This one took a bit more time to translate, but here it is!
Please, if you enjoy the story, leave me some reviews! Even a thanks would be nice, you know?
Helps keeping the motivation up.
It takes the boys a moment to realise I've finished my story. As usual, Alphonse is the first to break the silence:
"But what happened then? How did you end up in that body?"
I don't want to answer, and luckily, before I have the chance, Ewald speaks up while Arthur stifles another yawn.
"It's late. I suggest we continue talking tomorrow. We still have quite a few things to discuss and a lot to think about, okay?"
Alphonse looks like he wants to protest, but a glance in my direction, then at Arthur, seems to calm him down. He responds more calmly than I expected:
"So, how are we doing this? I could walk Vivian back to her dormitory, but I don't like the idea of leaving her alone..."
"I'm staying here," I say curtly.
"Then I'm staying too!" Arthur cuts in, half-asleep.
"In that case, me too. I can stay awake if you fall asleep," Alphonse adds.
"I don't want to share my room with you," I retort.
"After what you pulled tonight, I think we can do without your opinion," Alphonse shoots back.
For me, it's not even about dying. But there's no way I'm sleeping with them. I wouldn't be able to feel comfortable. Sure, I spent my holidays with Alphonse, even sleeping in his room, but sleeping with three boys? Absolutely not. I'm about to snap back, to shout that if he had listened to me, he'd understand, but I don't get the chance. The hand Ewald had used to stop me from hurting myself lets go of mine, and he stands up.
"I'll stay here to sleep and keep an eye on Vivian. You two, head back to your dorms and rest; you'll need to be in good shape tomorrow."
Alphonse looks like he wants to argue, but the Slytherin silences him with a look and a single sentence:
"We'll need to take turns over the coming days to make sure she's never alone, so I'd appreciate it if you were rested when I'm not."
The Gryffindor grits his teeth but nods, casting a resigned glance at Arthur, whose yawns are becoming more and more frequent.
"I'll take him back to his dorm... In his state, he might fall asleep right in front of the caretaker's office..."
Arthur weakly protests but ultimately lets himself be led away by the Gryffindor, who, now that the decision is made, quickly leaves the place, not without making one last check with Ewald to ensure he can really leave us alone. I'm not exactly happy with my situation, but it could have been worse. Of course, I won't be able to sleep like this, even with just one person around. After all, it's even easier to act with impunity when there's no one around to stop something from happening. But then… it's Ewald, and even if I don't fully trust him—I'm incapable of that—I've still shared a mental link with him. That counts for something. The trapdoor closes behind Arthur and Alphonse, leaving me alone with the Slytherin. We remain silent, and I can hear the boys' footsteps fading as they leave the tower, along with the sound of the passage closing behind them.
I don't know what to say or do, but I feel a bit foolish just standing still on the floor. I expect Ewald to say something; I also dread it a bit, as I'm unsure what he will do. I don't dare moving until he speaks. He stirs only when all the sounds made by our companions have faded away. He comes to sit in front of me and lets out a long sigh.
"I don't know what to say."
These are the first words he utters, and I don't know how to react. Since the beginning of the evening, he has been in control, firm with me, and suddenly he sounds tired. I lift my head to look at him. Like earlier, when he stopped me, his mask is cracked. He seems lost. I should probably say something, but I don't know what. Like him, in fact. But for me, it's him who holds the answers, not me; therefore, it's up to him to speak. He has my fate in his hands. It would only take him to say a word to Madam Pomfrey, her assistant, or any teacher to condemn me. He looks me in the eye.
"That you did this… That you dared. You have no idea…"
It's rare to see him at a loss for words. However, he quickly continues, his voice and expression becoming firmer.
"I'm sorry. It's late. I suppose we should sleep."
"Are you going to tell the adults about all this?"
Ewald looks briefly surprised.
"Would you like me to?"
"Absolutely not. It's my private life, my problems, my story."
"I have no reason to do it for now. However, these problems are not just yours; they're ours. Because there's no way I'm going to lose you like this, or that the others will lose you like this, even if these problems are the consequences of your own story. But what's certain is that I understand you don't want your secrets exposed for all to see. They aren't anyone's business who has no connection to you."
I'm surprised and reassured by his response, even though his need to involve himself in my life is a problem in itself. But the way he phrases his thoughts about talking to the adults aligns with how I think.
"But I'll be honest with you. I think you suspect it, but if talking to the adults is the only way I have to keep you from dying, I won't hesitate to do it."
A spark of anger pierces through me, alongside a painful uncertainty. If he understands this need for privacy as I do, then he knows how much it matters, and if he's willing to sacrifice it, how much does he care about me?
Silence falls briefly between us before the Slytherin breaks it again.
"Arthur, or especially Alphonse, is likely to ask you more questions tomorrow, particularly about the magic that allowed you to survive your suicide. It's going to be difficult not to provide them with answers… I know Arthur will keep the secret, but I don't know Alphonse well enough, and he's quite impulsive. However, this knowledge could be dangerous for them. We don't know anything about that man, even if his face reminds me of something. If you can, avoid answering them right away."
"I'll do my best."
It's true that this problem adds to the others. Damn, tomorrow… I could do without thinking about it. I'm already dreading seeing Arthur and Alphonse again. My only hope lies in the fact that the holidays start tomorrow evening. I believe they're all going home, while I told my parents I was staying at Hogwarts… It would be an opportunity to get rid of my friends' surveillance... But I imagine it won't be that simple. Maybe pretending to regret my actions would help…? But probably not. Ewald won't be easy to fool, and after tonight's events, Arthur will likely be more clingy than ever. Speaking of the Slytherin, he interrupts my thoughts by saying in a neutral tone, but filled with the authority he's already shown all evening:
"I think you should go to sleep."
A smirk escapes me. As if I'm going to have the luxury of sleep. Nevertheless, I decide it's preferable to follow the suggestion and make the effort to get up and head towards my hammock.
