I had been lying with my face towards the lake for some time now, and I could only imagine by the way that my eyes stung that they were still red with tears. I could feel the gritty wet ocean sand in the ends of my hair, and my wet clothes clung to my body in awkward positions. I don't know how long it took me to realize that the front of my hoodie was ripped and shredded from where Damien had attacked me. I didn't have any scars, I guess I could thank either Hieronymous or Professor Potsdam for that, but there was no getting my hoodie back. It had been my favorite hoodie, and now it was just one more thing Damien had taken from me.

I reach into my shirt and pull up out the stone that Hieronymous had given me. I'm considering ripping it off, when I look at it, really look at it. It's different now, scarred, from the battle with Damien. The stone is no longer completely blue. Interspersed with the blue are flecks and streaks of black running throughout, covering most of the upper quadrant. There are small white cracks running through certain parts of the stone, as thin as spider legs, and I run my fingers over them. The stone still feels impossibly smooth, as if the cracks were beneath the surface. There is one streak of blue left that runs from the middle of the stone down to the bottom left, but the black and white cracks that have since taken over almost make it look more of an azure, periwinkle blue, opposed to the deep blue that it had been before. I puzzle over it, trying to find more, raking my eyes across the jagged scars of blue amongst the black that had taken over. I close my eyes and hold it tightly in my hands as I feel his heartbeat pulse underneath my fingers. I drop it immediately, tucking it back into my chest. It still works, at least, but now it's scarred, just like me.

Around Christmas, I had told Hieronymous that it was easier to blame myself for everything that had happened, but now I was starting to realize that that wasn't quite true. I could blame Damien for everything, and it would hardly be wrong not to. It was his fault that I had lost my parents, his fault that my hoodie was ripped, his fault that my stone was cracked, his fault that my mind had been violated and his fault that my relationship had ended. It had been all his fault and okay, now he was dead, but that didn't really give me any closure, did it? I wasn't the one to kill him. I didn't fight him for my memories. I had stupidly jumped around the room, trying to snap his neck. Damien was right. I had been so obsessed with the notion that I could defeat him on my anger and outrage alone that I hadn't even really thought about using my magic to try to free Hieronymous. It might have been a useless struggle, but I still didn't even try it.

Throughout everything that had happened, I could have tried to turn to my roommates for help, but I didn't. I didn't ask anyone for help. I never did. But why? Did I not want to bother them with my problems, or was I afraid of screwing up their lives with my problems? Is that how Hieronymous felt all the time? Is that why he didn't get close to anyone else? Was he worried that getting close to other people would screw up their lives and that's why he pushed them away? Was I really one tiny step from becoming exactly like Hieronymous? Maybe that's why I liked him. Maybe we were perfect for each other because we were exactly alike. And that, of course, meant that we could never be together. How long would it be until I didn't want anyone, not even Hieronymous, in my life? A year? Five years? Twelve years?

I can hear footsteps come up behind me, but I don't move. I think I feel someone cast an empathy spell over me, but I can't be sure. Whoever it was, they could have it. The guilt, the growing sense of numbness, the confusion, the self-pity and the hatred, they could have all of it.

"It was difficult to find you out here," Hieronymous says at last. I try to search my feelings, to try to see if I'm happy or sad to see that he's here, but I'm just indifferent.

"Come to collect me for the severance?" I ask, but with all the screaming and the crying and hysterics I had done not more than a few hours ago, my voice is hoarse.

Instead he sits down beside me, and I wait for him to talk. "You said that I at least owed you a conversation," he starts. "But I would like to do some of the talking now. Is that okay?"

I close my eyes. I know what's coming and I suppress a sob that shudders through me. "Okay."

"First, I just want to say that I may have misjudged you," he says. "I was afraid that I was becoming too much of a negative influence, so I sought to distance myself from you. I-"

"Actually, no," I pull myself into a seated position beside him. My voice is still hoarse, but I fight through it. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear this. I don't want to hear whatever justifications you have for ending this. I've been through enough and I can't take anymore. So if you really want to end it, then end it, but I don't want to hear your excuses."

"Would it then interest you to know that I went to Potsdam before I arrived here and asked her to cancel the severance?"

I blink hard, my voice caught in my throat. "Are you lying to me?"

He forces a smile. "No, I'm not. May I speak now?"

I wait patiently for him to continue. "As always, I tend to find myself…swayed by your emotional speeches," he begins. "I do have some concerns, and I cannot say if they are mostly well-founded or not, but I suppose we shall see." He swallows. "You were right. Seeing you almost die brought back memories of Violet, but I need you to know that you are very not like her. For one, she would never be stupid enough to throw herself out a window just to prove a point."

I smirk. At least it got his attention. "This is all very confusing for me. I have tried to close myself off from everything after she died because I felt that it was…easier. And in a way, it has been, because I never thought I'd have to deal with a demon stealing someone's memories of me to get back at me." I try to force a smile, but I can't. Nothing he's saying is making me feel any better. "I can't imagine what you have been going through. You had your memory torn apart, you have every reason to hate me, and yet you have been nothing but brave and selfless and kind towards me-"

"Am I a nice person?" I ask suddenly, and he turns to me, confused. "When I was trying to figure things out for myself, before I realized I was your wife, I kissed you, knowing you were married and that if you had broken your vows you would lose your magic. I did it anyway. I approached Minnie about it, even though she had made a vow of silence, and she could have lost her magic. And I didn't tell Virginia or Ellen about the stalking…maybe if I had, Tom- Damien- wouldn't have been able to jump them. Maybe I just use people. Maybe I'm not a nice person. Maybe I just shouldn't be around people." I don't look at him. "And I know you're just going to say that this proves you're a bad influence on me and that you shouldn't be with me anymore, but you just…you should know."

