i'll dream of you and the smile you gave me (Brooke)

For a few days, the people at St Mungo's hadn't wanted to let Joe go back, claiming that it might be emotionally triggering for him. His parents hadn't left his side during visiting hours, though, and it had been nice to see them care for once, but the constant flow of tears down his mother's face was just as painful as anything he'd ever seen. In the hours that the Hufflepuff pretended to be asleep, he heard his mother and father talking to one another about him, about how it was their fault, and that wasn't easy either.

Hours of insisting and tantrums and vows of angered silence later, and Joe had been transferred back to Hogwarts. He would be bound to the Hospital Wing for a week, just to have an eye kept on him as the witches at the Hospital had said, and though the idea of being treated like a freak made him all the more angry, he had finally agreed. It wasn't fun, lying around all day. People stared a lot. People walked in and saw that he was hooked up to drips and machines and everything that was completely unnecessary and they were sceptical, as if... As if wishing it had worked.

Sometimes, Joe did too. He would be forever in Murray's debt, now. He would always owe Murray his life because the Slytherin had bothered to save it. Why, Joe would never know. If he'd fallen and cracked his head open and died right there, no-one would know that Joshua Murray had been present and no-one would say anything. But... The Slytherin had saved him, and Joe would always owe him for that.

Now, though, Joe was completely out of it. He'd woken up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and had almost cried the place down, struggling to pull everything from his arms and of course, he had been restrained again, knocked out completely. This time, he wasn't plagued by nightmares, but instead found himself thinking of the first time he'd properly met Brooke Walters, and all the while he slept, a soft smile was on his face, reflecting exactly the one he'd given her on so many occasions that afternoon. The dream was fragmented, but he didn't care, because for once something in his life had gone nothing short of perfect, and any recollection was welcome in this desperate time.

...she reached over and pushed back the hair from his face, wanting to see it. "Why would you want to hide that?" She suddenly found herself speaking, and looked away instantly, wondering what was wrong with her...

She made a beeline for the hospital wing, dragging Tristan along with her. What she was thinking, leaving class like that, she didn't know, nor did she particularly care. Joe had tried to kill himself, and if she really had been the cause, she would never forgive herself. There was no way she could live knowing that he had caused pain to someone she loved.

A few times, Tristan had begun to say something, what, she didn't know, for she interrupted him with a shushing noise each time. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she reached the outside of the hospital wing doors. Here, she froze, her free hand out to open it, but not moving any more. It was as thought there was an invisible barrier between her and the door, blocking her from opening it.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and pushed; slowly, the wooden door creaked open and she scanned the interior of the room, looking for the familiar face. And she saw it, lying in a bed at the far end of the room, pale and flushed at the same time.

Dropping her brother's hand, she took a hesitant step forward, feeling her heart rate increase. And then, she was running, butterflies wreaking havoc. Stopping abruptly at the side of his bed, she looked down at him. "Joe," she started, her throat dry. "I-" she tried to say something, anything, to let him know how much she felt - the amount of love she had for him - but no more words would come.

Leaning forward, she blinked once, twice, and then brought her lips to his. It was to be her first kiss, if not for the fact that Josh has stolen it. But it was the first kiss she had willingly gave, that she knew. Honestly, she didn't know how long she held the kiss for, because time seemed to stop in that very moment, and eventually - it might have been a second, or it might have been a full minute, she didn't know - she pulled away.

Standing over him, she looked him in the eyes, not able to say anything, her heart racing at such speed she was sure it was going to explode at any second.

Joe heard footsteps running down the hospital wing and he stirred, the otherwise silence of the room disturbed by the newcomer. He rolled onto his side and just about managed to open his eyes, a raging headache welcoming him. At first, when he saw the face, he'd been sure there had been some kind of dream inception going on, because having just been dreaming about the witch before him, she appeared and was instantly at his side.

"Joe," she started, her throat dry. "I-"

"Brooke?" he tried to ask, but after almost two days of not saying a word, his voice wasn't working. The Hufflepuff went to clear his throat but before he could form any kind of noise, he was convinced he saw something on her cheek. If gravity wasn't seeming to be ten times as strong as usual, he would have reached up to stroke what he prayed wasn't a tear away, but he could barely lift his arms as it was.

