Part Two: Ogden's Olds

Morning turned to afternoon in a rush of papers, burns, fractures, and jinxes. Cho left room 21 and darted down to the kitchens to grab a quick lunch for her rumbling stomach. She had been too nervous to eat that morning, but after a few hours of quite literally 'getting her hands dirty', most of her fears about diving into Healing had dissipated. She returned to the Fourth Floor to find Healer Stout still gone, so she went over to the blonde girl sitting at the reception desk instead.

"Mary?" she asked, and the young witch looked up from her magazine. Mary actually looked like she was a few years older than Cho, but Cho was always forgetting how young she herself was. She hadn't felt truly young for years. "I was just wondering…"

What I'm supposed to be doing now… didn't quite sound right.

"I was just wondering if there is anything else that needs to be seen to while Healer Stout is gone." She smiled sheepishly at the big blue eyes, which reminded her of Luna Lovegood. Mary grinned knowingly back and said gently,

"Well, it's quieted down heaps. Usually Resident Healers attend to any re-stocking until it's time to do rounds again. And Madame Bloomfield is schedule to be discharged in an hour, so we will probably use her room for a temporary clinic as the actual clinic is packed today." Cho nodded gratefully, and went to the potions room to check on the supply of all their remedies. Unsurprisingly, they were shockingly low, and she busied herself for the next hour with setting cauldrons to brew more pain, sleep, and regrowth potions.

The faces and exchanges she had had today flew through her mind as she worked. Everyone had lost so much. There was relief in the air, but it was still eclipsed by grief. She hadn't met one person today whose eyes had not been haunted. Even she herself, lucky as she had been to not loose any family or close friends, had lost more classmates, acquaintances and people she loved from a distance, than she could count. Charlie Weasley stuck in her mind most sharply.

The Weasleys knew how to breed vibrance, and from what she remembered from her first year at Hogwarts, and from the few times she had been around Charlie since, his liveliness of spirit was bested only by Fred and George. And that was the thing about vibrant personalities- they could fill an entire room with life so easily, that when they were suddenly muted, everyone around them could feel the tangible void of their loss.

Her heart ached for him- for his parents, for George… for Collin Creevey, for Natasha Bones, for Professors Lupin and Burbage. The soothing steams and perfumes of the brewing potions moistened the air, so her tears didn't feel so stark on her cheeks. She told herself she would be stronger when she left the stock room, and let her defenses come down for a few minutes.

Upon leaving, she did in fact feel stronger. On Mary's directions, she headed for the new 'clinic' in room 21.

When she entered the room, it was to the sounds of a raucous pub. Three young men sat, spun in the swiveling chair, and stood on the bed, respectively, all belting a drinking song at the top of their lungs. They reached a crescendo as she stood slightly shocked in the doorway, and cheered when they saw her.

"Good DAY, healer… Chung," slurred the one atop the bed, wobbling with the effort of honing in on her name tag.

"Chang," she corrected him warily, closing the door behind her. She did not need to look at the memo that hovered beside her to see why they were here; the speaker's shirt was unbuttoned and open, revealing the most peculiar rash she had ever seen. "Is that-"

"- Mice." He gave her a sober look which quickly caved into a sloppy smile.

"How did this happen?" She asked professionally, trying to cover up her momentary awe.

"Well! Do you believe it- I was HEXED by a very saucy young minx in the bleedin' street! All for asking if she fancied a drink."

"And a shag," coughed his friend in the swivel chair.

Cho suppressed a smile and nodded seriously.

"Damn things squeak like mad whenever I get too close," the afflicted slurred on, unperturbed, "one even bit me!"

He held up a wavering, swollen index finger.

"Din't trust the lads to put it right-" he motioned her closer and said in a theatrical whisper that blew a gust of what smelled like pure whiskey into her face, " 'fraid they've overindulged."

"I see," she said calmly, taking his finger to inspect it, "Well, no lasting damage here- I suppose you're lucky she didn't make them Doxies."

