Return from the Hospital Wing

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah could see a nearly instant transformation in Dylan's expression at the mention of the shower. She well knew why. She had endured a similar internal struggle herself, though she hadn't really had anyone at the time to help her through the patch after her most recent attack. And certainly, there had been no one around after the first attack... that had been the most difficult by far... her own thoughts trailed off darkly as she watched Dylan make his way toward the boys' dormitories before turning to head toward her own.

She stopped first in her dormitory, gathering her clothes before making her way into the girls' showers. Seeing that no one was about, she disrobed and stepped beneath the hot stream of water, feeling the tension in her muscles slowly ease out. She didn't take a long time under the water, going about her business with a typical, rather perfunctory, air. She stepped from the stall and quickly towelled off, wrapping herself once again within the austere confines of her own robes before stepping bending over at the waist to brush her long hair. It fell in a wet mass upon the floor as she quickly worked out the tangles and then quickly gathered the entire length up into one of her typical updos. With every strand securely fastened to her head, she finally straightened, surveying the mass of blond hair as she stepped toward the exit, pausing in front of the mirror to be sure she had covered every bit of her own scars that she could. Satisfied, she continued toward her dormitory, depositing her previous set of robes with her laundry before heading down the stairs to meet Dylan.

She spied him sitting on a couch from away from the fireplace. He had already managed to find clothes to cover his new markings. While he looked rather dashing, he didn't seem particularly pleased at the moment. Coming up behind him, she draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned in, her face falling into the crook where his neck met his shoulder. "So, shall we away for our picnic breakfast?" she asked quietly, placing a kiss at his cheek.

[Dylan Cooper]

His gaze held by the scene unfolding outside a nearby window, he panicked slightly to feel arms draping over his shoulders. His eyes skirting about, he felt his muscles tense instantaneously before he heard her speak. Calming down, he relaxed into the chair once more and leant his head toward hers, which was newly lowered to his own height. Reacting only slightly to her kiss, his head turned toward her ever-so-slightly, and he gathered himself enough to respond to her light query. “Yeah…” he uttered softly, blinking and making to raise himself from the seat.

Refusing to meet her eyes or face her, he began to make his way from the common room, also making sure his eyes averted the fireplace. Reaching the door, he wondered at his actions. Surely she of all people would understand… She was the only person he could open up to, and he was automatically shutting her out whenever something went wrong. He decided that he would not rely on her compassion to keep them together; he would ensure that he stayed with her every step of this long, winding path that he had started on.

Turning back to her, he stepped forward lightly, took her hand in his, and placed a soft kiss onto her lips. It was a sort of non-verbal apology. Finding her eyes as he pulled back, he tried to smile and found himself unable. It would do… for now. Leading her by the hand, he headed back toward the entrance.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

Even though she understood why, it was slightly painful to be nearly ignored, to see him stand and head away while barely even glancing at her. She wondered briefly how long things would be this way, how long she would be forced to endure the sight of his pain, knowing there was little she could do to mitigate it. And then, he had turned back to her and she felt the reassuring sensation of a soft kiss at her lips.

She could feel how hard he was trying, could see it in his eyes. Perhaps... Well, she wondered if she had been able to recover so quickly precisely because she had had no one to assist... no one waiting , no thought that there might be any expectations. But then, remembering back, she thought it would have made things easier to have someone nearby... perhaps. She followed along, allowing him to lead her as she mulled over the thoughts in her mind.

As they began down the stairs from the fourth floor, she made up her mind. It certainly wouldn't help matters to be secretive... she had kept her thoughts from him before with unpleasant results; certainly, she didn't intend to do so again. "Dylan," she began quietly, giving his hand a light squeeze. "I had the thought that perhaps..." she trailed off, wanting to state her feelings accurately so that he would understand that she wasn't looking for an excuse to be rid of him, but wanted to provide him with the best opportunity for his own recovery. Though she preferred to be with him through this, perhaps that wasn't what he needed. "Perhaps you would prefer time alone?" she suggested finally. "I prefer to be with you... I hope my presence is helpful. However, if it is not, I would like you to know that you only need ask and I will give you whatever space you may need."

As she finished speaking, she squeezed his hand reassuringly and pulled closer to him, continuing on their way down the stairs as she waited for his answer. With her or without her, her main concern for Dylan right now was to aid his recovery--to have him fully recovered as quickly as possible. The Mage had been far too quiet; everything had been far too quiet. It would almost certainly mean devastating losses for them if she attacked while their members were less than whole.

[Dylan Cooper]

Feeling the light squeeze she provided, his slow and steady pace continued as she began speaking. His eyes ceasing their roaming movements suddenly, his legs, too, halted. Swallowing hard, his eyes became lost in another world, the incredibly low self-esteem he’d gained from his glance in the mirror returning at full force. Looking immensely upset, he turned his head away from her, unwilling for her to see the effect her words had upon him.

