As Ayla left to help Alistair, a small part of Esther wondered if she was being too harsh on her; Ayla was a lot of things (‘deluded’ being the first and worst of her crimes), but malicious – at least to those she considered her friends – had never been one of them. Fred, Esther knew, was one such person. If Ayla had hurt him, then it hadn’t been on purpose.

But right now Esther couldn't find it in herself to care. Under that veneer of very real worry, the Slytherin seethed; Fred was seriously hurt—Alistair could have been, too, if Fred had landed on him! If they had fallen any other way…

She watched Fred try to focus on her fingers. Her chest clenched at how slowly, how difficult it seemed to be. That settled it: he was definitely concussed.

When Ayla shoved the dittany under her nose, Esther jerked back, pinning the Hufflepuff with a tight, impatient expression. What now?


     “It’s dittany.”


The look eased, albeit grudgingly. Merlin knew why Collins kept some on her person, but if she was going actually going to be of some help… Lips pursed, Esther plucked it out of her hand before quickly – pointedly – turning away.

Nothing was said about already knowing what to do with it. Neither witch, it seemed, wanted to speak to or look at the other any more than they had to.

“Finally,” Esther muttered once Ayla was out of earshot. Merlin, was she sick of her! The Hufflepuff was all too fond of making everything about herself. This time it was even more unhelpful than usual. Now that she was gone, Esther could focus on Fred. She was only sorry Alistair had to pay for it.

She kept her fingers up as she scrutinized his bleeding arm, wondering how best to determine whether it was broken or not. It didn’t look broken, but… that could just be the jumper. It was thick enough to obscure the shape of his arm, she thought, touching the sleeve gingerly. What if it was broken? There wasn’t any sense in sealing wounds over broken bones, was there?

She would just have to find out. Tremulously, Esther swallowed.

“Fred?” Difficulties aside, he still hadn’t replied and it was deeply worrying. The hand began to lower. “I said, how many fingers-”

She had only a split second to correctly read his expression and scramble away, out of firing range—and for the most part, one might say she did well. She had excellent reflexes, and it wasn’t only because she was a Seeker. But the thing about vomit was that it… splattered. In fact, for all of Esther’s reflexes, bits of it peppered her lap.

Ugh!

Taking as deep and calming a breath she could without actually smelling anything, Esther briefly closed her eyes, then opened them. While Ayla made her apology to Alistair, she wiped her hand on a patch of grass beside her. She drew her wand. “Scourgify,” she said grimly, pointing at her lap and then, at Fred’s front, “Scourgify.”

The mess disappeared in a swirl of bubbles, leaving behind what only clung to the boy’s chin.

Ayla and Alistair returned, quickly overtaking the former. At his first question, Esther pulled back Fred’s sleeve as best she could without jostling him—and sharply inhaled. Yep, it was broken. In which case… “Sage,” she said without turning, too busy giving Fred’s woozy state a forlorn look. “We need Healer Sage. He’s broken his arm and has a concussion.” She nibbled on her lower lip, worrying at it until it became a soft cherry red. “I can’t fix either of… that…”

Shirtless, her brain supplied helpfully, as – wide-eyed – brown eyes dropped down to Alistair’s very bare chest. What– where was– why wasn’t he wearing his shirt?!

“You’re…” Her voice trailed off, faint to her own ears. Physically, Alistair was the strongest boy of their year. Esther knew this, because he kept picking her up like she weighed nothing. But to see it–

Willing the heat in her cheeks to go down, Esther dropped her gaze back to Fred, picked up the dittany from where it had fallen and uncorked it. A few greenish vapors escaped, then dissipated; Fred’s wound did the same when Esther let the dittany drip onto it, until it closed. “He needs to be taken to the infirmary,” she said, eyes fixed on Fred as she stoppered up the vial. “I know dittany doesn’t normally affect bones, but I’m worried that using it will cause his arm heal improperly.”

She chanced a peek at Alistair. “You might have to carry him. If we levitate him, he could bump into something.”

Ayla was stood off to the side, allowing Esther to play nurse. She didn't need to be in the way and she certainly didn't need to be any closer to the other girl than absolutely necessary. Having left to change Alistair back she missed Fred throwing up, thankfully. She may have accidently allowed herself to snigger at Esther's reaction, especially considering the splatter. That certainly would have made matters worse. Merlin why did she have to be here? Fred was in a bad way and it was taking all of her willpower not to run to his side.

Alistair quickly joined them, obviously just as concerned about Fred as the two girls were, otherwise he may have remembered to put his sweater on as well. Ayla didn't bother hiding her own blush but was surprised to see a touch of crimson on the other girl's cheeks. A shocking emotion overcame her and she quickly looked away from the entire group. Jealousy. Seriously Jealousy?! Of all times for the green eyed monster to rear it's ugly head, it had to be when her partner was suffering from a broken arm and a concussion. Why was she even jealous? It wasn't like she even liked Alistair, despite how good he looked without a shirt on. Esther could have him for all she cared!

Regaining her composure she found herself nodding. Still too afraid to speak. Esther had a point. She could easily levitate Fred, or build him a stretcher and get him to the Hospital Hut but she doubted any of those present would trust her to do so. Alistair was the best choice and Fred needed the help sooner rather than later.

