Muhe Common Room

After the events on the roof, Tarragon had spent a couple of hours in the infirmary whilst the Healer had sorted his broken bones out. It had been absolute agony for the boy. When he got back to the common room, he laid down on one of the sofas near the fire.

He was exhausted and his ribs still hurt with the slightest movement when breathing. The situation had been completely wrong. It shouldn't have happened in that way, it wasn't allowed. He hoped Alys would be back soon, she had left once they had gotten to the infirmary and there were still many things left unclear...

After helping Tarragon to the medic's office, Alys hadn't been sure of what to do next. All the fear, confusion and anger inside her had mixed and seeped into each other, morphing into something she couldn't even recognize let alone deal with. She wasn't even sure whom she was angry at anymore. That jerk for being himself, herself for letting her concentration slip and sending the flask off the edge of the roof or Tarragon for getting beaten up in her defense. And then there was the fear, she hated the fact that the scar on her left arm reminded her of things she would rather forget. But she never did, and she hated that helplessness. But what could she do? For a moment, the blonde just wanted to cry and run to Ava and tell her everything, Ava being the closest thing to a confidante she had at Durmstrang but who would believe that a wolf had scratched her and not ripped out her throat. The girl even thought about going to Lehrer Vikki but again, that would involve answering awkward questions about what she was doing in the black fewest.

All Alys knew was that she wasn't happy, and a strange change had came over her. She had never been reserved or fussy about clothes before but now she was more conscious of the scar and wouldn't put on anything that didn't have full sleeves. Her school uniform was fine but on weekends, after classes and on other such occasion, she found herself pulling on a cloak or jacket no matter how warm it was in a room. Medic Lange had healed her wound but the scar had remained and it was that which scared her.

In the end, the witch hadn't gone to anyone, just wondered around the fortress for the majority of the day. She hadn't bothered going for lunch or dinner, not sure she would be able to keep anything down and had finally decided near evening to just go back to the common room and get a start on her homework. Maybe that would keep her mind off things.

And that was how Alys arrived in the common room that evening, miserable and huddled in a crimson school jacket despite the warmth of the place.

Tarragon turned his head to the door as he heard it open, Alys had entered the common room at long last. He'd been worried as to where she'd been after she had dropped him at the infirmary.

"Hi." He croaked with a weak smile. He didn't know what else to say to her. Sorry was inadequate, he could see that from how she looked. A rush of guilt fell over him, he hoped she would say something to him. Or just come and sit with him for a while at least.

"Hi," the witch replied tiredly, taking a seat opposite him and unconsciously clutching the jacket closer to herself. "I came back to catch up on some homework. I can't believe how far behind I am. The Highmaster will not be pleased." The witch proceeded to pull her books, quills and parchment out of her bag, deciding that she would start with Ancient Runes first.

"How about you? Done all your homework?"

"I've finished mine." Tarragon replied. He'd thankfully just got on with his work as he'd been given it. He'd always been like that with his organisation. "Do you need any help?"

He watched as she hugged herself a little too tightly, he sat up gingerly and watched her for a while longer. She seemed a little quiet with him, and had lied about something ealier. He didn't want to push her into anything though.

"Where did you go earlier, then? I'm hoping you didn't leave because of what I did..."

"Well, I'm doing Ancient Runes and World History so I don't think you can help with that," the witch said absently, absorbed in the drawing of the symbol the doctor had given her after their brief first lesson.

"Just wondered around the fortress, didn't go anywhere special," she said honestly, flicking through the textbook to see if she could find the matching symbol. The doctor hadn't specified how long or short an explanation she had to give so she might as well do it properly in case he wanted a thorough answer. "I left because I doubt Medic Lange would have liked me sticking around while she worked."

Tarragon watched as she drew funny shapes, he didn't understand them at all. But it didn't matter, Alys wasn't a symbol and he could read her. She was keeping something from him. Something important. He looked over her body. Her eyes were starting to get bags beneath them, hinting she hadn't been sleeping. She was wearing a long sleeved top even though the common room was stifling hot. And she was very wary of her left arm.

"Alys," He said, reaching out a hand to stop her quill from moving, "What is it that you aren't telling me?"

He hoped he wouldn't upset her, he just cared. A lot.

Alys looked up from her work, surprise written across her face as the boy hesitantly questioned her, confusi9ng her even more.

"What do you mean?" she asked puzzled and set her quill down. Perhaps returning to the common room was a bad idea. She should have just gone tot he archives to do her homework instead.

Tarragon sighed.

"Alys, please. You haven't slept for days, you cannot deny that, your eyes have bags forming beneath them, and you have stayed up late and been up early for days. Then there is your attire, you think it necessary to wear a long sleeved jumper in the heat of the common room, even thouhg you are blatantly too hot, as your cheeks are turning a deeper shade of red as we speak. And, finally, you are carrying your left arm in a way that would suggest an injury of some kind. As your friend I plead with you to console your problems with someone. You're troubled, I just wish to help."

He held his chest tightly, his chest caused him a huge amount of pain when he talked. But the pain was worth it when he remembered as to what it was for.

The girl's eyes had been growing steadily darker as Tarragon continued his speech. Was she really that obvious? Or was he just overly observant? What was she supposed to tell him now? Why had she come back to the common room? Why had she not made straight for the girls dorm?

And now he wanted to know things she herself wasn't even sure about. What could she say? That was going mad, or so she thought. That she was regretting coming to school even though it had been one of the most brilliant experiences of her life. That she missed her parents so much she wanted to cry sometimes. Did she owe him now, just because of a situation blown badly out of proportion? Alys had never had to deal with things like this back home and she could feel a headache coming on.

