Staying in the mail room wasn't as bad as I had initially thought. My mood didn't really improve, but I didn't really expect it to. No one came in, no one bothered me; it was almost as if I had found my own nice little cave to bury myself in, to tuck myself away from the world. I briefly considered that I was literally becoming just like Hieronymous, but I quickly distanced myself from that thought. The next two days I went to green magic, ignored my classmates' rumors and staring gazes, went back to my room, got some clean clothes, showered, and then went to the mail room for the rest of the night.
But on Thursday, things were a little different. I still went to green magic. I still went to my room to get a clean set of clothes and shower. I still went to the mail room, but when I unlocked the door, I noticed the shadow of a figure already waiting for me inside. "Prof-professor Potsdam?" I ask.
"Come in, dear," she says softly.
I do, closing the door behind me. At first I'm wondering why she was waiting for me inside a dark room, but then it occurred to me. Didn't Hieronymous tell me that she was watching me around the clock? She had probably been studying my afternoon habits for several days now.
"Is there something I can help you with?" I ask.
She smiles sweetly at me, but her smile looks a little sad. "Tori, you know you're not supposed to be in here when you're not doing your treasury duties."
"Oh, I uh-" I consider lying to her, telling her that Hieronymous asked me to run an errand, but there's no point. She'll know I'm lying, and that will only make things worse.
"Your roommates came to speak with me," she says. "They were quite concerned with where you had been staying the past few nights."
My roommates sold me out? I try not to let my frustration show. "Professor Potsdam, they weren't comfortable with me staying in the room, after everything that happened." I try to make my face as earnest and sincere as possible. "I mean, I'm sure you've heard the rumors and things that people are saying. They were knocking on the door at all hours and asking them questions about me and what happened, and they just didn't want to be a part of it anymore. I didn't mean to cause trouble; I just didn't want to be any more trouble to them."
"Yes, yes, I understand," she says. "Your roommates already explained, and I have your new room assignment all set up."
"All set up?" She moves aside and I see my suitcase leaning against a table behind her.
"I believe all of your things were already in your suitcase?" she asks.
"Uh, yeah," I say quickly. "Yeah, everything's packed."
"Good, then if you'll take your suitcase and follow me?" I grab the handle of my suitcase and wheel it along behind her. I follow her through the dorms, which are thankfully empty, and out into the quad.
"Um, professor, where are we going?" I ask. "The dorms are all back there."
"Oh, I have a special room assignment just for you," she says. I bite my lip. Am I really so ostracized by the students that she's giving me my own room in the staff building? I mean, at least I'd have my own room, so that would be nice. And my own bathroom. Maybe this whole thing will actually work out in my favor for once.
"Professor," I say. "I'm sorry that I'm causing you all this trouble. I mean, I'm sure you have better things to be doing right now." I don't know why I say it; it just feels important that I do.
"Tori-" She stops and turns to me. "I understand that things are difficult for you right now. You lost your memories, you lost your parents, and you lost your friends. It's understandable that you're going to need a little time on your own to work things out."
"Um, thank you," I say, only because I'm not sure what else I really can say to that.
As we reach the staff building, she leads me up to the second floor and that's when the reality of where she's placing me sinks in. "Oh, no, no, no, Professor, I can't do this."
"Whatever do you mean?" she asks, as we walk down the hallway to Hieronymous' door.
"He values his space and his privacy," I say for the third time that week. Seriously, how does no one else realize this? And her of all people. "He will consider it an impertinence."
"Nonsense," she says. "It'll just take you two some time to adjust to each other, that's all. But you're married. It'll all come in time."
"He's the one who told me married couples were supposed to be independent and live separately," I blurt out.
She looks at me. "Nonsense," she repeats firmly. "You know as well as I why he would say such a silly thing. True, there are some who prefer to live here and some who prefer to live in the Otherworld, but you know his thoughts on that place." I nod. "He's just shy. I'm sure he'll come around in time."
"Or I'll be sleeping in the dungeons this night and every other night for the rest of my life," I mope.
"Oh, don't cause such a fuss," she says. "Besides, I'd notice if you stopped showing up to all of my classes." She winks at me and I offer her a weak smile as she knocks on the door to Hieronymous' room.
