I hear you. The galaxy sings your song and tonight I sing along ~ [Tabby]

It was a particularly horrible night. Outside, it was pissing down with rain, and inside there wasn’t much to do. Aline was working, which meant that Zephir had the house to himself, and that was never a good thing. The tall man was seated on his couch in his tidy, relatively uncluttered lounge room with a book on thermodynamics and its relation to magic. His eyes skimmed the words swiftly, but he found himself reading the same line once or twice more than was necessary. If he was honest, the healer really had no strong interest in thermodynamics, especially right now. He had no idea what she was doing, or where she was, and it made it hard for him to think about other things. This not only frustrated him, but also made him feel faint with irrational fear. Irrational, because she wasn’t difficult to read, and he’d decided early on that she was foolishly and illogically invested in him, and he knew she wouldn’t betray him.

Despite that, it was obvious that Tabitha was unstable emotionally. His early impressions of her (as someone who exploded, rather than imploded when confronted with trying circumstances) seemed correct so far. They still hadn’t talked anywhere near enough for him to feel comfortable with her at all, and he was currently trapped between trying to shake the sense that he needed to look after her, and his strong emotional rejection to the whole situation. A part of him pined to see her again in a way that was entirely unfamiliar to him. Zephir flipped his page distractedly. He was thinking a lot, but not about thermodynamics. The man reached out without looking up and brought a cup of water to his dry lips. It was complex, tangled, dense. Because a part of him wished that she didn’t exist. It was the shock, not the girl, that brought that reaction however. His entire existence felt like it was made from delicate, complicated strings, woven together in a way that was much to fragile to walk on. He could only balance on the tightropes for so long, right?

Everything was strung from a great height. It was tenuous. Tabitha incited a deep emotional ache within him, and he hated it. She was a hazard to the fragile threads of his life, but all he wanted to do was look after her. Not that he even had that right, of course. Since they had only just met. Technically, he had no claim on her. His overprotectiveness would probably just freak her out, he mused. It was irrational. Stupid. A bang on the glass door wrenched him from the depth of his thoughts roughly. He jumped. The dimly lit room did nothing to help him identify the figure outside. Zephir hastily dropped his book and stood. It was absolutely pouring outside, and it was after midnight. Aline would just walk in. He knew some of her friends dropped by unexpectedly sometimes, but not at such a ridiculous hour, surely? The rain beat hard into the balcony floor. The man went over, but it was pitch black outside. He pulled the sliding door across unceremoniously, a frown etched deeply between his brows and his wand close at hand. The light from inside spilled out and his eyes adjusted and…

Tabitha.

Zephir was greeted with a blast of cool air and dampness as the sound of rain was suddenly deafening. Tabitha was in his doorway. What the fuck was she doing here? Her appearance was noted dully. He felt an unfamiliar sense of relief, or perhaps satisfaction. Maybe his emotional side found it convenient to replace the fear that he had no idea where she was with satisfaction that he suddenly did. It was efficient. Organised. But on top of all of that, the man felt a spike of panic. Tabitha represented so much more than her own little emotional self. He seriously doubted that she had any inkling of what she did to him. He doubted that she could imagine just how much her existence had permeated his thoughts since they had last spoken. It was an invasion. He couldn’t help but be vulnerable around her, and he’d never felt so horribly shaken at the mere thought of someone. It kept him up at night. It hurt. She couldn’t be here now. Honestly? It wasn’t fair on him. He didn’t know if he could cope with it. It was impossible to deal with. Wrong. He felt like she’d slapped him in the face, and he was sure his expression showed all of this turmoil.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning. The man didn’t realise how his intensity could come off as abrasive, but his eyes conveyed a much deeper complexity than his words did. He wanted to ask her what she was doing here, specifically. Why she wasn’t somewhere else. Why the hell she thought turning up on his balcony in the middle of the night was fine. Truthfully? It wasn’t fine. It was the opposite of fine. Zephir shifted his weight back onto his heels. She was a crazy, impulsive, emotional teenager. Completely drenched. He was anything but impulsive, and when it came to the emotional side of things, he liked being in control. Tabitha threatened that. He didn’t have to be drunk or on any kind of mind-altering substance for the thought of her to make him lose his place. Zephir was reeling internally, caught in the soft shock of her unanticipated and somewhat unwelcome arrival. Panic found itself a home inside of him once again. Her appearance here was not fine at all. “Come inside,” he said, his voice a mix of authority and disbelief.

Whoopsie-daisy.

The Whiting household had exploded again. Tensions were running high, thinly veiled to anyone else. Her mother was like that, pretending everything was fine, pushing feelings down to keep up with the Joneses. It had been a stressful two weeks ever since she'd left to find Zephir, spill her guts and share a rather awkward night of uncomfortable questions. Of course, she was grounded. Not that she really cared, she didn't have many friends and Easter was a stupid holiday. She didn't want to eat chocolate and she didn't want to decorate hard boiled eggs like she used to when she was six years old, no matter how much her mother cajoled her.

You used to love doing this, her mother said, looking and sounding upset in the kitchen as she held paintbrushes. Tabitha felt an overwhelming sense of guilt but she was angry, she was so damn angry. Angry at her mother for not addressing the issue, angry at her dad for causing the issue in the first place and mad at herself for not being able to deal with said issue. Quiet and withdrawn, her frustration was growing by the second. Due to her father making it painfully clear she was not to leave the house, she was feeling suffocated. The once happy home had swiftly become a prison.

Her father had stated that grounding her was because she needed to be punished for running away. But Tabitha wasn't stupid. She was a lot of things but she wasn't dense. He was doing it to keep her here, to know where she was at all times so that she wouldn't try and contact Zephir. The thought terrified him, she could see it in his eyes. He was a smart man, he should know she hadn't forgiven him. He thought by keeping her here, he could build a bridge somehow, he didn't think that space was the only thing she needed. Dinners passed in an awkward silence as her mother tried to strike up conversation but she wasn't really interested, only replying in short, clipped sentences as she played with her food. That was what happened until her dad exploded in a fantastical fashion.

Locked away in her bedroom, she heard the familiar sound of her parents yelling. It was getting silly now. Tabby was growing tired of this, she really was. Sat on her bed, she listened through her door. Her mum was crying. Her voice went all high and squeaky, a stark contrast to her dad's low and loud roar. She flinched, folding her lips together before opening the door to watch. "Dad, stop!" The redhead called out, rushing forward to stand in between her parents, her back to her mother's chest as though that was somehow end things. It didn't. They were both standing on the landing outside of her bedroom, a little apart.  Tabitha, get off the stairs, her dad snapped at her and when she refused to budge, he grabbed hold of the tops of her arms and pushed her roughly away. He was trying to keep her safe, trying to get her to go back to bed but instead, she slipped and went tumbling down the stairs.

It was her fault, she'd lost her balance and it had sent her downwards, catching her hips and back on the hard stairs. She bounced, smacking her head squarely on the edge of the final step before landing at the foot of the stairs, her long limbs contorted into odd and painful angles and there was a faint pop! that she was sure wasn't a good thing. In pain and feeling disorientated, she was faintly aware that the yelling had stopped. From her position, she could hear footsteps reverberating as her dad charged down the remaining steps to see if she was okay. The only feeling she had was to leave.

"Don't, Tabitha hissed, blinking her eyes back into focus as she held out a hand towards her parents, her head throbbing and a sense of unbalance made her stomach turn. Letting out a grunt of pain, she gingerly got to her feet, stumbling a little. Oh, okay. Her left ankle wasn't working. Aces. She knew that she shouldn't run away but this was getting too much. Too much. She couldn't handle it. The funny thing was, she found herself not being able to cry about the fact that her life was in tatters, crumbling all around her. It was like she was strangely dead inside. Before either of the adults could react, she gritted her teeth through the pain and left for the only place she truly thought she could go.

The shock of the fall numbed the pain a little but her headache was growing. It felt as though someone had her skull in a vice, tightening, squeezing, piercing. The rain hit her in the face, the wind kicking up, causing her to gasp as the cold water made her shiver. The cold air was constricting her breathing, she couldn't get enough air into her lungs and it caused her to wheeze. She was soaked through in seconds, her thick knitted jumper waterlogged and heavy. April showers? April monsoon, more like it. Once at her destination, she slammed a wet palm against the glass door, her body slumping as her hand slid down the door, water seeping through her clothes. It would be okay if he wasn't home. She could just sit on his balcony for a little while, just a little bit, maybe gather her thoughts. It didn't matter that it was freezing outside, she barely felt it.

