Ah, the year two thousand and ten. The year of many a miracle in several fields, be they science, technology, or magic.
It also happened to be the Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, a war that had occurred nearly a decade and the half ago, where the forces of the dark lord had marched the grounds to meet the DA and The Boy Who Lived.
Such a legend, really. It was the day where hundreds had dueled and hundreds had died, staring down darkness and hopelessness with bravery and valor.
And today, right now, was the memorial of those had not survived the war.
The day means a lot to a certain Slytherin- his permanent scowl was particularly fixed that day. He was even more irritable than usual, which many had not failed to understand. His lares were brimming with contained emotion, threatening anyone who dared ask a question or linger around him for too long. He radiated an aura of coldness and appeared even more detached than usual. No one spoke a word to him.
No one questioned his absence at the ceremony.
And no one would dare ask what he was doing now, he thought feverently as he pulled his cloak around him and moved noiselessly through the halls of Hogwarts. His steps did not echo as he moved by, but he wished they did. At least that would have drowned out the thoughts in his head.
The air outside was chilly, but he didn't mind. It bit at his skin beneath his thin robes and meager cloak, but still the conditions drew no complaints from the small boy.
He wandered outside. The world was a halways on its on, midnight black, lit with nothing but the candelabra that was in the shape of a full moon. The stars twinkled dutifully by the millions, blinking their lights and guiding all those lost in the world. It almost made him feel cheated of their guidance- but no constellation, no matter its beauty, could guide him where he wanted to be most right now.
And there, across from the castle, shrouded in black and draped with darkness that rivaled that of the night, was the memorial tent. Every year it was unfailingly set up, drowned in depressing darkness to signify loss.
Nico did not understand why so many people ever came. He did not understand why everyone wanted so badly to be reminded of what they've lost. He could not gather, not even as a first year, why Harry Potter and his friends would leave teary eyed but never fail to return the following year.
And he did not understand why he was here. He had never mourned the loss of his mother. Perhaps now was the time.
Inside, the tent was larger than life. It was lit dimly with a firey orange glow from several torches that circled the circumfrence. It appeared solid, not fabric, from within. Such were wizarding tents. Portraits endlessly filled the place- tens, dozens, hundreds. How many youth had fallen for the cause of victory, of release, of hope for a better generation?
A long piece of hard, polished marble was inscribed with the names of all the dead. Candles, flowers, photographs lay beneath portraits and shrouds. In daylight it must have been a buzz; tears and grim smile and wet laughter at the memory of a loved one. But now it was silent. Not a breath could be heard.
And yet, it was not empty. In front of a portrait, to the right, sat a boy. He was wrapped up in a yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf, his hair that significant colour which was so golden it rivaled the rays of the sun. His eyes didn't leave the portrait of a woman- she was smiling. Her eyes shone with warm brown eyes that contradicted the boy's own blues, her hair was the colour of a summer afternoon, her smile held the gentleness of a solstice sunset. She was beautiful, young even.
And doubtlessly related to the boy in front of her. Nico froze. He hadn't anticipated anyone else's presence, much less that of Will Solace, 5th year Hufflepuff. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Will all day either. This hadn't been planned. He considered, quickly; his stomach was feeling uncomfortable flippy and floppy, and the presence of Will Solace seemed to extinguish most of his desire to stay. But he'd come that long. He couldn't back out. Not now. Drawing a breath, Nico turned. He wasn't ready for this. Hopefully, Solace wouldn't notice his presence.
"Are you going to just stand there?"
No such luck, it seemed.
Will's tone was surprisingly calm. He didn't seem surprised, or taken aback, or angered. Just very level headed. As always. Nico had a sudden memory flashback to when he was a third year and the boy in his class, Cecil, had broken his arm during Care of Magical Creatures. The Professor had been extremely dismayed, and the students muttered and shifted uncomfortable and fearfully, cautiously avoiding the creatures they were supposed to deal with after seeing the damage they had done to Cecil. All except Will. Will Solace, even at thirteen, was calm. He held up Cecil with shocking gentleness, offered to go take him to the Hospital Wing. Was soothing and gentle and level headed as everyone lost their composure.
Nico had appreciated that. He'd always admired Solace from afar, but they'd never really exchanged words. Drawing in a sharp breath against his desire, Nico found himself lost for words momentarily.
Others, he could deal with. A glare would have stifled them. He knew that would have little to no effect of Will Solace, however.
"I..."
"Wanted some privacy?" Will said, turning from the portrait of the woman. She smiled at him as she watched with interest, but did not speak. No portraits did. They were imprints meant to display affection- pride, bravery perhaps, but they were not taking portraits. They could not move frames or much but smile, puff out their chests and hold a thumbs up. Sometimes, they might have even winked at you.