Time stopped. The world stopped spinning, the sun stopped shining, the moon stopped moving, and breaths stopped coming. A moment he'd only been able to fantasize about when he was completely alone came crashing down over him, and the boy's heart skipped more beats than he deemed healthy, but that didn't matter, because Brooke had kissed him, on the lips and everything, and he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Something had errupted in his stomach, the most pleasant feeling, sort of like a fire had broken out and he felt the warmest sensation. Nerves rose up his throat and he saw explosions of colours behind his closed eyes. His first real kiss, as cliché as he felt for thinking it, was exactly how he'd always thought it would be... Minus the hospital situation of course, but the emotional side was exactly the same.

She pulled away too soon for his liking, but when he opened his eyes again, his face was covered in a magenta blush. "I-... I," he started, voice failing him yet again, and the Hufflepuff found the motivation to move from somewhere, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His eyes went fuzzy, mind not used to the effort of moving, but he had to sit up.

Brooke knew. His delusional state told him that much. She knew what he'd done and she was there to make sure he was okay. Truthfully, he didn't know if he was, but the fact that she'd bothered to come out of class to the hospital wing just to check on him, well, it made his heart soar, but at the same time, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"How-... how have you been?"

The blush that was creeping over the face of the boy before her brought an unexplainable sense of joy that seemed to start somewhere deep inside her and spread – much like a wildfire would – to every part of her body. Within seconds every part of her buzzed in an almost tingle manner, as though electricity was flowing straight through every cell that made up her being. Almost immediately – as soon as she realized what she had done - the freckles started in a manner that she never imagined was possible, because they erupted, coming on like an unstoppable wave.

And as if having the entire surface of her face covered with those awful brown and red dots wasn’t enough, she seemed to have lost control of her abilities in its entirety, for she was beginning to feel the roots of her hair begin to change colour. The green slowly became hazel, matching the shade of the eyes she was searching with her own.

"I-... I,"

She watched him struggle to sit, finally moving her gaze to scan the rest of his body, looking for any signs of injuries before snapping back to the only place that felt right. There was something different about his eyes this time, and hers filled with worry even as her hands subconsciously reached out to support him. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but she found herself incapable of speech; she was still trying to catch her breath and calm her heart from the kiss she had given him. It was impossible, though, a one sided battle against a tsunami of emotions she never knew could reach that extent.

"How-... how have you been?"

A tiny laugh escaped her at the absurdity of it all. He was the one lying in the hospital wing, he was the one who had attempted to kill himself, and he was asking her how she was? “I-“ she started, not knowing how to answer. “I’m better now that I know you’re okay,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. Now was not the time to tell him what Josh had done to her, if there ever was a time to tell someone something of that extent. “How… how about you? A-a-are you feeling b-b-better?” She smiled to herself, amused at the stutter she never had a problem with before.

For the first time, Joe saw the Gryffindor start to change before his eyes. At first, he thought that he was still hallucinating from the godawful drugs that they'd put him on, but after a few heavy blinks, the boy came to the realisation that her hair had in fact changed colour. It was a familiar shade, but he couldn't quite place it for the world. It sure as hell suited her, though, and for a few seconds his blush faded as he calmed himself.

The Hufflepuff could only take note of the concern her entire expression held, and it made his heart ache. He'd become used to that feeling, actually. Feeling his chest rise and fall only for her, feeling his heart beat just so he could see her every day. Even after what had happened with Josh, and he didn't even want to think of that right now, he still cared tremendously for Brooke and nothing he could fathom would change that.

“I’m better now that I know you’re okay.”

Just as his cheeks had finally returned to their normal hue, Joe found himself bowing his head with the ghost of a smile on his lips, turning a slightly less extreme shade of pink but still noticably so. He looked up at the witch through his dark lashes, pushing his hair back out of his eyes just as she had done the first time they met, not one hundred percent sure why se felt as such but remembering how she'd told him that he didn't have to hide his face around her.

"I'm-..." he started, about to reply the same way as always. Fine he finished in his head, but refused to let the word leave his lips. Joe owed Brooke as much as to tell her the truth. "Better, I guess. I've been worse." There, that wasn't technically a lie. After all, Joe Astrid could always be doing much, much worse than when he was with the Gryffindor. "So... you heard, then?" he asked, sighing lightly. "Who told you?"

While she watched him, not ever wanting to have to take her eyes away from his, she tried to calm herself, to slow her beating heart and maybe take charge of the changes she had lost control over, but she couldn't. Too many days away from him, too many moments that could have been, too many lost chances made every minute she was alone with Joe increasingly special. Her mind tried to remind her that she wasn't truly alone - there were the school nurses, and her brother, whom she had left at the doorway and was now staring at them, mouth agape - but she paid no attention to such distractions.