The smile quickly slips from my face and I bend my head down to study my shoes. I can hear the door open as he looks between Professor Potsdam and myself. "Hieronymous, Tori and I need to speak to you on an issue of great importance."
"Come in," he says solemnly, stepping back into the room. I let her go first and then try to carry my suitcase behind me as inconspicuously as possible as I shut the door.
"What's happened now?" he asks, although his voice is rough with irritation. Oh great. He's not in a good mood. This is going to go badly.
"Tori's going to be your new roommate!" Professor Potsdam practically exclaims, throwing out both arms in my direction, as if she was suddenly welcoming him to a surprise birthday party.
He stares her up and down, completely ignoring me. "What on earth are you going on about, woman?"
"Well," she begins. "Tori's roommates aren't completely comfortable having her around, and so she's been sleeping in the mail room the past few nights-"
"What?" His eyes snap to me and I look away, embarrassed.
"-and we can't have students sleeping all over the school, so I figured, why not have her just stay with you?" She smiles and claps her hands at her "clever" idea. "You're already married; it's the perfect way to get to know each other better."
"No," he says firmly, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Hieronymous, really," she says sharply. "You know we're already short on rooms as it is. You want me to place her in one of the boy's dorms?"
I look up quickly. A wolf? Am I going to be a wolf now? I look back to see Hieronymous watching me intently. "Was this your idea?"
"No," I say quickly. "No, and, in fact, I think I should go back and talk to them. I mean, they are both extremely reasonable people; I think we can all work this out. Huge misunderstanding, so sorry to bother you, I should go."
"Isn't she precious?" Potsdam asks, as if I'm a kitten struggling to walk around in those little mitt boots.
Hieronymous stares at her for a moment. "I said no."
"Enough," she snaps. I have never heard her snap before. My insides coil up on themselves, and I shut my mouth instantly. Fortunately, she recovers herself almost immediately. "As I said, this will be a good opportunity to get to know each other better, and Tori needs a place where she can feel safe."
He doesn't say anything. She just turns to me and pats me on the shoulder. "You just let me know if there is anything else I can do for you, Tori, dear."
"Thanks," I croak.
She gives another pointed look back at Hieronymous before she shuts the door.
I close my eyes and flinch, not ready to face him yet. "Tori, what on earth is going on?" He sounds more exasperated than angry, which is probably a good thing. I can wind him down from exasperated. I don't want him to be angry with me.
I turn to him, letting out a deep breath. "Are you aware that there are rumors going around the school that I'm the one who attacked my roommates?"
He sighs, his mouth pressed in a firm line. "I am aware."
"Then you're aware of all the other rumors?" I ask.
"Which, specifically?"
"I don't know, there are tons," I sigh. "People are always banging on the door and asking weird questions. They didn't want to put up with it anymore, so they got Donald to ask me to leave. So I left."
"And you've been sleeping in the mail room?" he asks. I nod. "For how long?"
"Just this week."
"Tori-" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can we at least agree not to lie to each other?" I tilt my head and look at him strangely.
"But I'm not lying. It'd be a little hard for me to be sleeping anywhere else considering this past weekend I was with you, and the week before that I was unconscious."
"I caught you sleeping in the mail room before," he says. Recognition flickers across my face. Back when I lost my memories, when he had put his cape over me, wasn't that right around winter break? When I found out my parents weren't coming? "I thought it was just a one-time thing-"
"It was," I say quickly. "I was just having-" I shut my mouth. I still haven't told him about the night terrors. "I couldn't sleep, I went to do my rounds, and I just happened to sit down for a moment and doze off. That's all. That's why I went in there now. It was the first place I thought of."
He sighs, rubbing his face with one hand. "Look, I can fix this," I say quickly. "I don't have to stay in here. I'll go back to Virginia and Ellen and work something out, okay?"
"And you think she'll allow that?" he asks. "She's too involved now, Tori, she's going to know, and if you leave, she's going to assume I pushed you out." He shakes his head. "If anything, I bet she jumped at the chance to put you here."