Her long red hair fell limply around her pretty heart shaped face, matted and lank, her hands shaking. His question made her flinch as though she'd been slapped. Was he not pleased to see her? Duh. Of course not. Was that--- with a sudden realisation, her heart sank. Repulsion. Clear as day, written all over his handsome face. With just once simple sentence, she felt her heart break. The tone of voice he used was so utterly devoid of emotion that it cut her to the bone. Don't cry, a voice in the back of her head told her. On the plus side, it was raining, he'd never be able to tell. "I --" she began, her plump lips parted as she stared at him, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Why was she here?

"I --" Tabitha tried again as her teeth chattered uncontrollably. With a shaking hand, she dragged her fingers through her hair to the base of her neck in frustration, an action so like Zephir's, to accidentally reveal a bruise forming on the side of her head. The tender spot had grown into a lump, all ugly and dark red as she dropped her eyes to her ruined shoes. In that moment, she'd never felt so unloved. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was something he'd trodden in. She was nothing more than a nasty surprise.

He spoke to her like she was inferior. This tone made her feel like she was back in Hogwarts, being berated by a teacher or her condescending  Great Aunt Elaine, the one with a moustache. When Zephir invited her in, she didn't move. Was that an invitation or an order? The rain pelted her back, droplets seeping through her collar as icy cold water rolled slowly down her spine. Truthfully? This was a mistake. He effectively though she was a stray cat. A stray tabby cat. Hilarious. Suddenly nervous, she swallowed. Thirty of so seconds had passed since she'd seen him and she hadn't yet moved, she stood utterly rooted to the spot before she decided to bite the bullet. "Sorry." Very slowly, she stepped into his apartment, careful to stay by the door. If he didn't want her there, she certainly wasn't going to make herself comfortable and so, she lingered, creating her own mini puddles where she stood.

Zephir’s frown intensified when she didn’t come in. “Come inside,” he insisted. He didn’t understand. If she wasn’t here to see him, then why the hell was she here? The man felt a flick of irritation. Didn’t… couldn’t she see that she affected him deeply? That, when around her, his demeanour intensified tenfold, and that he was vulnerable? Couldn’t she see that he hated feeling like that? He was sure that she’d be able to sense the difference between the way he was now and the way he’d been when they’d first met, when he’d had no idea who she was. She’d practically stalked him, hadn’t she? And here she was. Again. Finally, the redheaded girl stepped inside. Zephir was silent as he slid the door shut behind her with a thud. The words just weren’t coming. The healer turned without looking at her as he left her dripping on the dark wooden floor, alone. He headed to his bathroom.

Once he got there, his resolve wavered. He tried to breathe in deeply as he held his hands out before him. They were trembling. His breathing wasn’t so easily controlled. He closed and opened his fists, and turned them over to look the back of his hands, but after a second he found himself gripping the sink to hold himself steady. The man allowed himself to observe his whitening knuckles for the tiniest of moments, before stepping back and grabbing two rolled up towels from his clean towel basket. One blue one, one grey one. He didn’t hesitate now. His dark shoes sounded ominously loud against the wooden floor now, especially since he’d shut the balcony door again and the house was silent. He wasted no time carefully choosing something dry for her to change into, instead just grabbing the first plain t-shirt he found as well as a pair of pyjama shorts. Zephir wasn’t under the illusion that she wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight. When he was back in the lounge room, Zephir let the towels unroll themselves as he held them out to her, his fingers and thumb pinched on the corner of the material.

His expression was hard as he tried to work through what he was feeling. A huge part of him felt horribly defensive, as if she was attacking him. In a way, he supposed, her existence was an assault on his emotional wellbeing. He instinctively threw up walls to fight against that. Looking at her now, all he could see were his own fears and insecurities, coupled with a whole lot of mess that he simply did not have the tenacity to work through right now. He wasn’t angry with her, but there was a gnarled knot of frustration right in his stomach, floating in a sea of panic. “You can’t just… show up here,” he told her slowly, his eyes locking with hers. It was completely wrong of her to take him off guard like this. He exhaled slowly, staring at her shamelessly. It was well within his right to feel confused. It was not within her right to be here at all. And still, he couldn’t deny that a part of him had soared when he’d seen that it was her. Maybe he wanted to solve things. Maybe he just wanted to keep tabs on her.

He found his hand at his mouth, fingers pressed into his lips, as he breathed in through his nose slowly. He simply didn’t know what to say. Obviously he had to find out why she was here. What she wanted. He didn’t want to scare her, but she looked absolutely wilted and kind of pathetic, completely drenched as she was. Lowering his hand from his face, he held out his other arm, offering her his shirt and shorts. They’d be too big for her, but she should be able to just roll them up. He cleared his throat. “If you change into these I can dry your clothes…” He trailed off. Finally, it seemed, the man had noticed the bruise on her face. His eyes zeroed in on the thing, his mind whirring into gear (he swore he could almost hear the difference as he jumped to every possible conclusion). How had that happened? His eyes flicked back down to hers as he took a step closer, closing the gap between them marginally.

The man had to resist his healer instincts to sit her down and fix her up. Check her pupil dialation. Pulse. The thing was, he really needed to know. Needed to understand. Looking back at the ugly thing, he found himself frowning. Surely she couldn’t have gotten into trouble outside at this hour… again? Impossible. It was possible that she’d been concussed, but there were ways to treat that. He knew she was emotional and reckless, but she didn’t strike him as a complete idiot. He was calculating it, solving the equation in his head. But he was being selfish. Before he touched her, he needed to understand what was going on. She hadn’t answered him. Moments ago, he’d hated her for turning up like this. He still felt that fire lick at his insides, but there was something else there, too. A roaring undercurrent that wouldn’t be ignored. “How did this happen?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice. If someone had hurt her, he realised with a jolt, he would destroy them. “Who…?” he cut himself off, realising where his though path was headed. Impossible.

When Zephir slammed the door shut, Tabitha jumped in shock. Maybe it was because she'd bumped her head that everything sounded louder. Her eyes still hadn't adjusted to the change in lighting but her head was swimming, her brain felt fuzzy. The loud noise had caused her to jump further into his tidy apartment but before she could try and say anything, he turned sharply and stalked off, leaving her all alone. Her lips parted in distress as she watched his silhouette disappear, blinking three times in rapid succession as she tried to make sense of why he acted the way he did. She just wanted to spend time with him, did he not understand that? Probably not.

The redhead's teeth chattered as her willowy body began to shake, the water now cooling rapidly as she nervously wrung her fingers together, squeezing and twisting as she rocked from side to side. Tabitha daren't move. Now left alone to her thoughts, she had time to reflect on how utterly moronic she was. Why? Why did she think thinks through after she'd made the mistake? Every single time. She was so like her father, it was just silly. Her big chocolate brown eyes looked around the apartment, dropping to the book he must have been reading. Despite of herself, she smiled gently in the darkness. He seemed the type of man who would read that sort of thing on his nights off.

Her head snapped up as she heard heels echoing and she gulped, her head sinking to rest somewhere that felt like the pit of her stomach. A feeling of dread crept up on her as her body shook and she couldn't stop it. Simply put, she was terrified. After she'd confessed everything to him, she felt a little spark of hope. It was tiny, really. Barely visible but it was there but right now, tonight, it had been extinguished. She'd seen the way  he'd looked at her, heard the way he'd spoken to her. If she wasn't so lonely and desperate, she would have done the right thing and disappeared from his life. Clearly, that was what he wanted. Well fine. She could fade into obscurity as well as the next person.

As she listened to his footsteps, she was resigned to accept her fate. She felt like one of those Muggle prisoners. This was effectively a long walk to the gallows. Fighting for control on her conflicting emotions, Tabby bit down hard on the insides of her cheeks as she forced herself to look up and she nodded dutifully. "I know," she whispered, feeling like she was being berated by a teacher. "And I'm sorry. I know I have no right to call on you whenever I like," she said, her voice sounding strained, even to her own ears and through her chattering teeth. "I shouldn't take your kindness for granted but I --" trailing off, she looked up at him again. She looked lost and far younger than her sixteen years.

"I… I just didn't know what else to do," Tabitha admitted, her slender shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just needed to see you," she said as she blinked at him, her eyes overly large and dark amidst her pale face. Here, she faltered. Was was she supposed to say now? Tell him the truth? The fact that he was the only other person she had? That turning up here was her last resort? That he was the only lifeline she had? That there was no where else she could possibly go now?

"Don't look at me like that," Tabitha said quickly, a spurt of confident erupting in the pit of her stomach. "I know I'm not your favourite person but I am still a person, I'm not a dog," she said and she instantly wished she hadn't, wincing. She needed to think before she spoke. She could see what she was doing to him, she was breaking him. Zephir seemed like a strong man but she was causing him issues, his hands were shaking and knowing that she was causing sleepless nights and emotional hurt was breaking her heart. If she could take it all back, she would. If she could fix this…situation, she would. "I'm sorry," she said as her eyes dropped to her feet. Sorry. She truly was.

