But I Wasn't Ready for This Solo

Christmas Eve had arrived. While the Collins family didn't do much for other holidays, Christmas, at least, was celebrated. They had even decorated, a Christmas tree hung with ornaments and strung with lights in their living room, a wreath hung on the front door, and presents wrapped and waiting under the tree. Ellie had baked so many cookies she'd been forced to give some to the neighbors.

On a normal year, they would leave tomorrow morning for their grandparents' house and stay several days along with all their cousins, but her grandmother had caught a cold and her Uncle Archie had decided to take his family on vacation. Honestly, she was happy for the break from tradition. It would be a quieter Christmas, less people, no dodging questions about school. Besides, now her family would be having Christmas dinner with Katrina's adopted family. She was surprised her parents had agreed to go since the only interaction with Katrina's adopted parents they'd had was a brief phonecall, but it was the fact they'd agreed at all that counted.

They weren't doing much that evening. Dinner, a board game, an animated Christmas movie they'd somehow ended up watching even though none of them were little kids anymore. It was nice, though, the sort of happy, simple evening she'd forgotten existed. She hadn't really struggled with homesickness since her first year, and on breaks she always missed her friends, but it occurred to her that maybe being away all year had her missing her family, too. If she could go back to the time before her Hogwarts letter had come, when she didn't have to deal with curses and hags, would she?

They were finally heading up to bed, Ellie and Jonathan arguing loudly about something. Bridget had just reached the stairs when she heard a throat clearing behind her. Turning, she already knew who it was. Matthew. She raised an eyebrow; what did he want? And more importantly, what had driven him to want to talk to her now? It wasn't like they'd hadn't said anything to each other whatsoever since he'd called her a freak and all, but their communication had been minimal, trivial. His posture, arms crossed and eyes downward, made it pretty clear he had something meaningful to say.

"Can I talk to you?" Well, she wasn't about to say no. Maybe she would have a year ago, but the way he'd treated her after the reveal she was a witch had ceased to be something she held a grudge against. Now it was more... a wall. A wall between the relationship they'd once had.

"Okay." He gestured for her to follow, leading her into the hallway and away from the rest of the family. A private conversation, then. For a moment, neither of them said anything, Matthew staring at his apparently very interesting socks and Bridget copying his crossed arms. She'd decided she wasn't going to say anything until he did. He was the one that wanted to talk, after all.

Finally seeming to gather his thoughts, or perhaps his courage, he started. "It's been over a year now. And I'm at college and you're at... Hogwarts, so we don't see each other that much, but when we do, it's so weird. Something about losing my friendship with Jason reminded me of something, and it took me a while but I think I finally figured it out."

Bridget blinked, trying to make sense of the rush of words. She had an idea of where he was going with this, but if she didn't, she would've been lost. Her brother was usually so composed and clear, so this was surprising.

He too seemed to realize he wasn't making any sense. Finally looking up from the floor, he met her eyes with his matching brown ones. "Look, what I'm trying to say is sorry. I'm so sorry, Bridget. God, I was such a jerk. And the worst part is I meant what I said to you. I- I was jealous. I was so used to being, I don't know, the shining example. I had everything perfect and I was so excited to learn how to become a surgeon, to save lives, but it felt like it all didn't matter. Not with magic. And then, I called you- and I didn't talk to you. I was so focused on myself I didn't stop to think what it was like for you.

"You don't have to forgive me. I would get it. Just- I left this unaddressed for far too long. And I know I've been an awful older brother, but if you let me, I want to make it up to you."

Now it was her turn to pause, not knowing quite how to respond. All of the times she'd had to apologize to or forgive one of her siblings was somehow different from this. Those times hadn't really mattered, but this did. And he had hurt her. He'd always been someone she looked up to, someone she trusted, so how he'd treated her had made trying to figure out where she fit into the two different worlds of Muggles and wizards that much harder. It had also taken him a long time to finally apologize.

But she wanted her brother back. He'd done all that, but he was apologizing now, wasn't he? That's what counted. She already had so many things to worry about and her relationship with Matthew didn't have to be one of them.

"I forgive you." There was more to say, but for now, that felt like enough.

Then, she pulled him in for a hug. Hugging wasn't something she did a lot of, but it felt right. This felt right.

