Tete-a-tete

Chapter Two: Misery Loves Company.

“You can never break me I'm already broken.” - Tonic, Liar.

Florence had to race across the castle and climb three flights of stairs in order to get to the Arithmancy classroom. She got to
the door panting with exhaustion. Her father, a balding and bespectacled man, was sitting at his desk calmly grading papers. He
glanced up.
“Malvina, you're late. This would not be acceptable at the actual O.W.L.s, you understand.”

“Dad you don't under-“ she started.

“Don't you talk back to me, young lady! I don't want to hear your excuses!” he barked.

“I'm sorry,” she whimpered.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to an empty desk. “I will be acting as an academic instructor. I expect you to address me as such.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, and sat down.

“Now, I have managed to get a copy of last year's O.W.Ls,” her father started. “We will start with Potions since it is your best
subject-“

She raised her hand before he could finish; he nodded indicating she could speak.
“I presumed, Sir, that I was to have my dinner first, then do the practice O.W.Ls,” she said.

“Your notion is incorrect. Your dinner shall be a reward for getting Outstanding marks on all your papers, young lady,” he said
calmly. ”Now, as I was saying, Professor Smythe was kind enough to lend me the ingredients for the potion. I'll get out a
cauldron and you shall begin.”

“Yes, Professor Midgen,” she said, folding her hands on her lap.

That was the beginning of a grueling evening. Nothing she did was good enough for her father. It was nearly midnight when
she'd finished.
He set out two trays of cold food. She was ravenous, she gulped down her mashed potatoes and set about attacking a slice of
beef, only to look up and see her father scowling at her from over his glasses.

“That's not the polite way to eat, you know,” he said.

“I'm sorry. I'm just terribly hungry, and I haven't eaten since lunch,” she replied between gulps of pumpkin juice.

“Don't look so happy,” he said and took her slice of roast beef from right under her fork. “You don't deserve that much. You
only got an 'E' on Care of Magical Creatures.”

”But Dad, you said yourself that it was nearly impossible to get a magical creature up here on such short notice,” she whined.

“Don't 'but Dad' me, young lady,” he said firmly. “You have an IQ of 165 I'd expected that you would have handled that
particular problem better. You don't apply yourself.”

“I worked myself to the bone tonight, Dad. I'm miserable and tired. I can't do my best in conditions like that,” she sighed.

“Stop whingeing. You wouldn't complain like this if you were a boy,” he snarled. “Only girls whinge like this. If you were a boy,
all I'd have to say is 'keep a stiff upper lip' and that would be that. If only you had been a boy. Or at least a Ravenclaw, like
me.”

“Sorry. I'm a girl I cant control that,” She groaned in frustration.

The rest of the meal passed in silence; Florence was glad about that.

She smiled as she got up to leave left, thinking of her nice bed in the dormitory, and of reading her new book. As she opened
the door, her father called to her, “Malvina, visit your mother this weekend.”
She stopped and sighed painfully.

”But Dad, I can't-”

“Our house is in Hogsmeade; I don't see why not,” he said.

“I don't have a pass for this weekend,” she mumbled.

“Nonsense. I'm a Professor; I can get you a pass,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

“I have plans with my friends,” she lied.

“You only have one friend, that scrawny odd fellow from Slytherin,” her father said matter-of-factly. “He's not the most social
of people. I'm sure there is a way you can get out of any social engagement you have with him.”

“I really don't want to go-” she whined.

“This is your mother. She gave birth to you. She’s taken care of you for most of your life. Don't be ungrateful; all she wants is a
visit. There was a time it was hard to separate you two. Besides, it's not like anyone knows her secret,” he said. “You're going
to visit her on Sunday.”

She left, feeling terribly depressed; her mother was a Mudblood. When Florence was small it didn't matter, because she hadn't
exactly understood:she had the unconditional love of a child. Now she knew why they had to keep it a secret. No one liked
Mudbloods. She had even forced herself to laugh at a few Mudblood jokes, even though they made her stomach twist into
painful knots. If Severus knew, he wouldn't be her friend. He'd scorn her for sure. The last thing she wanted was to be rejected
by him. Especially after today; she licked her lips remembering the kiss, which wasn't pleasant, but it was better than nothing.
She smiled thinking about how it felt holding his bony, tense body in her arms and how he smelled: a sweaty, musty, mildewed
mixture. It wasn’t exactly pleasant but better than she expected. Suddenly worry stole over her.

