Plain English

He had only been back at Hogwarts for a few days and already Rhys felt a persistent low-grade headache. Granted, his English had improved, but not so much that he didn't often have to repeat himself several times over.

Sometimes he wondered why he had signed up for the Exchange Program, and then he remembered it was something he was going to do with Lena. That turned out well. At least, they talked sometimes, now. It was nice, really, talking to Le. Except then, when he wasn't talking to her, he missed her all the more.

She seemed happy, when he saw her with her friends. She was happy... wasn't she?

Rhys sat at one of the house tables, he wasn't entirely sure which. The redhead prodded thoughtfully at the food on his plate. Perhaps, he would make a trip to the library after classes that afternoon and get some books for the essay he had to write.

Blue eyes swept the Great Hall. Where were his schoolmates, anyway?

Trying not to look green, Lena entered the Great Hall. Even though she had been in there this morning, everything seemed unfamiliar in her eyes. The walls felt strange. The chatter felt wrong. The intoxicating blend of smells made her sick to the bone. Of course the smells made her sick; they were made up of that group of things she usually tried to avoid named food.

Even though she was supposed to be over the conversation slash accidental kiss with Frodo, Lena wasn't. She close her eyes, trying to imagine that it didn't happen. But it wasn't possible. She had cried over it, for Merlin's sake. (Then again, what wouldn't she cry over nowadays?) About how she had betrayed not only her own feelings, but others as well.

As she scanned the Hall for possible companions, her eyes fell on a head of ginger hair, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she thought of him. A klutzy ginger. Not only that. Her Klutzy Ginger. (Yes, she had claimed him. Not like she was admitting that verbally.)

Her lip quivered as she took baby steps forward, then back. She tilted her head to one side, continuing to observe him. Sure, they talked, and the words - those few words - brightened up her day no matter how little she'd eaten. But what if? What if he had moved on from her? And he manage to keep it a carefully crafted secret?

Lena breathed, and decided to pull all of what was left of her courage. "H-Hey," she whispered in her beloved Russian, sitting down rather robotically next to him, "h-how are you?"

Rhys looked up at the familiar voice, a ready smile on his features - which faltered the moment his gaze settled upon the girl.

"Lena?" His palm almost instantly found her forehead. "What's wrong? Are you sick? You should be in the infirmary, if you don't feel well."

Lena blinked when Rhys put his palm on her forehead, and she sighed heavily, grabbing his wrist. "I'm okay," she lied, though not sounding as well as she did in her head, "it was just a really, really bad night of sleep."

Still looking rather sullen, Lena scanned the table for something that looked good to eat, and piled it rather slowly on her plate. "How's life been for you?" she asked, picking at her food with her fork. It was clear she had no intention of actually eating it, "Is it treating you well?"

Rhys withdrew his hand, frowning at the girl. "You forget how well I know you," he stated, watching her movements. He wasn't the least convinced by what she was saying.

"I've been alright," Rhys replied. "The usual, really. Though, I haven't almost fallen off of one of the staircases, again, so perhaps, I should say I've been extremely well, huh?"

Lena sighed, shaking her head. "I know," she muttered, "I just happened to... ignore it, for a moment." She shut her eyes, wondering whether she should tell him. She decided not to, until he asked. After all, he pushed her buttons a lot quicker than anyone else.

Grinning, the Uchitel nearly - very, very nearly - leaped up to hug him when he said he wasn't falling down stairs anymore. At least she didn't have to worry about him being comatose like she dreamed of. "That's good!" she nodded, "that's... brilliant!"

If only I could say the same about myself, she mentally added.

Rhys gently nudged her shoulder. "C'mon, Le," he persuaded. "We're friends, right? You can tell me anything. Promise."

The boy found himself smiling at her enthusiasm. "You haven't been imagining anything drastic, like me breaking my neck or being in a coma or something, have you?" he teased lightly. "You worry too much."