The clothes and the proffered towel caught her off-guard and she looked up and fixed him with a quizzical expression. What? She stared for a couple of seconds before realising she was being rude. "Thank you," she said, reaching out her hands to take them and then swiftly moving around him, practically sprinting to the bathroom and she closed and locked the door behind her before clamping her hands to her face. Would he be offended if she just stayed in here for a while? She looked a mess. When she looked in the mirror, she actually jumped. She looked nothing like her usual self. She looked ill. Tired. Worn down. There were bags under her eyes, her marble skin mottled and blotchy and her damp hair was starting to kink around her shoulders.

Tabitha spent a few minutes drying off as she changed into her borrowed clothes. She made a point to fold her damp clothes and leave them on the edge of the bath so she wouldn't get anything else wet. When she finally emerged, her bare feet padded along the hallway, her skin showing a particularly livid bruise on her left ankle that altered the gait of her walk slightly but she soldiered through regardless. She looked a sorry state, she really did. Once back and when Zephir had moved closer, she let out a faint meep! as she took a half step backwards. His close proximity didn't feel comforting, it felt nerve jinglingly terrifying. Did he know the effect her had on her?

Of their own accord, her eyes went cross-eyed and glassy as a sudden wave of tiredness washed over her. How strange. "I fell," she replied. "Down the stairs," she explained. "Something went pop," she said as she curled the toes of her left foot which was now faintly blue. Why was he so mad? What was he thinking? "Who?" Tabitha repeated, looking confused. Her brain was playing catch up but now fast enough.

"My dad," the tall girl said. "He was fighting with my mum on the stairs and I got in the middle of them and he pushed me. He tried to get me off the stairs," she said slowly, looking off into the distance as she tried to explain herself but she found it tough going. "You know, back to my bedroom? But he pushed too hard and I lost my balance and sort of fell down the stairs and smacked my head on the floor," she said cheerfully as though the fact she could have broken her neck was a non-issue. "I haven't lost consciousness, I don't think it's a concussion or anything. My pupils are reacting to light," Tabitha said, using Healer language for him. "It wasn't his fault," she said gently. "He didn't do it on purpose. At least, I don't think he did. My legs are so long, I usually trip over stuff," she said with a nod and instantly wished she hadn't as the motion made her wince in pain.

I know, she whispered.

She was pushing him. He ran his tongue briefly over his dry lower lip, shaking his head as she spoke. Did she know though? Did she? Damn straight she had no right to just show up whenever she liked. They’d plan their next meeting. That’s what they’d agreed on. Not this. Of course he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to know everything. There were so many more questions that he hadn’t let cross the line between his thoughts and his lips last time he’d seen her. But he didn’t want to be asking them now. His kindness? She shouldn’t take his kindness for granted? His head was spinning. He wasn’t being kind. She didn’t have a damn clue, obviously.

“Did you?” he asked, his voice finally cracking with a hint of something – pain perhaps – as his brown eyes found hers. “Did you need to see me?” Really? Zephir realised that his hands were clenched, and he was reminded of the night in the snow with Alice, when he’d ended up punching the wall next to her face. She’d ended up in tears. He’d made Tabitha cry too, and it was taking a lot of self restraint not to explode now. Right now, his entire being was filled with tension. She couldn’t be here. “At…“ he pulled his silver pocket watch from his pocked at glanced at the displayed time. His hands trembled. “…One twenty seven in the morning?” She needed to see him, now? He wasn’t hers yet. They’d only really met a couple of weeks ago, and she had no right and no claim on him. Blood was all that joined them. Just blood. He wasn’t her best friend, for her to show up and share some drama or another in the middle of the night. He wasn’t her parent. Hell, if he didn’t consider Charlie his father, then Tabitha wasn’t even his sister.

He was reeling again as she started talking. Was she angry with him? She’d come here to yell at him? He didn’t understand. He did not understand. She was being infinitely ridiculous, and he couldn’t deal with it. Her distress was apparent, and he noted it somewhere in the back of his head, but his gut reaction to this was to defend himself. Her words were more attacks. More invasions. He knew, somewhere, that she didn’t mean them to be, but it didn’t change the fact that she was hurting him. Was she blind? Oblivious? She had everything wrong, obviously, and it was hurting him. He shut down. “Don’t,” he said, half a warning and half a plea. The muscles around his eyes tightened in pain, and the look he was giving her was somewhere between frustration and hurt.

Her accusing words were too much for him.  “Don’t,” he said again, with a strong tone of finality. The panic was rising, but so was the frustration. She was standing there before him, completely vulnerable and weak, in sopping wet clothes, in an environment he was comfortable in, but she’d found a way to make him feel like he was backed into a corner. If she started throwing emotional blows and accusations, he didn’t know what he’d do. It was enough. Apparently she’d listened, because her head dropped and she suddenly lost her gusto. She murmured an apology, but he’d found that he couldn’t breathe properly. He felt like he needed to sit down. He knew he’d be easy to read if she knew anything about body language.

The silent information was rolling off of him in waves. He said nothing to her apology. He didn’t know what to say. That it was fine? That everything would be okay? There was something under the surface, some strong, undeniable link that connected the two of them. Already, he felt a familiarity with the girl that was inappropriate for the amount of time that they’d spent together. He felt an irrational protectiveness that he couldn’t fight. But it was all mixed in with the horror and fear that he felt at the entire situation. Tabitha left to change, and he found himself unable to move for several seconds. Or perhaps it was minutes? His perception of time was skewed. When he could, he took himself stiffly to the kitchen and shakily poured himself a glass of firewhiskey straight. At the moment, he didn’t care if she saw. He was self-medicating.

Tabitha appeared again, and she looked terrified. He knew he was scaring her, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t calm enough to calm her down. They were both horribly worked up, in an emotional state. Outside, the rain did not ease. He wondered what time Aline was finishing work. Late, he remembered. The man wanted to drink his whiskey, but somehow he was incredibly distracted by her wounds, and he found that his arms weren’t working properly. In fact, he was deadly still while she talked. It was involuntary.

My dad.

These words penetrated the haze of his thoughts with startling speed and light. It was a flash of something in his head that overwhelmed him and seemed to blind his inner view, drawing every ounce of focus he had to what she’d just said. “What?” he managed to spit out. Her words about fights and stairs and balance went through him, but the words that stuck were the ones where she was describing her father pushing her down stairs. He felt like he was going to implode The Slytherin alumni’s hands clenched, and he let out a yelp of pain as he broke the glass in his hand. The other shards fell to the ground and shattered, bouncing off of the floorboards. His hand was cut, but the pain was almost welcome. He greeted it with some kind of relief, as the sensation cut through his mess of emotions cleanly. He raised his palm. It was certainly bloody. Tabitha was still talking, and Zephir closed his hand into a fist around the blood.

“Tabby,” he said gently, glancing up at her suddenly, “Tell me if he hurt you.” He‘d realised that she was now claiming that her father hadn’t done it intentionally. She was blaming her own long legs. Zephir knew she was clumsy, but her words had awoken something fierce inside of him. His expression had softened suddenly as he realised what exactly was going on here. Her words were entirely stirring. His hand throbbed viciously, and he felt drops fall from his hand to the ground. His voice was soft, and completely genuine. There was no angry fire in his words now, just complete protectiveness and the need to have her safe. “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.”

Tabitha was stunned.

She stood still, her back ramrod straight as she simply stared at him, her plump lips parting in shock. He was doubting her motives. Did he think she was a liar? Some sort of twisted attention seeker? She was here because she needed him. The pain in his voice was apparent on her pretty face as her big dark eyes flickered quickly back and forth as they scanned his face. Tabitha felt gutted, like he'd sucker punched her. Did her really think that little of her? She didn't realise that he was probably right. He didn't know her but she honestly thought he knew enough of her to know that wasn't the case. Perhaps she'd just been overly naïve. He was shutting her out.

Confused and feeling decidedly heartbroken at Zephir's rejection, she nodded dumbly. One-twenty-seven. Oh. Was it that late? He might have been sleeping. She hadn't meant to disturb him. Swiftly, Tabitha raised her hands to her head, her slender fingers running through the messy locks in an anxious motion, her hands grabbing fistfuls of her bright hair and pulling down hard. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice breaking, eyes on her feet. Truthfully? She didn't understand either. She was so angry and hurt and frustrated and all of these feelings were spiralling out of control; they were toxic.