“My God! What if I’ve ruined our friendship?” she thought. “What if I've totally destroyed our friendship for good?
What if he never wants to see me again? I’d better to leave him alone all next week.”

There was the sound of girlish giggling coming from up ahead. Florence paused, grabbed her wand, and hid behind a suit of
armor.
That was when she saw Sirius Black with Lysandra Curtis, a Ravenclaw who was all tarted up for the occasion. She was the
source of the giggles, walking hand and hand with him. Pettigrew and his date Bertha Jorkins followed them. Florence’s lip
curled at this. Bertha was a Gryffindor sixth year and a stupid, ugly cow who made Florence's life particularly unpleasant by
being the source of some very insalubrious rumors, the most recent of which included Florence, Severus, and a tub of grease.
“It seems that Bertha, finding no one in her own year willing to date her, has taken to robbing the cradle,” Florence
thought with malicious glee.

“C'mon in here,” Black whispered pointing to an unused classroom. “This'll be perfect. Wormtail, make sure no one's around.”
Lysandra giggled into her hand then proceeded to suck at Black's neck like some sort of overgrown leech.

Pettigrew quickly glanced to the left and right, squinting into the darkness. His small watery eyes saw nothing; Florence was
motionless and quiet.
“No one's here, Padfoot,” Pettigrew whispered back.

Florence would get Black and Bertha for their hurtful words.

“Severus says I should let him fight his own battles. Well, then I can fight my own as well,” she thought.

She watched them sneak into the classroom; the door was open a crack. Lysandra was on a desk with her legs dangling over
the edge and Black was standing close to her. Lysandra wrapped her legs around his waist, the rampallion. Black was running
his fingers through her hair. They were gazing into each other's eyes. Florence smirked in the doorway, aimed her wand, then
stopped. She didn't know Lysandra very well, but the girl had always been nice to Florence.
“No, I have to do this,” she thought. “I need my vengeance. It won't hurt her. Think about something else.” So she
thought how much was her , how he had always pushed and prodded her to be a Ravenclaw, how she was sick of hearing
about it. She thought of her triumph that first day when she had managed through sheer force of will to get sorted in Hufflepuff.
The look on her conceited Ravenclaw father's face that day.
She raised her wand, pointed it at Black, whispering the curse.
Black and Lysandra were going in for another snog when the curse hit. Black got a very a shocked look on his face and
suddenly vomited green, slimy slugs on Lysandra's face and down her robes.
Lysandra screamed and pushed Black away.
“ My face! My new robes! They’re ruined! You prat!”

“Lysandra, it's not my-“ Black started to say, then vomited up another load of slugs.

Florence aimed her wand at Bertha, and the cow was seized with itching and scratching all over.
Florence went back behind the suit of armor, laughing to herself, as she watched Filch rush into the room. She left in the other
direction. She had never slept as soundly as she did that night.

---

Severus thought the change that had overtaken Midgen after they had kissed was very odd. She went the other way when she
saw him in the halls. When she had no choice but to walk by him, she did so blushing profusely and with her head down.
They had Potions and Charms together. Both of them used to chatter on mindlessly as they efficiently did whatever task the
professor assigned them. Now, suddenly he couldn't think of anything to say to her. The attempts they made at conversation
were stilted and uncomfortable with long pauses in between each word. It was like when he tried to talk to Bellatrix.
Speaking of which, on Wednesday the Slytherin Quidditch team had a game. Severus didn't care; it was against Ravenclaw.
He only went out to cheer when they were playing against Gryffindor. Severus was in the common room reading a new book
about sorrow- and anguish-inflicting curses. He heard the clicking of heels and turned his head.
Bellatrix walked in with the Quidditch team. She was grinning in a very delicious way. Her hair was done in a long, shining braid
down her back, interwoven with silver and green ribbons. She wore robes of deep green velvet that clung to her voluptuous
body and shone softly in the dim light of the common.

