Chapter 3

"There is a castle on a cloud, I like to go there in my sleep, aren't any floors for me to sweep, not in my castle on a cloud."

That voice is beautiful. So beautiful. It's beautiful, achingly familiar, and oh-so comforting.

"There is a room that's full of toys, there are a hundred boys and girls, nobody shouts or talks too loud, not in my castle on a cloud."

No, wait. The voice I know is different. This voice is cracked and broken, choked through with tears. There are long pauses between each line of disjointed singing.

"There is a lady all in white, holds me and sings a lullaby, she's nice to see and soft to touch, she says - "

The beautiful voice cuts off, to be replaced by deep, guttural sobs.

She's crying. Angelina Johnson, ex-captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, fierce Angelina, self-proclaimed badass and the girl that once wrestled me to the ground for stealing her liquorice wand, is crying. And if I could, I would cry with her.

I can feel Roxy with me, but I have no idea if she can feel me here too. Maybe it was just for that short amount of time that we could speak. Maybe she can't remember me at all.

Desperation wells up inside of me.

I know you're here, if that's what you're whining about.

I jump, and Roxy's fingers twitch.

"Baby?" Angelina's sobs cut out, and she clutches at Roxy's hand. "Roxy? Honey? Are you awake? Please, baby-"

Now look what you've done!

Roxy's own desperation is evident.

I've- i don't want- I can't-

Oh hell, I moan, stay still, you don't have to talk to her. She'll think you're still asleep.

She won't she won't she -

"George!" Angelina's choked through voice cries, "Georgie quickly, wake up; she moved! She's waking up."

A startled gasp sounds, instantly recognisable as the sound George makes when he's woken up from a restless slumber. "Whassa- Roxy!"

At the sound of her Dad's voice, Roxy rolls onto her side, away from their voices, pulling her arms up over her head and curling into the foetal position, tears streaming.

I know what's wrong. It's obvious. She's terrified; she knows what George is like. She falls over and scrapes her knee whilst he has a nervous breakdown. Angelina has always been there to support her and Freddie when George is having one of his moments, but she's still a parent, and she still feels all of the parental instincts that come with discovering your daughter in a hospital bed, unconscious and with a gash the length of a wand down the side of her face.

Roxy doesn't want to have to deal with the two of them. She can't. Nobody could, even without having George for a Dad.

"Love, please-" George begins, but Roxy cuts him off with a strangled yell.

"Go away. I d-don't want you here, leave me alone."

Angelina lets out a long and calculated breath. Too shaky to be a sigh, but far too long to be a normal breath. She sounds like she's in pain.

"Sweetie," Angelina starts, her tone firm and reassuring, "if what you want is for us to leave, then we promise we'll do whatever you say."

George tries to protest, but she silences him.

"You mean the world to us, and if you're not ready to speak to us yet, we understand and fully support that. We'll go."

Roxy winces at the harsh sound of a chair being scraped back along the floor, but doesn't try to stop her parents from leaving the room.

"We can send in a nurse if you want? Is there anyone you want to talk to? You've been out for five days. Teddy's gone back to school, but I know he'll be back in a few hours, probably with Freddie, Grace and Rose? Do you want to talk to any of them?"

No, she doesn't. She wants to talk to her Mum. She wants Angelina to hold her and tell her just how much she loves her, and that everything's going to be okay in the end. How can she say that, though? How can she tell George to go and Angie to stay? He'll be crushed.

"I..." She pauses awkwardly, "we love you, please don't forget that."

Roxy sobs gently as the door swings shut behind them, her arms wrapped around herself.

Shh, hey, it's going to be alright. They love you. Everything's going to be okay in the end.

I try to comfort her, but I don't get the feeling anything I say is going to make even the slightest bit of difference.

You're safe here. It feels bad now, but in a while these'll just be memories. You'll be back at Hogwarts and I promise everything's going to be okay.

I can feel her listening, taking in my reassurances despondently.

Think about it like this. Five days gone, right? It's a Thursday. Rose, Grace, everyone else - guess where they'll be.

She doesn't reply.

Double charms. With Grimble. And w- you're here in this lovely warm bed, no school, no exams, no psycho teachers screaming at you for breathing too loudly. I'm telling you, this is the good life.

She giggles feebly, relaxing slightly and rolling over onto her back.

You're not so bad for a hallucination.

I try not to let her see how much that bothers me.

Happy to be of service. You feeling any better?

She nods gently, wiping her eyes and sitting up.

