke was hitting on one of his female friends.

Gilbert grinned sheepishly. "Well, Angelina did get hit in the mouth."

"In the mouth?" Oliver's eyebrows contracted and his eyes instantly went back to Alicia.

Damn. Apparently, she and Angie had both neglected to tell him that…

Alicia accepted her drink from the waitress, who put down another pint for Ollie and a whiskey neat for Gilbert. As soon as the woman had walked off, Alicia turned back to Oliver.

"Jack Sloper hit her in the mouth with a Beater's Bat, the arse. He couldn't aim to save his damn life."

Oliver grimaced. "Bloody hell. In the mouth?"

"Knocked out nine of her teeth."

"I hope one of you evened the score," Oliver said, a touch of heat behind the words.

Alicia smirked at the memory. "I believe that was Katie. She was particularly hot about it."

At that, Oliver's face flushed a bit more than just from drinking a few lagers. "Oh?"

"Yes," Alicia said fondly. "She hexed him that evening in the common room. Kenneth had to take him down to the hospital wing. Although spiking his pumpkin juice with bone-rotting acid was not entirely out of the question. She did seriously consider that idea, but she couldn't find any. Not for lack of trying, though."

Oliver grinned sheepishly. "She's a spitfire, that one."

"Alicia took two Bludgers that game," Gil added, his cheekbones also a bit pink.

"Aye, well, Bludgers are one thing… getting your teeth knocked out by a Beater's bat… and by a rubbish Beater on top of that… well, that's something else." Oliver looked at Gil. "What do you do now, Royle? Working anywhere?"

Gilbert glanced at Alicia; she had just fished her cherry out of her drink and was sucking the alcohol off of it, and his eyes flickered to her mouth. After an awkward pause, he jerked his eyes back to Oliver; he was clearly embarrassed and Oliver's narrowed gaze wasn't helping. Maybe she shouldn't be sucking on it, she thought, and embarrassedly popped it in her mouth. She had sort of forgotten the implications of that, as relaxed as she was.

Gilbert stammered, "My family's… pretty wealthy. I don't have to work, but I don't like doing nothing, either. I've thought about buying a Quidditch team, but I'd need father's permission to do that, and I'd rather wait until my grandfather is dead before I act. In the meantime, I go to as many games as I can and I talk to owners, since our tickets are usually in the top boxes. I learn what it's about. The other owners and investors think I'm too young to actually do anything, so they share trade secrets with me. They have no idea I'm really interested in the financial aspect."

"Sure you weren't in Slytherin?" Oliver asked.

Gilbert laughed, the awkwardness disappearing. "I'm definitely a Hufflepuff."

Angelina appeared at that moment, a light sheen of sweat over her chest. "Hey," she said. "I'm heading out with Corey." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the tall guy she had been dancing with. "Oliver, good to see you as always. Though, seriously… stop scowling, or your face will freeze like that. And get Alicia home, yeah?"

"I can take her," Gilbert said, before Oliver had a chance to respond.

Angelina's eyes settled shrewdly on Gilbert before flickering to Alicia.

Alicia shrugged. "Gilbert can see me home. Be careful, Ang."

"I will."

Oliver looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just pulled out his wallet to pay for his drinks. "Best be heading back," he grumbled. "Training starts early tomorrow."

"You still reserve at Puddlemere?" Gilbert asked curiously.

"Aye, for right now, anyways." Oliver gave him a tired smile. "Make sure you see this one home safe for me, yeah? She and Johnson are like sisters. I'd murder someone if they let her get hurt."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Good night, Oliver."

Gilbert waited until Oliver was making his way through the crowd before he smiled and coughed slightly. "I can't say I'd want him to murder me, but I am glad he looks out for you and Angelina. That's nice of him."

"Or just plain overbearing." Alicia laughed. "But no, seriously, Ollie's a good guy. He's right, he's like a brother to us."

They lapsed back into talking about Quidditch after that — how long Oliver had been on the team, when Angelina and Alicia had joined, when Katie had joined. That led to what teams they most enjoyed watching, who they thought would be favorites to win the League this year, and if they planned to go to any games (Alicia couldn't, not with the workload she had in the Healer program, and Gilbert looked a little sad at that.)

It was midnight before they realized the pub was closing down. Gilbert graciously paid for her drinks before walking out with her.

As others were hurrying away into the darkness, he flushed and said, "I don't know your address."

Alicia was just about to tell him to follow her when a song came on the Wireless from inside the pub.

It wasn't the song itself that made her stop. It was the band. It brought something stupid and ridiculous to the forefront of her mind.

Sapphire Overdose

Her heart clenched slightly. The memory was a t-shirt, a late afternoon conversation in a hidden storage room near the kitchens, a sexy smile, tea and Christmas cake before a cheery fire…

"Alicia?"

Gilbert's voice brought her back to reality. She looked up at him with no idea what her expression was. Then she steeled herself, grasped his hand, and started walking. She hated that they couldn't Apparate within Diagon Alley itself, but as soon as they reached Tansley Lane, she Apparated them the rest of the short distance, directly onto the flat's landing, just in case anyone had followed them. Silence pressed around her after they reappeared; she couldn't hear anyone in the dark, narrow alley below. She exhaled in relief.

"Er, what street is this?"

Alicia had already unlocked the door with her wand. She cast Homenum Revelio as a precaution, but the flat was empty.

"Inside," she breathed. "Just in case anyone is in the alley, listening." As soon as the door shut behind them, she breathed easier. "Sorry," she apologized. "It's just…better to be prudent, I guess."

Gilbert nodded. "I understand."

"This is Tansley Lane," she said lamely. "106B Tansley Lane. Or Alley, depending…"

"Oh, so you aren't far from Diagon at all." Gilbert's brow creased. "But why here? It's pretty dangerous right now."

"The twins are at Number 98, and Kenneth and Karen are at 43B. Lee stays with the twins most of the time." Alicia shrugged. "We just thought it would be nice to be around our old classmates. It puts me near the Healer Institute and Angie can Apparate to Wales easily."

"Ah. Makes sense, but I still worry." Gilbert sighed and smiled. "Thank you for tonight. That… was probably one of the best evenings I've had lately."

"I'm glad we ran into each other." Alicia meant it, too.

"Listen…" His hand stilled on the doorknob. He didn't quite meet her eye and he blushed fiercely. "Would you… like to go to dinner one night? Keep catching up?"

Alicia's breath caught. Would she?

Maybe it's what you need, she told herself. To forget.

"That sounds… really nice."

Gilbert smiled softly. "Next Friday? …seven? I can stop by here and pick you up."

Her heart fluttered. "I'd like that."

This was what she needed, she thought, as Gil stepped onto the landing and disappeared. She needed to forget Adrian Pucey.

Author's Notes: The first part of this chapter draws from a speech the Head of my Department made when I first entered my PhD program - specifically the comment about the attrition rate (although, in my program's case, it's actually only 35%...) When I was writing Alicia in these early scenes, I had nearly dropped out of my PhD program three times in the first week alone. I was definitely feeling the imposter syndrome, which colored how I wrote her.

Angelina did actually get hit in the mouth by Jack Sloper's Beater's Bat in OotP during the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game. It was never stated what the damage was; I just took a guess.

If you want to see my AI creations based on what I think all the characters look like, go to the story on AO3.