No, it's just him and I, because nobody else matters right now, she thought, trying to memorise every detail of the Hufflepuff's face. As soon as his face had lost it's deep red blush, another came, and she giggled at the sight of it. Somehow, and she didn't know why, it made him look all the more attractive, and it sent more tingles up and down her body.

He had used his hair as a shield again, and she was just about to push it out of the way, when he himself did it. Maybe he had remembered what she had said to him all those months ago when they first met, or maybe it had just been something he did without thinking. As long as it didn't obstruct her view, her amazing, wonderful view, it didn't matter to her.

At his statement, she nodded seriously. "Better is ... good," she said, not knowing what else could be added.

"Who told you?"

The question she had been dreading had finally come, and try as she might, she knew her smile had faltered, her demeanour fallen, and her eyes filled with anger. "I'm so sorry, Joe," she started, blinking back tears. Merlin only knew why she was crying; it wasn't her that the video had been about; but perhaps, she was crying at the absolute hurt she thought it would bring Joe, and that was just not something she wanted. "He filmed it, Joe. He filmed it and he showed it - just - during class."

She was sure she didn't need to say exactly who he was, nor which class it was played during. Joe would understand, and before it could register in him what she had said, she reached forward and pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly against herself and hoping futilely that the embrace would be enough to stop him from ever getting hurt again, because he didn't deserve any of it.

"Better is ... good."

He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to lie to him. Better wasn't perfect, but when had he ever been that way to start with? Better was nowhere near where he should be, and though he had received countless letters from his parents saying they loved him and would always be proud of him, Joe couldn't help but feel weakness consume him as it inevitably would, because he'd tried to end it all when there had been a solution.

There always was a solution. There was always something better than collapsing beneath yourself and feeling the world crashing down around you. There were ways, but thinking of them had been to arduous a task for him to even contemplate back then. No, it had only been while he was curled in a completely wrecked state of mind that he had thought of all the things he could have done, all the things he should have done to stop himself from hurting the people that actually mattered.

"It's... better," he whispered. "An improvement at least."

"I'm so sorry, Joe,"

Well, that explains a lot he thought to himself, more than a little entertained at the fact that Murray had only been nice because he was on camera. Make himself look like the hero. Of course the Hufflepuff mentally mused, his head falling back onto the pillows behind him for a second with a soft groan. "You don't have to be sorry," he assured her, pulling himself back upright and making a feeble attempt to reach out and take her hand, but once again find the movement too physically draining. He gave up with a sigh, his fingers mere centimetres from hers, but he was too weak to be able to persist. "It's not your fault, Brooke."

The embrace took him by surprise, and even that was an understatement. He froze completely for a couple of seconds, before literally forcing himself to hug her back. His arms ever so slowly lifted themselves, against the will of all of his muscles, and ended up laced around her waist.

"It's not your fault..."

"An improvement at least."

What could she say to that? There were so many, many things that she wanted to tell him. How she herself was recovering, and how that it was a process. That 'better' was indeed good, because it meant that you had risen over the obstacles. Sure, it didn't mean you were completely over it, but every journey starts with one step, and that step was the hardest part of it all.

"No," she replied, gently, imitating the whisper he had given her. "Better is good. Improvements are good. And... And I'm glad."

She left it at that, unsure of what else to say, or if she could even begin to say anything else at all. She knew she would need to tell him about what happened to her before the holidays, but she wanted to savor every happy moment she had with him before she did so.

"It's not your fault, Brooke."

The way her name left his lips, the way it sounded coming from the boy before her was something she had not dreamed she would ever hear again, and it left her even more breathless than she was before. How she longed and hoped that she could hear it for the rest of her life.

As she felt his hands wrap around her waist, she relaxed, melting into his arms. It felt so warm, so comforting... So safe. It was a type of security that she had only ever felt before when she was with her parents, and to find it outside of them was surprising, but somehow, it didn't register as too strange.

But there was the problem with what Joe had said, and she knew it. It was her fault. She hadn't been there for Joe. Maybe if she had ignored Josh, or found a way to let Joe know what the Slytherin had been trying to do, they could have found a way make things work. Together, so that neither had to be alone, and neither had to have suffered.