Negative feelings coursed through his system, infecting everything along the way. Dimly, he was aware that they were once again walking. Releasing his hand from hers, he let it drop to his side and, his eyes focused on the ground but not seeing it at all, he found the words he wished to speak. “Fine…” he muttered, refusing to look at her. To him, everything she said… wanting to be with him, hoping she was helping was just a ruse, something to soften the blow. His low self-confidence swam over him, telling him that all her words meant was that she wanted to be away from him, away from the problems he caused. Cursing himself inwardly for not trying harder, cursing the fact that she had said those words, he wondered if he was being rational about this.

Really, he had no way of knowing. Of course, the glimpse of his scarred form in the mirror was obviously not aiding his reaction any, but he wondered whether he would have reacted this way without that image in his head. Irrespective, this was how he felt. He realised that lately he had not held the laid-back demeanor so characteristic of his old self; maybe she was just sick of it, sick of him. Maybe it had all been a lie… Maybe she had never loved him, and now that it came down to it, she was tired of this game and willing to simply cast him away like yesterday’s newspaper. “Whatever,” he added angrily, turning back to head in the other direction.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah's lip twitched as she felt Dylan's hand leave her own. His muttered reply of 'fine' left her to believe that perhaps he really did just need time alone. Perhaps all he wanted was time to sort out the awful thoughts in his head. Perhaps he was annoyed with her constant doting. All the perhapses and maybes flew through her head as he turned away from her. And then, quite unexpected, she heard anger in his voice and a reply of 'Whatever.'

Suddenly, seemingly forgetting that they had been bound for breakfast, or perhaps no longer caring, he turned to walk away from her. Had he taken her offer, made in the earnest hopes of doing whatever would be best for him, as meaning that she did not wish to be around him?

She took a few steps in the direction he had headed, trailing behind him. "Dylan?" she asked, unable to keep the hurt at being suddenly abandoned from her voice. "I only meant to help." She stood there resolutely, her face having moved to its indiscernible mask of expressionless facade. "Why are you angry?" she asked quietly. "Please stop." Her feet seemed to plant themselves firmly in place as she said these last words, unwilling to move any further as she watched him retreat from her.

She fought against her own emotions. She would not cry, would not show herself as vulnerable here in the middle of the stairwell where anyone in the world might see her. "I only meant to do whatever you thought would be best for you," she added weakly, wondering if he would even bother to listen to her.

[Dylan Cooper]

Hearing his name called, he recognised the hurt behind it and his angry expression faded into nothing as he knitted his eyebrows together, ashamed at making her feel such a thing. Gaining a pained expression, he felt lost. But for the first time since she had entered the infirmary on the night of the Masquerade, he also felt quite alone. Her words indicated that, in fact, she had no idea how he felt. She might know what it was like to bear such scars… To feel the shame they brought with them. But she did not, by any means, know how he felt.

Unable to do anything except fret over every single feeling swirling around disruptively in his mind, he felt like crumbling where he stood. In his mind were thoughts of revulsion for what he had become, feelings of being helplessly alone, ideas of simply fading away. He felt bad for causing such pain to be evident in her voice, guilty for having her possibly reliving times she did not wish to as she saw him through this, confused as to why she was suggesting they spend time apart. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel anymore, and everything seemed to just be circling tumultuously in his head, never escaping but only building up.

His head began to ache incredibly. “I’m sorry… For everything.” He was unsure as to what more he could say; unsure of everything. He had stopped moving, as requested, and simply stood there, unable to do much of anything. Cupping his head in his hands, he wondered how she had dealt with this. Perhaps she had not encountered circumstances like this, at that. Perhaps she had, and he was just weak. Whatever it was, it wasn’t helping him feel any better, and he finally gave in to the will of his legs, feeling them unable to support him any longer as he crumbled to the ground. How long would he remain like this, unable to do anything helpful to anyone? So incompetent as to be unable to even support himself, let alone see to any needs D’rorah might have.

“Who am I kidding?” he muttered quietly. He was unsure as to whether or not he was speaking to himself or to D’rorah. “I can’t do this… I can’t even begin to do this…” He may have been referring to coping with the effects of the attack; he was, however, referring to both that and their relationship. His voice was weak and portrayed his feelings of helplessness, of feeling so alone, as well as his inability to do anything to help himself.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

As Dylan paused, D'rorah allowed herself to breathe once again. At his apology, she took another step toward him, trying to discern what was happening by watching his back. And then, suddenly, it was as if his legs had simply given out and he crumbled to the floor. Concerned, she rushed to his side and knelt beside him. His next words caused her heart to ache. She placed her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "You are doing admirably well, Dylan Cooper. Most would have simply rolled over and died... or remained in bed for the remainder of their lives. You however chose to recover; you are up and moving around with remarkable speed. And you are absolutely one of the most amazing people I have ever met," she concluded.