"And you, what are you going to do?"
"I suppose I'll try to lie down too, after I've checked a few things."
I tense up.
"I don't have another hammock to offer you, you know?"
"Don't worry, I'm not bad at Transfiguration," Ewald replies in a tone that aims to be reassuring.
He understands my fear, I know that. Does it hurt him that I might be afraid of him? If it does, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he takes advantage of my settling into my hammock to cast a few Accio spells to ensure that no blade or weapon has escaped our classmates' vigilance. His spells yield no results, which seems to leave him unfazed. His gaze then quickly scans the room as he removes his wizarding cloak.
"I'm going to transfigure it into a hammock for the night; if I'm lucky, it will hold," he explains to me. "Do you mind if I settle next to you?"
I'm a bit surprised that he even asks for my opinion, and I merely shrug. There isn't really another place to easily hang a hammock. And even though I know that his proximity is likely to make me more tense, I don't bother to express it. It's not like I'm going to be able to sleep anyway.
He seems to understand my embarrassment, after all, or perhaps he wants to give me a bit of privacy, because after transforming his cloak, he secures it a good arm's length away from me. As far as possible while keeping the right anchors. He carefully settles into his hammock, taking the time to remove his shoes and neatly store them away, as well as to cast a quick cleaning spell on himself. I see him slip our wands beneath him, so I cannot reach them. He no longer speaks to me, and that suits me. I keep my eyes wide open and stare at the ceiling. I know I am tired, but I cannot escape the thoughts swirling in my head, driven by tumultuous whirlwinds of violent emotions that almost prevent me from breathing. I see again the face of Ewald after he stunned me, the release of my blade against my throat, the moment he lost control of his Occlumency, the faces of Arthur and Alphonse, their reactions. How am I supposed to sleep? Ewald's proximity does not help me calm down; in fact, it only increases the pressure. My memories haunt me, and I start to suffocate, but I need to calm down because otherwise he will hear me. I do not want him to see me like this; I do not want anyone to see me like this. But the more I want to calm down, the more I suffocate. I bite my fist as hard and discreetly as possible, and my tears start to flow. If only I could cut myself. If I could be alone! Despite myself, I start to murmur to myself, "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." I feel myself beginning to disconnect from reality. I can no longer contain myself.
"Are you okay?"
Ewald sits up in his hammock. I don't reply.
"Vivian?"
"You should have let me die," I gasp. I cannot hold back. My tears continue to flow, and my breathing becomes stronger and stronger.
"If we made a mistake, then for me it is not confronting you earlier to help you."
I don't bother to reply. I continue to struggle to stabilise my breathing, to calm down, but I cannot manage. I need to cut myself. I need to die. I need to stop thinking. I feel Ewald's hand grip my wrist, hesitantly at first, then more firmly, to stop me from biting myself, then he takes my hand, his arm outstretched to reach me from his hammock.
"Leave me alone. I need my blades. Give them to me, please."
"That's out of the question," Ewald says in a neutral voice.
I curl up, but I cannot let go of his hand, and I hate myself for needing this. For wanting comfort, despite everything. Gently, Ewald's thumb begins to make circles on my hand as he whispers that he is here, that he won't abandon me, that it will be alright. And I continue to suffocate, talking about dying. I yell at him that he cannot understand, that I cannot live while I am broken, that rape has destroyed me! He keeps speaking softly to comfort me, and I feel his sincerity; I know he weighs his words. I continue to gasp, unable to control my breathing for more than a few moments, and I end up pleading with him to give me my blades, pleading with him to let me die.
"I will not let you down, Vivian, Aurore. It will be alright. You are having a panic attack. Try to breathe along with me, alright?"
I don't know if it is really a panic attack because I am very aware of everything that is happening, but I try to follow the Slytherin's directions. I don't know how long we stay like this, hand in hand in the dark, as he breathes heavily for me, blowing, "Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale..."
Eventually, it starts to work, and my breathing calms down, even though my tears still flow. At that moment, a poignant feeling of loneliness grips me, and all of a sudden, I want Ewald to hold me in his arms. It is almost painful. He must sense that my mood has shifted because he asks me,
"What is it?"
"Nothing," I say, trying to pull my hand away from his.
He does not let me.
"There is something. Tell me what is happening."
"I can't."
I want a hug, but I cannot admit it. And I am afraid of physical contact. Afraid of being even more pathetic. Afraid that he will hurt me. Afraid that he will judge me. Afraid of pushing him away, that he will reject me. As if witnessing one of my episodes is not enough. Well, if we overlook my suicide attempt from the evening as well. I do not need this. Cursed body. Fucking desires. Bloody mind.
"It will be alright, Vivian. I am not going to judge you, you know. We're past that, aren't we?" he says, not without a hint of irony. "What is blocking you?"
I remain silent. I hear the fatigue in the Slytherin's voice, and I am also exhausted, caught up in the revelations and emotions. Yet he does not give up. He waits for me to respond. Then, he finally suggests, hesitantly,
"We could reopen our link for a few seconds, if you want. If you think that would make it easier. I'm not sure it's a good idea after the day we've had, but if it can help you... Some things are hard to put into words."
He is right, and at the same time not on this occasion. Because I could simply say to him, "Can you give me a hug?" like I did with Quentin sometimes, long ago. But I am not capable of that. And Ewald does not seem to be discouraged. And then, with this need for warmth has come a great vulnerability, mixed with exhaustion and my raw emotions. So, after an even longer silence, I finally nod timidly, almost regretting opening my mind to our connection. And I know that my friend senses the shame, the fear, and a bit of all the emotions that resonate within me. He also perceives my question. In our exhausted state, his own barriers are not impermeable, and without even trying, I feel his worry, his desire to do well, his anger towards himself and towards me, his feeling of betrayal, and I perceive that he is thinking of his mother. I don't have time to understand why, because after all the experiences of mental magic we have had today, our connection is painful, and he breaks contact rather quickly.
