Cheeks burning from the intense heat or cold, she wasn't sure, but they stung, like a terrible windburn that bites at her face after long hours flying high up near the clouds.

Still, Iola wasn't sure if she was to stop just yet or if Aveline was going to have her carry on.

Her mother had no remorse when she returned to Hogwarts, drilling Iola relentlessly on her spell work.

And she understood, of course, that the ISDC's were going to have a greater level of difficulty than what she was used to in the past, but she seriously doubted it was to the extent that she was losing blocks of time that she just couldn't seem to catch up on.

It was nearly time for her to leave already and she couldn't remember how things had moved along so quickly.

Fleur and Sofie were avoiding her, that much was clear, and part of her wondered if it had been something she said in those moments that had driven them off.

It was a lot like losing her mind as things crumbled around her and all she was left with was duelling and quidditch and training because ambition could never stab you in the back, only people were capable of such emotions.

She didn't want to think things were as intense as her mother making them out to be, that her friends were simply distant because they wanted to leave her without distractions, but she couldn't shake the fear that it was something more than that. Iola couldn't shake the guilt that she had done or said something terrible.

"Focus!" Aveline snaps, and Iola's knocked back to the snow-covered lawn with a harsh blow to her stomach. "Do you want to see yourself fail? Do you want to feel that sort of embarrassment?"

Airbrushes from her lungs, puffing over her in a white cloud. She blinks up at the fluffy flakes that flutter down around her.

"No, mother, of course not."

"Then on your feet and take this seriously, girl!"

She groans as her ribs protest, back aching as she stands. "Yes, mother."

"Enough with your twittering. Stand straight and go again!"

Swallowing thickly, she plants her feet before trying again, the firestorm facing around her. Iola tried to keep it there, keep it moving as she pulls down her arm to cast another spell — one vicious and painful toward the training dummy.

They have been out here for hours, long since the early dawn and lunch had passed them over. Perfecting the spell was a tedious process and Iola didn't plan on restarting her count of a hundred.

"I do not want to see you holding back any longer," Aveline warned, her own wand held threateningly in her hand.

She nods, ribs screaming as she goes again. The flames whip around her, burning her eyes, and she holds them for a moment, building them up until she's able to switch.

It only lasts for a few minutes moments once she lets go, already fading away as she fires the next spell.

Iola's ready for the hit the second her spell only clips dummy. She tossed up and dropped down hard.

"Pathetic!" her mother screams, wand still pointed as Iola struggles to stand.

"Excuse me! I'm sorry, but Madame Maxime is requesting for you in Dumbledore's office, Madame Bouchard."

That was Harry. She wasn't sure if she should be elated or worried.

She doesn't look away from her mother's boots, unable to bring herself to move as she waits for the woman to react -- her grip on her wand hurting her arm with the force she's holding it with.

"Very well," Aveline says. "You're dismissed for the day, Iola. Do not forget your daily quidditch training."

"Yes, mother, of course."

Her steps come close as she passes, but Aveline doesn't hesitate by her daughter. Iola watches her pass slowly tracking her steps through the snow until she's far out of reach again.

Lying back, she spreads out, letting the cold soothe her pains and aches.

"You should not have done that," Iola says, "She will not be happy."

"Who cares? Professors hate me," he says, coming in close. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Of course. It is not so bad. I will see Gerome to fix me later," she says, pressing daintily at her side. She breathes shakily. "Can you help me up?"

Harry holds out a hand, squeezing her elbow to heave her to her feet. She wavers, grunting at the sharp pain that shoots through her.

"I should help you to Madam Pomfrey," he says, wrapping his arm around her middle so she can't push him away.

"No thank you. I need to work through my stances before quidditch practice."

"Er— I'm not going to let you do that," he says, guiding her toward the castle. "Lets get your treated."

She whines as he unintentionally pressed on her ribs. "I really shouldn't. It is not good to let people see me so vulnerable."

"There's nothing wrong with seeing a healer when you're hurt."

"You know how important it is to me to keep my reputation in proper standing. If anyone was to know then I could be ruined in the eyes of the public," she emphasized, wincing at the uneven steps.

"You can barely walk, Iola. You're in a lot of pain."

"Its not too bad. I promise."

"That's fine. I'm still taking you to see Madam Pomfrey."