Sighing, Lena leaned into Rhys's ear, and whispered, "I... I haven't been eating much, lately. If I do, I feel sick." She retreated for a brief moment, pondering on what else to say. "And I had a dream about my grandmother... last night... it-it was... scary."

Lena continued to poke her food with her fork, "Well, I've imagined it happening, but along with that are a million prayers to make sure that doesn't happen." She narrowed her eyes, and whined in a childish voice, "I do not!"

"Have you gone to the infirmary?" Rhys asked in concern. "They could make sure there's nothing wrong with you or give you a stomach soother or something."

He rested his hand over hers, expression serious. "Next time you have a nightmare, have someone wake me, and I will come sit with you in the common area. Okay?"

The redhead gave her hand a gentle squeeze before withdrawing the contact. "You do," he replied, "but it's part of what makes you Lena. It's cute."

Lena shook her head, "I don't want to go to the Infirmary. I don't want anyone else knowing about what I'm having except you; I can trust you. You're my Infirmary." She smiled, a sad look in her eyes. She simply nodded at her beloved's words, gently squeezing his hand back when he squeezed hers.

"So... I'm cute?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, "I thought I was overly murderous, last time I checked."

"I'm not a healer, though," Rhys said with a frown. "Or a mediwizard. If you get worse - or if you don't get better - you should go get looked at, okay?"

The redhead laughed. "You are not as intimidating as you think you are," Rhys replied. "You are pretty and dainty, like a flower. No one expects a flower to attack them. I know you better. I can think you're cute and know you're capable of beating me up, at the same time."

"You're a better psychologist to me than actual psychologists," Lena mused, ignoring the seriousness of her situation. After all, she didn't want to make the mood more sombre than it already was, though she was desperate to talk to Rhys about how her dream went, "Don't you want to know what I dreamed about, anyway?

"Flowers are also easy to step on; once you step on them or pluck them out of the soil, they die," the blonde added, laughing a little.

"Well, then," said Rhys, a smile ruining his attempt at a somber expression. "As your psychologists, I feel it is my duty to hear this dream of yours." The smile took over completely, soft and sincere. "And I would really like to know."

The redhead started to reach out a hand to take hers again, only this time, he thought better of it and fiddled with his napkin, instead. "I would not let you be stepped on, Rhys stated simply. "I would let myself be stepped on, first."

Without hesitating and acting as if it was a normal gesture, Lena turned to face the side and leaned her body on Rhys's arm. "Well... let's start with what I saw at first," she began, "I saw this weird scenery at first... and my owl came to me telling that I was this... Ashling person... and then... my grandmother came along and told me about what's to come in the next year and she's been watching me." Something clogged in her throat, and she began to cough. She didn't want to reveal too much, but that was the only way she was going to express her feelings.

"Well, I won't let that happen," she quickly replied, her voice sharp, "you know I won't let anything happen to you!"

Rhys' heart skipped as Lena leaned against him. The position seemed rather... intimate. Not that Rhys minded, at all. He just wasn't expecting it. It took him a moment to reboot his mind, in fact.

"Your owl spoke to you? Funny, dreams," Rhys said thoughtfully. "Was there anything else?"

He patted her on the back when she started coughing, frowning in concern. "You sure you're alright?"

The redhead just gave a soft smile at the girl's declaration. He felt the same, of course. He always had.

"Whoever said dreams had to make sense?" Lena scoffed, adjusting her head so it rested comfortably on his shoulders, "dreams are dreams, Rhys. They're not supposed to make sense, or so... well, I don't think they do. And what else?" The Uchitel looked around, "Well... I don't feel very comfortable talking about it with a million people around; one of them might know Russian and... they might spread rumours about me."

A huge part of Lena that wasn't numbened by her condition felt a longing urge to break down right there and then, but it didn't. Instead, she only smiled back at him. "I'm fine," she whispered, "I promise."

Rhys chuckled, though he held very still as she rested her head on his shoulder. He didn't want to disturb her. "Fair enough," he agreed. "Another time, then."

"If you say so..." the redhead said dubiously. He didn't press the matter, even though he could see right through her act.