Without saying a word, he gets down from his hammock and extends his arms towards me in an inviting gesture that painfully reminds me of Quentin again. I know he is leaving the initiative of contact to me intentionally. I know he has sensed my difficulty in accepting such close contact, even though paradoxically, I want it. But at that moment, this movement brings back memories of my lost love. Nevertheless, I slowly get down from the hammock, and cautiously, I lean against him. His arms close gently around me, and despite myself, new tears escape me. The memory of Quentin is like an open wound, and I have not willingly been in someone's arms since him.
"Do you want me to let go? Am I doing something wrong?"
"No! No, don't worry... It's just that... Quentin used to give me hugs. I miss him."
A few moments pass in silence, then Ewald gently asks:
"Do you know what happened to him?"
I pull away a little from him to reply:
"I know he passed his Bac with honours. And his LinkedIn profile says he works in IT. That's all."
We sit softly on the floor, me still pressed against him, who must feel that I still need it. I hope I am not bothering him. I feel a pang in my heart at having said this information out loud, having kept it buried inside me for so long—precious glimpses of a life in which I will no longer play a part.
"You could find him, you know? Even if you respect the magical secret, you could see him again by pretending to be a child."
"No, that would just be more painful. Being so close to him without him recognising me? No. Anyway, I wouldn't want to tell him the truth either. I haven't belonged in his life for a long time. If he still remembers me, such a meeting would only make him suffer. If he doesn't remember, if he doesn't care about me any more, which is likely, that would hurt far too much. Just the idea of seeing him is painful. And if he still cares about me, how could I tell him that I'm just going to die again? No, that's out of the question. I don't want to talk about this any more."
Ewald doesn't press further, and we remain silent for a few minutes, my head resting on his shoulder, my body leaning against him, his arm around my shoulders and his other hand in mine. I gradually feel myself slipping away; I am dizzy with fatigue, and eventually, I must fall asleep because at one point, I vaguely feel him lift me, and I cling to his neck like a child. He lays me down in my hammock, and sleep finally takes me.
oOo
I wake up painfully at the sound of my name. Arthur is in front of my hammock, and I sit up abruptly. I'm glad he didn't touch me to wake me, but I'm shocked I didn't sense his presence earlier.
"Hello, Vivian. How are you?"
"Hello... Where's Ewald?"
The atmosphere is strange; I wonder if he feels it too.
"He's downstairs, talking with Alphonse. How do you feel?"
"Tired. What time is it?"
For once, Arthur doesn't press and simply responds:
"We need to go down to eat now if we don't want to miss breakfast. And Vivian, we don't have time right now, but we need to talk. You must suspect that."
I let out a deep sigh before asking:
"Are you going to stay here long? I'd like to change."
Arthur blushes slightly and nods.
"I'll turn my back. Sorry, we can't risk you trying to hang yourself with your hammock or anything."
I hold back the biting retort that comes to my lips. I want them to leave me alone. To let me die. I quickly put on a clean t-shirt and my uniform. I would have liked to change my underwear, but I'm not going to do that with someone just a couple of steps away from me. When I'm done, I tell Arthur, and we head down through the hatch. Ewald and Alphonse look up at our arrival, interrupting their conversation. Even though his uniform is immaculate, Ewald looks tired. Alphonse, on the other hand, has a serious expression that I've only seen when we talked on the roof of the construction building, where he spoke to me about the difficulty of living between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.
I'm tense, tired, and irritated. I just pretend to be deeply indifferent, letting the others make decisions. I greet the two boys and follow the trio as they lead me to the Great Hall for breakfast. On the way, Ewald explains that Alphonse will skip classes today to stay with me. I point out that I'll need my wand for my classes, and he nods, looking exhausted.
"I'll give it back to you in front of the class, and you'll return it to me afterwards."
"Are you sure about this, Slide?" Alphonse interjects, looking like he thinks Ewald has lost his mind.
"Yes," he replies calmly. "I know Vivian won't do anything that people could see. The risk of getting caught is too great."
Alphonse says nothing in response, though he doesn't look entirely convinced. We eventually reach the Great Hall and sit together at the Ravenclaw table—Arthur and Alphonse facing me, and Ewald next to me, watching me carefully despite his fatigue. I don't try anything, even though the urge to cut myself gnaws at me. I only eat when I feel too closely watched, in small amounts. I'm not really hungry.
A thought crosses my mind, comforting me a little: the holidays start this evening, and even though I didn't sign up to go home, which would have suited me, I'll have to stay at the castle. But I doubt all the boys will stay. I'm fairly sure they'll all go home to their families, and while Alphonse might opt out, I'm certain Arthur won't. As for Ewald, I don't know. His family situation seems complicated and mysterious, and I know very little beyond what I learned in the memory he shared with me some time ago. It will be much easier to die if they're not all here watching me.
Right after, a stab of anxiety hits my stomach. If they think they can't keep an eye on me enough, they'll probably tell the adults. And then, who knows what will happen, apart from me being in even more trouble. Just in case, I decide to put on as good a front as possible today, to reassure them. I could even tell them how much talking to them helped, or some nonsense like that, to put their minds at ease...
With that in mind, I force myself not to bite myself nor dig my nails into my skin, just in case Ewald might notice.
Finally, breakfast ends and the Seventh-years head to their classroom, not without a last worried glance from Arthur. I find myself alone with Alphonse, and I realise I'm immediately a bit more tense. Ewald's presence had soothed me a little, I think, and being in the group protected me somewhat from direct questions. Al' leads me back towards my tower, claiming he can't risk being seen in the corridors since he's skipping class. I follow without protesting, since it probably wouldn't achieve much and I don't really have the energy for it. I don't speak, not even when we arrive at our destination. Al' remains silent as well at first, then he starts pacing, suddenly letting out a sharp sigh as he breaks the silence.