Groaning, she leans a little bit more weight onto him, curling her free hand tight around his arm. She would never admit allowed how terribly painful it felt. No matter how often she hurt her ribs, she would never get used to the feeling.

Harry was surprisingly gentle with her as he partially carries her weight each time she has to stop to gasp for air, using his arm to press against her side as if it would force away the pain in her side.

"Does your mum always treat you like that?" He mutters and she can feel his gaze on the side of her face.

"Not always. It's only when I am performing poorly," she says.

"You didn't look like you were doing a bad job."

She purses her lips. "I am was. You will have to take my word."

Harry nods. "I don't think I can imagine being disciplined with magic like that. I guess I'm lucky the Dursley's are muggles."

"It is not so bad. It has done much to strengthen me."

"Definitely don't feel that way about the Dursley's," he snorts.

"They are who you live with now?"

"My aunt and uncle."

She hums. "I am sorry you do not like them."

"I'm sorry you have your mum."

Iola giggles, the sound causing her ribs to scream in protest. "Oh, ow, I think I am also sorry I have my mother."

The castle was warm, an instant relief to her chilled fingers, but it only came with new challenges as she was faced with the stairs. Iola really contemplated just sitting on the ground to suffer on her own. Gerome would should up eventually, it was the easiest path back to the carriage.

Harry seems to realize the issue as well since he stops to look at her closely. "You trust me?"

She pulls a face. "I hope so."

"Good. I'll try not to drop you," he says, brandishing his wand.

"What?"

He levitates her shakily, uncertain, and she holds out her hands, yelping as she dips back to the floor with a shock that jerks through her.

She makes a little sound that feels a little like dying in the back of her throat.

"It does not work on humans, remember? You have to aim specifically for my clothing to keep me floating."

"Right... sorry."

"Please, do not drop me again."

Harry adjusts his hold on his wand before he tries again. It works better this time, his aim true even if it was shaky and frightening as he brought her to the hospital wing.

Iola felt like she was far more accounted with the school healer than she should have been from one too many a visit. The rows of beds were now a welcome sight to her that made her sigh in relief, eagerly slumping back agains the cots once Harry let her down.

It wasn't the easiest trip, she would admit, but it was a lot faster, even with all the times that he had dropped her. At least she hadn't gone tumbling down the stairs as she thought she might.

Disappearing before she could say anything, Iola's left on her own again and it seems oddly predictable of what was destined to happen.

She left like it was happening more and more often, the distance that people kept putting between her and them. It felt intentional, as though they just didn't want to be around with how quickly she was being dismissed — if they wanted to be like that with her, then so be it.

Iola has never minded being alone and she wasn't about to start now. She was at the top of her game, the starting position of a possibly glamorous life and she wasn't about to let something as silly as friends prevent her from achieving it.

There would be nothing distracting her from her goals this way. She would be free to let ambition rule her existence again.

Madam Pomfrey comes from the back with that little wobbled quick step that she does, the kind that lets her know she's in for a scolding about safety measure and broken bones.

It didn't matter with the woman whether she could heal them in a matter of seconds, she just seemed to enjoy complaining at times.

Not she would ever blame her, how hectic her life must be having to be in charge of healing so many students alone.

"Broken bones are not a laughing matter. It's a good thing Mr. Potter brought you straight to me."

"He was very concerned for my health. I would not have gotten here without him."

The healer looks at the boy appraisingly. "Good thing you are," She says, helping the girl pull her blazer from her shoulders. "Broken ribs can be a dangerous thing, Ms. Bouchard."

"I'm sure they are not broken," she says, unbuttoning her dress.

Harry clears his throat, turning away. "I'll see you later, Iola."

"Of course," she utters, not finding it in herself to pretend to be content with the situation.

Really, she shouldn't let something so foolish upset her.

"Actually," he says, facing her again. His gaze doesn't stray from her face as Madam Pomfrey observes her side. "Have you been asked to the Yule Ball, yet?"

She blinks, gaping at the boy. Iola yelps as her bones are snapped back into place. "You do not believe in a warning?" She complains, touching at her side.

Madam Pomfrey rolls her eyes. "You knew it was coming."

Sighing, she slides the upper portion of her dress back on, turning to Harry once more.

"I have not been asked, but I might not be here for the ball," Iola says, slowly buttoning the garment. She was a little still, newly healed ribs still a little tender. "I wish to return in time, in fact, I plan to have returned in time regardless."

"George hasn't asked you?"