We're in a small room, typical of most hospitals. Our bed is sided by a drip, although it's not connected up to Roxy. There's a bleeping heart monitor beside her, and as she watches it, the bleeping begins to speed up ever so slightly, her breath catching in her throat. As she looks straight ahead, though, she catches the eyes of her reflection in a huge flat screen TV.

Roxy gasps.

She knew her face had been cut. She knew it had been bad, but not for a second did she expect to meet this upon confronting her reflection.

The left side of her face, her previously average, but in no way unpleasant, face, is contorted, slashed in two by a deep gash. Even in the vague shapes visible in the TV screen, it can't be missed. Aren't wizards supposed to be able to heal things? Even Roxy herself knows basic healing charms. She has bleary memories of Teddy pressing his wand tip to her cheek, murmuring a healing charm and swearing.

The heart monitor going wild beside her, she lifts up her fingertips, pressing them against the protrusion and running them down the ridge. She winces only slightly as she touches the softer, tender corner of her lip, where the tear ends.

"It's only going to be like that for a few more days," a quiet, gentle but reassuring voice pipes up from the doorway. "Your friend Teddy did a fine job, but since it was incomplete we need to give it a few days to finish healing over so we can deal with it without leaving any scarring."

A nurse - young, skinny, black hair and skin slightly darker than Roxy's - strolls towards us, studying a clipboard in her hands, flipping over a sheet of paper.

"Please don't worry yourself about the cut; you're going to look exactly the way you did before. You won't see a difference, I promise. My name's Caroline, by the way."

Roxy nods her thanks shyly, smiling.

Caroline carries on, perching herself on the end of Roxy's bed and looking down at her over the top of silver reading glasses, "I think that's everything I have to tell you regarding injuries and the like. Physically, you're going to be absolutely fine." She pauses, exhaling and removing her glasses completely, "mentally - It's just going to be a case of how you are, how you feel, and what you think we can do to help you."

"Huh?" Roxy's mouth hangs open, not fully understanding what she means.

"You have a history of mental illness," Caroline's voice takes on a tender tone. "I'm sure you understand that at the moment, we're concerned about your psychological welfare. You're sixteen years old, and you've been through hell. That's what I'm here for. I'm your new therapist."

Great. Fantastic. Another one. She thinks sarcastically.

"What happened to Amy?" She demands, referencing her old therapist, the very very pregnant lady who she has to admit wasn't the least cool person on the planet.

Caroline smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling up, "Amy gave birth to her son last week."

"Oh," Roxy can't deny her surprise. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine. It's a boy - Jude. He's healthy too."

A grin spreads across Roxy's face. "That's.. If you see her will you tell her congratulations. I'm really happy for her."

Caroline nods, smiling back. She's silent for a few seconds.

"So, why don't you tell me how you're feeling?"

She phrases it as a question, but it's something that Roxy's long used to.

Roxy stares down at the bedsheets, trying not to look like she's sulking, "I feel... fine. Really, fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

The two women hold each other's gaze, Roxy's eyes narrowing very slightly.

"Being fine is not the same as being happy."

Roxy doesn't have a retort for that one.

"I-" she begins, closing her mouth and sitting back, frowning deeply. "Do you expect me to be happy?"

Caroline presses her lips together, watching Rox intently, "I try not to expect things. What if what you expect to happen is exactly what happens? Where's the fun in that?"

"Can you not pretend not to be a shrink?" Roxy asks nonchalantly, "it gets on my nerves."

Caroline raises her eyebrows, "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to leave."

Her disappointment is evident, but she rises to her feet nonetheless, "Do you want me to send in your parents? Someone else?"

"I'm fine."

"You've said."

We watch her leave, Roxy turning her nose up and pretending to be fascinated in a vase of flowers on her bedside table. As the door swings shut behind her new psychiatrist, she sighs, "Bloody hell. Thank merlin that's over with."

She wasn't that bad, I try to protest, doing the mental equivalent of a shrug.

"She was a bitch," Roxy says, "I don't like her."

She's here because she wants to help.

"No, she's here because it's her job, and she's getting paid to be here. She thinks I'm just another nut."

To be fair, I counter, you are talking to yourself.

Her front falls, and she collapses back onto her bed, eyes shut. Neither of us speak until the sound of hushed voices ushers her back into consciousness.

"Mum said she was awake earlier."

"Well she's not awake now."

"Maybe we should wake her up."

"Or maybe we shouldn't."

"But Ted-"

"But what?"

"But I need her to-"

"You need her to what?"

"I need her.." There's a pause, and in her mind's eye, Roxy can see her brother's shoulders slumping, "I need her to be okay."