"How could you do something like that and stay silent about it?"
I give him a 2/20 for originality. Then I briefly weigh the pros and cons of giving him an answer. Knowing him, he's going to insist until I talk, so I might as well save time, I guess.
"I explained it yesterday, didn't I?"
The tension on his face suggests he's debating whether or not to hit me. I wonder what it's like to have such strong emotions. It's been a long time since I've fully felt anything but pain. And the occasional flickers of rage, but those are quickly extinguished because nothing is worth it. I watch the Gryffindor with curiosity, wondering if he'll give in to the temptation. He angrily strides towards the nearest wall and punches it. Not hard enough to seriously hurt himself, but enough to graze his knuckles. I feel the urge to hurt myself too. I don't move. Eventually, he sits next to me, only just calmer, leaving about thirty centimetres between us.
"I'm not going to put up with you playing games with me, Viv'. I don't know what to do, okay? I don't know what to say, I'm scared of messing it all up, and at the same time, I'm so angry with you! I just want an honest conversation, okay? I just want you to talk, to answer my questions. Because you see, I don't know what to do, but I know I have to do something. I know I don't want to lose you. And I know I messed up too, because I should have realised sooner that something was going on. I haven't lost you yet, I have a chance to fix things, so you can behave like a little shit all you want, but I'm going to get my answers."
I sigh, opening up a little despite myself at his honesty.
"You don't have to feel guilty about that, I made sure to keep my secrets."
"Don't worry, my guilt is well balanced by my anger. Now, are you going to give me some explanations?"
I sigh even more deeply, resigned.
"Arthur has really rubbed off on you."
"Arthur? What do you mean?"
"He's the one who's always pestering me for explanations, usually."
Al' gives me a light, friendly punch on the shoulder.
"Very funny. Are you going to answer my questions now?"
"What do you want to know?"
"First off, why didn't you say anything, really? Why didn't you trust us?"
"Because I've learned not to trust anyone. I said what was necessary, but I never planned on staying alive, you see? And once I got attached to you lot anyway, I didn't want to make you suffer, so I had that extra reason to stay quiet."
"Yet you told me some things when you were at mine. Are you going to tell me you think you were wrong?"
"Of course. I wanted to help you, I don't regret our conversation on the building, but I should have shared fewer details."
"Were you talking about Quentin that night?"
I'm a bit surprised he remembers, but I answer, a little reluctantly,
"Yes."
Al stays silent for a few seconds, as if he senses the pain rising in me just from mentioning my lost love.
"You know, I kind of won in a way! You trusted me enough to come to mine, even if you twisted the truths you gave me."
He says that with a teasing smile that fades when I respond:
"Not really, I just thought it was better than going to my parents' or spending my holidays avoiding the girls in my dorm. I didn't sleep well because I was wary. I still am. It's nothing personal. I just can't trust."
"But why? None of us would ever hurt you!"
"Have you ever been bullied at school?"
"A bit, when I was five. Some kids made fun of me, calling me frog, but it stopped pretty quickly because I hung out with Lucian, and I made friends. Why?"
"I don't know if you'll understand then, but I lived through that my whole first life. And so, no matter where I go, or used to go, as soon as strangers laugh near me, I feel like they're mocking me. Do you know that feeling?"
"I think I get what you mean. I felt like that until I got to Hogwarts, and even a bit now."
"Well, trust is the same. No matter if all the signals are positive, if I rationally think I could trust some people... I thought I could trust my brother, you know? Or even Quentin to be there like he promised. And he wasn't. I don't blame him, though. I know I was impossible to deal with, and he had to carry it all. It had to end at some point, and he did me a lot of good while it lasted."
"Yeah, but still, he could've handled it better..."
"He's the only person who helped me, he did what he could. I never wanted to be saved, and he still tried. He was a good person. Well, he still is, I suppose."
"Do you know what happened to him?"
"Not really. I googled his name now and then, I know he got his BAC and works in IT, but that's about it. He doesn't share his private life online, or at least not anywhere I can access."
"And you never tried to contact him? You never wanted to?"
"No, I haven't tried. I wanted to, in a way, because I missed him, I still do. But the whole plan was to let him live his life. What's the point of talking to him when I don't intend to live? Can we talk about something else?"
Al' seems a bit frustrated, but eventually says,
"Alright, fine. In that case, explain to me how you ended up in this body?"
The question was obvious, yet I didn't see it coming. I remember Ewald's advice, but I'm not sure Alphonse will drop the matter this time. I could lie, but I don't know what Ewald might tell Arthur, or if I'll be able to tell him what I said to Alphonse so our stories match, though I suppose I could warn him through our bond. I can tell the Gryffindor is getting impatient, so I answer reluctantly:
"I only found out very recently, I didn't understand either. Look, Al', you don't really need to know, okay? It's information that could be dangerous, and Ewald asked me not to talk about it for now."
"He knows?"
"He's the one who unlocked some of my memories that explain why I'm alive," I admit, grudgingly. "What time is it?" I ask, suddenly inspired.
Al' quickly casts a Tempus. It's 9:25.
"I should go get my stuff for later. And ideally, I should check in with Scorpius and his friends for the presentation we have to give," I say.
"And Arthur, does he know too?" Al' asks with a hurt tone in his voice that I don't quite understand.
"Arthur? No, he doesn't know more than you. In fact, he knows even less because he's always been too intrusive. Why?" I ask, a bit surprised.
"For nothing. I'll wait for Ewald to join us, but I want those explanations."
He sighs, then stands up.
"We can go get your stuff."