Feeling she should explain the strange offer which had set off this little episode, she continued. "You see, after my attack... there was no one to see me through the... aftermath..." she concluded finally. "I recovered alone with no help other than medical help. Even my father's friends and co-workers did not visit because... well, because they felt I was the one responsible for what had happened." She shook her head slightly, pushing away her own feelings. "I only remembered that alone, I recovered well. And there were times when all I wanted was to be alone, without even the mediwitches who tended me interrupting my solitude." She paused, closing her eyes. "Not knowing what it is like to have another nearby during this sort of recovery... I simply was unsure whether or not it was helpful..." she trailed off quietly.

"Besides," she added, summoning a small smile meant to be teasing, "would you really give up on me so easily?"

[Dylan Cooper]

Feeling her arms around him, he half yearned for her to remain doing so, and yet the other half of him simply wanted to push her away, to walk down the hall and not turn back. Choosing to ignore this desire, he gave in and wrapped his own arms around her, holding her close. Her words served to comfort him slightly. Despite what she said, he couldn’t help but believe that he was not dealing with this well at all. He was weak; unable to do anything. All he was doing was consuming energy that she could be putting toward her research, energy that could be put toward some use.

As she continued, explaining her previous words, he listened quietly. Not only was he simply respecting her right to speak, but he didn’t know what he could say. Tightening his hold on her as she spoke, he did not express sympathy; only a thankfulness that she had not truly wished to be away from him. “I do not want to be alone,” he responded in a soft whisper, desiring nothing more than to remain in her company and hoping she would take heed of his wishes.

At her teasing comment, he pulled back and cast his ashamed eyes downward. In all honesty, he believed that he had given up far too easily. “I’m sorry Dee…” Feeling that perhaps his heart was breaking, he felt hot tears well up behind his eyes and shut them out angrily. They were the last thing he needed.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

"If you do not want to be alone, then I am right here with you," she replied quietly.

And then, again, he was apologizing and his eyes were closed. She would tell by watching him that he was attempting to hold his own emotions in check. "There is no need to apologize," she replied softly. "Neither one of us will always be strong. Neither one will always be correct. Times such as these are the reasons people need one another." She pulled him to her and hugged him tightly. "One day I will need you and you will be there for me as I am here for you now."

Carefully, she rose, helping Dylan to his feet along with her. "Now then, we will both be completely useless and exhausted if we do not eat. I believe we should eat our breakfasts and then see how the day progresses. Perhaps after the grounds restriction is lifted we could walk into Hogsmeade. The fresh air, being outside of the castle, may be good for you." Intertwining her arm with his, she made to continue heading down toward the kitchen. She was determined that he would have as good a day as he possibly could given the circumstances. He deserved it after all he had endured, after all he would continue to endure for some time now.

[Dylan Cooper]

Glad that she would stay, he managed to feel less alone. Feeling himself pulled into another embrace, he clung to her once more, feeling like a small child as he did so. Irrespective, his hold on her remained. Allowing himself, with her aid, to rise to his feet, he barely managed to listen to her words. Just catching hold of them through the haze in his mind, he made to nod and remembered the ache brought forth by such an action. It would only serve to increase his current headache, and he abstained.

Pleased that it was still very early in the morning, and hence no-one else was to currently be seen trailing down the halls, he felt her arm slip into the crook of his own and began, slowly, to head back toward the kitchens. Stopping on the next floor, he took the moment to simply bring her around to face him and pull her into a soft hug. “I love you, D’rorah Philosophy,” he muttered quietly, pouring his heart into the words that were whispered into her ear.

Pulling back lightly, he produced a small, half-hearted smile and intertwined their hands once more. Squeezing the hand within his own lightly, they continued down the castle.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

"I love you too, Dylan Cooper," she replied quietly, melting into his arms, relieved that things were once again on a somewhat normal kilter. Reciprocating the squeeze of his hand with one of her own, she continued on the path toward the kitchen. When they finally reached the over-sized portrait of fruit, she tickled the pear in the picture, causing the door to the kitchen to open. A couple of house elves stepped forward, waiting to see what the young couple might want from them. D'rorah smiled and glanced over to the earthen patch in the far corner, indicating silently that they would like to have breakfast in the kitchen. Meeting no resistance, she headed toward it and seated herself on the patch of springy grass.