“Now, now, Wilkes, dearest,” she purred. “ Don't pout. It's house tradition that a female Slytherin has the honor of giving all
the members of the Quidditch team a peck on the cheek for good luck before they go to the field. And since all of you made
such generous contributions to the Thomas M. Riddle Foundation, the honor of that duty is mine. ”

Severus knew he had no skill whatsoever on the broom, but for that moment, he wished with all his heart that he could be on
the Quidditch team.

“But I-“ Wilkes started to say, looking sullen.

“You are a Chaser, silly.” Bellatrix giggled sweetly.

“Oh… yeah, but only a little peck on the cheek, Bella?” Wilkes whined. “You are my girl, after all.”

Severus glared at Wilkes from over his book. He would be willing to walk through walls of fire for a mere peck on the cheek
from Bella.

“C'mon, it would be bad luck if she snogged you full on,” said Nott, the small weedy Seeker. “Everyone knows that.”

“All of you line up, then,” Bellatrix chirped, thrusting her chest out.

And with that she kissed every one of them on the cheek, Rodolphus Lestrange, the new beater who had transferred here from
Durmstrang, last of all. She seemed to linger a bit longer on him. Apparently, Severus wasn't the only one who had noticed,
because Wilkes had started telling another one of his Mudblood jokes.

“So, ummm …what do you call a mudblood girl who can outrun her brothers?” Wilkes said, his voice cracking with a bit of
nervous laughter. “A virgin.”
Everyone let out a gale of forced laughter at this. It was the fourth time Wilkes had told this joke. Laughing loudest of all was
Bellatrix, her bosom heaving as she was overcome with false mirth. At least it looked that way, to everyone but Wilkes, who
grinned with pride.

“Bye, now, I'll be out shortly. I need to collect some more money for the Thomas M. Riddle foundation,” she said with smile.

As the Quidditch team members were leaving, Severus noticed the sly wink exchanged between Bellatrix and Rodolphus.
Suddenly, Bellatrix was facing Severus, grinning.

“So, Severus.” She rolled the R, making his name sound like spun silk. “Are you going to watch the game with us?”

“Err well, no... Bellatrix,” he mumbled trying his hardest to shrink into his book. ”I… uhhh… ummm …err... you see. I'm…
“Think, Severus! Think!” he thought angrily. “Doing extra credit work for Defenseagainstthedarkarts.”

“Oh, well, now, that's wonderful.” Bellatrix's grin got larger. “I'm sure that will get the Slytherin house more points, I've heard
from underclassmen that you always do brilliant work on assignments.”

“R-really?” he said incredulously, his voice breaking a tiny bit. He was surprised that anyone had noticed.

“Mmmm, yes, of course.” She nodded distractedly. “Did you know that the new Ravenclaw seeker is a Mudblood?” Her voice
dropped a few decibels when she said that word, and her tone got considerably less pleasant.

“No… I.. uhh.. don't follow the Quidditch … really.” he said. She continued as if he hadn't spoken at all.

“I've told our beaters, Dolohov and Lestrange, to make sure they aim the bludgers at her -- filthy, disgusting, little Mudblood. I
want her to be crushed. A Mudblood stole my sister, you know; it destroyed my family,” she murmured furiously.

“Oh… that's … terrible… it really is,” Severus whispered nervously. He couldn't believe she was still talking to him and hoped
he sounded compassionate enough.

“That's why you should give money to the Thomas M. Riddle foundation,” she said, brightening abruptly. “He's a really
wonderful person dedicated to preserving wizarding traditions.”

She got much closer to him, and he got a very pleasant view of her large chest.

“Yeah, I'll give. It sounds great. I'm all for… preserves.”
He reached into his robe pocket and handed her twenty Galleons. He was planning on buying Midgen a copy of that Valquez
book so she didn't have to borrow his any more, but seeing Bella's assets so close evaporated all thoughts of Florence Midgen.

Bellatrix gave him her sphinx-like smile and a kiss on his right cheek. She smelled like roses and her lips were as soft as satin
pillows.