"Noo, lass," he said wryly, "I'm lucky she aimed a bit high off her mark!"

She couldn't suppress a laugh at this. Swinging into action, she dabbed dittany and anti-swell onto his finger, and inspected the rash of little white mice heads covering his stomach. A cross between a fununculus jinx and a squeaking spell, she suspected. A few waves of her wand as she pondered counter jinxes, and his paunch was mice-free.

"There you go, Mr. O'Reilly, good as new," she smiled at him.

"Oooh, now lass, put those dimples away before I faint- I can't be taking up more of you Healer's precious time," he grinned sloppily as he left the room, the other two men stumbling out after him.

Cho shook her head with amusement, quite pleased at the glimpse of the celebrations outside that their little party had provided. She did a quick disinfecting spell on the areas where they had been sitting, and straightened the bedcovers. Something resting half-concealed by the mussed pillow caught her eye. She picked it up, feeling the nudge of happy coincidence.

It was a small, nearly full bottle, of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

The makeshift clinic kept Cho busy for hours straight- by the time she had a spare minute to check the time, it was already quarter to five. She didn't mind at all, however, as the patients directed to the clinic were only those who would take up less than 15 minutes of the Healer's time. This meant that Cho got a happy break from those patients seriously injured from the war, and dealt purely with the colorful side effects of mad jubilation . She deflated limbs, re-transfigured faces, and set countless drinking accidents right, until she felt as though her wand arm was about to fall off.

She took a five minute bathroom break from her shift, taking her time running her hands under the hot stream of water in the Healer's washroom. As soon as she opened the door back out to the hallway, she could feel that something had changed. The guffawing and chattering line of people she had left were no where to be found. Instead, as she approached room 21, she heard sobs and whimpers leaking through the thin walls. That familiar foreboding, the dread of what she was about to find behind the door, swelled in her abdomen.

She pushed the door open and saw a horror-stricken family clustered around a small brown-haired girl.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, crouching down in front of the child.

"The C-cruciatus Curse," sobbed the woman who Cho could tell was the girl's mother. "Death Eaters- they were storming our neighborhood in Hogsmeade, and she was playing in the yard. B-but, she's just a child! And they wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop. She's not right- It was an hour ago and she- she's still not right-"

The woman started crying too hard to be understood, and her husband pulled her against his chest. Cho turned sharp eyes on the girl, noting that the young eyes were wild and almost inhuman with pain and shock to her nervous system.

"Shhh, shhh," she whispered pleadingly to the girl, taking her hands, "it's alright. You're alright now. I need you to look at me, darling."

The girl turned her mad eyes on Cho, who felt sick with dismay. She knew of cases like this, and she could tell the girl was out of control from something more than trauma. You just couldn't subject a developing body to something as savage as the Cruciatus Curse without lasting damage. Her hands feeling numb, she rose, and walked over to the cupboard to extract some pain potion. Pouring it out slowly into a small bowl, she brought it to the girl and raised it to her lips.

"Drink this, sweetheart," she said softly, locking eyes with the girl, who jerked and twitched with the effort of holding her gaze. Messily, the girl managed to swallow most of the potion, spluttering and gagging. Cho rubbed her back until she was satisfied that it had gone down alright. "There. That's better, isn't it?"

The girl blinked up at her, eyes wide with confusion and hurt. Her pupils dilated and contracted as if they were breathing and her feet jiggled uncontrollably. Cho brushed the light brown hair away from her sweet face and tried to smile reassuringly.

Telling her parents was the worst bit. They all stepped calmly out of the room, where her mother instantly fell to pieces at the look on Cho's face. Cho tried to be optimistic, but they had to know that it was most likely that their daughter would never be quite the same again.

A half-hour later, she left the sleeping girl with her grieving family, and walked like a zombie back down the hall. There was nothing worse than when something horrible happened to someone too innocent to understand why.