________

Christmas came and went in an enjoyable evening with Katrina and her adopted family. For the first time since before her Hogwarts letter had come, it felt almost normal, no uncomfortable conversations or wary glances to dampen the mood. It seemed her family was mostly over whatever feelings of uncertainty or jealousy they'd once fostered, and the cold weather meant her clothing easily hid the black blood.

New Year's Eve hadn't been very eventful. Her siblings all went off to a friend's house to celebrate, but between moving and being away all year, Bridget didn't know anyone nearby. She ended up staying home with her parents, both of whom fell asleep before midnight, and facetiming her childhood best friends. It was... odd seeing Lizzie and Jemima again and thinking about how they used to be so close and now felt almost like strangers. Part of the separation was because of moving away, but it was mostly the secret she was keeping, wasn't it? It was hard acting like things were the same as they'd always been when they would never know about such a huge part of her life.

Bridget did miss her Hogwarts friends, but it was nice to have a break. No homework, no looking over her shoulder and waiting for disaster to strike. She didn't really know what to do with herself, but she finally managed to pick her sketchbook back up and do more than stare at a blank page. She and Matthew discussed plans for exchanging letters once they were both back at school. They agreed an owl flying into his university would raise questions, so settled on sending their letters through their parents.

It was January 2nd, her break quickly approaching its end. The sun had set a while ago and the Collins family was spread through the ground floor of their house. Jonathan and Ellie were playing a video game, her parents were talking about work, and Bridget was at the kitchen table, sketching the London Quidditch Stadium. Matthew was making a quick trip to the grocery store since he wanted ice cream for dessert and they were out.

Piercing through the relative quiet of the household came the insistent ringing of a phone, which had both her parents on their feet, searching for the source of the noise. "Mom, it's in here," Bridget supplied, pointing towards the counter where the device had been left. Her mother offered her a grateful smile, hurrying to answer it.

Then her expression changed. Something was wrong.

The tiny bit of curiosity Bridget felt was overwhelmed by a sense of dread. As much as she strained her ears, she couldn't hear what was being said, especially since her mother had turned away and taken several distancing steps. Her sketchbook lay forgotten, pencil dropped and rolling off the table. She didn't bother to pick it up.

When the call finally ended, Bridget couldn't wait any longer for answers. This wasn't Hogwarts, but that didn't mean bad things couldn't happen. "What? What is it?" A testament to the direness of the situation, her mother didn't even try to tell her everything was fine. That was what adults were always doing, lying so the children didn't worry, but all she mustered was a weak attempt at a reassuring smile before leaving the kitchen to share the news with her father.

She felt a bubble of frustration welling up. This, the not knowing, was the worst part. If it was as bad as it seemed, they would tell her--they would have to tell her--but until then, her brain came to its own terrible conclusions. She found herself wishing she had her wand, which was upstairs in her trunk, if only for the semblance of security it would provide.

It took her parents an agonizingly long time to figure things out, or maybe time had just decided to move slower, the minutes on the microwave's digital clock dragging by. Ellie and Jonathan had finally realized something was happening, turning off their video game and waiting on the couch.

The sound of the front door swinging open and being shut reached her ears, then the rumble of a car leaving the driveway. Her father came into view and called her siblings into the kitchen, having them all sit down at the table; her mother must have been the one to leave. Bridget had considered the conversation about her cursed blood over the summer at this very table stressful, but now it sounded almost pleasant. Maybe it was just because she was the one having a bomb dropped on her this time around.

"What happened?" It was Ellie who spoke up first, prompting the answers the three of them wanted.

Her father sighed. "Matthew was in a car crash. He's in the hospital right now." No working up to it. The Collins household did place a certain value on getting to your point.

"How bad?" There was a slight quiver in her voice.

Another sigh, a slight shake of his head. "We don't know yet." But they did, sort of. Her parents' reactions made it pretty obvious this was no small matter. There were so many things that could have happened; Matthew was a good driver, but it was dark, icy. And there were plenty of not-so-good drivers out there.

"Well, are we going to go see him?" Bridget turned towards her sister, who looked ready to cry. "Or what?"

Her father leaned in his chair to pull Ellie into a hug. "We wouldn't be able to see him right now even if we went. Your mom's taking care of it for now."