“Thank you so much. I have to be going now; supporting the team is very important,” she whispered to him, and with a click of
heels, she was gone.
The words of the book on mind curses had vanished from his mind. He could feel where she had kissed him all afternoon long,
and the scent of roses still lingered in the air.

---

It was Thursday afternoon; Severus was in the dungeons walking back to the Slytherin dormitories. He had four essays due,
plus a star chart for Astronomy. He heard footsteps and turned around, but there was no one there. He shrugged and continued
walking, but then he heard whispers and more footsteps, yet there was still no one to be seen. Suddenly, his schoolbag split
open, and quills, textbooks and inkpots came spilling out. As he stooped to pick them up, a shadow loomed over him. He
looked up. Standing there were Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin, their wands drawn, and ominous expressions on their
faces. Severus grabbed his wand and clutched it tightly.

“Expelliarmus!" Black shouted, and the wand flew out of Severus' hand.

“Snivellus, I bet you think you're very funny, ruining my date with Lysse. It took me months to get a date with her, and now she
won't speak to me,” Black sneered.

“Really, it took that long to save two galleons?” Severus said coldly.

Black glared at him then cursed him again. Severus winced at the pain as huge red welts appeared on his right cheek. He
groped around the floor for his wand.

“And you put the itching hex on my girlfriend, Bertha,” Pettigrew whined angrily.

”She's a cow. She has fleas. I didn't put them there,” Severus smirked.

Pettigrew's chubby face went red with fury.

“You insulted my Bertha!” Pettigrew wailed with indignation. “I'll get you -- you greasy git!”

“Wormtail, let us hand-“ Lupin started.

But Pettigrew had already spoken. His hex was ineffective; all his wand did was spit out a few red and gold sparks. This gave
Severus just the time he needed to grab his wand and get on his feet.
Severus aimed his wand, uttered a spell, and Black shrieked with pain, grabbing his head. He then performed the same hex
on Pettigrew. Severus smirked triumphantly, but this was premature. A blue beam shot out from the tip of Potter's wand and hit
him square in the jaw. It felt as if he'd been struck. Severus's head jerked back violently; he was reeling.

"You think you can just get away with this, you greasy piece of shit," Potter growled. "You've got another think coming."

Blood trickled down Severus' chin from his newly split lip. He could feel it, but he didn't care. He didn't bother to wipe it the
blood away.

"So you've stooped to my level then. You do know that was dark magic." Severus smirked.

Potter was angry and confused; he looked at Black in something like shock. It was most likely that Black had taught him that
particular curse. Then he looked back at Severus with purest loathing all over his face.

"Get bent, Snivellus," Potter retorted.

"Ever so mature. Here's some real dark magic!" Severus thrust his wand and shouted the ancient words; the tip of his wand
issued something that looked like a swarm of glittering silver-colored dots. When they hit his four opponents, thousands of small
bleeding cuts appeared. They shielded their eyes and tried in vain to bat away the glittering particles.

Severus's smile widened. Cultellus Canistrus Curse was something he had picked up from The Compendium of Asian
curses. This was the first time he had actually used it in a combat situation. He knew that this curse was intended to allow the
caster to escape as his attackers battled the tiny daggers, but it was working so well he couldn't help but to stay and watch. His
eyes flicked to Potter and Black struggling against the tiny daggers, trying to find a way to keep back the swarm, then to
Pettigrew, who seemed to be trying as hard as he could to curl into a ball whilst doing a spell. Suddenly someone yelled,
“Expelliarmus!"
Severus was knocked off his feet, and his wand flew out of his hand, landing somewhere in the darkened corridor behind him.
Recovering, he looked up and knew he was in trouble.
Severus had never seen Potter look so terrifying; blood was oozing from all the tiny cuts on his face, pure hatred in his eyes.
“Danger! Run away! Flee, now!” screamed a voice within him. Severus took a deep breath and managed to banish it.

“You greasy arsehole! That curse -- do you have any idea how deadly that curse is?” Potter demanded in a low growling
voice.

“Not afraid of a few paper cuts, are we, Potter?” Severus mocked, grabbing his wand and getting to his feet.

“My cousin was killed by that curse,” Potter snarled, raising his wand. “I'll make you pay.”

“I didn't kill your bloody cousin,” Severus spat, “and I didn't ruin your bloody dates.”