I don't insist and follow him. Since it's Alphonse, I'll eventually figure out what's bothering him, if it's important. We take a few detours to avoid the DADA classroom where Al' is supposed to be at this time, and we reach the common room without any trouble. It's not very crowded at this time of day. Al' grabs me by the arm as I start heading up the stairs to my dorm. I immediately pull away, but stop.
"Wait for me."
"How do you plan on going up? The stairs are enchanted."
"You'll see," replies the Gryffindor with a mischievous smile.
He casts Homnium revelo towards the ceiling and looks satisfied when the spell reveals my dormitory to beempty. He then glances around quickly to check if anyone's paying attention to us before pulling his broom out of his pocket, restoring it to its normal size, and mounting it. He lifts himself just a few centimetres off the ground and quickly flies up the stairs, which, against all expectations, don't transform into a slide. He gestures for me to follow, and I do, resigned. Can't I have two minutes alone? Not that they're wrong, of course. I probably could have killed myself if he'd left me alone in the dorm. Well, at the very least, I could have cut myself, though with the spells protecting the students, I likely wouldn't have died.
I reluctantly unlock my trunk in front of my friend, who hears me whisper the name of my lost love. He's watching me too closely and I don't dare retrieving one of my blades, unfortunately. Once I'm done, we head back downstairs, I go a bit ahead to avoid him being caught coming out of the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory. We leave the common room without any trouble. By the time we do all this, it's almost time for my class, so Al' accompanies me to my classroom. Ewald and Arthur join us a few minutes later, just before my class starts. Since there are many students in the corridor, the Slytherin pulls me a bit to the side to return my wand.
"How do you feel?"
"Perfectly fine," I reply with irony.
"I'm counting on you to let me know if there's a problem during your lesson," says Ewald, pointing to his temple. I feel the tug indicating that he's trying to connect mentally with me.
"I'll be there just in case."
"Is it too much to ask for everyone to just leave me alone? Madame Aster isn't a monster, you know?"
Ewald sends me mixed feelings of vague amusement and concern before letting me go into my classroom.
"I'd like you not to close the communication during your lesson," he adds as I sit down with Scorpius and his friends. I stifle a sigh. This is going to be unmanageable.
The teacher starts the lesson, and I deflect Scorpius's questions, who thinks that I look tired. We don't have a presentation due for this hour, and the teacher gives a lesson on the different Christmas traditions, magical and Muggle, asking everyone to participate in turn. I quickly fulfil my task, relieved to see that Ewald isn't too present after all, even if it puts me on edge to imagine him on the other side of the classroom wall, attentive to the feelings I might let slip through. I feel like cutting. I rummage through my pencil case, just in case I left a blade inside, but there isn't any. I take a pencil and methodically stab the point into my wrist, over and over (yes, I'm still not convinced by magical writing utensils). I note that it could be sharper, and suddenly realise that there's a blade on my sharpener.
I take my time to ensure that neither Scorpius nor his friends notice what I'm doing, carefully unscrewing the blade from my sharpener. I'm mindful not to let the sharp motivation driving me leak through the mental link. Finally, I free the blade and slip it gently under the table, wiping it against my clothes before letting it glide over my skin. I reach as high as I can on my arm and, at last, cut myself. Relief is instant. The tension ebbs away as the blood rises to the surface, and I take a deep breath.
"Vivian, is something going on?"
Damn it.
"We're going over Muggle Christmas traditions, it's pretty funny to hear wizards talk about Santa Claus," I improvise. He must have sensed my mood shift. From then on, I'm careful to keep control of what I let slip through the link.
The rest of the lesson passes quietly. I cut a bit more and then slowly screw the blade back into place, hoping it will make it harder to summon with Accio. I start thinking: I'd like to hide the cuts, but I can't really cast another glamour without deactivating the old one first. It might work, but it would draw more on my magic, and I can't afford that. Plus, the spells might conflict... Luckily, I had the presence of mind to cut in a somewhat discreet spot, but it's still not ideal. I consider deactivating my spell, but my neck is exposed, and Scorpius would likely notice me using my wand. I'm still not able to cast completely non-verbal spells. In the end, I leave things as they are. It's the safest option.
When I leave the classroom, Ewald and Arthur are still waiting, though Alphonse has disappeared. He seems to have decided to attend his class this period, probably to avoid too much risk. The seventh-years escort me to History of Magic, walking with me slightly apart from my group, ignoring the curious looks our trio attracts. Scorpius greets Arthur with a smile, and the Hufflepuff returns the greeting. We don't speak on the way, but I can feel my companions watching me closely, which really starts to irritate me.
The History of Magic class goes smoothly. About twenty minutes before the end, Ewald uses our mental link to communicate briefly, letting me know he has something to take care of and asking if I'll be alright. He emphasizes that Arthur will stay just in case. I assure him that everything will be fine, and after class, I join the Hufflepuff who leads me towards the Great Hall.
"Did your class go well?" he asks kindly.
"I survived," I respond with irony. Arthur flinches.
"I'd prefer if you avoided those kinds of jokes for now."
He glances around, as if he wants to say more, but seeing the number of students around us, he sighs and holds back.
"We really need to have a talk, and soon."
I remain silent, resisting the urge to point out that we're already having one, because I know perfectly well he means a serious conversation, and I'm afraid he might take my humour the wrong way. We finish the walk in silence and join Alphonse, already seated at the Hufflepuff table. Ewald joins us about ten minutes later, looking as impeccable as always. The boys look at him expectantly.
"Is everything sorted?" Alphonse asks impatiently.
Ewald nods, and Arthur lets out a small sigh of relief.
"Are you planning to tell me what's going on?" I ask, feigning a vague interest.
"We'll talk right after the meal, okay?" Ewald replies.
"Why not now?"
"Because I'm not sure how you'll react, and I think both of us would prefer to talk in peace," he answers honestly.