Teddy sighs, and there's the sound of movement, "your sister might not be a Gryffindor like us, but she's got twice our guts put together. I promise you Fred. I promise you she's going to be fine."

Roxy's stomach clenches.

"That's not what the doctors say."

"What the psychologist said, was that she's most likely in the early stages of post-traumatic stress disorder, and that we're going to have to give her space and time to recover."

You can tell when Teddy's in one of his serious moods by the way he speaks. He tends to underplay his intelligence unless there's a real need for it. That's when he starts using long sentences, loses his regional accent and begins to sound authoritative and haughty.

"And really I wouldn't bother listening to anything that woman says, she has no idea what she's talking about," he continues, "it's her first week here. Psychologists are good for nothing without experience about which techniques actually work, and Caroline Jordan does not have that experience. All she has is a fancy degree and parents who are going to depend on her salary just as much as she does."

There's a pause, "I'm sorry, are you Sherlock Holmes now? We talked to her for all of three minutes."

"Her parents are friends with Harry. You've probably met them; Lee and Marietta Jordan. I know Lee used to be close to your Dad, but I don't know what thinks are like between them any more."

"Oh."

She silence holds, until eventually Teddy coughs, "I'm going to go and get some water. I should be - well, if she wakes up, come find me."

There's only the most minuscule of pauses before his rapid footsteps leave the room.

As soon as she's sure the door is shut, Roxy's eyes snap open.

"Has he gone?" She whispers hoarsely, propping herself up on her elbows, turning her head towards the doorway. There's no sign of Ted anywhere.

For a brief second, she shuts her eyes, then she turns her head slowly to come face to face with her brother, her Freddie.

To both her relief and shock, he's not crying. He doesn't even look particularly upset, he just looks... thoughtful. He's perched on a blue plastic chair at the side of her bed, leaning forwards, watching her closely.

"Rox..." he mumbles, "you're awake."

She nods slowly, "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Slowly, she reaches her hand out to take his.

He doesn't move.

She presses on, enclosing her fingers carefully around his fist.

Flinching ever so slightly, he stays motionless.

"Freddie?" Her voice quivers.

"I can't believe you did it. I can't believe you went into that house."

"Fred-"

Don't tell him you're sorry, I cut her off with the thought, you'll make it worse.

She hesitates, pulling her hand away and holding it close to her chest, "I was just trying to have some fun. I didn't think -"

"Damn right you didn't think," his eyes narrow into slits, "you were stupid. What if you'd been killed?!"

Tears spring into her eyes. This isn't what she fucking needs right now.

"Do you know what you've put us through? Do you know what it felt like for me? You didn't turn up to dinner. When I asked Rose where you were she said you'd gone to bed early. She lied for you - Rose lied for you. Rose Weasley, the biggest fucking prude on the planet lied for you."

Normally she'd be angry with him for what he said about Rose. Now, it's too much.

The first streak of wetness runs down Freddie's cheek, and he brushes it away, glaring at her, his bottom lip shaking.

"She thinks it's her fault. She thinks she should have stayed with you and it wouldn't have happened. She thinks maybe if she'd come clean a few hours earlier you'd have been okay. She told me -"

His voice breaks, and he brings a hand up to his mouth, tears spilling over.

"She told me she'd rather die than have you get hurt because of her. Every day she's been down here talking to you while you've been asleep, telling you how sorry she is. We get the owl from your Mum saying you'd woken up, and suddenly she's too scared to come anywhere near you. You've put her through hell. Never mind how I've felt, how Mum's felt, how Dad's felt."

A pit opens up in Roxy's stomach. No. No. He needs to stop. He needs to stop doing this right now. She can't take it any longer. The way he's looking at her, like she's betrayed him, like she's the worst person in the world...

Freddie pauses for exactly half a second, and then his jaw slackens.

"Fuck," he mumbles, "fuck, Roxy, I-"

Without warning, he throws his arms around her neck, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

She busts into tears.

"Oh no, don't cry. Don't cry," he whispers through choked sobs, "please don't cry, you can't cry. I'm sorry, please don't."

At this point, Roxy is incapable of reply. Her arms are wrapped around Freddie, clutching him so tightly it must hurt, her nails digging into his skin through the back of his shirt.

Tears stream down her cheeks and she doubles over, pressing her face into her brother's shoulder, still clinging onto him for dear life.

"I- I- I'm-m sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't t-t-think- I'd never 'ave- Never- I wouldn't-"

She's completely catatonic. Her breathing's too fast, her heart's pounding, her body shudders with every breath she takes.

Roxy,

I speak to her over Freddie; there's no way she can hear what he's trying to tell her.