A crimson thread shot from Black's wand and hit him in the stomach; he doubled over. He thrust his wand out, but it was too
late. Black barked out a curse. There was a rope of dark purple smoke coming from his wand; it wrapped around Severus's
left arm. It had the strength of a giant and it was twisting and twisting his arm. It hurt so much; the pain was getting worse with
each turn. He was in agony, but Severus gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing
him scream.

Potter was babbling on about something. “People like you make me sick…” More pain. “…You just think learning a little dark
magic is fun…” Warm tears in his eyes -- he had to fight them back. The pain was so great. “… This is dangerous! That's why
it's illegal…”

There was this horrid snapping sound. Severus's arm dangled limply, swaying in a liquid manner. Potter gasped. Black stopped
muttering the curse. Pettigrew and Lupin stood there, wide-eyed and gawking.
Severus, however, tried not to let it faze him. The pain didn't matter; there would always be pain in his life, though it was so
great, he was having trouble keeping his balance and seeing straight.
“Dark magic. They want to see dark magic… I'll show them,” he thought.
There was the Worst Memories Curse he had just read about. He summoned every bit of his power… He squinted his eyes,
trying to focus on Potter, and said the words. Something emerged from his wand -- a white, transparent skull with wings
attached to the head. It flew at the four boys. But it didn't hit Potter, he dodged. It dove into Lupin's chest. Lupin went very
pale and collapsed into a sobbing, shivering mess, bawling something about being bitten. The other three boys rushed to Lupin,
crowding around him, trying to offer comfort, but Lupin moaned and shuddered, lost in his private hell. Black glared back at
Severus. He remembered seeing Black's name on the due date card of that book. Black raised his wand, and a moment later
Severus saw the skull coming towards him... there was no time to duck... it was so cold when it entered him… and then, he
was a child again, in that dreadful kitchen. Mummy was cowering before Daddy; Daddy's wand was raised…

---

Florence had just finished a letter to Jenny, her pen pal in Canada. She had left the common room and was on her way to
the Owlery when she heard shouting from up ahead. It sounded like a fight, and one of the voices was very familiar -- it
sounded like Severus.

“Oh no! Is he in trouble?” she thought, and her heart beat faster. She raced towards the voices, forgetting her letter. Sure
enough, he was in trouble -- Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin sort of trouble. Severus was on the floor with a welt on his
face. She got out her wand, and prepared to rush into the fray, but stopped herself.
“He wants to fight his own battles. I can't interfere; it would only make things worse. I'm no good at this and it would
look silly,” she thought.

So Florence watched from the darkness. She felt a thrill of excitement go through her when he did the Cutellus Canistus
curse. Florence had only read about it in books. Apparently, though, Severus was a bit too wrapped up to notice Lupin, who
was standing behind his four friends. Lupin was at the edge of the swarm. She wanted to stop Lupin -- to cry out, to -- to do
something, but Severus had commanded her not to interfere. She had to respect her friend's wishes, and Lupin was acting
quickly. He had used Expelliarmus with such force it knocked Severus down. She watched Lupin use a freezing charm on the
coruscating metal, and they daggers dropped to the ground like so many rejectamenta, all before Severus had recovered from
the shock. He was completely helpless as Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew stood before him like the Four Horsemen of the
Apocalypse.
She accidentally ripped her letter to Jenny when she heard the bone snap. It wasn't his fault Potter's cousin was dead or their
dates were ruined. The latter had been her doing. She felt a pang of guilt, but reminded herself firmly that he wanted to fight this
battle. He was still standing. How could he still be standing with his arm like that? She watched as Lupin fell, then Severus. She
watched as the four left -- they were practically carrying Lupin. Severus was alone on the floor, mumbling with a broken arm,
his school stuff scattered about.

“There goes my plan of avoiding him for the week,” she thought as she left the shadows and approached him cautiously,
bending down to talk to him.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Please… don't hurt Mummy… please… don't hurt Mummy… she didn't mean to make the supper wrong…” he wept over
and over again, oblivious to her presence.

“Severus everything is fine; I'm here,” she said.