I bite my lip, wanting to press the issue, but I know he won't answer. I wonder what this is about. I imagine it involves me. Could he have told someone about what happened? Surely not. I hope not. I want to trust him, but every time I've thought that in the past, I've been betrayed. I start to panic a bit, though I keep my face calm. I study the expressions of those around me. Arthur just looks relieved, a look shared by Ewald, or so it seems as I observe him closely. Alphonse appears impatient and restless, but he holds himself in check, staying quiet. That's a shame, as I might have gleaned some clues from him. But honestly, I don't even feel like making the effort to try. If they've already betrayed me, there's nothing I can do. If they plan to, I'll figure out how to stop them or to kill myself beforehand. I still have my sharpener blade, if not my wand, which Ewald quickly asks me to hand back over.
I eat just enough to avoid comments from Arthur or Ewald, who are watching me closely. As soon as everyone is done eating, we head to our HQ, with Ewald insisting he needs to talk to me before my Arithmancy class. The others follow us, of course. Once we're there, the seventh-year starts talking:
"You're coming to spend the Christmas holidays at my place, Vivian. I've spoken to Professor Longbottom, and he agreed."
"That's kind of you to invite me, but I'd rather stay at the castle."
"I would have preferred to give you the choice, Vivian, but I have to go home for the holidays, Arthur too, and Al's supposed to go to France."
"Oh, but you know, I'm not afraid of staying at the castle alone."
"Don't mess with us, Vivian!" Arthur interrupts. I sigh.
"I suppose if I don't come, you'll go and tell Madam Pomfrey everything?"
"Exactly!" says Arthur, still upset.
"You do realize this is going to get really annoying, right? I need a bit of privacy, you know?"
"If we're bothering you that much, we can go to the infirmary right now, no problem for me," responds the Hufflepuff sharply. The others don't say anything, but I know they all agree. I clench my fists.
"I'll go to Ewald's." And I'll find a way to escape and end it all, I think to myself.
The tension lingers in the room, but I sense the others relax slightly. Ewald soon leaves for his Arithmancy class, his mind brushing against mine as he goes. I begrudgingly accept the connection, and he transmits:
"I'm sorry to force your hand like this, it's the only acceptable solution I've found for now. We'll talk later."
I don't bother replying. After the seventh-year softly closes the door behind him, there's a brief moment of silence before Arthur suggests teaching Al' how to play Dominaris. Given that it's a better option than a serious conversation, and it helps pass the time, I go along with it without protest. For once, I won't be the one who understands the least of what's going on, so I guess I might as well enjoy it…
I focus on not thinking about the fact that I'll be under surveillance again, that I'll have to go to Ewald's. I distract myself from all that for a while by thinking about him. I have no idea what awaits me, because I have no idea what his life outside of Hogwarts is like. I don't know where he lives, or with whom. Maybe his grandmother, whom I saw in one of his memories? These questions occupy my mind until Arthur leaves for class. We then head back to my tower, to have some peace and quiet, and to avoid Alphonse getting caught skipping class (even though it would have suited me just fine, he's not about to get caught willingly). Around that time, the stress starts building up in me more and more. I'm afraid of being alone with Ewald, even if I trust him a little. I'm afraid of being under surveillance until my friends run out of solutions and report me. I need to cut. I rub my arm where my cuts from the morning are, to bring the pain back. It doesn't calm me down. Al' asks fewer questions than this morning, but he still tries to make conversation with me, and eventually notices something is wrong.
"Viv', what's going on with you?"
"Nothing," I say sharply. "I'm fine."
"I think I already told you that this morning. Don't lie to me. Especially when it's so obvious that you're not fine. What's wrong?"
"I want to cut."
Al' seems momentarily thrown off, then replies:
"Why?"
"Because it helps me feel better."
"That's just stupid, but what I mean is why do you want to do that? What triggered it?"
"Why do you think it's stupid?"
"Because I don't see how cutting yourself would help you feel better. You're just going to hurt yourself, I don't see what you're getting out of it."
"Yet you know very well that it works."
"What do you mean?"
"When you're angry, you sometimes hit things, right? You did that this morning. Why do you do that? What do you feel in those moments?"
Al' goes quiet for a moment, surprised.
"I guess it helps me calm down. But it's not the same!"
"Yes, it's exactly the same. It helps calm me down. It's just that for me, hitting things barely helps. It's the same when I bite myself," I say, bringing my hand to my teeth.
"Hey! Stop it!" Alphonse shouts, taking two steps towards me.
"Why? It's nothing," I say, though I still remove my hand from my mouth, to avoid making him feel like he has to touch me. "Do you want me to be honest? If you want me to stay alive, letting me cut is a good idea. That's how I survived, what did you think? It's the only thing that calms me down, it's a way to cope, it's an alternative to suicide."
Al' doesn't say anything, for once at a loss for words, at least temporarily. I cross my arms and slide down the wall I was leaning against to sit on the floor. I grip my arms, "reactivating" the cuts on the left, trying to calm myself down. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. There's no way I'm going to lose it in front of Alphonse. What happened last night with Ewald was already too much. Alphonse sits down next to me with a sigh. His voice is softer when he speaks again.
"Does it really help you to cut? Can you try to explain what it does? And more importantly, don't you have any alternatives?"
Since he's making an effort and seems genuinely willing to listen, I decide to answer him honestly. Plus, it might help distract me a bit if I'm lucky.
"That's a lot of questions… If you don't mind, I'll answer them in a random order."
He nods, so I continue.
"Alternatives… I have everything that brings me relief that isn't cutting, like hitting walls or biting myself, but I imagine that's not really what you were thinking of..."
I take a few seconds to brace myself for what I'm about to say, and then I continue, "When I was still Aurore, talking to Quentin sometimes helped me feel better. And especially, if we were together and I wasn't feeling well, he'd gotten into the habit of giving me hugs. He was the first person whose touch I wanted after what had happened with my brother. He was the first person I ever hugged, and it was with him that I relearned how to handle physical contact, even if it was mostly just his. It felt so good… And it hurt so much when he couldn't be there. After that, I'd still cut sometimes, of course, but I did it less. I tried to make an effort. But now, no, I don't have any alternatives."