She risked making eye contact with Alistair, her cheeks still crimson and her eyes bloodshot with unshed tears. She nodded towards his shirt, it may be a good idea to put it on before rushing Fred off to the Healer.

Alistair looked from the girls, who were so upset by Fred's serious injuries that their faces were red. They were probably ready to cry. Well, at least he knew that if Fred died, there'd be a bunch of pretty ladies lining up to cry over his open casket. That was heartwarming, in the most morbid and messed up way.

Sage. That was her name. Healer Sage. Hopefully she could fix Fred up, and maybe the brain damage wasn't permanent.

At the smell of vomit Alistair scrunched his nose up and did his best to ignore the churning in his own stomach. He threw his shirt on Fred's face to cover the smell. And perhaps protect his dignity. "Here, have a hat." AKA a face covering because he's so disgusting.

"Alright, I'll carry him." He looked from Ayla to Esther, "You two run ahead, let Healer Sage know we're coming." Alistair looked back down at Fred, "Okay mate, up you go."

Then, Alistair placed Fred's good arm around his neck and lifted him up Disney Princess style, muscles straining until he found his balance. "If you throw up again, I swear on your mother I will drop you." Alistair joked in an attempt to relieve some of the tension and worry. He tilted his head slightly towards the girls, "I swear on their mums, too." Careful not to step in sick, he began his journey back to the castle.

Fred was very thankful for Esther’s quick thinking in regards to cleaning up.  He felt mortified.  Not only did he puke in front of two, objectively, very keen girls, but he couldn’t even keep up with what they were saying.  Everything seemed to just be happening seconds behind and as soon as he caught up, they were onto something else. 

This was horrible.  If he didn’t die from his injuries, he’d certainly die from the indignity

That was until a shirt hit him in the face and the whole world spun right round again, sending his stomach into a tailspin of nausea.  Gripping the fabric he rubbed his chin and grimaced, setting aside the soiled garment.  He didn’t want to throw up again, so judiciously, he decided to close his eyes: avoid the light and the spinning world, maybe.  “I just… no, don’t,” he went to hold up his hands and shake them as he informed them he did not want to fly again (levitating and flying to the addled brain were hardly different), but the adrenaline had mostly passed and Fred realized with a sudden and intense jolt (and yell), his arm really hurt. 

Looking over, he balked and his head went super light again.  That was blood!  Blood!   Defensively, he went to cradle his arm and was surprised as he was dislodged from sitting on the ground.  He must have missed the decision: he was being carried. 

Another reason to want to die of embarrassment.  Was it even possible to have as many reasons as Fred did right now?  For anyone else, it’d definitely be a no.  “Don’t drop me,” he ordered weakly, “I didn’t crush you: you owe me.” 

 “You two run ahead, let Healer Sage know we’re coming.”


Esther tried not to show how much the idea filled her dismay, but she suspected – as her eyes snapped towards Ayla, lips thin and ever so slightly curled – some of it showed on her face anyway. Luckily the boys were too preoccupied with each other to notice.

“Fine.” She shot to her feet and briskly dusted off her knees—then, surprisingly, pushed something at Ayla’s chest.

The dittany.

If Ayla checked, she would see that there was still enough for two or three more injuries. Regardless, Esther was not sticking around for it. Or for her. Esther stalked away from the group, heels stabbing into the ground.


Exit for Esther

Ayla practically groaned when Alistair threw his shirt at Fred's face. Good for Fred, bad for the girls. There was now no escaping shirtless Al. She shook her head a bit, she really needed to focus on more important things. Like getting Fred the help he needed. She swore that's where her thoughts were. It was all about Fred, definitely Fred. Definitely not how Alistair's muscles rippled when he lifted his best mate into a Princess hold.

She swallowed a lump that had formed in throat. She promised herself she'd work out all the confusing and new feelings she experienced at a later time. Right now she really needed to focus. Which also meant giving Alistair a pleading look, begging him not to make her go off with the other girl.

She let out a surprised squeak when Esther shoved the vial back at her. She actually thought the girl had tried to punch her. It took her a moment to realise what she had actually done and fumbled with the vial. She nearly dropped it to the pitch. Tucking it back into her sweater pocket, ready for her next Quidditch related injury.

With one last desperate look to the boys she skipped ahead to try and catch up with Esther.

Exit Ayla

The girls ran ahead, despite the fact that they were clearly upset about having to go together. Ugh. Fred's injury was a more serious thing to deal with than their feelings at the moment. Once Alistair was actually sure that Fred was going to be okay (and could play quidditch again!), then he could worry about the inner workings of Esther and Ayla's minds. He hoped that by the time he reached the hospital wing, they would have already handled whatever drama was festering between the two of them.

 He walked as quickly as he could without needlessly jostling Fred around. "I told you, if you don't vomit on me, I won't drop you. It's too late, already swore on your hot mum." Alistair said with good humor. Of course he wouldn't actually drop Fred, but there were no rules against lying, even if Esther, Ayla, and Fred's mother's were all at stake.

End