That afternoon, Tori had stayed as still as ever, but fortunately as the hours passed by, it looked like Professor Potsdam's idea had worked. Tori had stirred some, restlessly rolled onto her side, and he had at first thought that she might wake up, but she seemed merely to be dreaming. Professor Grabiner had put the book he had been reading down, then, and seemed content to merely stroke her arm and submerge himself into his own thoughts. Her skin was warmer now, that was surely a good sign, and she occasionally made noises to indicate that she was sleeping.

Sometime in the late hours of the night, she had started whimpering, turning restlessly, this way and that. "Tori," he had whispered, brushing the bangs off her forehead. "Tori, what's wrong?"

"Hieronymous." It had taken him a minute to register that she had said his own name. It reached his ears in a soft moan, but not in a good way. She seemed upset, her brow furrowed, and she moved her arms restlessly as if she was struggling against something. "No, please, Hieronymous, please I-"

"I'm here, Tori," he whispered gently in her ear, brushing her hair back. "Shh, Tori, I'm here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He had reached forward and placed a delicate kiss against her lips, and he felt a sudden pang in his chest when he realized this may be the last kiss he would ever give her, and it was completely one-sided. He thought about how they had kissed in the detention room, both of them aching with desire and longing, but that seemed like it had happened years ago. Tori rolled back into the pillows with a small, content smile on her face, and was quiet. Somehow, that made him hurt even worse.

Even if she woke up with her memories back tomorrow, he was going to have to let her go eventually. The longer he drew this out, the more he would hurt her in the end. There was no other way to go about it. As soon as her memories came back, he would have to end this, once and for all. The longer they stayed together, the more time she would have to convince him to stay with her. He was a weak person, and a selfish person, and he knew he wouldn't take much convincing, which is why he had to do end things as fast as possible, while his resolve still held steady.

He grabbed her hand suddenly, and held it between both of his, pressing it to his forehead. His caring for her, his affection, was starting to border on something more, and he suddenly wanted her, more than he had wanted anything in the past ten years of his life. But it wouldn't be fair to force her to stay with him. She would eventually find someone her own age that she was interested in, and yet she would stay with him, due to a sense of duty and obligation, because that's just who she was, loyal to the end.

He had come to this school with a purpose, to protect children from making foolish, permanent mistakes. And now he was being tested, truly, in the worst way possible. But he had to remain strong, for her. He had to just keep telling himself that he was doing the right thing by letting her go. He had to keep thinking about Violet, because in truth, he hadn't really thought about her all that much in the past few months, not with everything else that had been going on. He had stopped just short of making it an official vow, but he had made a silent promise with himself that he could never be with anyone else again after he lost her. He hadn't, all those years ago, realized that he ever could feel something else for anyone again. And now he did. It had taken him over twelve years, but he did. And now she was suffering, just like Violet had suffered, and if he didn't do something, she would die, just like Violet had died. And he couldn't be responsible for that. He wouldn't be responsible for that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, but he wasn't really sure why he had said it, or who he was apologizing to. Was he apologizing to Violet? To Tori? Or himself?

My eyes blink open, and for a moment I'm not sure where I am. In the dim light, I can just make out a few features on the other side of the room: a wardrobe, a bookcase, a large desk filled with books and papers, and it doesn't take me more than a minute to realize that I'm in Hieronymous' room. Hieronymous himself is sleeping in a chair pulled up to the side of the bed, one of his hands draped over my arm.

But how did I get here? I remember being trapped in the dungeon…and that's it. I remember being hungry, and cold, and wishing I could get out, but I don't remember actually getting out. There's nothing else there, just big fat nothing.

"Hieronymous," I whisper, nudging him lightly. I think I was mad at him before he put me in the dungeon, but that feels like it happened ages ago, like it happened to somebody else. I can't even remember why I was mad at him now. "Hieronymous?" I stroke his palm with my fingers and he stirs.

"Tori?" He blinks up at me sleepily in the dim light, and suddenly I realize I don't think I've ever seen him sleepy before. He looks…cute. Unstressed, unworried, just content.

"Hey, why am I here?" I ask softly.

He sighs, like he's trying to remember himself. "I made a mistake," he says at length. "Trying to teleport you out of the dungeon. You hit your head."

I frown as I rub the side of my head. It does ache some. "What time is it?"

He blinks over at his clock. "I think you want to know what day it is."

"What?"

"It's Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" I repeat blankly. "You mean I've been here for three days?"