I pause briefly before continuing.
"As for your other questions, yes, cutting helps me. Sometimes, I can't think properly because all my thoughts are going in the same direction, and the only way to get out of that spiral, to calm myself down, is that. Cutting myself helps ground me in reality. It can serve other purposes too. Sometimes I use it to punish myself, when I've done or said things I shouldn't have. And it's a way for me to express my pain somewhere, even if no one else sees it, it relieves me in that way. Sometimes I hate myself, and it's a good outlet. It helps me hold on instead of jumping straight to suicide… I think that's all I can think of for now. What was your other question?"
"What does it do to you, cutting yourself?"
"You mean, what do I feel when I do it? Physically or mentally?"
"Both, if you don't mind talking about it."
"Well, mentally, I've already kind of answered. But basically, when I cut, it doesn't really hurt, especially at the beginning, though after a while the cuts tend to burn a bit. At first, when I cut, it relieves me because I'm doing it, and I often drink my blood, I like the taste of it. Afterward, when it starts to burn, the pain soothes me."
"Are you a masochist?"
"Not at all, I don't enjoy suffering. But in some cases, pain is a relief."
Like the cut burning on my left arm that I keep fiddling with. I can't help imagining where I could cut myself. I want it so badly. The hesitant voice of my companion pulls me from my tempting thoughts.
"Do you think it could help you if I gave you a hug?"
I stare at him, surprised. Alphonse? Hugging me? He looks genuinely concerned, his impulsiveness almost gone in the face of his seriousness, so I take the time to really consider his offer.
"I don't think so, sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm afraid it would do me more harm than good."
"You're afraid of me." His statement sounds like a fact.
"Not exactly, I just can't control it. I can't stand physical contact."
"But you understand that I can't let you cut yourself, right?" he says, with a desperate tone in his voice.
"Why not? It would do me good for a negligible injury. Thinking about it rationally, I can guarantee that the physical pain would be far less than the mental pain, and it would also help relieve the first."
I don't tell him that I understand because, in truth, I wouldn't let him cut himself if our roles were reversed. I keep quiet about the fact that I'm aware I shouldn't cut myself. I want it too much, need it too much to be fully honest with him. Who knows, maybe he'll let me cut myself, just a little. A dark glimmer of hope sparks within me, mixed with complicated and fascinating feelings; it feels like a game to me in a way, and at the same time I desperately want him to let me do it.
"We'll try to avoid that, okay?" Al' says in a fake joking tone. "We should probably talk about something else; you need to think about something different."
And just like that, the hope fades, and I feel disappointed despite myself. That he changes the subject just when I felt we were talking about something vital. As if it wasn't that important. As if I could ignore the chaos in my mind that's calling for relief. Al' starts talking about pranks he pulled on Von Saxen or Urgalt, depending on the subjects where he needed points, telling the story in a way that would probably have made me genuinely laugh under normal circumstances about how each of them made my friend pay for his tricks. Now that the Gryffindor is talking without me having to really respond or think, my mind starts to spiral again. I think back to my memories. I think of all the places my blade could go. I consider all the ways I could kill myself without leaving the room, if it weren't for those damn spells preventing students from dying. There isn't much to work with, but I still find several options. I could hang myself with my clothes. I could use my pencil sharpener blade to slice my jugular or my arms, even though the arms would be less effective. I could dive head first from my trapdoor to break my neck. I keep fiddling with my left arm, but the relief I'm waiting for doesn't come. I bite myself discreetly. Not enough, I imagine, because Alphonse interrupts his monologue.
"Stop that, Vivian, please."
"Then let me cut myself. I'll feel better afterwards, I swear!"
"It's going to be alright, Viv', in a few hours we'll be on the train; it'll do you good to leave Hogwarts."
"But you don't understand that's precisely the problem? I just want to die, not be watched twenty-four seven! Do you think it reassures me to go to Ewald's? The only time I feel safe is when I'm alone!"
"We can't let you die! Do you think it pleases us to put that kind of pressure on you?"
"I know, I'm sorry. I know. I'm just losing it; I need to cut myself. Please, just three cuts. No more. Please."
"How can I call myself your friend and let you do something like that?"
"I know it's hard, but it's really the only thing to make me feel better. And that's something friends do, right? Help each other feel better? You don't even have to look at what I'm doing; I promise I won't kill myself. Anyway, the castle has spells to prevent students from dying. You can trust me. But I really need it."
Al' clenches his fists, raises one toward the ground, and I expect him to slam it down violently, but he stops about twenty centimetres from the floor, as if drained of strength. He looks at me with a sort of surprise and lowers his arms.
"I'm begging you, Al', let me cut. Please. Please."
What was once almost distracting, in the unhealthy way I classify as distracting, in my little crazy games, has just become uncomfortable for me. I'm losing control completely. I need to cut. The Gryffindor closes his eyes for a moment, then responds, his voice low and pained.
"I can't let you do that without at least trying everything I can. Let me give you a hug. If it really doesn't work… I guess I'll let you cut. But I want you to really try to calm down, not pretend it doesn't work just to get what you want."
"Are you sure?" I ask, despite myself. I can't help it even as he offers to give me what I want.
"Well, I'd prefer you to give up on cutting; is that the case?"
"You know the answer."
"Then damn it, you know mine."