One hand dropped from her hair so she could slam the heel hard against her forehead and then she repeated the action. She often did this. When she couldn't find words, she hurt herself again and again. Her other hand pulled on her hair, so obviously showing her distress as her fingers twitched. "You don't get it. I was upset," she choked out, her voice sounding hoarse as she screwed up the tip of her nose and clenched her eyes shut. "I thought of you. I had to get out. I couldn't stand it. I was suffocated back home," she said, her voice cracking as her lower lip wobbled. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said, her face crumpling. "I know this wasn't part of the plan. I'm selfish and erratic and I don't  know, I thought you could offer me some solace but clearly that isn't happening."

Her rude outburst was regrettable but ultimately unavoidable. Her emotions ran so close to the surface lately, it was only a matter of time before they bubbled over. Zephir's single word made her tense, arms dropping from her head to hang limply at her side. Dutifully, she took a step backwards. He needed space but she couldn't give it to him. The fact that he rejected her apology made a horrible, thick, white-hot anger overcome her. She was positively incensed and it wasn't even his fault. She couldn't deal with…all of this. Too much. Too soon. No. Stop. He didn't realise that this was tearing her up, too. This wasn't a pity party and she wasn't standing for it.

"You're shutting me out!" Tabitha screamed suddenly, eyes wide and her cheeks flushing pink from exertion. Her chest rose and fell quickly as her heart hammered against her ribcage, her breath coming in short little ragged gasps. "I don't know what you're thinking! Talk to me!" She proceeded to yell, her hands back in her hair as her legs wobbled. "You're not giving me anything! If you're mad at me, tell me! Do something! I can't take all of this -- this --" stopping, she let out a strangled cry as she stomped her bare foot against the floor as hard as she could. The redhead clamped her hands over her face, inches away from dissolving into tears. This was yet another Tabitha Whiting bad idea. In that moment, she honestly thought about cutting ties. This wasn't working. They'd tried and they'd failed. She could see what this was doing to him and it made her feel sick, sick to her stomach and she was at breaking point. She hadn't come here to fight. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn't want this. She was continually hurting him and she couldn't stop.

Smash!

Hearing the sound, Tabitha dropped her hands, her eyes following the broken glass and up to his hand. She'd made the decision and quick as a flash, she was off and skittering into the kitchen. She forgot her hissy fit and her brain kicked up a gear as she eventually found some tea towels and jogged back to the room. Her hurt and anger disappeared just like that. Blood didn't scare her, she wasn't a wimp. "Zeph--" here, she stalled. She had a problem using his first name, it felt weird, she wasn't worthy. "Er," she faltered "Mr. King, just move over there," she said as calmly as she could, trying to get him to move away from the smashed glass, her eyes looking around for a brush. He seemed the type of person to own a dust pan and brush.

Letting out a little sigh, she walked over to him, very carefully stepping over the shards of glass, trying not to stand on any as she held a towel out to him, careful to touch him in case he reacted badly. "It was more me than him," she eventually said, her big eyes on the blood seeping over his skin, making little puddles on the floor. Wincing in sympathy pain, she very gingerly touched the cloth to his hand, holding it steady with her other, hoping he'd help her out. What a peculiar position they found themselves in. The first time they'd met, he was doing this for her.

"Try and sit down, mm?" She asked. She didn't want to make him do anything, he seemed to react badly when people tried to force his hand. She was too busy trying to get him cleaned up that she almost missed what he'd just said. "Do you have any bandages or ice?" Tabby asked, keeping her fingertips pressing lightly onto his hand as she peered into his face.

Then she'd heard him. As close as she was, she just stared at him again, blinking quickly. All of his mood swings were giving her whiplash. The tall girl looked right at him, slender eyebrows furrowed together, momentarily forgetting his injury. Did he just say he'd kill for her? What the Hell was going on? She'd made this mistake before. She'd thought they were on good terms but they weren't, clearly. Correct or incorrect, her heart overrode her head on this occasion. She was so confused. Should she trust this version of Zephir? She didn't know if he was trying to make a joke out of everything. Granted, it would be a pretty poor joke in light of everything.

Tabitha gave a little unsure shake of her head, dropping her eyes to his still bleeding hand, the towel she was holding was wet. He must have bled through it but she didn't think twice about leaving her hand there. "I'm fine," she said gently. "Like I said, it was an accident so I wouldn't worry about it. I'm fine. I'll be more careful in future. I'll go and try and find something I can wrap your hand in~"

“You were upset so you came here,” he repeated incredulously. Merlin, didn’t she have friends? Other family to go to? He honestly had no idea why he would be her go-to guy. “Tabby,” he started, his voice strained, “you don’t know me. I don’t know you. You can’t just… show up when you’re upset.” There absolutely had to be boundaries, and right now she was throwing herself over them. He couldn’t take it. “I need… I mean… I only met you two weeks ago. I can’t…” he couldn’t have her here. His whole body was tense, and he wanted to grab her wrists and pin them by her sides so that she’d stop hurting herself. But he understood what she was doing there, at least, if he didn’t understand anything else she was doing.

Obviously she was as twisted and confused inside as he was. Zephir was completely lost. But he knew that they’d agreed to talk about when they were next going to meet, and that he’d given himself until then to work some things out. Solve unsolvable puzzles. She’d already crossed that line and cut his time short. It was unfair.

Tabby started screaming. Zephir was completely taken aback. Completely shocked. They were slipping and sliding through emotional extremes, and her words were repeated jabs at his sanity. He felt disgustingly fragile at the moment, and he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t. She wanted him to tell her how he was feeling. To burst. But Zephir wasn’t like Tabitha. It had to be obvious, right? There was a huge difference in the way that they reacted to these kinds of things. The way that they dealt with their problems. She exploded, he internalised. The healer couldn’t articulate the way he felt to other people – he’d never been good at it, and in fact avoided doing it at all wherever possible. If he could deal with things alone, then he would. It was always better to be self-reliant.

The girl was throwing a tantrum. She stomped her foot and threw her hands over her face. Zephir stared. “I’m not angry with you. You’re just…” she kept talking, accusing, “Of course I’m not giving you anything, I don’t know you at all.” He leant forwards slightly, to impress his point. He didn’t talk to anyone. Not like… this. Her worked up state had his own breath coming in short puffs and his heart throbbing painfully. Rising panic. She had to take her foot off of the accelerator, because she was pushing him to breaking point. They were going to crash. “You can’t take this?” He repeated, his eyebrows coming together in an intense frown. “Tabby. You are in my house. Did you come here to yell at me?” She was like a fucking dog with a bone! He refused to break, to yell at her. He simply couldn’t. Zephir didn’t know how to do it, and she was certainly not familiar enough that he would even consider going there. She didn’t have the right to expect that from him. He shook his head. She didn’t know what he was thinking? Well neither did he! “You’re not giving me room to think,” he insisted tensely in quiet tones.

Tabitha noticed his hand and then disappeared. “Fucking hell Tabby, don’t call me that,” he murmured as she skittered back with tea towels. Mr. King, seriously? His gaze followed her actions warily. What was she doing? He shook his head, vaguely aware of her trying to look after him. Didn’t she realise that she was in a house where two healers lived? Well, even if she had no idea about Aline, she knew what he did for a living. The cut wasn’t deep, though it was probably not helping that his hand was clenched into a fist… “Watch your feet,” he told her tiredly, aware that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. His other hand ran through his hair. He pressed his fingers into his scalp, massaging out the tension in his head gently. The man couldn’t help but shake his head in a slight daze. She really should just leave it. It was a slight wound, easily fixed. He was a healer, and still had his wits about him enough to deal with this. She pressed her fingers lightly into the cloth his palm, and he just watched blankly. Maybe she needed to look after him. Maybe it was one of those kinds of things.

She was frowning at what he’d said, but Zephir didn’t care. He shook his head, and reached out to grip her wrist as she turned to go. “Don’t,” he said again, but this time his voice was a lot gentler, “I’m okay. Healer,” he reminded her with a slight shrug. They locked eyes for a moment in silence. “I want you to be okay,” he told her intently. Zephir wasn’t sure if she could feel the intensity of his words, and the meaning behind them. If her father had touched her, Zephir would kill him. It didn’t dispel the frustration at the girl in front of him for appearing here without warning, or the whole mess of confusion that overwhelmed him when he thought about her too much, but the protectiveness he felt for the redhead was shocking. Even to him. He let her hand go, realising that he was probably scaring the girl.

She’d suggested that he should sit down, but he was fine. Physically, at least, he was fine. “Tabby, just wait a moment,” he continued, “You can sit if you want, let me get some stuff.” Sensing that she needed some kind of reassuring, he peeled the towel off of his hand without wincing, and held his palm up to her like he was waving. He glanced at the cut too. “Pretty shallow,” he commented, curling his fingers into a fist and then splaying them open again. The skin around the cut was tugged grotesquely, but it wasn’t bleeding so heavily now. After a moment, he nodded and left her in the lounge room, this time heading to the other bathroom. Aline’s. In the cupboard behind the mirror was the little pale tub of salve he would use on himself, and probably on Tabitha too.