Exhausted, Cho could feel bedtime creeping over the hospital. Early as it was, in a hospital, patients and families naturally became quiet and restful as soon as the sun began to dim. Her nerves were stretched to a point she didn't think was possible. First a war, and now this. She felt overwhelmed and a little crazy.

Her feet had carried her to Room 17, and without a second thought, she went brazenly in.

Charlie did look round when she entered this time, and her fried brain distantly registered that as a good sign of his health. He smiled at her in that pained sort of way again, and she felt a strange and unexpected temper flare in her. She walked over to him, and began unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling a little.

"And without so much as 'Hello'," he joked horsely, somewhere near her ear. She looked up tiredly, and upon seeing her vexed expression, he really smiled. She eased his shirt open, and ran her fingers over the strange bruised lines underneath.

"How is it now?" She asked, pressing a firm line from his ribs around to his spine. She knew the answer immediately from the way his muscles spasmed under her hands, and from the choked groan that he unsuccessfully bit back.

"Christ. Not bloody good," he breathed. Cho frowned, biting the inside of her lip.

"Worse?"

"A bit," he grimaced, trying to ease out from under her hands, "-though that might be the pain potion finally wearing off. They gave me some when I came in, while I was unconscious."

"I don't see why you don't just let me give you some more," Cho said, not able to keep the irritation from her voice. Charlie looked at her, and she saw his eyes soften. A flicker of fear passed across them, and he looked down, shaking his head.

"No, I told you, I'm fine." He smiled suddenly, lopsidedly, "Though I really wasn't kidding about that Firewhiskey."

Cho hesitated for a moment. Then she reached into her Healer's robes.

"I didn't think you were." She held out the bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey with a dry smile. Charlie's eyes widened with surprise.

"Crikey!" he said loudly, with a booming laugh. She grinned. There was the Weasley Vibrance. She levitated the empty food tray to hover over his lap, and set the bottle down. Then she summoned a small beaker from the cabinet above the sink.

"Just don't over-do it," she said, a little pleadingly, "this hospital is already overflowing with drunken wizards."

He chuckled, spirits considerably lifted. Feeling lifted herself, Cho made to leave.

"You can't leave me to drink all by myself now," he sounded indignant. Cho turned back around, a little surprised. Charlie cracked a charming grin. And then a comically desperate face.

"Alright," Cho said. Then her eyes widened. 'I can't, I'm still on my shift!' - is what she had fully intended to say. Charlie looked surprised too. But he also looked genuinely pleased, and for that, Cho threw caution to the wind. She summoned another small beaker from the cabinet and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Right," Charlie said, pouring out two measures of Ogden's, "to the best Healer I've seen all day. Cheers for this."

He raised his glass to her, and she raised hers as well. They drank.

The whiskey actually felt like the perfect thing to Cho. Just what the Healer ordered, she thought wryly. It burned a warm path down her chest, instantly making her feel more grounded. She looked up at Charlie, and could tell it was easing his pain.

"So," he said, finishing his measure and pouring another, "who are all these drunken wizards wandering about the hospital?"

Cho smiled.

"Oh, well. Everyone's celebrating, you know. And on a scale like this, that leads to many amusing mishaps with no one sober enough to put them right," she looked at him matter-of-factly, "which means lots of minor work for me."

"I bet they don't mind being seen to by you," Charlie said with a smirkingly raised eyebrow, "you might actually be the Healer of every drunken wizard's dreams."

Cho shrugged, going a little pink. She had in fact been told that very thing today by two such drunken wizards, in varying degrees of coherence. Charlie grinned knowingly. He seemed both relaxed and distressed from the drink. She could tell that it was dulling his pain considerably, but she could also tell that that was heightening his anxiety considerably.

"Why won't you take the pain potion?" She asked abruptly.