"Professor Potsdam knows you're here," he says. "Please believe that I will be strictly reprimanded for my actions."

I frown and throw myself back into the pillow. "Serves you right – ow ow ow." I grasp at my head as a pain jolts through it and down the side of my neck.

"Are you okay?" he asks, jumping to his feet.

"Yeah, just, head," I mumble. I can feel his hand on my forehead and a calming magic washes over me.

"Better?"

"Much," I sigh, as I snuggle back into the pillow. His bed is ridiculously soft and his pillow kind of smells like him. He smells kind of like the library when I'm alone in there at night, when all the antibacterial soap smell they use to wash the tables has faded away and the only thing that remains was the familiar scent of old books. It was oddly comforting, in a way. "Do you mind if I, uh, stay here for the night?" I ask. "I don't feel like trudging my way back to my room just now."

"Sleep," he says to me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. I close my eyes and relish the sensation of his hand against my skin, and he seems to notice as he pulls his hand away.

"Will you stay?" I ask, gesturing to the chair.

"It's my room, I'm not going anywhere," he says. I look at him. It doesn't look like he's had a decent night's sleep in three days. Why am I here and not in the infirmary? Does the school even have an infirmary? I've never seen one. Even last year, when Virginia got sick, they brought her home. I guess with everyone knowing green magic, it's not really necessary to have an infirmary for just minor bumps and bruises.

I snort and snuggle into the pillow. I intertwine one hand with his and pull the stone out from under my shirt, wrapping my fingers around it. I sneak a peek at him to realize that he's watching me closely.

"Do you have one of these?" I ask softly. "For me?"

He hesitates for a moment, and he seems to wrestle with himself before he answers. "No."

I smile as I close my eyes. "You're such a terrible liar." I feel his hand twitch around mine. He makes a small noise of protest in the back of his throat, but there's nothing he can say. I called his bluff. He's probably wearing it right now.

I open one eye to see him nervously smoothing down his robes in front of his chest, as if to make sure it's safely tucked away where I can't see it. I make sure to shut my eyes before he looks at me again.

Knew it.

When I open my eyes the next morning, I immediately realize he's not sitting beside the bed. He's sitting on his desk, going through a stack of papers. I ease myself slowly back down onto the pillows, watching him. His holds two papers up in his hands at a time and his eyes flick back and forth between them, his tongue jutting out to wet his bottom lip every so often. I smile softly, knowing that he doesn't know I'm watching makes this all the more…

He looks up at me. Crap.

I squint my eyes shut and throw myself back into the pillows, but I can't hide the smile creeping over my face. "I know you're awake," he says at length, and I open my eyes. He hasn't moved from his paperwork.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Grading homework," he replies.

"Two at a time?"

"The less time I have to put up with their drivel…" he murmurs, before setting both papers down. "You should run along. Professor Potsdam would like me to pass along the message that you are not required to attend classes this week as you recover; however, if you feel up to it, you are more than welcome to return as soon as you feel you are able."

"I guess," I shrug. "So is that all that happened to me? I just hit my head?"

He sighs. "I screwed up a teleportation spell."

"You screwed up?" I ask suspiciously. He had teleported people in and out of dungeons probably millions of times, but somehow this time he just screwed up? I didn't believe it. I couldn't.

"As terrifying as that notion is, I do seem to be capable of it," he replies. "I suppose this is the part where I should ask for forgiveness?"

"I suppose then you have it," I reply. An odd look passes over his face. "Look, I mean, that's a pretty shitty thing you did, leaving me in a dungeon. And I remember being mad at you before that, but lucky for you I can't remember why now. And-" I feel a weird sensation rush over me, and I almost feel a heat rise to my cheeks, but it's so faint I'm not sure if it's really there at all. "And I mean, I guess you did do a good job taking care of me for three days, so I suppose I should at least thank you for that." I feel like there should be something else, but there's nothing there. Nothing I can think of right now, at any rate.

"I don't believe you're obligated to be thankful when I am the one who put you in this situation in the first place."

"Well, maybe I'm just a nice person," I reply. We look at each other for what seems like minutes.

"You should get some breakfast," he says. "You haven't eaten in at least three days. You should eat something."

"Weird, I don't feel hungry." I meant to say this casually, but for some reason it comes out almost bitter, suspicious. "Sorry, I don't know, I guess you're right. I'll get out of your hair."

"Wait," he says, and I stop with my hand on the doorknob. "As repayment for my mistake, I do feel as though I am indebted to you."