The man held it between his forearm and chest as he unscrewed it with his good hand. He was back with her in no time, and made sure she saw him dip two fingers into the pearly stuff and smear it across the cut. It smoked a little and stung like a bitch, but he didn’t flinch at all. Of course. After a second, he clenched his hand into a fist again, and when he uncurled his fingers the wound was sealed. Not completely gone (he hadn’t washed it, so his hand was still somewhat bloody, and there was an angry red line where the skin had been broken), but the skin had at least closed over the top of the wound. “Good as new,” he told her calmly.

At the moment, Zephir didn’t want Tabby to talk. She was confusing and emotional, and he felt like he was on the brink of yelling at her to leave or just holding her shoulders and shaking her until she started making sense to him. Her words and body language screamed at him, and it was simply too much. He’d already exhausted his storage space for crazy emotions, thank you. At the moment there simply wasn’t space for her hormonal outrage. She was overwhelming him with emotions and information. It was too much of a shock. He’d tried to retreat a little, but she just seemed to follow him brashly wherever he went. And there were reasons that he couldn’t completely cut her out. Reasons that he hadn’t already assumed a completely cold and emotionless expression and told her calmly to leave. He didn’t know what he thought about the fact that they shared blood, because he hadn’t had time to think about it. But he would keep himself in check until he did know.

The healer had regained some of his composure now, but he wasn’t sure whether or not that would simply anger her further. He hoped it wouldn’t. “Will you let me have a look?” he asked finally, motioning to her head wound. Healing was something, at least, that made sense to him. He was excellent at it, and comfortable with it. It fit neatly into his comfort zone.

"Nobody knows about you," Tabitha said quickly, keeping her voice low as though someone was listening. "I couldn't go to anyone else," she said, flicking her eyes up to his, sending out telepathic thoughts. She couldn't verbalise what she was feeling. He needed to read her mind, he'd understand that. In an action so like his own, she stopped hitting herself so she could drag a shaky hand back through her hair. "When I'm upset, I babble," she said, talking low and fast, eyes wide and unfocused as her legs trembled. "All the time. So I couldn't go anywhere because I'd talk about you," she admitted, hoping he understood that she wanted to keep this secret if she could. "I honestly thought I was keeping you safe," she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head.

She knew she was a blip, a blemish on his perfect life and she was sorry. So sorry. If she had to carry around his burden and this guilt to make his life better, then she would. "No one knows," she said again, hoping that it might ease him a little. "Bizarrely, you were my only option," she said as she swallowed, catching his eye again. "You were the only logical choice. I should really write you a letter," she ploughed on. She wasn't making any sense to herself now so Merlin knew how poor Zephir was feeling. A letter was good, a letter was safe. It was effectively the coward's way out but Tabitha wasn't a brave girl. She could write everything down, her thoughts and feelings, things about her dad so he didn't have to see her again. Problem solved.

Her anger was subsiding but in it's place came hurt and confusion. When Zephir said he wasn't mad at her, Tabby shook her head. Of course he was mad at her. He would have been more welcoming if he wanted to see her. "Then try," she said, her voice cracking as her lower lip wobbled, pain clear on her pretty face. As he stepped forward, she held her ground. She was scared, more scared than she'd been in her entire life but backing down never got anything done. "Try and get to know me," she pleaded softly, her dark eyes wide and imploring. "I want to help you. If you have questions, ask me," she said, her hands out at her sides, feeling utterly deflated. "I'm here," she said, sounding desperate and she was. She was grasping at straws and she didn't for once think that she might be suffocating him.

Did she come here to yell at him? "No!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You…" trailing off, she gulped, dropping her gaze to her bare feet as she nervously wrung her hands together. "You hurt my feelings. I didn't mean to shout at you and I'm sorry for turning up here," she said quickly, trying to get everything out in one breath before she chickened out. "I know I overstepped the mark and broke the rules but I don't know what to do," she admitted, looking lost as she stood in the middle of his tidy apartment. "I don't know how to handle you. I don't know what I should say or what I should do, I'm just so…lost," she finally concluded. She really was. "I just keep making mistakes and I don't mean to hurt or upset you. You understand that, don't you?" Tabitha eyes, pleading with him. "I swear I didn't mean to ruin your life. I'm not here to make you suffer. I'm not a horrible person," she whispered, biting down hard on her lower lip as she blinked back tears. He was hurting her, too. She knew he didn't mean to but he was.

When he said he didn't have room to think, the redhead backed away from him, scuttling away with her tail between her legs. She really hoped Zephir didn't think she was a horrible person, mean and destructive because that would be the worst thing ever. She swallowed as she was scalded. She couldn't say his name. He'd made it clear that they weren't friends. He didn't like Mr. King. Did he prefer Healer King?

Tabby didn't heed the warning about the glass. She didn't care if she got injured herself. She was very flippant about her health, she sort of took it for granted and never really paid much attention. "I know," she said when he replied and reminded her of his profession but she simply shrugged. "But you're still bleeding." As he looked at her, she looked back, her eyes unwavering as she heard the rain slamming against the balcony door. The silence was full of stuff she wanted to say and she could feel it, the air was heavy and tense but it wasn't the place or the time. "I'm fine," she said weakly, even managing to muster a valiant little smile. She wasn't fine. She was so far from fine, it was laughable but she was holding it together. Cracks were showing but for now, she was fine. But she couldn't understand why he was even bothered about her welfare. He was going back and forth constantly and she had no idea where she stood any more.

When she was told to sit, Tabby dropped into her seat almost instantly. She didn't want to make him any angrier than she already had done. As the hand was shown to her, she nodded in silence, not really sure what she should say because after all, he did know what he was doing and she folded her lips together. The rain battering the windows made her feel a little uneasy as she was left to her thoughts, her long legs jangling nervously, her right foot tapping out a rhythm on his floor. She needed to grow up. She was seventeen years told. She needed to stop running away from home, she needed to realise that Zephir wasn't bound to her in any way. She had no claim on him, he had no duty of care for  her. She needed to grow up. The sooner she did, the better.

Tabitha watched intently as the wound healed and she held her hand out to him, the urge to hold his hand was almost overwhelming but she managed to refrain, letting her arms drop limply to her side. There were barriers he'd constructed to keep himself safe and she needed to respect that. Swiftly, she sat on her hands in case she tried to touch him again before she swallowed. She hadn't spoken in a few minutes, she didn't really want to speak. She nodded gently, satisfied that he was okay and she looked a little bit forlorn and crestfallen. She looked younger than her years as she looked back as she remembered how stupid she'd been, how hurtful she'd been to Zephir and her parents, how her grades were slipping, how her life was spiralling out of control.

Have a look? At what? She'd almost forgotten that her head was bleeding. Instinctively, she moved her head back a little. She wanted to prove to him that she was a strong young woman, one capable of looking after herself but it was clear that she needed him. He probably knew that. "It's not that bad," she said, breaking her silence with another lie because her head was throbbing and she felt a little bit woozy. Her eyes dropped to his hands and a sudden thought hit her; this was his domain. Healing as safe and comfortable for him. He still seemed a bit stiff and off with her but it was understandable. Maybe her bruised head would act as an olive branch. Exhaling slowly, she gave an unsure nod of her head to let him know he could examine her. "You must be sick of fixing me up," she said, her idea of a stab at a rather shitty joke as she offered a gentle smile.

Nobody knows about you.

Zephir nodded. It made sense. Logical sense, anyway, even if her words kind of probed at the emotional turmoil that was draining him. He didn’t know if the idea was comforting or upsetting. Zephir’s paranoid side told him that it was better this way. His judgement abilities told him that she was trustworthy, but he couldn’t trust himself completely when deciding this. He was coming at it from a highly subjective standpoint, after all. She was babbling about letters and babbling about babbling, but it washed over him. The idea that she was his sister hit him again with a shock that made his heart skip a beat. His thoughts returned to the idea of just shaking her until she made sense.

“I’m trying,” he insisted, “of course I want this.” Zephir motioned between the two of them helplessly. Her being here was simply wrong. She hadn’t given him enough time. “I want to get to know you,” he stressed, “I’m just… we said we’d organise to meet. This is a big deal and it’s hard.” Zephir was struggling. He was strained. Talking about feelings really wasn’t his strong point at all. Everything he said out loud was carefully considered. He didn’t blurt out things accidentally. He over thought every single word. Tabitha was demanding immediacy and an emotional response and he couldn’t give her what she wanted. “Of course I have questions.” He wanted to know about his paternal grandparents, and whether or not his father had any siblings. His mother could have answered all of this, but he had never asked her, and never would. “Just not… now.”