"I-" I feel just as exasperated as he looks. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hands are shaky. I feel like I'm about to cry. My roommates kicked me out, I have no friends, and now thanks to Potsdam, Hieronymous hates me too. "I'm sorry."
He just shakes his head. "I have work to do," he says suddenly. "I'll see you tonight." I'm about to say "okay" when he turns to me pointedly. "Don't go anywhere." With that, he turns and storms out, slamming the door behind him.
No kiss.
Great.
As soon as he's out the door, I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I look around the room, but it doesn't look as much different as it did the other day. I don't really want to look around and invade his privacy so I take a quick shower with my own toiletries this time, making sure to stash them in the empty bottom cabinet when I'm done with my shower so it doesn't look like I'm cluttering up his space. I put on my pajamas before I realize that he's only been gone for about half an hour. He said that he'd be back tonight so I guess that means he's not coming back for quite a while. Was he leaving because he actually had stuff to do, or was he avoiding me?
Bored and unhappy, I decide to poke around the room. It's not a large room, and I've already been in it so many times there's nothing really new for me to see. I forsake the dresser and the bookcase and instead focus on his desk. I sit down in his chair and peer at the papers and books, but they all seem to be in another language. I pick up one and hold it up to the light, trying to figure out if this is charmed too, but it looks like it's simply a different language. I want to use magic on it to try to dispel the charm if there is one, but I'm afraid there might be some counter-jinx on it, and I don't want to mess with it.
As I stretch out my feet underneath the desk, I hear a click of bottles. I quickly peer underneath but don't see anything. I hold a hand out in front of me.
"Dispel."
Suddenly a small shelf embedded into the wall appears. I bend down and pull out one. Gin? So this is where he keeps his alcohol collection? I pause and turn around, my eyes sweeping the room. Well, if I was ever going to start drinking, now would be as good a time as any. I unscrew the cap and take a swig of it, imitating how Hieronymous had drank the other day when he was sulking in here. I realize I drank too much and I hold it in my cheeks, feeling the burn. It burns like extra-strength mouthwash and, afraid to spit it out, I struggle to choke down the rest of it.
Wrong move. My body convulses as though I've just drank extra strength cough medicine and I rush into the bathroom and spit a little bit of it out into the sink, my whole body shaking. "Blegh," I cough. I can feel goosebumps rising to my skin, and it feels like I had just gotten sick. I stay in the bathroom for a few minutes, making sure I won't feel sick again and smoothing down my hair. I had put on an extra-large sweatshirt over my tank top, and it draped down to my thighs, giving the impression that I was wearing a large grey burlap sack. It's warm though, and it does make me feel at least a little bit better.
I stare at myself in the mirror for a few minutes before I shake my head and walk back into the room, tightening the lid on the gin. Maybe that was regular gin, or maybe it was super-strong-magically-enchanted gin, but either way I was not trying it again. I look at another bottle. Some kind of wine? Eh, pass. I had wine a few times at Christmas holidays at my grandparents when they were still alive, but I never liked it much. Maybe I would like it now that I'm older?
I shrug half-heartedly and skip to another bottle. Vodka? I've had vodka before. I unscrew the lid and sniff it. It doesn't smell as hazardous as the gin… I take a sip, a much smaller one this time. The bottle is smaller, which makes it a bit easier to do. I puff out my chin, and lick my lips. Is that a hint of blueberries? I look at the bottle again. It's not bad.
I take the bottle and sit on the floor, staring out the window. I'm actually not at a good position to see out the window from here, so I just rest my head against the bed and look up at the sky, taking small sips of vodka every now and again. I hate feeling sorry for myself, but right now there seems like nothing better to do. Before, Hieronymous had been the one person who was in my corner and now he was out of it. Drinking his alcohol probably wouldn't help, and could potentially get me in a lot of trouble, but I didn't care about that. What would they do? Expel me for it? Wipe my memories and take my magic and kick me out?
Sure. Let them. Not like I had much to look forward to by staying here. It would just spare me a lot of misery and grief down the line. As much as I hated to admit it, and I really hated to admit it, Hieronymous and I weren't going to work out. And even if we did, even if we stayed married while I went off to college or went off to work, we would be living separately. He would probably be okay with that, but would I be? Would I be happy being apart from him so much? I struggle to think about it. I don't think I'd be. I'm actually struggling so hard to figure out how I'd feel about it that I don't even notice that the sun has set and it's dark outside. I don't even notice that Hieronymous has come into the room and was now standing about six feet from me.