He looked at her and his grin died on his face. The emotional turmoil underneath peeked out at her as he searched her eyes for a moment. Apparently deciding he could speak honestly, he let out a slow breath, looking suddenly hollow.

"This pain," he ran a hand over his ribs, "is nothing to what I'll feel when it's gone. For years to come. For now, it's a damn welcome distraction."

His eyes were unguarded and she could see fear and dread looking back at her. She remembered that feeling all too well. The absolute terror of letting your distractions go. The dread of knowing the unsurmountable heartache that's lurking patiently behind it all.

She nodded slowly, realizing with a flush that her eyes had filled with tears.

"Don't," he whispered, shaking his head.

Cho looked down at her nearly empty beaker. She raised it to her lips and finished it, then held it out for Charlie to pour her another. They sat in a silence that held no discomfort, for a full minute or two. Outside, the sun had nearly set, and Cho could see that the sky was red and full of backlit clouds.

"When I was young," Charlie spoke suddenly, his voice low, "Fred and George somehow charmed the water in the kettle to turn into sparks while I was making tea… so when I poured it out, it basically spit hot sparks out all over me, see." He looked up at her, "I don't know why, but for some reason I wasn't mad- I thought it was bloody brilliant."

He smiled sadly and continued with a shrug,

"Maybe it was a sign of my future career choices, I don't know. But they were only five, and it really was bloody brilliant. And I pour with caution ever since that day, mind. I always think of them…"

Cho's heart ached with the familiarity of his feelings. He looked at her searchingly again, boyish and beseeching.

"I'm afraid I'll never be able to look at a bloody kettle again."

Cho nodded, feeling tears spill down her cheeks. His eyes filled as well, and he looked down, breathing deeply and clearing his throat. Cho took his hand in both of hers, squeezing gently.

"You should look," she said quietly, "as often as you can. It- it get better. Once the awful shock wears away. It gets bearable, and you just…"

She broke off, searching for words. He had raised his eyes to hers again, drinking her words in,

"You just grow to be able to hold it all. Your grief. You'll still feel it, but it will be there with all kinds of other things. Good things. You'll want to look and remember and celebrate the time you had."

He nodded, looking like only a very small part of him understood. She knew he would learn in his own time- he would be okay. He seemed to realize that Cho was crying a steady stream of tears, and reached out to brush them away. She let him, feeling completely comfortable under the spell of Firewhiskey and broken hearts.

"Don't cry," he murmured, although she could see a shining track running down the left side of his face. She bit her lip, but knew it would take her a few minutes to stop.

"I'm sorry, I'm being an awful professional," she laughed a little bitterly. He smiled,

"Well, no, you're not being very professional, but that's why you're so good at this."

"At what?" she asked, blankly. He smiled again,

"At Healing," he made a small gesture to her official robes. Cho shook her head, feeling fresh tears leak from her eyes.

"No," she chuckled sadly, "I'm not very good at this, I'm afraid. I'm too… sensitive. Too weak."

Charlie looked at her for a long moment, his eyes full of sweetness. Then he took her hand and leaned towards her so she couldn't look away,

"That's what makes a good Healer. You can dole out potions and perform counter-curses all you like, but someone who you can tell feels what you're going through- someone who cares about your pain like it's their own. That's amazing, Cho. That's what really heals people."

She blinked wetly at him, finding the honesty in his eyes.

Their hands were still clasped, and a tension was growing in the room. Cho felt her heart pound in a different way than it had all day, as something else shifted in Charlie's eyes. At almost the same time, they released each other's hands. Cho smiled apologetically at him,

"I should go. I have to get back to rounds."

He nodded his full understanding and smiled back. She levitated the Firewhiskey and tray onto the bedside table and sent the beakers back to their cabinet with a conspiratorial wink at him. He grinned. She turned and walked towards the door.

"Cho." He sounded sleepy, and she felt happy at the thought of him able to rest, "Thank you."

She met his eyes for a few seconds.

"Thank you, Charlie."

And she left.