Ellie let out a sob and started crying into his shoulder. Bridget didn't feel any tears coming, but rather a shock somewhat akin to watching Victor Moore get stabbed. She couldn't handle this, couldn't sit there doing nothing while her sister cried. Besides, they didn't even know how bad it was yet. Pushing her chair back, she stood up. "I'm going to my room." No one protested, so grabbing her sketchbook and the pencil on the floor, she hurried up the stairs to the room she shared with Ellie. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her art supplies on her bed and found herself just... pacing. It was nothing more than mindless movement, but what else was there to do? At some point she transitioned to organizing her things. Since she was only on a two week break, her stuff hadn't journeyed far from her trunk, but it was easy enough to refold clothes and rearrange papers. She was reminded acutely of the night after the Blossom Ball when she knew Katrina was in the Hospital Wing and had to wait until the morning to see her. The difference was that Katrina had been in the hands of nurses with magic at their disposal that could heal just about any regular injury while Matthew wasn't.

She managed to distract herself for a while with a book, and when she finally closed it and glanced towards the clock, she decided she might as well get some sleep. Well, at least try to sleep, since she doubted it would come easily. There were too many thoughts, too many worries, but what was there to do about it tonight?

For a while she was just staring at the ceiling. Ellie came in and crawled into her own bed, tears replaced by the occasional sniffle.

She found herself remembering when she was little, before Hogwarts and before Matthew was too caught up in his studies to have time for her. When she would have nightmares, he would let her come into his room and fall back to sleep cuddled up next to him. She missed that.

Exhaustion eventually won out over her worrying after what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning, Bridget able to catch some much-needed hours of dreamless rest. As soon as the deep sleep wore off, though, and the first thought of Matthew surfaced, there was no hope of returning to any semblance of sleep. She was out of bed, dressed, and heading down the stairs in minutes, mindful to stay quiet with Ellie still asleep. The clock read 6:34.

The twins were still in bed, but the same could not be said of her father. Granted, both her parents tended to wake up early, though his tired look suggested he had gotten very little sleep. The creak of the last step on the flight of stairs stole his attention away from his phone. "Morning, Bridget."

"Morning." There was no sign of her mother and she had the feeling she wasn't up in bed. For how badly they'd made the crash out to sound, she couldn't picture a scenario where Matthew wouldn't still be in the hospital, and that meant her mother would be there too, unwilling to leave his side.

She was scared to ask, but there was no avoiding it. "How is he?" Her gaze leveled on her father; he was at least clearly not grieving. A major relief. Matthew dead... it wasn't something she even wanted to think about. And yet her father still looked as though he'd aged considerably in the past day.

"He broke his arm and a few ribs." That wasn't so terrible. An inconvenience to be sure, and she couldn't help but think about how easily such injuries could be remedied with magic, but it could be worse.

Unfortunately, he wasn't done talking. "He's also in a coma." His voice had gone soft, like he was whispering. As if that would make it any less real. Bridget couldn't seme to be able to quite process the information. The words were a punch to the face and she was still reeling.

Could be worse.

Of course it could. But this was still awful, wasn't it? She admittedly didnt' know enough about comas. What did a coma even mean for him? Would he wake up soon, did he just need a little longer to recover? Was he going to be stuck like that indefinitely? Could it only be a delay of the inevitable?

She was staring at the table, eyes unfocused, lost in thought. It was her father's turn to watch her reaction, though there wasn't much to see; if anything, her time as a Slytherin had improved her ability to mask her emotions behind a veil of neutrality. Maybe the lack of reaction was a clear indicator that things were intensifying below the surface. She was shocked, scared. Of course she was. But she also wasn't crying or anything. Tragedy, she supposed, was something of a constant. Even still, this was worse than what she'd gotten used to.

"It'll be okay." He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. They were empty words. He didn't know how this would go. None of them did, and yet people kept saying that. And she was sick of it. The adults had said that after the spider attack, assured them that they would be fine, that the curse wouldn't kill them, but the fact they hadn't made any progress nearly a year later made it glaringly clear the words were just lies. And Matthew... she'd just gotten him back. Just started to believe she could actually have a relationship with her older brother again, was looking forward to writing to him, to make up for lost time. But now he was in a coma.