"What the bloody hell?" he exclaims. I just take another sip of vodka – well, a swig this time – and don't look at him.
"Found your stash," I mutter, letting the bottle drop back into my lap.
"Do you realize how much trouble you can be in for this?" he asks. He is so angry that he's practically hissing at me, but I don't even notice. Suddenly, something I was told at the beginning of the school year last year jumps out at me from the depths of my memory.
"Actually, I believe it was during orientation when the school explained to us that since we are a magical school and the state is not technically allowed on the property, this campus is immune to state laws and as such, the drinking age does not apply here. And considering the drinking age in the magical community is like, twelve or something, drinking here is perfectly legal."
I just stare straight ahead of me and take another swig, not looking at him. Not trying to. Not caring. Do you see me, Hieronymous? This is me, not caring. At least now he knows what I look like when I'm not bending over backwards to try to impress him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his jaw open and then shut again. "It may not be illegal but you went through my room," he snaps. "I should lock you in the dungeons and-"
"-leave me there to rot?" I finish for him. "I was just sittin' at your desk when I stretched out and accidently hit your bottles. I did a spell to make sure nothing was broken and found your stash." It's only half a lie, but it's good enough. "So yes, please lock me in the dungeons for the rest of my life for that. I am clearly out of control and need to be punished."
"I will not tolerate your insolence," he thunders. "You are my wife and you will-"
"Not for much longer," I mutter as I take another sip of vodka.
His expression drops immediately. In fact, his whole demeanor changes so suddenly I almost feel like Professor Grabiner had walked out of the room and Hieronymous had walked in. "Tori, what's wrong?" he asks, moving to sit on the floor beside me.
I hold up the bottle in front of me and address it instead. "He's so mercurial, don't you think?"
"Tori." There's concern in his voice now, and it almost makes me feel guilty. Almost. "Did something happen?"
"Nope," I say. I hold the bottle to my lips but don't drink. "Just thinking thoughts."
"And do you care to enlighten me?" he asks. I say nothing. "Or is this going to be one of your little secrets? Like the night terrors?"
I turn to him sharply. I don't like what I see. He doesn't just sound concerned, he looks concerned. I take another sip of vodka and sneer at him. "That's none of your concern. I'm not your problem."
"You're sitting in my room drinking my alcohol," he says. "I think that makes you my problem."
"I'll just go then."
"You live here now."
"I'll sleep outside on your doorstep. She'll never know."
He considers this for a moment. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hostile. Angry, yes, but never hostile."
"Well, there's the rub," I say. It doesn't sound like anything I would ever say at all. I'm not even entirely sure I even know what that phrase means.
"Tori, what did you mean when you said you wouldn't be my wife anymore?" I'm silent, holding the lip of the bottle between my teeth. "Did I do something wrong?" No answer. "Did you do something wrong?"
I venture a gaze in his direction, but don't look at him directly. "I do everything wrong, haven't you figured that out by now?"
He pauses for a moment. "Pity doesn't become you."
"Nothing becomes me, that's why I'm wearing a burlap sack." I lean forward and pull the hood over my face. It just reaches my eyes. "With a hood."
He sighs. "I'm trying my best to be patient with you, I really, really am." I shrug. My guilt and his concern are slowly ebbing away my resolve. "Then you leave me no choice." I hesitate for a moment, my blood running cold. What's he going to do? Suddenly I feel a familiar sweep of white magic come over me and realize that he's cast empathy on me.
"Oh, no, don't do that," I whine. "Seriously? My emotions, not yours. Get your own."
"Then talk to me," he says firmly.