Roxy calm down. He doesn't blame you. Nobody blames you. I promise, everything is going to be okay but you need to calm down.

She's listening. Listening is good. She doesn't believe me, but she's listening. It's a start.

Please. He's angry, but not at you. He's Freddie, he couldn't ever be angry at you. He needs you. He needs you to be okay and you can do that for him, if you really really try, so please try. For him.

It's bullshit, but I know that's the only thing that'll make her calm down. Even as I'm finishing the sentence, she starts to take huge, gulping breaths of air, pulling away from her brother.

"N-no," she whispers hoarsely, "no, I'm - get off me. I'm f-"

She can't quite finish the word 'fine', but the meaning comes across. She wrenches herself away from him, wiping her face fiercely and taking a few seconds to compose herself.

"I'm okay," she manages to mutter to herself. "I'm fine. I've got this. I've got it."

Her eyes open slowly, one last stray tear tumbling down before she looks up at Freddie.

"Please," she says quietly, trying to hold his gaze, "don't say anything. You don't have to. I'm-"

Her lip wobbles, and she threatens to break down again, but I focus my concentration onto Freddie, thinking it might help her keep her calm. Apparently, it does help, and she regains control of herself, pulling her knees up into her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Look, don't say anything."

He reaches out to touch her shoulder.

"Don't,"

He backs off, wary.

For half a second I think Roxy's going to burst into tears again, but she catches herself, pressing her emotions down inside her, forcing herself to concentrate on Freddie's face, just Freddie's face. She exhales.

"Please," her voice is quiet, barely a whisper, "can we just... start again, okay?"

Part of her hopes that he's going to take back everything he said, but he's Freddie - he won't. Not if he doesn't mean it.

He nods, eyes fixated on the ground.

Finally, after what seems like hours, he opens his mouth, "I'm sorry for being so... blunt." He looks like he's about to burst into tears, "I didn't think..."

Damn right you didn't think you little-

Don't you dare, she cuts me off abruptly. Don't you dare even think about saying one word. Unless you know what the hell I can tell him you keep your mouth shut.

I oblige, stepping back mentally, trying to give her room to think. Merlin knows she needs it.

Her lip trembles. Her hands shake. But she stares resolutely at her brother, willing him to return her gaze.

He doesn't move.

Slowly, she untangles her arms from where they're positioned, wrapped around her knees, and reaches out to him.

He flinches as her hand touches his shoulder.

"Freddie... look at me," her voice is gentle.

After half a second his head gives a tiny, but definite shake.

Roxy slides her legs off side of the bed, the cold floor a shock against her bare feet.

He still doesn't look up.

"F-Fred..." she mumbles. "Please."

Shifting all of her weight onto her feet, she stands up, taking the tiniest of steps towards him, and then wrapping her arms around him. Her head falls into his shoulder, and she slumps against him, burying her face in the fabric of his hoodie and inhaling the oh-so familiar stench of family.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, forcing back tears and leaning against him as his arms curl around her protectively, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't mean for it to happen."

Freddie presses his lips against her forehead, "No, shh. 'Course you didn't know, you couldn't have known!"

His hushed voice takes on a desperate quality, one that Roxy's more than familiar with from all the times he's tried to calm her down, when she's seemed like she was going into one of her hysterical fits.

That frustrates her. He thinks she's on the edge of losing it completely, and she's not. Inexplicably, but undeniably... fine. She feels fine. Even in the last few seconds she's gotten a hold on her emotions, focusing on her brother and pointedly ignoring my existence.

Instead of replying to him, she pulls away, stepping backwards to seat herself on the edge of the bed, watching him, giving him a confident smile. No, confident isn't the right word. She looks.. reassuring.

She sighs very slightly, biting her lip, "I should talk to Mum and Dad. I wanted to talk to Mum before, but I just couldn't bear Dad. He's.." she trails off, "Has he been really bad?"

Freddie gives the most minute of nods, eyes on the ground.

"And Rose?" She asks, expression slightly fearful, "is she really that cut up?"

His face twists into a slight smirk, gesturing towards her marred face, "Not as bad as you are."

She snorts, bringing her hand up to her face and trying to keep herself from smiling too much, "Can you keep her away till they heal it? I don't want her to have to see me like this, it's not fair. And tell her it's not her fault. Please?"

He nods again, still smiling very slightly, and then rises to his feet. "I'll send in Mum and Dad, if you want. Or Teddy.." his smirk reappears, "if you'd prefer."

Her face turns a deep shade of purple.