He listens thoughtfully and contemplates his answer before responding. "I don't have any illusions about who you are, just as you don't have any illusions about who I am, although I think you are being unduly hard on yourself. I understand how this whole experience could make you bitter and can diminish your sense of trust, a fact that I seem to have been admittedly blind to before, but it doesn't make me any less fond of you." He hesitates.

"There is something you should know. I heard what you said, on the floor of the gymnasium. I know what you said and I know what you asked, and I couldn't do it," he admits. "Once I found out that you were going to be okay, I immediately scheduled the severance. Potsdam, of course, was obstinate, but she had no real say in the matter." He pauses. "I thought that if I couldn't say it, at a time when you needed to hear it the most, that I would never be able to say it, and thus we should sever this courtship immediately. But I fear that I have been…presumptuous. I don't dwell on my emotions half as much as you do, nor do I particularly care to search myself for a perfect label for them. But I want you to know that I do care for you, deeply."

"Did you ever tell her?" I ask softly. "That you loved her?"

He frowns for a moment before shaking his head. "And I must admit that I have spoken with you about her more than with anyone else. Don't you ever get-"

"Jealous?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "I mean, I guess I should. I guess part of me does. But she's a big part of your life and a big part of why you are the way you are. You can't erase that. Erasing that would take away what makes you, well, you." I look at him for the first time. "Memories make'th the man."

He smiles, and it touches his eyes. "I suppose you would know about that more than most," he shakes his head. "I am sorry, that I did not protect you from this."

"There was nothing you could have done," I say. "Hence why your magic is still intact. I know I'm a wildseed, and I don't know much about all this oath-making and vows and rules and stuff, but I don't think it's so cut and dry that if you don't protect me you'll lose your magic completely. That seems…..really dumb," I say, for lack of a better word.

"Yes, well," he sighs. "I have vowed to give you my protection, just as you've vowed to give me your courage and kindness."

"So if I'm mean to you, does that mean I could lose my magic?" I ask him suddenly, and he raises his eyebrows. "What if I tease you, is teasing mean?"

"I suppose that would depend on the nature of my feelings," he replies lightly.

"Well, you also vowed to give me your wisdom," I say. "Haven't really heard a lot of that from you lately. If anything, I'm the one spoutin' off all the knowledge, here."

"Well, you do seem to have a firmer grasp on the emotional senses," he says.

I smile and relax into him, pulling his hand into mine. "So you're really going to do this? You're really going to be my husband and give this your best effort?"

"Well, I very much doubt you'd permit me to give anything less," he says, and I laugh as I lay my head against his shoulder.

"I haven't kissed you in forever," I say eventually.

"Would you like me to remedy that?"

"If you feel so inclined to."

He pulls me into his lap, intertwining his hands through my gritty hair and kisses me hard. My lips are still swollen from crying, my cheeks still ache, and I pull away quickly, burying my face in his neck. "I want to go back now. I really could use a shower. Can we go back?"

"It's going to take me a little while to recharge my magic," he admits. "I'm not even sure how you managed to teleport yourself all this way."

"Well," I say. "I happen to have an excellent professor." He smirks at that, and for once I'm glad that he makes no comment about me still being his student.

"Remember my first test?" I ask. "When we had to pick any type of magic to get ourselves out of the dungeon and I literally teleported myself out?"

"I've never seen any first year student do such a thing," he admits. "I was very impressed by you. A wildseed girl with an affinity for blue magic is a very rare thing."

"I may have had extra incentive," I admit, then hit my forehead as a sudden thought occurs to me. "Oh, we're going to have so much talking to do when we get back."

"More talking?" he asks, running his hands absent-mindedly through my hair. "And here I had thought we had done enough talking to last us months."

"I just mean about the whole-" I wave my hands absently. "Situation. I know you value your privacy and everything but I was wondering if I could spend a bit more time with you after…everything that's happened."

"I suppose that's a fair request," he acquiesces.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" I ask hopefully. "Can I fall asleep listening to your heartbeat for real? I mean, I am your wife and all."

He sighs. "I suppose."

I grin into his neck. "You know, now I know why you gave that to me and everything, but it's also kind of really…cute. And romantic."

He sighs again. "Please don't expect presents like that often. As your roommate informed you, they are very rare and I don't think I'm ever going to live down asking Potsdam to help me track one down."

"Well, I mean, I do consider it a fair trade for my diary," I say pointedly. "As if my private thoughts weren't violated enough."

"I wish I could say I had more shame," he admits. "But it was quite an interesting read."

"I can see why you wouldn't put it down," I shrug. "But I mean, technically I did give it to you, I guess, even if she did spell it so I didn't know I did."

He sighs. "She put you in a lot of danger."

I shrug. "I could handle it."

"Tori, you don't need to handle it. It's not weakness to admit that you need help, or if you can't handle something. You're young yet, you don't need to have everything figured out."

"Well, I guess you're young too, since you obviously don't," I tease.

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks playfully.

"Only when you're kissing me," I reply, as he covers his mouth with mine.

I don't know how long we stay like that, me cuddled into his chest with his arms around me, as the rain stops and the sun goes down around us, filling the sky with bright reds and oranges.

"Hieronymous?"

"Mm?"

"How many classes do you think I've missed this year?"