She frowns. "He has not. I have not spoken to him since my mother has returned. I believe he has no intention to ask me."

"D'you— d'you want to go to the ball with me?" Harry asks, face burning red.

Warmth spread through her. "Are you not supposed to have a partner to dance?"

Harry shrugs. "I just won't have a partner if you aren't back."

Iola smiles despite herself, jumping from the bed. She kisses his cheek. "Then I would love to go with you. I will make sure that I return in time for your dance."

She picks up her blazer, thanking the woman that was shouting something about staying to rest, before she gently took Harry by the arm to lead him from the Hospital Wing.

He hasn't spoken a word since she's agreed to go with him, this sort of shocked stillness to him that made her feel pretty terrible.

"You— really?" He blurts, spinning her around so she could fully see his hopeful expression.

"I would not lie about this," she says, patting his shoulder. "That would be very cruel."

"I... that's great. Brilliant! Thanks, Iola!" He blurts, an eager jump to his step as he bounces away from her. "You won't regret it."

"I know I won't," she tells him, watching him leave with this joyfully shock.

"I've just got to find someone to take Ron, now," she hears him say to himself, shaking his head.

An idea comes to her, a moment of clarity that has her calling out to tell him to give her a day before he does anything.

Confused, he agrees anyway.

Iola doesn't waste a moment as she takes off, striding down the halls quickly to reach the Great Hall. If she knew the girl at all, she loved to eat while she read on her own, uncaring if she was late to her lessons or even missed one.

And if she was right about the time, then she had a free period right about now anyway — when she had learnt the girls timetable was a mystery though. When she had learnt any of their timetables was a mystery because she realized she knew the twins and Harry's as well.

Dinah was exactly where she expected her to be, silently seated at the Ravenclaw table with a cup of tea in and a half-eaten sandwich placed before her.

"Hello." The book doesn't move from before her as she slowly flips the page. "How are you feeling?"

Iola blinks. "I am well, thank you. How are you?"

"Worried about my friend," Dinah says, sipping her tea. "We are friends, correct?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Good. So you'll tell me if something is bothering you?"

Ready to agree, the words get stuck in her throat, head suddenly pounding. She wanted to say yes, she really did, but how was she going to be able to tell someone that there was something wrong with her when she had no idea what was going on?

How could she expose that sort of pathetic embarrassment, letting her weakness free to show how she was barely even a person to begin with underneath it all.

"Of course!" She says, cheeks burning with the forced grin. "I have nothing to hide."

Dinah eyes her for a moment, finally looking up from her book. "Smashing. You want to explore the Forbidden forest with me? I want to find a unicorn."

"Why? Is it not forbidden to enter the Forbidden Forest?"

"Obviously, but it's more of a suggestion," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Why are you looking for a unicorn?"

She pulls out her wand, balancing it carefully on the tips of her fingers. "My wands made of unicorn hair. I want to see what it's all about."

"That is..." she licks her lips, "not such a terrible idea."

It's all the permission the girl apparently needs as she starts to pack away her books, shoving them into her bag as she downs the rest of her tea.

"Let's go now!"

Iola holds her hands out. "Wait! There is something I wish to speak to you about first!"

Dinah freezes, hovering over her seat. "Go on then."

"Okay, I think that you should ask Ron to the Yule Ball as your date."

She collapses back into her seat. "Pardon?"

"Ron does not have a date for the ball, and you seem to have been very concerned for him when he hurt his foot," she says, connecting the dots slowly. "I saw the way you look at him. I am not foolish."

"I don't look at him any way. Ron's just an idiot," Dinah says, aggressively biting into her sandwich. "But yeah. I'll ask him. You have to take me dress shopping, though."

Iola agrees, not thinking much of it even as the girl eyes her oddly. "I will have something made for you. I will take your measurements later."

"Uh, Iola, I wasn't serious."

"I am. I have more than enough money to buy you a dress. It is nothing to me."

"That's not the point, though. I can't just accept you buying me something."

"Then it is a present," she says dismissively, picking up the girls bag. "For a Christmas present."

"It still doesn't work like that..."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Iola!"

The girl hums, holding the bag close to her chest as she carries it from the Great Hall. "You will look pretty in purple."

Dinah sighs, stuffing the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. "I like pink."

She grins. "Then you will have pink!"

"Iola!"

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This is super short and I hate that but oh well :)

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2019-12-22