Soon enough, a house elf made her way over. "Is there anything Miss and Master needs?" she squeaked in a voice that sounded almost child-like. She looked from D'rorah to Dylan expectantly for a moment before Dee made her reply.

"I would like hashed brown potatoes with dry toast and an omelette with American cheese and mushrooms," she replied after a moment's thought. "Oh, and one cinnamon roll." There, she figured that ought to be good enough for one meal. The cinnamon roll definitely wasn't something she would normally order, but sde happened to want one that day.

"Very good Miss," replied the house elf before shifting her gaze to Dylan. "And for you, Master Dylan?" she asked cheerily. "We knows Master Dylan enjoys his french toast," she baited with a large smile on her goofily proportioned face.

[Dylan Cooper]

Standing by absently as she proceeded to tickle the over-large silver pear, he entered the kitchens with her, greeted immediately by a few house elves. Expecting as much, he simply gave them a weak smile and followed her to his own little grassy patch in the corner. Settling down on the springy green floor, he made himself as comfortable of possible, something that was not difficult given his current location, and perked his ears up as a small elf began talking.

Noting D’rorah take the lead, he pondered what exactly he felt like. Nothing cooked, that was for sure… In fact, throughout his duration in the infirmary, he hadn’t eaten anything cooked. Wondering at that for a moment, he remembered that he was supposed to be ordering. Casting a small hint of a smile the elf’s way at her final comment, he quickly came up with something. “Maybe not French toast this morning… How about some ficelle with cucumber and camembert?” he requested quietly. “Oh… And a bit of Orangensaft?” he added in a light voice, having a small craving for the drink.

Watching the familiar elf trot away to attend to their meals, he rested back against the single, small tree and pulled D’rorah to him, wanting her to be near more than anything else at that particular moment. He had a strong desire to apologise once more, but suppressed it, knowing it would do no good here. Wrapping his arms around her midriff, he muttered softly into her ear. “What shall we do for the day, my love?” he asked quietly, wanting to speak that term of endearment more than he actually wished for an answer.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah waited patiently as Dylan finally ordered, a bit puzzled at his selection. Her puzzlement, was soon pushed aside as Dylan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Feeling a slight tickle at her ear as he muttered into it, a shiver went down her spine. "I think," she replied quietly, pressing herself back against him, "we should venture to Hogsmead for the afternoon. Perhaps visit the shops and take a bit of time to ourselves." Her head leaned back against his shoulder so that she could almost look into his eyes from the corner of her own. "I know of a nice, quiet place which should prove to be quite relaxing on this crisp day."

She place her hands over his, which were draped across her midsection. "Would you be interested in the journey? A bit of fresh air... perhaps I could ride a boom there with you instead of walking," she added, remembering how much difficulty he had had the previous day with the stairs before and after their flying lesson.

As she finished speaking, the house elf who had taken their orders appeared with a tray. "Thank you very much," replied D'rorah amidst the various and sundry fussings of the elf. She considered the cinnamon roll for a moment, not really certain now that she would actually eat it. Setting it aside for futher contemplation, she handed Dylan his plate while she took her own and began eating the meal that had been provided.

[Dylan Cooper]

Absorbing her words, he was slightly more interested in what her body was doing. Feeling content that things seemed to be back to normal, his hands obligingly held onto her securely as he considered her words. “Sounds like a plan,” he responded quietly, his fingers tracing over her stomach gently. Feeling her hands join his own, he produced a small smile. “A broom sounds good,” he added, recalling exactly how much he currently disliked staircases.

Accepting his plate with a small word of thanks, he placed it on the grass beside him. Tearing a small bit of his breakfast off, he chewed on it happily as he replaced his free arm around her waist. Swallowing quickly, he kissed the side of her face. Following it with another and another, he issued a small contented sound from within his throat and smiled happily.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

Feeling a pattering of kisses on her cheek, D'rorah leaned back and sighed happily. She turned slightly so that she could face him. Leaning over, she placed a light kiss at his lips. "Now then Mister Cooper, attend to your breakfast so that you might have energy for the day's activities," she remarked in a teasing town of voice. One hand raised to stroke his cheek before she placed a quick kiss at his lips and then returned her attention to her omelette.

Finishing her plate, she was left with the reality of a cinnamon roll in front of her. She regarded it curiously for a moment. "I could use a bit of help with this," she said as she pulled a strip of sugary roll from the outside section of it, observing the strange, drippy patterns of the icing. She the strip of pastry between her index finger and thumb, offering it to Dylan with a quiet smirk in her eyes. Yes, things were mostly back to normal for them. Once Dylan's emotional swings calmed, it would be far easier to feel more normal about their interaction... once she was able to stop worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing. It was an entirely new concern for her, to be honest, and she wasn't sure she liked it one bit.