Deciding on a partial truth, the witch started carefully. "I live near the coast. Its always warm and sunny there except when it rains. I'm not used to all this cold weather and the warmth reminds me of home..." It was the truth, even though there were no breezes here that carried the scent of the ocean, just cold gusts of wind, the witch could pretend she was warm down by the sea. "And I haven't been sleeping because I miss my Mama and Papa. I know its not the grown up thing to do but I do. When I wake up, Mama isn't there to make breakfast, Papa isn't there to check Quidditch scores with... I guess I've just been homesick."

Tarragon couldn't explain his next move, but he felt it was right. He got up from his seat and pulled her into a cuddle on the chair. He hoped it might be slightly comforting to the homesick girl. He could never imagine what it would be like to be homesick, he himself loved being away from home. He sat in silence, he'd pushed her a little, but he worried and hoped the hug would help.

"I'm always here for a shoulder to cry on if you need me, Alys" He whispered in her ear, "Even if the reason your upset seems silly, I shall sit here and listen to you. Always."

He sat back in her chair, still slightly hugging her, waiting for her to pull away or worse shout at him...

Alys froze as his arms went around her for the second time that day. Earlier on the roof when he had hugged her and warned her to stay away from the boy, she has been unsure about how she felt. Now she knew. It made her uncomfortable.

Wondering how rude it would be to simply pull away, the girl was saved from making the choice when Tarragon moved back into his own chair, even if still holding her slightly. The witch slipped out of his grasp under the pretense of settling more comfortably in her own chair.

"Thanks," she said as calmly as she could. "I better get this homework done, I don't want to find out what the doctor looks like when he's angry."

Tarragon sighed heavily. The girl didn't trust him.

"Alys, I know we are part of the house of pain, but that doesn't mean you have to face the pain on your own, you know." He said cautiously, his temper was rising with the fact he couldn't help her. "Anything that is troubling you, anything at all, I am here to help and listen."

He thought about leaving at that point. But he decided that if she didn't want to talk to him he could just doze in front of the fire instead.

Alys shrugged silently, bent over her work, afraid that he would pursue the matter further but he must have read her right the first time that day because no more insistence came out of him. As the witch continued working, she slowly became aware of the soft sound of his snores on the armchair opposite her. She wondered if he was just tired or had the medic given him some slow action sedatives.

The blonde continued working into the night, busying herself with symbols and their histories to the background noises of the boy sleeping across from her.

Tarragon fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams a haunting from his past.

"Tarragon, for the last time, get yourself ready, you are going to have to come with us today!" His mother had told him sternly.

He didn't fully understand what was happening at the time, but hurried to pull his clothes on and raced down the stairs, only to nearly bundle his mother over.

"Go careful, boy!" She shouted at him, raising her hand.

Tarragon flinched in his sleep, his arms reaching up to cover his face.

"I'm sorry, Mother." He mumbled in his sleep, as he had on the day.

His mother hadn't hit him that once. It had been one of the few times she had stopped herself, and it had really confused him. She'd pushed him out of the door, held his shoulder hard, and apparated.

When the sickness had finally stopped, Tarragon didn't know where he was. He looked around, there were many people around, but there was an eeiry silence. He stole a glance at his mother, but she had a stern look on her face so he looked at the ground.

"Ah, Chloe you made it!" A gentleman walked over, smiling at his mother. The man had ignored Tarragon the whole time. "Come and see this!"

Tarragon followed the man and his mother to whatever the man had found that was so exciting. He jogged behind them for a while, anticipation getting the better of him.

"What is it, Mother?" Tarragon asked eagerly.

Tarragon jerked violently in his sleep, his hands flailing wildly.

His mother turned on her heel abruptly and the back of her hand connected with his nose, making him fall backwards and land on a bed of gravel. Tears welled in his eyes, pain controlled his life. It always had.

And then he saw the gentleman's prize. Floating just in front of his in an invisible net of some sort, was a girl, not much older than fourteen, Tarragon thought. She was wearing a school uniform. She was one of them.

"No, Mother! No! You can't do this! No!"

A jet of green light flashed across Tarragon's eyes. He was old enough to know at this point, what had just happened.

Tarragon sat bolt up right, sweat dripping off of his forehead and making his shirt stick to his back. He felt sick, like most nights when he had that day's events were repeated to him.

Alys continued her work, quite lost in the world of her symbols. The more she read about it, the more it became clear that the doctor did not believe in going easy on his first years, not even on their first lesson. But maybe that was the point. In no time at all, over an hour had passed and she was still unwilling to start writing, wanting to find out more. Briefly, the witch contemplated a trip to the archives but decided the hour was too late.

It was abut that time she started realizing that the boy beside er was not sleeping restfully.

A while later, it became clear that Tarragon suffered from his own nighttime terrors and the witch stared at his sleeping frame, confused. Should she wake him? She hated, really hated, talking about her own nightmares and he might too. She had no right to intrude on something so personal. But watching him twitch in his sleep in clear distress, she had to do something.

Hurriedly stuffing her books and papers in her bag, the blonde slung it over a narrow shoulder and stood from her chair. Lightly, she nudged the sleeping boy beside her, her face schooled into a careful indifference, as though she hadn't noticed how disturbing his sleep was.

"Hey, I'm going up to bed, its really late, you should too," she said in a soft voice once his eyes had blinked awake. Making sure that he had heard her, she waved and made her way to the steps leading up to the girls sleeping quarters.

"Hey, I'm going up to bed, its really late, you should too,"

Tarragon blinked a little as Alys walked off. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping, but he no longer felt tired. Grabbing his coat, he left the common room, and went off into the night.