"No!" She says the word too quickly, desperately avoiding his eyes, "I'm gonna- I mean- I mean yes, but.. Mum and Dad first. Please? Go get them. I... th-thank-you."

"'Course," he breaks into a grin, "try not to worry about Dad too much though, he'll be fine. S'long as you keep your cool and turn your head.." he touches her cheek, moving her face to the side so that the scar falls into shadow. "There. Perfect."

She sticks her tongue out at him.

"Jerk."

"Ugly," he shoots back, without so much as blinking.

"Gay."

"Pan-sexual!" He folds his arms across his chest, scowling indignantly, "why d'you need to go labelling everything anyway?"

Roxy rolls her eyes, "Get out of here. Tell Rose and Gracie I'm fine though, will you?" He nods. "And tell Teddy, um.." she twirls her finger around one of the curls in her hair, "tell him if he wants, I'll, uh, I'll still be, um, here, after Mum and Dad have, er, gone. Or something."

"Really?" He raises his eyebrows, grinning, "Really? Are you actually kidding me?"

She ignores him, staring straight down at the quilt, cheeks burning.

"I'll tell him," he ruffles her hair quietly, before turning on his heel, stepping out into the hallway. Even as he walks away, we can still tell that plastered onto his face is the huge, patented, Fred Weasley smirk.

LONG TIME NO SEE!

Oh, guys, I'm sorry for being so rubbish, and I don't really have any excuses. Yeah, I've had lots of GCSE's, but it's not like I've been revising for any of them. And I've been really caught up running this new Sherlock blog of mine on tumblr (check it out - before-series-three dot tumblr dot com), so a lot of my time has gone into making everything that's been submitted over there, but really me absence has been down to writer's block. I'd just sit there and stare at the chapter and have no idea what's coming next. I've been trying to get this one done for about three weeks now, and there's been nothing. I'm still not happy with what I have now, but it's going to have to do. My little edity bunny is yet to have a look at it, because that jerk decided that sleep was more important than my writing. I know - ridiculous. I'll pin him down and make him do it tomorrow, so that I can go back over this and iron out all the kinks.

On top of that, hopefully I should be getting a little more inspired on my stories soon, as I've found someone who's going to read each of them and, quote, "tear them apart". Now as horrendous as that sounds, the kind of criticism I'll hopefully be getting from him is going to help me to improve my writing, which is really everything that these stories are about.

As to this chapter, I already said I'm not very happy to it. I'm not really sure about Freddie and Roxy's characterisation, and although the feedback I've had so far is that it's good, I don't think I'll ever really have enough confidence in my writing to trust in that. On top of that, apparently, even though I've tried my best to keep it to a minimum, as far as the characters go, I really don't think I can take out all the swearing. I don't know where anyone else lives, but I go to a British high school, I'm fifteen, and as far as my experience from every day life goes - the characters in this story are practically saints. The normal greeting call of a teenage English girl tends to go something along the lines of "OI YOU FUCKIN' SKET". I know. It's horrific. Don't come to britain, our accents are overrated and you'll never get to meet Benedict Cumberbatch.

Point is, Roxy and her friend's interactions are based on my experiences of how life works. JKR's character's didn't swear because it was a children's book. My characters swear because that's what teenagers do. It's just a part of life. And I fail to understand how reading the word 'fuck' can even possibly offend anyone. It's just a word. Exactly the same as if I'd written 'cat', or 'tree', or 'shit'. Quite literally they're just different combinations of letters. I promise I'm working on keeping it to a minimum, but there will always be swearing. I can't get rid of it. I'm really sorry if that disappoints anyone or if anyone's offended by a combination of letters said by a shockingly unrealistically polite seventeen year old.

Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to mention! For the purpose of getting more reviews, I tried to submit this story to mugglenet fanfiction. After five or six lengthy emails, I was rejected because my story doesn't stick to canon. Even after I tried to explain why everything that's happening is happening, they still argued and argued, including stupid, petty technicalities like, 'oh, well i'm sure they'd have shut down the shrieking shack or put a guard at the entrance or something'. It got to the point that I just decided it wasn't worth the effort any more. I don't resent the website, and really, I'm sad for them that they would reject a story based on it not being, in their view, disregarding the actual content of the plotline. That's just what I think, though.

Anyway, reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, and if anyone has anything that they want to say, positive or negative, please just shoot me a private message or review or something along those lines.

Apart from that, thank you for reading, and I should be back at some point before the end of the week to update 'Turned to Dust', one of my other stories. Apologies for being so crap lately, though, however much I've already said that.

Talking too much. Okay.

Thanks for reading, again, and I hope you have a really great day.

-Hannah :)