They woke slowly. Everything hurt. Everything was pain. And so it was that Blue opened her eyes to discover the antiseptic air and stiff white curtains that must indicate the Hospital Wing.

"What happened?" she croaked, not really expecting an answer. Her throat felt like it was on fire. She struggled to a sitting position, and was immediately pressed back down by a black-garbed arm.

"You were discovered several corridors away from my office, beaten to a pulp," the acerbic Potions Master informed her. She looked up, puzzled at the glint of concern she could see in his eyes. "Care to enlighten me further on the subject?"

"I don't know, sir," she whispered hoarsely. He handed her a glass filled halfway with water and she gulped it greedily, having to use both hands to hold it steady. It soothed her throat, although the muscles across her shoulders pulled in a painful way.

"He's awake!" Blue heard a female voice say. A moment later, Madam Pomfrey bustled out from her office, wiping her hands on a white towel. "Severus, why didn't you tell me?"

"He just woke up less than a minute ago," Snape snorted dryly.

"Oh," a flush spread over the nurse's cheeks and Blue regarded her with interest. So this was the nurse. She wondered if Pomfrey had noticed the older injuries and scars that could not have happened from a school fight. Panic licked at the corners of her mind. If she had noticed...

She looked calm though. Far too calm for a person who had discovered Harry's extensive medical history. Blue relaxed a fraction. Perhaps their magic had worked one more time.

Never tell, never show, nothing happened, nothing ever happened! a voice whispered constantly in her head, and she couldn't help but nod in agreement.

Madam Pomfrey bustled around her, plumping up her pillow and giving her a lemony potion to drink. Telling her that she would be in the Hospital Wing for at least the rest of the night and probably the next day, as well. Professor Snape simply stood by and watched them, his eyes still odd-looking. Blue couldn't understand why, and as the nurse disappeared to the other side of the room to deal iwth a very noisy second year who'd spent the past hour throwing up, Blue relaxed inside. Someone else could deal with the enigma of their Head of House. She was tired.

Tom opened his eyes part-way. He was tired. Exhausted, really, for it had been his own magical strength that had kept Madam Pomfrey's diagnostics at bay. She hadn't noticed anything terribly untoward, although he'd been unable to hide their general state of exhaustion and slight malnutrition from her. He had no doubt that she'd be doing something about that later, but for now, they were safe.

Snape was watching them, and Tom made sure to keep his muscles lax, his face smoothed out as if he was already dreaming. It took more effort than he was used to, but that was all right for now. He didn't know if the Potions professor could be trusted. Yes, he was their Head of House, but even when Snape had been a loyal Death Eater...there was something off about the man. Now, presumably, he'd been cleared of all charges, but even Harry knew the evil that could hide behind an innocent face. They couldn't trust him, and they certainly couldn't trust Dumbledore. Even Jay was in agreement on that.

How could they? They'd just been beaten half to death in Hogwarts itself. Their "refuge" was no longer anything close. And worst of all, they had no idea the House affiliations of the perpetrators. Tom concentrated on the memory of the attack, but it was too dark and too blurry without Harry's glasses. They were students obviously. From their size, anywhere from third year on up, although there had been a shorter figure that might have been younger. As far as House went, however, they were clueless. Which meant they could be sleeping in the same dorm as their attackers. A lovely, comforting thought, wasn't it?

A sigh escaped before Tom could stifle it. The body still ached abominably, but it was easing. Whatever potions and spells Pomfrey had used were doing the trick. That was decent news, at least. Even better was the fact those potions were helping in older injuries, as well, now that Tom wasn't suppressing them. He still had no idea how he'd managed it, but at least it'd worked.

For now, Jay's snide voice interrupted his reverie. If Tom concentrated, he could see the boy pacing back and forth inside, his hair standing up in crazy spikes where he'd ruffled it.

For now is all that was required, Tom reminded him. Next time, we'll see.

Next time Pomfrey will find out, and then that slimy bastard you call our Head of House, and then we'll be in shit, Jay said acidly. Not to mention the fact god knows who wants to fucking kill us. Or did you forget that?

It would be hard to forget that when we are sitting in a hospital bed for the duration, Tom retorted, trying to keep his calm. Jay was the most exasperating, he really was. Tom could cheerfully strangle him. But we have no leads on who did it. Adding the childhood abuse to this mess would have made it all unbearable, and would confuse the real issue. And you know it.

A derisive snort was Tom's only answer. Tom settled back further into the pillows, but sleep was a long time in coming.