"You owe me a favor?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. I'm about to tell him that it isn't necessary, when I change my mind. There was no way of knowing if that would prove useful in the future. "I'm going to hold you to that."

A faint smile crosses his lips and I leave the room, heading back to my dorm. It looks like it's already mid-morning, and I've already missed half of morning classes. Professor Potsdam said I could take the rest of the week off, but I don't think I'm going to. Maybe I'll go to the gym tomorrow. My body feels sore in an unused sort of way. Maybe he's right and I haven't moved my limbs for three days. It would certainly explain how I'm feeling. I don't know, I just don't believe him. I'm not sure why, exactly, I just don't.

But as I make my way back to my dorm, I'm surprised to see Ellen and Virginia still inside. "Hey, are you okay?" Ellen asks as I walk in. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I guess," I shrug. "I just hit my head, apparently."

"Yeah, but when you didn't come back Saturday night, Professor Potsdam said something had happened to you. She called us, Donald and Tommy up to her office. We were all freaking out. We had no idea what was going on."

"Apparently you should never let Grabby teleport you out of a dungeon when he's distracted, I guess." I sit down on the edge of my bed. It's not as soft as his, and for some reason, I'm hit with a bout of melancholy, immediately wishing I was back there.

"You've been gone for three days, though," Virginia says. "You must have really hit your head."

"I guess," I say again, rubbing my temple. "Why are you two here? I thought you would be in class."

"Uh-" Ellen and Virginia sit there, and for a moment they both look as confused as I feel. "I think we just wanted to stay back and make sure you didn't need anything," Ellen offers. Virginia nods her head in agreement, but doesn't look too sure.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," I say quickly. "Really. Although, I could probably use a shower." I make my way out of the room and head into the bathroom, getting into one of the stalls. I don't really feel like a shower right now, but I want to be alone. I need to be alone. I throw my back against the tile wall and let the hot water pour over me as I put my face in my hands and let an overwhelming wave of sadness rush over me. My shoulders lurch as a sudden sob racks through me, and I put my hand over my mouth as I start to cry.

I don't know why I'm crying, I have no reason that I can think of to be this sad right now, but the tears keep coming. What is going on with me? I don't know what's causing it, but I hunch over as I wail into my hands, thankful that it's the middle of classes and no one is around to hear the stink I'm making. I eventually have to bite my knuckle to keep me from crying out, but even still, my shoulders are shaking as I sob. I do my best to suck in gulps of air, trying to calm myself down.

I don't know what's going on. I'm crying and carrying on like somebody died and yet I can't think of anything that happened. Was this a reaction to something that had happened to me down in the dungeons? I close my eyes and try to clear my thoughts, try to focus. Why am I so upset? The first thing that immediately pops into my mind is the sensation of Hieronymous' fingers intertwined with mine as I held his hand as I fell back to sleep last night.

I let a tidal wave of emotion wash over me, and I can feel my heart pounding violently in my chest. I brush my wet hair out of my face, holding my head between both hands, as I try to calm myself down. But I can feel it, I can feel everything, I can feel so much and-

"I love you," I whisper softly. I immediately stand up straight and dart my eyes around the stall to make sure no one had heard, but it didn't sound like anyone had come into the bathroom. I wait a few minutes to confirm that I am, in fact, alone, before my thoughts turn themselves inwards again. I take a few more deep breaths before the tears begin to ease up, and the sobs become more and more infrequent. I try to get a handle on myself, on my emotions, and try to figure out why I was crying.

The first thought in my head was the simplest explanation, and I decide to not overthink it any more than I had to. I had learned all about Occam's Razor at my old school, about how the simplest explanation was usually the right one. Slowly, I try to break it down in my head.

I am crying because I am sad. I am sad because I am in love. I am in love with Hieronymous. And Hieronymous…

He was my teacher. I was his student. I remember how fast he pulled his hand away when I was savoring his touch.

I was sad because Hieronymous would not love me back. I hesitate for a moment, as if I'm not sure if I'm about to cry again or not, but the tears don't come. Instead all that remained in the place of my tears was a tingling sense of numbness that seemed to permeate me from the inside out. This wasn't anything I didn't know already, but at the same time, it didn't seem like something I wanted to admit to myself either.

I close my eyes and let the now luke-warm water pour over me. I loved Hieronymous, but he would not love me back. The only thing I could do was distract myself, push my attentions elsewhere, and hope that my affections would fade with time. I knew they wouldn't, somehow, but maybe that was because I didn't want them to.