"I hadn't been expecting anyone else here," Nico chose to say, looking away at the first sign of the other boy's sapphire eyes.
Will's eyes still bore into him.
"You're not the only one who wants to spend some time alone with their family," he said softly.
A silence hung betwen this, but it wasn't awkward. Complexities and emotions hung in the cold atmosphere. Nico felt oddly bare- stripped off anything he could have been feeling, could have been thinking.
No secrets were kept between the living and the dead.
Will stood up abruptly. "If you wanted some time alone.."
Nico bit his lip. He couldn't answer that. His eyes flickered towards the woman- her blond hair, her soft features and her kind smile.
"Is.. is that your mother?"
Will glanced back at the one and only. Her eyes seemed to light up as his own met them. She waved. Blew a kiss.
Will turned back to Nico. He had a sad sort of smile on his features. "Yeah. Naomi Solace. She was one of the Aurors at the Battle." He shrugged. "She didn't make it out."
He didn't cry. Didn't flinch. He appeared resigned to death, but not defeated by it. Death was not Will Solace's enemy. It was just a stage of life.
Will frowned at the sight of Nico as he finally took him in properly. It made his heart leap into his throat, his muscles tighten.
"You came out? In the cold? With nothing but that pathetic piece of fabric around your shoulders?" He sounded both incredulous and disapproving.
An explosion of warmth shot through Nico; from the pit of his stomach, to his cheeks, up the tips of his fingers, the back of his neck and his ears. It was no longer cold.
Will's eyebrows shot upwards in concern. "And now you're red all over. Your body must be reacting negatively to the climate. You don't just get out in the winter without protection, idiot," he continued to chastite him, but he stepped closer to Nico.
Nico looked up at him stubbornly. He attempted to muster up a glare, but failed spectacularly- it seemed to wither and die as Will came closer.
"I was fine. Just needed a minute with.." he gulped. Will' s hands tightened around his scarf, tugging it off. It was odd- yellow and black, the hufflepuff colours, naturally- a colour code he would never wrap his mind around. He watched the slightly older boy curiously.
"Yes?" Will said, encouraging Nico to continue.
"Maria. My mother."
"Huh. I guess we do have something in common."
His eyes flickered to the portrait of Maria di Angelo. She gave him a warming smile. One he did not remember from life. He hadn't been smiled at by his mother since he was one, and the memorial had given him the chance to relive her smile. Just twice. First year, a quick glimpse. And now.
Now.
He felt no grief. He thought of Will. Thought of his attitude around Naomi, his fallen mother. His acceptance of what had occured.
He had come to grieve her, after four years. He had come to properly understand what he lost and remind himself of what could have been.
But maybe- maybe that wasn't what visiting the dead was about. Maybe it wasn't remembering what was lost- but appreciating how much influence the dead held over the living. Not all of it bad. Not at all.
Nico's attention snapped up back to Will Solace. His fingers were busy with wrapping the scarf around Nico's neck. His eyes glowed with a strange colour as they caught the orange light.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Stopping you from getting a bad cold. You're welcome, stupid."
Nico flushed. "Don't call me that! My father's the first necromancer of the ccentury- don't you know what I can do?"
"I know what you should do," Will retorted, not at all fazed by the pseudo-threath. "Which take your time and then go to bed, drink something warm, and preferably eat something because I swear to Merlin, you most certainly have not eaten anything today and I can feel it. Don't make me go to the Slytherin table and force something down your throat. "
Nico's breath caught. He felt incredibly red, and his feelings were a mess of things he couldn't put his finger on.
"What about you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers brushed over the scarf cautiously. It felt incredibly warm and impossibly soft.
"I happen to have a functioning cloak and the ability to cast a warming charm should I need it." Will waved him off. Then he smiled- his voice softened. "Say hi to Mrs di Angelo for me. And don't stay too long, we have classes tomorrow."
Nico glanced at his mother again. Her smile widened. Nico's lips twicthed, if only slightly.
"Ciao, mom," Nico said, in such a low voice he barely heard himself. He turned to Will,his eyes ashone with emotion.
"I guess we'll be returning together, then?"
The statement caught Will off guard. His eyes lit up and he gave Nico a smile that rivaled the brighteness of the sun.
Tomorrow, the memorial tent would be cleared up. It would not appear again until the following year.
Today, Nico di Angelo and Will Solace would walk back to the castle of Hogwarts. They would not hold hands, or speak, or glance in the other's direction. They would walk side by side in silence, two living boys who could finally stop dwelling on the dead for the day.