Moving towards her involuntarily, Zephir answered her with a shake of his head. His gaze was intense. “I don’t know how to handle you either,” he told her seriously, in soft tones. Everything she was saying pertained when the situation was flipped, too. He had no idea what to say or do. He felt lost. Couldn’t she tell? He shook her head. She wasn’t making any sense. Zephir really didn’t understand where this was coming from. Ruined his life? What was she on about? “You haven’t ruined anything,” he told her, his expression tinged with disbelief, “I’m just…” he held his hands palm up and shrugged, “Surprised? Confused?” he was still frowning. He was helpless. He didn’t think she was a horrible person. Zephir hated talking like this. It made him uneasy, and sick. The problem with words was that they couldn’t be taken back once uttered. If you couldn’t control an emotional outburst, then it would end up leaving a mark. Words left permanent scars. That was why everything with Alice was so fucked up, he reflected painfully.

Zephir wondered if the heaviness in the air, thick with unspoken words and careful assumptions, was as tangible to her as it was to him. The tension in the silence was infinite. There was no way through it. Zephir’s thoughts looped and swirled, but he couldn’t process and categorise them properly. His feelings were a mess too. Hard to analyse,  had no claim on the girl in front of him. No claim and no responsibility. And yet, here she was, wearing his clothes and letting him look after her wounds. He felt like he had a claim on her. If he was honest, he was kind of obsessed with her. The man lay awake at night wondering where she was, or what she was doing. It was unhealthy, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wet his lips with his tongue nervously. The silence that filled the long gaps in conversation was thick with subtext. There was way too much going on.

The healer moved straight away when she gave him permission to look at her wound. Finally, familiar territory. He couldn’t help but assume the kind of calm healer persona that came with doing this. He’d had plenty of practice separating his personal life and his work life, and at the moment – just for a second – he was able to settle somewhere in between. It was a relief. He examined her wound, touching her head gently. Then he shone a light in her eyes. She’d said that her pupils were reacting to light, but how could she have possibly examined herself? She’d apparated straight here, apparently. A part of him understood that she was just trying to comfort him, but Zephir was a little worried about how far she’d go to be close to him. Maybe they were obsessed with each other. He was slowly coming to realise that the redhead wasn’t an average sixteen year old. In some ways, she was as intense as he was.

“You’re right,” he told her calmly, “it’s not too bad. But I still want to treat it.” The healer sat himself down on his coffee table so that he could sit opposite to her. He couldn’t tell if she was intimidated by the close proximity, or comforted by it. He couldn’t tell if he was intimidated or comforted. Slowly, and silently, Zephir dabbed the side of her head with the same salve he’d used on himself. He didn’t warn her about the sting; she’d remember how it had felt on her hand. On that topic… Zephir screwed the lid back on the while container. He glanced up at her for a moment before taking her hand gently. He inspected her scar. In the wizarding world, people didn’t have scars. Not like muggles. It was easy to get rid of them, and so that's what people did. He ran a finger down the line, deep in thought for a moment. “I want you to come in next week so that we can fix this,” he said, flicking his gaze back up to meet hers. “When do you go back to school?” He was completely and utterly aware of the fact that he was offering to schedule time for her, not just offering to get rid of her scar. After a moment, the young man added, in response to her joke, "Of course I'll fix you whenever you need it." a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though didn't progress from there.

Tabitha stood still and stared, like Zephir was the most interesting thing in the entire world and in a way, she thought he was. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she listened, trying so hard to try and figure him out. This entire thing was a big game of poker; she'd folded and he was playing until the end. They were so different. Or were they too alike? Was that why they continued to keep butting heads in such a way? She'd handled this incorrectly and she'd realised that now. She was coming on too fast, too strong and he wasn't ready.

The redhead nodded, quickly and eagerly to show that she understood and agreed with whatever he was saying. He wanted this, he'd said. Her heart sped up, banging against the inside of her ribcage as the spark of hope was ignited once again. Good. Okay. Cool. That was fine. "I'm sorry," she said again and unable to help herself. She must have said sorry a hundred times this evening but she really was sorry. She'd actually made a list of things she was sorry for the other night when she couldn't sleep. She was sorry for her behaviour, for how she'd told Zephir, she was sorry for showing up at St. Mungo's with a ruined hand, she was sorry for the disruption, she was sorry for her father.

"I didn't think," Tabby admitted as she shifted awkwardly on the spot, unable to shake the feeling that he was looking at her like a science experiment. "I didn't stop to think of the effect this is having on you," she said softly, flicking her big dark eyes back up to his face as she felt her heart sink. This wasn't the right time to talk about feelings. Perhaps there would never be a right time. "I'm sorry I'm pushing you too hard," she explained but she stalled. She couldn't tell him why she was pushing so hard. He had siblings, he wouldn't understand how lonely she'd been growing up effectively by herself.

She nodded again, words seeming to fail her. He was questions, that was understandable and she'd tell him what she knew to the best of her ability. If he wanted to learn about Charlie's family, then she'd help. "I'm a teenage girl," Tabitha replied. "You're not supposed to know how to handle me," she joked with a brittle smile, trying to lighten the air because it felt like it was oppressing her. "You'll realise that when your sisters start to grow up. Consider me a crash course," she said with another smile, desperate to get him to look at her as a person, not his half-sister. She hoped he'd accept her eventually but she realised that this was going to be a long road.

Tabitha nodded again and her neck was starting to hurt from the repeated action but she didn't show it. "You need time," she said gently as she nervously fidgeted with a loose thread on her borrowed shirt. She wasn't going to lie, it hurt her feelings. She didn't know why but a small part of her really thought he would have accepted her by now but she was living in a dream land. "I can give you time," she said softly but she was lying. She couldn't give him time. Desperation overrode her but showing up unannounced, seeing his face again, hearing the way he spoke to her made her wary. She did want to see him again but she wanted to spread the meetings out a little farther after tonight. It might be easier to be away from each other.

Unable to help herself, she took the time to look at him, really look at him when he checked her head. Her eyes flicked across his face in the silence and she could hear a faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the living room. It did nothing to relax her. Her really did look like her dad but more handsome. He…kind of looked like her. A little bit. Across the eyes, at least. Similar cheekbones. She wondered what his sisters looked like. If she was still a brunette, she wondered if people would take them as brother and sister. She stayed still as she was poked and prodded, wincing as a light was shone in her eyes as she instinctively tried to pull away from him a little bit. She felt a bit sick but she was sure it was nothing to do with the bump on her head.

"I told you," she mumbled darkly, a little bit offended he hadn't listened to her in the first place. She pouted a little as she looked at her bare knees. Things were still awkward as he sat close to her. She did want to be this close to him but maybe he was right, maybe they needed more time. "Motherfu--!" The swear word was cut short as he applied the paste and the pain hit her like a shovel to the face, forcing to clench her eyes shut as a familiar pain flooded her system, her sensibly short nails digging deep into her thighs as she rode the pain out, her nails leaving ten little pink crescent shaped marks in her pale skin as she winced again, resisting the urge to punch Zephir. It wasn't his fault it hurt but it was more like a knee-jerk reaction of sorts.

"I beg your pardon," she replied once the pain had subsided enough for her to talk, her clipped upper class accent sounding strained as she apologised for swearing. Her mother had raised her correctly.

When he took her head, her breath caught in her throat. His hands were warm, she noted. Every other Healer who's dealt with her had cold and clammy hands, like Healer Cropper. As he looked down, she looked at him again closely. He was a handsome young man and she could see why that blonde girl had been so annoyed when he opted not to take her home the other night. She fought the urge to shiver as he ran a finger over the ugly pink line that cut across her palm. This touch was comforting. It was warm and soft and actually quite relaxing but she stayed silent for a moment or two longer.

"Really? I kind of like it," she muse gently as he told her she needed to get it fixed. "It makes me look cool," Tabby said, half joking but she found herself nodding in agreement as he looked at her. Urgh, was with her saying yes to everything he offered? It might be his eyes. They looked right through her. "In about two weeks," she said before she sighed. "But apparently, I'm grounded until I'm thirty," she said with a roll of her eyes. If Zephir wanted to see her again, she'd make damn sure she was going. But she wasn't sure if he was just being nice. "Should I make an appointment?" Tabitha asked, motioning to her scar. She was being polite, she wasn't going to surprise him again, not after tonight.

She smiled gently. Things felt a little better now. Still tense but a little more mellow as she blushed. She was sure he was just being nice, he was always nice to her. His remark seemed flippant but she felt a little spurt of excitement in the pit of her stomach; he was going to be there for her. He'd just said it! "Thank you for patching up my head," she said gently, getting the feeling that she'd overstayed her welcome a little bit but she was unwilling to leave. They were being friendly but it was still a little bit awkward. She was sure that would pass. "Do you have a dust pan and brush?" She asked, motioning to the broken glass with the hand he wasn't holding. "I'd really like to clean that up in case your room mate steps on it." His room mate must be a girl from all the stuff in the bathroom. Either that or a very well put together young man.