I bite my lip. He wants to hear it? Fine. Then let him hear everything. "I can't go in the gym because I almost died there. I can't go along the trails because I was attacked there, twice now, and I just realized if we hadn't gotten married that I would have died in the mail room. If I somehow manage to survive this forsaken school, and thankfully the chances of that are very, very low, then I graduate in two years. And then I do what? Go to magical college? Get a cool magical job and live in a cool magical apartment? And you're just, what? Here? You just stay here and you work here and we see each other on weekends and that's it? If that's the case, what's the point in even being together?" Feeling adventurous, I take another swig. "Potsdam says plenty of magical people choose to live in the Otherworld, maybe I'll just go and live there."
It's a cheap shot, but to his credit, he doesn't fall for it. "You've given this quite a bit of thought."
"Well, being kicked out of your room and lying on that stinking couch in the mail room gives you quite a bit of alone time with your thoughts."
"And how do you know I'll continue to teach here?" he asks. "How do you know I won't want to go teach at another school? Who says I'll want to teach at all? And if I do stay here, who says I have to live here on campus? I do now, because it's convenient, but not everyone does. And-" he sighs. "It is possible that I may have to return to England, at least eventually, to take up my father's seat in government."
I laugh into the bottle. "Oh. Great. England. Yeah, that's nice and close."
He tilts his head to the side, as if he's not quite sure I heard him correctly. "Typically, a viscount would not take the seat without his viscountess."
This pulls me out of my stupor, at least momentarily, as I spin to look at him. "I keep forgetting you're a noble. So is this why we're married then? So you can take over your father's role in government? Am I like a…trophy wife?" I wrinkle my nose at the thought.
"I don't want to," he says eventually. "I vowed that I would never go back to England again after, well, you know."
"Wait, vowed?" I ask. "Like vow-vowed?" He doesn't answer. Instead he just reaches over me and picks up the bottle of vodka, taking a swig himself.
"So what else is on your mind?" he asks after he swallows.
I hesitate. "You didn't answer my question."
"Oh, was there a question in there?"
"Mmhmm."
"And what was it then?"
"I'm not going to repeat myself."
He laughs. "Oh, then I've finally found a way to make you shut up?"
I scowl and snatch the bottle back from him. "You're a jerk," I mutter half-heartedly.
"Tori, I understand that you're concerned with our arrangement," he says. "And I also understand that it's easier to focus on the far future with everything that's going on right now. And as troubling as this sounds to my own ears, I have not given much thought to what you will do after you finish your education here. We can discuss your options closer to your graduation date."
I shift on the floor uncomfortably, my muscles protesting. "I know what you're trying to say. Say it better."
He sighs. "We can figure it out together."
"Was that so painful?"
"Extremely." I hit his arm and he laughs, taking another swig of vodka.
"You're laughing and I'm pouting," I sigh. "You're turning into me and I'm turning into you. Fantastic."
"You're not turning into me," he says.
"Oh no?" I ask, pulling the vodka back from him. "Lately all I've wanted to after I got back from class is find a nice quiet place to curl up and read my books, far away from everyone else. Who does that sound like? You? Yes it does." I take another drink, wrapping both arms protectively around the bottle.
"And is that a bad thing?" he asks.
"Everyone hates me." My outstretched leg jerks, and I quickly pull it in. "Virginia and Ellen kicked me out. People are saying I attacked them. Like, what the hell?"
"It's just rumors," he says. "People will forget about it after Spring Break."
I want to ask him about Violet. I want to ask him if he had to endure the same kind of rumors after she died, but I can't ask him that, I just can't. "Is that why I shouldn't have gone to class this week? To dodge all the rumors?"
He shrugs non-committedly. "When did you start having night terrors?"
"Who told you I was having night terrors?"
"You did," he replies, and I glance over at him. "Just now."
"You see? You're turning into me. You're starting to get-" I shrug. "Devious."
"Clever," he replies. "But it wasn't hard to figure out. When you were sleeping on the couch in the mail room the first time, you kept crying out and whimpering in your sleep."
"Oh fantastic," I say bitterly. I raise the bottle to my lips but don't actually drink it. For some reason, I just feel completely exhausted. We sit in silence for a few minutes. "Donald says I'm drama."
"Drama?" He muses. "And this, coming from Mr. Danson?"
"He creates chaos, not drama," I inform him. "I don't know, that's such an ugly word. Drama. Like anything that happened is really my fault."
"I thought you had taken a liking to blaming yourself for everything."