"I n-n-need to t-t-tell you some... somet-t-thing," she muttered into his ear, still not letting go of him. And although she knew she had to tell him, there was still a part of her that hoped he hadn't heard her, and that he wouldn't have to hear what she no doubt had to say.

"Better is good. Improvements are good. And... And I'm glad."

It was in that moment that Joe realised that there was not one bad bone in Brooke's body. There couldn't be; she was so sweet all of the time, and no matter how tough her own life was, she was always, always there. Arguing against the Gryffindor was futile, no matter how lighthearted he was trying to be about the situation. Still, he assumed, better was... a step in the right direction at least. He didn't say anything else on the matter, because to be honest, it wasn't his favourite topic of conversation.

Mostly because it didn't involve Brooke, and anything that did? Well, that was a conversation worth his time. That was a conversation he would never stop.

The Hufflepuff could literally feel her relax into him, and it was the most soothing feeling he could imagine. Everyone else, sans Azalea and Morgan, had always flinched and walked away with a roll of their eyes the second he got within a metre of them. This was... well, it was different, he couldn't deny that for the world, but most of all? It was up there with the best feelings he'd had in a long, long time.

"I n-n-need to t-t-tell you some... somet-t-thing."

For a minute, he was sure that the words hadn't actually left her mouth. It wouldn't be the first time he'd heard something in the last few days, anyway, and he was tempted not to respond. But Brooke, well... He'd only ever heard her voice saying things like 'why would I ever want to be with you when Josh is just as available?' or 'how could you be so stupid?' But these were real, he knew, because he felt her breath rush past his ear and it sent a warm tingle down his spine.

"What's wrong?" he asked tentatively, willing his aching arms to pull her just a little bit closer, hold her just a little bit tighter, assure her just a little bit more that it would be okay.

Because it would. They would figure out whatever it was.

Together.

As she waited for his reply, she tried to find the right words, trying to join together sentences that wouldn't hurt Joe as much as she knew they would. Even as his arms tightened around her and the welcomed feeling of safety they brought covered her, she knew that it wasn't possible to soften the blow she was about to deliver.

The seconds passed, each becoming longer than the previous, until it seemed as though hours and days had gone by. And there was that hope again that Joe hadn't heard her, and they could both forget anything that had happened because of the Slytherin and just be happy, together.

"What's wrong?"

Don't let go. No matter what I say, no matter what happens, don't let me go, she thought, wanting but not able to say it aloud. As long as they stayed together, as long as neither let go, they would make it, and they would get through it - at least, that was what she hoped would happen.

"It w-w-was before the ho-holidays," she started, not able to control the stutter that accompanied the words. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I got angry. H-h-he was threatening Tristan and m-my family."

Again she stopped, willing the right words to present themselves, but like all the previous times, she had none. "I t-tried to get h-h-him to leave us a-alone, but he... He." She swallowed dryly, the fear and disgust all rushing back. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't hurt him. I tried to leave, but... But I s-slipped." Her mind was now remembering, taking her back to the bathroom, to the coldness in the boy's eyes, to the hard floor. "And then he... He h-h-hurt me. He p-pushed me down and he d-did t-things..."

There were no tears, no emotion in her voice; her face was kept neutral, as though talking about a light hearted issue. The only thing that resembled the way she felt on the inside was the tremor and stutter that slipped out with a few words, as uncontrollable as the waves in the sea.

"H-he..." she shook her head slightly. "He t-took my p-purity."

Taking another deep breath, she let it out slowly, her eyes still shut, as she let her head rested against his shoulder. "I'm o-okay, Joe. I've r-recovered," she concluded, meaning those words completely.

"I got angry. H-h-he was threatening Tristan and m-my family."

Already, Joe knew that this was bad. He had a fair idea as to who he was as well, there was only one person who the girl who could not hate could possibly talk about with such distain. He readied himself for the worst, but whatever that was, he couldn't decide. I swear to god, if he tried to kill her... the Hufflepuff thought, muscles in his jaw tightening as he continued to listen, refusing to interrupt even though he hated to see her this way.

Her usual, untrembling, traditionally Gryffindor brave voice was breaking and so was Brooke. Gods, Joe knew what being broken felt like. It was horrible. Like the world was dying around you and you were trapped in a box, a box that was slowly getting smaller and smaller and there was nothing you could do. Brooke didn't deserve to feel anything like that; she deserved happiness and everlasting laughter.

"He t-took my p-purity."