She didn’t think? Well, that much was obvious. Zephir took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s fine,” he told her seriously, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but he didn’t think he’d be able to react properly to apologies any better than accusations. He was silent for a moment, studying her face unashamedly. Were there similarities? He couldn’t help but look for them. Straight nose, dark eyes. They didn’t really share mannerisms, as far as he could tell. His gaze was drawn across her eyelashes. Her cheeks. She was his sister, by blood. Could he see it? Could he tell? The healer wondered if she could feel him trying to read her. He was searching for subtext, carefully seeking behind her words and expressions to find a deeper meaning. If only he were a legilimens.

His perfect mask of an expression faltered for a millisecond when she mentioned his sisters. It was just too strange to imagine that part of his world colliding with the rest of it. If Zephir could control it, he’d be looking out for them twenty-four seven. The idea of his sisters interacting with the rest of the world made him uncomfortable. He wanted them to be safe. He gave a small shrug, watching Tabitha for a moment. He really did want them to meet the red-headed girl, but it was definitely not time for that yet. While he was perfectly aware that Tabitha would be able to see Gwen whenever she wanted at school, as the little girl was going to Hogwarts next term, he didn’t yet feel the need to hurry the process. He didn’t really know anything about Tabitha other than the way that a part of him reacted protectively of her, and the way that she dealt with stressful situations.

He sensed that she was uncomfortable with their proximity, and the idea that she was uncomfortable had him feeling uncomfortable too.

She mentioned being grounded in a flippant way, but Zephir was immediately cautious. He hesitated, a frown slowly deepening between his eyebrows. “I don’t want you to get in trouble,” he told her seriously. As far as he was concerned, parents were important. Very much so. Of course, Zephir didn’t feel like Charlie was his father at all, so he didn’t count for him… but he didn’t want to be the cause of a rift between Tabitha and her parents. He was distracted from this thought when she asked about making an appointment. He shook his head, understanding that he was making a commitment to see her. His next words were carefully chosen and articulated with slow precision. “It doesn’t even have to be at the hospital if you don’t want it to be.” He’d be happy to see her at a café or for some kind of brunch arrangement. Afternoon tea, perhaps. He was already obliged to see her again, and they might as well decide on it all now. He flicked his gaze to meet hers for a moment, gaging her reaction, before looking down again.

“Hmm?” Zephir’s dark gaze followed her motion and came to rest upon the broken glass momentarily. “Oh no, don’t worry about that,” he told her with a slight shrug. “Aline’s working… I’ll clean it up later.” He gave her a small smile, and then realised he was still holding her hand. Zephir released it automatically and shifted back a little. He was cautious of overstepping boundaries with her. Besides the fact that he felt like he barely knew her, he himself was uncomfortable with the contact. The whole situation was too bizarre. If he were honest, she felt like a stranger. Just a random teenage girl in his house. The young man ran his right hand through his hair absentmindedly, for something to do with his hands. He didn’t know how familiar he was supposed to be around her. Whether or not she’d be comfortable with him generally. She was his sister. Again, a sense of uneasiness swept through him as that word slipped into his stream of thought. Sister. He shook his head and got up to his feet. “You can have my bed again tonight,” he told her, trying to keep his tone warm. He watched her silently for a moment before adding, “I’m not really tired right now, are you? Would you like a cup of tea?”

It wasn't fine, though.

Not really. Zephir had made her acutely aware of how irrationally she'd acted and how selfish she was. It made him uncomfortable and that was the complete opposite of what she wanted to happen. She let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She wasn't like him. He was smart and calm, logical and methodical. She was pushing too hard and he wasn't ready. She often tried to find similarities, any little scrap of hope that they might share something but, so far, she'd come up empty handed.

He didn't understand just how badly she wanted a relationship with him. It was the reason she didn't have a boyfriend; she had a tendency to smother the other person. The Healer was so new and different, she'd never met someone who reacted the way he did. Tabitha pretended to be interested in her knees, it was easier than looking in his eyes. Was he aware how he could seem to be looking right through her? His eyes were clear and bright, so like her father's and he had the same effect.

Parting her lips to say something, the words died on her tongue as she found him staring at her so intently. The Gryffindor gulped, the sound clear in the quiet room, just above the rain and wind that was battering the balcony door. Instantly, Tabitha was uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat a little, her slender fingers going to the hem of her borrowed shirt, fiddling absently, trying to pull the hem down. If she could, she'd curl herself up into a ball like a hedgehog.

The silence hurt but she knew what he was thinking. Maybe he had the same idea as she did, maybe he was looking for something, anything that might tie them together apart from Charlie. She looked awful. Her hair was starting to dry but it was frizzy, hanging limply around her slender shoulders and lacking the usual shine and vitality. She was sure her make up had run and his pyjamas didn't flatter her boyish figure. If anything, it highlighted just how gaunt and ill she looked in the darkness.

They didn't look that similar, she doubted a stranger would be able to say they were sort of related. Zephir had Charlie's eyes, though. Big and dark. Her own were the exact same colour but larger. She looked like her mum. She hadn't said anything for a while and so, the thoughts crept back in. The horrible ones. The ones that broke her spirit and dragged her own. Zephir would like that, though. The fact they looked different so he wouldn't have to explain to people. The niggling thought pierced her heart like a knife and she forced herself to swallow. She broke his gaze, looking away and past him, keeping her eyes focused solely on his coffee table. Maybe she did need some sort of professional help. She needed to reorganise her mind.

It wasn't funny but she smiled anyway, looking up at him. "I can't help it," she replied plainly, holding herself stiffly as she sat. He was being very welcoming considering but this didn't feel like home and nor should it. "I make bad choices," she said as she looked at her knees again, her voice soft. "Constantly. It's nothing you've done," she was quick to placate him, her voice cracking. "I do really stupid shit," Tabitha replied frankly. "And I can't stop it. I keep doing everything wrong. To be honest, I quite like being grounded," she admitted with a frown. "I can't ruin anyone's day if I'm locked in my bedroom."

Tabby cut a pitiful figure in the dimly lit living room. If she could strip everything back, it came down to one simple thing; affection. She craved it. Her parents had always been too busy for her and she hadn't turned out the way they hoped and they made sure she damn well knew it. She wiggled her toes into the carpet, liking the way it felt against the soles of her feet.

Hang on.

She had no idea what was happening. Before, he'd been so mad at her turning up and now, he was effectively scheduling another meeting? He was going back and forth so quickly she might develop whiplash. As he looked at her, she managed a soft smile and nodded. Her heart frequently overrode her head. If she'd been thinking at all, she'd go to the hospital and get her hand fixed by Healer Cropper and leave poor Zephir the Hell alone. But he did offer. "Sure," she managed to say with another gentle nod. "That'd be nice. You can just pick a day and I'll be there," she said, leaving it open. She remembered he didn't react well to being forced into a particular direction. She'd leave the ball in his court.

Aline? "That's a pretty name," Tabitha responded, wondering what his flat mate was like. She must be a Healer, too. Her head throbbed despite the fact he'd cleaned everything up for her. She'd really taken quite a knock to her head and she blinked her eyes back into focus. She didn't know why but she was compelled to ask if they were dating. Someone had told her that men and women could never truly just be friends. There was always something more.

He dropped her hand so quickly, she thought something was wrong. Startled, her head snapped up quickly, the back of her hand smacking her knee with a dull thud. She liked him holding her hand, she felt oddly safe. He'd backed away though and it felt like someone was squeezing her heart. Hard. Too hard. "Oh," she said gently, verbalising her disappointment before she managed a brittle little smile. She followed suit, moving away from him carefully. She needed to treat Zephir like a wild animal. Truly disappointed, she tried in vain to keep that from registering on her pretty face.

"No," she blurted quickly, eyes wide. "No," she said again with less urgency, shaking her head. "I won't stay," Tabitha replied. She couldn't. She'd stayed here once before and she couldn't put him out again. This was his home, his domain and she finally, finally she understood it. "Thank you, though," she said, trying to match his tone but she sounded strained. She couldn't take advantage of his hospitality yet again.  Her eyes searched for a clock in the darkness, it must be late. Her dad would be positively apoplectic.

She shook her head when asked if she was tired. Actually, she really was. Maybe she was just emotionally drained and she was confusing that with fatigue? "Tea would be great," she found herself saying before she could stop herself. She didn't really like tea much but she was being polite. He didn't ask how she liked it and she didn't say. It was too cheeky to ask for a coffee. In all honesty, he could have offered her a cup of bleach and she'd still drink it. Oh she really shouldn't be here.