He didn't notice; his eyes were staring blankly into someplace that wasn't there. She sighed, fixed his bag and put his stuff
back, knowing he'd complain about it later.

“Finite Incantatem,” she said, waving her wand over his head.

He blinked, looked at her, and glared.

“Midgen, you simpleton, I thought I told you not to-“ He winced at a twinge of pain in his left arm. “-interfere.”

“Severus, I did not interfere at all with your folly, you coxcomb. I’m simply cleaning up after it,” she chided, hunching down
beside him.

“Midgen, I'm in no mood for your stupid words and ugly face. Get away from me, now,” he snarled.

“Severus, if it wasn't for me you'd still be sitting in the middle of the corridor, muttering to yourself like a rebarbative
tatterdemalion. Your arm is broken, your mind was messed with, and your things are scattered all over,” she said.

“Thank you for removing the curse,” he sighed. “Now, leave. Me. Alone.”

“You need my help; your arm is broken,” she said as she slung his right arm over her shoulder.

He pulled his arm back quickly, as if he had touched fire.
“Leave me alone. I don't need help to walk. I broke my arm, not my leg, in case you haven't noticed.”

“That's an obvious -- it's just hanging there like a wet towel. Of course it's broken,” she retorted sarcastically. “I've never
broken a limb, but according to the rumors I've heard, it's excruciatingly painful and hard to fix. At least let me help you a little.”

“Are you deaf, Midgen? I said no. Go and look up some more strange words or something,” he grumbled as he rose to his
feet. “I can do this on my own.”

“You can't fix your bloody arm on your own, Severus. You're not a trained healer! You need to go to the infirmary,” she said,
“but if you want to try, be my guest. I'll be the first one to laugh at you when you screw it up.” She threw his school bag at his
feet and turned away.

He glared at her back.
“Spineless, overprotective fool. If she meant what she said, she'd walk away, but she won't. All I have to do is groan a
little and she'd try to carry me bodily up to the infirmary,” he thought bitterly. “She should leave; she shouldn't have
seen me like this. Oh. My arm hurts! I'm so sick of pity. I bet she's just looking for an excuse to kiss me again… but this
hurts so fucking much… not just my arm, but that fucking Worst Memories Curse Black did… I can't stop thinking
about it… at least when she's talking I can focus on her.”

“He's being a moron!” she thought. “How can someone that smart be so dumb. He's badly injured. I offer him the only
help I can… it's not like I'm any good at spells. Well, not in practical situations where it matters... I always choose the
wrong one. I suppose I could leave him alone. He'd do better without me. Why does he even talk to me? It was the kiss;
I messed it up with that kiss. Why would anyone want to kiss me? I'm hideous. My only friend here, and my damned
hormones got in the way…”

“I'm going,” she huffed. ”I know you want me to. I'll leave you to wallow in misery.”

“I didn't say you should leave,” he said.

“You don't want my help. You've told me to go away and leave you alone at least four times. I'm sorry, but when you say that
it indicates, to sane people, that they are not wanted,” she snorted.

“I just don't care for your mothering,” he mumbled, “and since when have you ever been considered sane, Midgen?”

”I'm saner than you, but that's not anything to brag about. There are whole asylums saner than you,” she said, a smile
blossoming on her lips.

“But unlike you, I don't spend my spare time seeking out ways to alienate my peers,” he smirked.

“No, you have a natural gift for alienating people in ways I could only imagine in my wildest dreams of avarice.” She was
grinning now.

“So underneath all the whining about being friendless, you admit to it.” His eyes were gleaming now. “You love alienating
people.”

“Most people in this school aren't worth knowing. Most of the student body is shallow or mean or narrow-minded or stupid.
Some individuals turn out to be frightening combinations of all four,” she said. “Nothing more than a bunch of limaceous,
wlatsome, facinorous, gits.”

“I agree with you; you don't have to shove your vocabulary down my throat to prove your point,” he said.

“As much as I enjoy this little game, Severus,” she said, smiling, “Your arm is still broken. We still need to get you some help
before your condition is ingravescent.”

He sighed. “Yes, but we will tell Madame Pomfrey I fell, and nothing about the fight.”