She tugged her hand away. "Stop saying that." It came out louder than she had meant it to, angrier. She couldn't find the energy to stop herself. "You have no idea how this will go! So stop lying, stop pretending things will all turn out alright in the end. They don't."

"Bridget..." His voice was pleading. She didn't want to hear it. She was leaving the table and he was calling after her. He wasn't stopping her, though. There wasn't enough air in here... she needed to get away. She couldn't hide away in her room, Ellie was there. Only one place to go... outside. A voice of reason reminded her it was cold outside, dark this early in the morning, but she was still going. Shoving on shoes and grabbing a coat, she burst out into the winter air.

Her legs knew what to do, carrying her away from the house. She wouldn't go far--she certainly wasn't running away--she just needed space. Needed to be far enough away, out of sight, so her father wouldn't follow after her. This wasn't the fight club, it wasn't. So why did she still feel like this was Victor all over again, like she was watching someone die? Maybe it was because of how much Matthew meant to her. She wasn't watching him bleed out, but the mere possibility of death freaked her out. Victor's death had been bad enough and she had barely even known him. What would she do if she lost Matthew?

She felt the cold and she didn't, somehow at the same time. She tugged on the jacket more because she knew she should than because she couldn't stand the biting cold. There was something wet on her face; she was crying and she couldn't stop it. She couldn't breathe right, choking on air between sobs. God, she had to pull herself together. He wasn't dead. He was just asleep. Maybe permanently.

It had been hard to convince herself to go back in, to face people, but once the crying had stopped she figured she probably should. Her parents already had enough to worry about and she didn't need to add to that. Luckily, her father had given her space and hadn't asked a bunch of questions, which helped. She wasn't sure she had the energy to justify storming out of the house and didn't want to discuss how she was feeling. The twins had gotten up and then, finally, they had left for the hospital.

His hospital room was plain, mostly taken up by machines. There were a lot of machines and many of them were connected to him. The doctors had gotten him stable. It was just her in with him at the moment, sitting in one of the chairs that lined the edge of the room--her father had taken the twins down to the gift shop, they'd sent her mother home to get some sleep, and the nurse had gone to get something. She kind of wished she wasn't in there alone. The person on that bed didn't really look like Matthew. Not with all the bandages and casts and tubes.

Apparently he'd been t-boned. They didn't divulge anything beyond that on the crash. The coma had been caused by head trauma and it was too soon to tell what to expect.

Since it was just the two of them, she felt like should say something. What if she didn't get another chance to tell him she loved him? In a few days she would have to go back to Hogwarts and she was pretty sure the earliest she could come home was Easter Break. But when she tried to form the words, she couldn't get them out. Though she'd been sure she'd gotten all her tears out earlier, she was in danger of crying again and she couldn't do that. For her parents, for Ellie and Jonathan, for Matthew, she had to keep herself together.

Still, she couldn't just say nothing. Maybe she should apologize for letting one thing that seemed so petty now, so small, ruin their relationship for so long. When she tried to say that, again, she couldn't. What did it matter anyway? Could he even hear her?

The feeling of needing to say something persisted. It wouldn't be long until the nurse returned. Finally, she whispered, "You promised you'd write. Don't forget." The words weren't really enough, and she hated the way her voice cracked on the last part, but it was too late; the nurse was back. She returned to watching her older brother as he lay there, unaware of anything around him.

________

Her parents had offered to contact Hogwarts and try to work out a way to delay her return to school if she needed time. She'd declined. Staying sounded worse. Bridget needed something to do, something to keep her busy. What was there to do here but worry? And besides, if she didn't go back with everyone else, people would notice and there would be questions to answer when she returned, not to mention work to catch up on. She would rather pretend everything was normal.

So when the 5th came, her father drove her to Kings Cross station and she boarded the Hogwarts Express like always. The thought of what could happen while she was away terrified her, but she knew she had to get away. She could hardly function normally if nothing was normal.

This was not how she'd pictured her break going, not even close. She'd figured it would be quiet, a change of pace. Maybe a little uncomfortable adjusting back to the Muggle world. Instead, she'd been fooled into thinking her Muggle life would actually sort itself out, be something stable she could count on, only for things to take a turn for the worse. There was nothing she could do about it. But she could handle this, right? It wasn't the first time she'd been dealt a tragedy.

She just hoped she would be coming home to joy, not a gaping hole.