"No, I'm blaming Damien for this."
"That's fair."
"I never used to be drama," I say, more to the bottle than to him. "At my old school, I never had relationship issues, probably because I was never in a relationship, but still. There were no rumors about me. I mean, people knew who I was, but generally people liked me."
"Maybe because they didn't know you well enough to see anything to dislike."
I pause. "That's incredibly insightful." I pick up the bottle then set it down again without drinking from it. "I guess I'm trying to figure out if I have a flawed perception of self-awareness or if I'm just turning into a different person."
"For the record," he says. "I don't think you're drama. I think you can have a flair for the dramatics if jumping out a window was any indication, but I don't think you're drama. You came into that room in January to try to save my life, and the rumors of our elopement were only spread by Miss Cochran. You did nothing to invite that attention to yourself. Take this year for instance. Your memories were wiped through no fault of your own and word of our altercation with Mr. Ramsey spread throughout the school, even before you woke up. I'm not saying you couldn't have reacted to things better with your roommates, I wasn't there, but I know you didn't incite all of this negative attention on yourself."
I hesitate. I feel better. Did talking with Hieronymous actually make me feel better? "Are you telling me this as my teacher or as my husband?"
"As your friend," he replies firmly. "And as your husband, I know how much you like it when I remind you of that fact."
"You pay extraordinarily close attention to me," I observe.
"No more than you do to me, I believe," he says.
I turn to him, seeing him maybe for the first time tonight. "Thank you." He smiles at me, a familiar, gentle smile.
"So I take it this talk has encouraged you to actually talk to me next time something is wrong instead of drinking from my stores?"
I shrug. "I mean, I don't know, maybe I only reached this level of clarity because I'm drunk."
He frowns at me. "What time did you start drinking?"
"Um, four-ish? Five-ish?"
"Tori, it's past nine now." He looks at the bottle, holding it out in front of him. "You've had about four ounces in about four hours."
"Is…is that a lot?" I ask slowly.
"Considering your age and how skinny you are," he looks me up and down. "I'd say you are appropriately buzzed, but not drunk."
"Oh." I don't know what to call it. My head feels kind of funny, but other than that I just feel kind of tired. Subdued.
"I'm going to take a shower," he says as he stands up. "You should get into bed."
I salute him sarcastically. "Yes, sir."
I wait until he's in the bathroom and I hear the familiar sound of water hitting the inside of the shower before I stand up. I'm a little wobbly on my legs from sitting for so long, but the room isn't wobbling or anything. I set his vodka back on the shelf and pull my sweatshirt off, laying it across the top of my suitcase. I pick up a water bottle I had set on the nightstand and swish some water in my mouth, trying to relieve the taste of alcohol as I sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Hey, I said in the bed, not against it," he says as he comes out of the shower. He's again shirtless and dressed only in pajama pants.
"I was just going to brush my teeth," I tell him. "To get the alcohol taste out of my mouth."
"I hope you weren't planning on kissing me then," he says as gets into bed. "Alcohol and toothpaste is not a pleasant combination."
"And vodka is?" I ask. He just shrugs as he switches off the light. "So you'd kiss me then? You didn't kiss me today when you walked out."
He sighs. "I needed time to process the situation."
For some reason, I had totally forgotten that I was living here now. Being here with him, in his room, in his bed, it just felt so natural and comfortable, not at all like it had been when I went back to my dorm. "And what was your conclusion?"
"That I can keep a better eye on you and keep you out of trouble here," he says.
"And those are your only thoughts on the matter?" I ask, moving closer to him.
"I might have others," he says non-committedly.
I pout. "If you're going to kiss me then kiss me because I honestly have no idea how bad my breath is right now and I'm not going to be the one to make the first move."
He reaches up and kisses me softly, testing the waters, and kisses me a few more times before it becomes an open-mouthed kiss. "It's not terrible," he says as he lies back down. "But I would kiss you more if you didn't drink my alcohol."
"Good incentive," I murmur sleepily as I curl into the crook of his arm. He is warm and his skin is soft and smooth and as I wrap an arm around him, I can't ever imagine living in a world where I couldn't snuggle up to him at night.