No, no, no, no, no Joe thought to himself, time seeming to freeze again as he tried to process it. In all honesty, not what he was execting to hear. Not because it was weaker than he was thinking but because, damn it, it was so much worse. He didn't even know what to say, though. It wasn't the first time that Joe Astrid found himself lost for words, wherever Brooke was concerned, it was a common occurrence, but it had never been like this. He wanted to let go, to look at her properly, because he had a feeling that when she cried she would look just as beautiful as ever, but she needed a friend right now, if not anything else, and he would always be able to give her that.

"I'm o-okay, Joe. I've r-recovered."

In a way, that much was sort of a given to the boy. Brooke-, well, she was a fighter. Nonetheless, a wave of relief hit him and he allowed her to relax into him, time freezing foe the umpteenth time since he had met her because-...

Because Joe would find a way to make everything freeze if it made her happy.

Emotions were a funny thing. Brooke had thought she'd be crying, but instead the only thing she felt was at peace. She didn't understand it, and she didn't try to, instead focusing on the warmth of Joe's arms around her, the way his breaths felt against her neck and, well, him.

Again, at the back of her mind, was the nagging reminder that Tristan was watching, and she almost laughed, imagining what he must be thinking. She couldn't see him from her position, but if she were to turn, she would have seen him staring, mouth open and eyes wide. He had not moved from that position since he saw her kiss the Hufflepuff, and was now in a state of confusion and amazement. Blinking himself back to reality, he had decided that it was best to leave those two alone, and, instructing one of the nurses to let his sister know he had gone to his common room if she asked, he left to do just that, still unsure as to what had actually occurred.

Brooke was, as she had been from the start, oblivious to everything but Joe Astrid, even more so with each passing second. She suddenly found herself torn - half of her wanted to see him again, while the other half never wanted to leave his arms. Taking a deep breath, she slowly leaned away from him, compromising her want - no, it was more of a requirement, like water or food - to be in contact with him by slipping her hand into his, interlocking their fingers.

Looking into his face, a joy began to build up inside of her, replacing the fear and disgust she had become accustomed to ever since the evening Josh had taken her. "Merlin, look at us," she said softly. "Two broken pieces." Realization sunk in even as the words came out, and her eyes lit up, sparkling in a way she never thought would be possible again for her. "Like jigsaw. We're like two pieces of jigsaw, broken but perfect at the same time." She smiled at him, the truth of her statement shocking even her.

"He failed, didn't he. Because we're still here." She paused, thinking of everything that had happened; as she did, the joy reached a peak, and she let out a giggle. "He failed," she repeated, willing it to be a fact and not a wish. "And we will make it. No matter what, we will."

"Two broken pieces."

"We can be broken together..." The thought had originally been something he had intended on keeping to himself. After all, he still wasn't sure as to how deep Brooke's feelings actually went, and if the kiss was just a way of her trying to make him feel better, he didn't know how he would recover from it. Still, there had to be something there, he decided, because she was holding his hand and she was actually at his side and she had actually kissed him, something he honestly didn't think he would ever manage to get over.

The Hufflepuff couldn't quite place it. Before she had arrived, he had been weaker than he had ever felt. His arms would barely move, it took all of his strength just to swallow the stupid bloody pills that the healers were making him take, and his voice-... well, his voice had barely been used since the incident had actually happened. That was what it was now. An incident; nothing more, nothing less. It was a thing.

Brooke, it seemed, was his strength. A strength and a weakness for the prefect. A reason to smile, a reason to laugh, a reason to roll out of bed in the morning and drag himself to classes. But she was a reason to blush, a reason to say silly things that he shouldn't let leave his lips because goodness knew who would hear them. Brooke was a reason to feel human, though, and that was the most important thing to him at that moment.

His heart was captivated once again by the sparkle in her eyes. Just being around the now hazel haired girl lifted his spirits, but her eyes. Beautiful (distracting, yes, but beautiful nonetheless), sparkling orbs of fascinating colour that he realised he could get lost in far too easily. If I'm lost with you Joe thought absentmindedly, lips being pulled up inadvertently into the smile he only ever reserved for her. If I'm lost with you, nothing will ever matter to me.

"He failed ... And we will make it. No matter what, we will."

The burning sensation that prickled the skin of his face and neck was back, but this time, he didn't will for it to go away. This time, he welcomed it, pushing himself to sit up further as the courage to do something he had never imagined himself capable of came to him. He stretched his neck a little to get the height and kissed her, then, affirming what she had said to be truth.

"We'll make it together."