”Of course, that's what I thought we'd do. What kind of idiot do you take me for?” she said.

“Do you really want me to answer that, Midge?” he said, grinning toothily as they started walking to the infirmary.

“Never mind. I walked right into that one.” She shook her head.

“Yes, now I'll recount the many horrendously dim-witted things I've seen you do in the four short years we've known one
another for the rest of our journey,” he said.

“Don't…” She sighed. “I get it enough from my father and he has my whole life to work with.”

“Let's see here, Midgen. There was the first time we met -- first year Charms -- you were frantically searching for a textbook
that was sitting on the desk before you,” he said with a wicked glee. “Then there was the time…”

He went on and on as they walked. She was cringing, grimacing, and pouting. Finally she'd had enough.
“Shut up! Why do you have to remind me of what an idiot I am. I already know. God, you’re making me feel awful.”

“Not as awful as I feel. My left arm is broken, my jaw aches, there’s a huge welt on my right cheek, and I've just had a
psychologically damaging curse performed on me-” he said.

“So misery loves company?” she growled.

“Yes, Midgen, you are grasping the point,” he said.

“I just want you to shut up,” she muttered.

“I haven't gotten to our third year yet,” he said.

“Shut up, or I'm never speaking to you again,” she said.

”Fine, I will. You're being melodramatic,” he said, and was quiet.

They walked in silence; in the stillness the pain intensified. Everything hurt, even things that hadn't been broken or bruised. He
looked at her. She was walking beside him; she always kept her head down. She looked so sad in every sense of the word.
“Why does she have to act this way?” he thought. “Like she’s the weakest, sorriest runt of the litter. She’s mastered
Numbing Charms, which are very, very difficult. If I knew Numbing Charms, my bloody arm wouldn't be hurting at
all… “

“Midgen?” he said.

“Yes?” She looked up out of her daze.

“Could you perform a Numbing Charm on my arm? It is one the few skills you've mastered,” he said.

“Numbing Charm?” She looked apprehensive.

“Yes, we learned them in Charms class. Professor Flitwick said you were the best he's seen in years -- my left arm is broken; it
hurts -- I'd like the pain to go away,” he sighed, “and I'm not terribly proficient in the Numbing Charm department.”

“I can't. I mean, sure in a classroom and everything, but not in real life. I mean, what if something goes wrong? You could lose
feeling in that arm altogether… or I could blow it up accidentally,” she whined.

“Midgen, stop whingeing. The pain has to be very, very, very bad before I ask for help,” he said. "And I'm asking."

“Fine.” She took out her wand, pointed it at his arm, then lowered it. “No, I can't… I'm going to mess it up. I know it; I'm
awful about these things. Oh, I'll hurt you badly. I know it.”

“In case you haven't noticed, I have already been hurt badly. I don't care if it ends badly. I need something so I'm not suffering
with this pain,” he sighed.

“I'll mess it up, I know it,” she sobbed. “I'll blow up your arm. I'll make it so you can't feel again. I'll get the wrong arm. I'll do
something wrong. You should wait until we get to Madame Pomfrey. She's very good at this stuff. Maybe you shouldn't even
have the Numbing Charm done. I mean it might screw up the healing process… I don't know. Your arm could be broken for
good; you might lose it! I'll make it worse, you don't-“

He sighed, rolled his eyes, grabbed her, and kissed her. He kissed her so hard, she had to back up against a wall. She didn't
know why it still felt so odd, so wet, so forceful; he was biting her lips as he kissed her. She had stopped resisting the kiss; it
was pointless and this was the best she was going to get.
He stopped, backed away, his broken arm swaying eerily by his side. She wiped her mouth with her hand and looked at him,
wide-eyed and shocked.

“Why did you-“

“It was the only way I could get you to shut up,” he sneered. “Now about my arm.”

“Oh, yes.” She raised her wand and performed the charm.

He gave a sigh of relief.

“Thank-“ he started to say.

Florence was running down the hall. Her lips were bleeding; she held a hand to them. She was crying. She didn't want to see
him again, but she knew she would. Their friendship was ruined …. Not ruined, but changed … and it would never go back to
the way it had been. Now the only course was forward, and she dreaded what was looming ahead.