Zephir understood people. He’d always had an instinctive kind of understanding of the way that people worked, but when he became aware of this fact, he’d actively tried to develop it. The man might have been charming and flirty as a teenager, and some might have even called him manipulative. For Zephir, it was all for “science”. He needed to know how people worked, because how else was he supposed to manoeuvre his way through systems and realise his ambitions? He was clever, but it wasn’t enough. He was clever enough to realise that intelligence alone wasn’t going to get him anywhere. So he charmed and lied and acted his way into giving the perfect performance, and he’d been lucky enough – so far – that it had been enough. For now.

But Tabitha didn’t make any sense.

His actions were upsetting her? Her smile seemed to fade in between genuine and tight-lipped and he didn’t know why.  Every step seemed to be a wrong one. She needed to know that she couldn’t just turn up on his doorstep whenever she pleased. It messed with his head. She also needed to know that he would be happy to make time and see her again. If it was promises and declarations of sibling adoration that she wanted, then he didn’t know what he could do for her. He didn’t know how to accommodate for the teenager in a way that she’d be happy with. The man took a moment away from her as he went to the kitchen to make her a tea as she’d requested.

His dark gaze found the kettle and he fumbled with his wand, flicking it lazily and silently. In no time, it was boiling. “How do you like your tea?” he asked, his voice a little tired, “Milk? Sugar?” He focussed on preparing her drink for her and made one for himself too, obviously deep in thought while his hands performed the required actions on autopilot. The man brought the steaming drinks back over carefully. He was tired. This was exhausting. Tabitha was insistent that she couldn’t stay here, but the twenty-two year old wasn’t sure if she’d be able to apparate in the state she was in. Her voice sounded strained. She was terribly emotional and Zephir couldn’t express himself logically without making her cry. Apparently he lacked tact when it came to highly-strung teenagers.

“Look,” he started hesitantly, taking a seat back on the coffee table opposite the redhead, “I think you should stay here tonight, Tabitha. Tabby.” He corrected himself without missing a beat. She’d asked him to call her Tabby, and he could do that for her. The man’s dark gaze searched her face in the dim light, looking for answers. She was still buzzing. Emotionally charged. Zephir was searching for the correct and most logical solution; the best way out of this mess. Next time they interacted, he swore he’d be more prepared. “Please,” he added, tacking the word on to the silence as if it belonged there.

Once he was in the kitchen, she took a breath. Things just seemed…easier when he wasn't around. It was silly, she was silly, the entire thing was silly. She was desperate to see him. Desperate to be around him, desperate to impress him. She was effectively walking on eggshells around him. In the darkness, she looked around his apartment. It was very clean and neat, everything was organised and rigid. A bit like him.

The only thing she could hear was the rain that still battered the windows and a dull, lazy tick of a clock that she couldn't see. Tabitha didn't like being alone because when she was alone, she began to think. Terrible, twisted, messed up things. Demons weren't real, she knew that but she began to think that maybe she was carting a dozen or so around with her.

Heading back out into the freezing rain seemed unappealing, seeing her parents even more so but staying here, that was the worst. Now that Zephir had calmed down, he seemed more friendly but what he'd said to her, even in the heat of the moment made her feel so so so unwelcome. She was an intruder into his life. She was hurting him, he was hurting her and they didn't know how to stop. She thought about making a run for it while he was preoccupied with making tea. The tall redhead moved, getting slowly to her feet but as she did, the sofa creaked loudly and she winced. Shit. Busted.

How did she like her tea? It was on the tip of her tongue to confess that she didn't like tea at all. With a laden sigh, she sat back down, long bare legs folded beneath her as she frowned at her knees. "Just black would be lovely." Yuck. She didn't see how adding milk or sugar would make the amber liquid taste any better and besides, him having to add stuff to it would just inconvenience him more.

"Thank you," she mumbled, reaching out to take the mug without meeting his eye. She rested the bottom on one of her knees, her pale skin turning bright pink as it formed a visible circle from the heat of the cup but she seemed unaware. She didn't drink her tea, she just stared at it. It gave her something other than this eyes to focus on. She swallowed quickly, feeling faintly nauseous. Zephir looked like her. Just a little, across the eyes but it was becoming horribly obvious to her now. He looked like Charlie. She paled in the darkness and the thought made her develop a nasty taste in her mouth.

Absently, she pressed her palms against the hot china, the pain keeping her focused. She wanted to stay. So badly but really, what was the point in it? She was only prolonging the pain. It wouldn't do any good. It wasn't like either of them were up for talking. They hadn't talked the last time she'd stayed here.

She knew he'd sat down again by the creaking of the wood and as he said her name, she clenched her eyes shut tightly. It just seemed…wrong. Wrong. The entire fucking shambles of their relationship was wrong. Every single fibre of her being was screaming "no" at her. He'd made it perfectly clear she couldn't show up whenever she wanted and she finally understood that. And what about his flat mate? This wasn't his home, it was their home. She felt guilty. This was his sanctuary. Before she's got here, he must have been able to distance himself from everything. From silly little Tabitha, the emotionally unstable weird seventeen year old who he was sort of related to.

He had other half-sisters but he'd referred to them as sisters. She remembered, clear as day how that felt. Like he'd plunged a knife into her heart. What if he offered to let her meet them one day? What would she do? Decline, probably. There wasn't any point. Time ticked slowly by and she didn't realise that she'd been so absorbed with her own head that she'd not even given an answer. Ah. There's the rub. Please. He said the magic word.

Tabitha sharply inhaled and held her breath, letting her head go a bit fuzzy. How could she refused now? After yelling at her so viciously,  he was offering her shelter from the storm outside. She could feel his eyes boring a hole into her but she refused to look up and simply offered a brief, unsure nod of her head. "Alright," she managed to choke out. She felt horrible. Horrible because she was convinced he didn't actually want her to stay but because he must feel duty-bound.

"I'll take the sofa," she added quickly. "I don't want your bed again." She wasn't trying to make him feel awkward, she was honestly trying to lessen the disruption. That way, he could fill whatever strange obligation he had and she could leave before he woke up. Perfect. "I'll go and get some sheets." With that, she stood up, wobbling a little with her sore knees as she placed her untouched tea next to him on the coffee table before making her way towards where she thought the spare bedding was kept. If she was wrong, she was sure he'd correct her. Maybe she could have a quick look at his apartment because Merlin knew when he'd be so gracious as to grant her access again.

“No, don’t,” he reprimanded wearily. The redheaded girl was going for the linen cupboard, but there was no way that Zephir could let her sleep on the couch. If for no other reason than the fact that Aline would be coming home and… he didn’t want to deal with those questions. He’d have to come up with an explanation about why there was someone in his room, and why he was sleeping on the couch… but having Tabitha in his room while he was in the lounge room was still a preferable option to Zephir. It would be much better for his mental health if he could keep those two worlds as separate as he could for now. The young man didn’t feel like he was up to settling for some kind of in-between when it came to the way that he acted around them both.

After a moment of watching Tabitha, Zephir got to his feet slowly. A part of him was very tired from the emotional back and forth that had been happening between them tonight, but on the flipside, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep. He was emotionally charged too, as much as he hated using that sort of terminology when referring to himself. He felt wired. There were too many thoughts in his head. “Please just take the bed, Tabby.” It would be easier for them both. He noticed that she hadn’t really touched her tea and wondered why. She probably needed the warmth. She’d certainly exhibited signs of shock earlier, and the sugar could help with that. The lighting in the room was dull and dark, and the rain seemed to have gotten heavier outside… if that was even possible.

There was only a little mess – glass on the floor, cups of tea on the table – but Zephir felt like he needed to clean everything up. Cleaning was therapeutic, even if all it involved was a flick of the wrist and a few whispered words. It was all about order. His thoughts were wandering all over the place. A part of him couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she’d mentioned fighting with her father when she’d fallen down the stairs. It just didn’t sit right with him. The young man wanted to protect his sister… And she was his sister, as much as thinking about her caused a total cluster fuck of messiness in his head. She was someone to be looked after. Zephir felt a lot of mixed things towards his father too, but those were mostly negative.

“Look,” he said softly, “I’ll take you out for breakfast tomorrow and we can talk then. What do you think?” His words were gentle, but as usual, his gaze was rather intense. It was obvious that there was a lot more going on inside his head than he chose to let her see. There had been enough ridiculous emotional outbursts tonight to last the dark haired man… forever. They needed a little simplicity right now. “Would you like one of my shirts to sleep in again?” after a moment’s hesitation, the man added, “Don’t say no to be polite. Would you like a shower? There are clean towels in my bedroom cupboard. Use the ensuite.”