There's a moment of hesitation, then Al' stands up and extends his hand to help me join him. I take it, and my mind feels detached; I feel like a spectator of this moment rather than an actress. I'm dissociating like crazy. Al' wraps his arms around me, a bit too tightly, and my head is pressed against his chest. I can't help but notice his scent, warm, tinged with a hint of sweat, and I note the differences between this hug and the one Ewald gave me last night. He didn't really ask for my opinion. He holds me a bit too tight, but just enough for me to breathe. It feels like everything is happening too quickly. I don't necessarily feel bad, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable. And what's certain is that it doesn't relieve me. I gently wrap my arms around him, lightly, and I stay there for a few moments, but my discomfort grows. I eventually shift, and to my great relief, he almost immediately releases me.
"Are you feeling better?" he asks, hope clear in his voice.
"Sorry…"
I reply simply, and his face darkens. He slowly sits back down. I let myself fall next to him, almost cheerful now that I know relief is close, even if I'm still tense, uncertain that he'll really let me do it.
"Viv', I really prefer that you avoid it, but if you can't help yourself, I have conditions."
"Like what?" I ask, omitting to specify that I could, in fact, stop myself. It would just be counterproductive for me.
"You do it in front of me, close enough for me to stop you if needed. I'll have my wand ready just in case. You do three cuts, no more. And you let me tend to you afterward. I don't know any healing spells, but I know how to bandage."
"I'd prefer you to avoid the bandaging; it heals well in the open air."
"These are my conditions, Vivian."
"Fine," I say, resigned. He didn't think to specify the depth or length of the cuts he allows me, but I'm not sure I want to play stupid games with him.
"I don't have any blade on me, though."
"I have what I need," I admit. He's going to know about my sharpener blade. Too bad. I always have more blades in my trunk, if needed.
He watches me take my kit from my bag, then grab my sharpener. His gaze lights up with understanding when I start to unscrew the blade. I quickly wipe it on my trousers, but he intervenes as I begin to bare my forearm.
"Let me disinfect that."
If it helps me feels better… I offer him my weapon, hoping he won't take it from me for good. He casts an Incendio and holds the blade above the fire for a few seconds before cutting off his spell with a curse.
"Ouch, that burns!"
He hands me the blade, shaking his injured hand. I take it with a "thank you" and bring it closer to my arm. Alphonse stops flailing to move closer to me.
"I'd really prefer that you avoid it, Viv'."
I don't respond. Al' clenches his fists. I place the blade against my skin. I make a swift, shallow line on my forearm. The cut burns and starts to bleed a little. I take a deep breath, the tension leaving me a bit. It's less effective than usual; I'm not used to being watched. Al' lets out a curse. The knuckles of his clenched fists are white with tension. I draw a second line, parallel to the first, pressing a bit harder. I follow it up with the third; this time I keep the blade pressed against my skin, tracing a long red line and pressing as hard as I dare.
"Enough, Vivian," Al' says, reaching out toward me to stop. I offer him the blade before he can touch me, to avoid contact. The cut isn't as deep as I would've liked, but it's something. I run my finger over the wounds to gather some blood, which I then lick. I breathe.
"Let me take care of you."
"Wait for the blood to stop flowing, please; it won't last very long."
He sits back against the wall, looking resigned.
"Okay, but afterward, you let me take care of you."
"Don't worry."
I sit next to him and continue to drink my blood. After a few minutes, I hear Al' relaunch an Incendio and turn toward him. He's disinfecting my blade again.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm wondering what it feels like to cut oneself," my companion says, stopping his spell.
"And you think trying would be a good idea?"
"It's the simplest way to find out, right?"
"That's a stupid idea. You don't need to do that."
Is he serious? Why would he want to do this? I don't want him to cut himself.
"Why would it be a good idea for you but not for me?"
"Because you don't need that. Just because it relieves me doesn't mean it's a good thing; it's just a necessary evil in my case. In yours, it wouldn't bring anything good."
"I just want to try. It might help me understand you better."
"I don't want you to understand me through that kind of process."
"Why not?"
"Because if you understand me, it means you would have gained something from cutting yourself, and you might do it again. I don't want you to go down that path. Please, Al."
"Don't worry; I'll only do it once. It's my choice, isn't it?"
Suddenly, I feel very fragile. I can't accept him doing this. I can't stop him from doing it either because it's his body, and indeed his decision. And I already feel so out of place telling him not to do it.
"Trust me, it won't help. You're just going to hurt."
"I've been through worse, you know?"
"Why do you really want to do this?"
"To know what it feels like. I'm curious," Alphonse replies, my irritation growing. Does he think this is fun?
"I guess I also feel guilty for letting you do it, and it seems fair to suffer too," he adds, his voice darker.
Immediately, a wave of self-hatred washes over me, along with fear. With a reason like that, he might actually enjoy the experience, and Al' must not, cannot go down that path. This is my fault.
"That's not a good reason to do it, Al'."
"Are you going to stop me?"
"How do you want me to stop you? You have a wand and my blade. I know I'm out of place telling you not to do this; I know it's hypocritical on my part. But at worst, take it differently: I'm telling you it's a stupid idea as an expert on the matter!"
"It'll be fine, Viv'. This isn't an experience I plan to repeat, whatever you think. But I want to understand, so I'm going to do it."
I bite my lip. I can't think of anything I could say that would make him give up on his idea. A part of me is curious and fascinated by what is happening. I am really disturbed. Damn, how did I end up watching a friend cut himself, because of me? He brings the blade to his forearm, and I feel a pang in my heart. He places the blade against his skin, lightly, and pulls slowly, letting out a small exclamation of pain or surprise. He barely makes a scratch at all. I am hypnotised by the blood that beads gently from his cut. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, bringing me back to my senses.
"It wasn't that bad," he comments.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine. And don't worry, I don't intend to do it again, even if it was an interesting experience. Now, let me take care of you."
"I'd prefer to do it myself," I say, backing away quickly.
"Why?"
"I just prefer it, that's all."
"And I prefer to take care of it; that's what we agreed on."
"I don't want you to touch my arm."
"Why?"
"If you remember a bit about what happened to me, I think you can guess why."
Al' makes a grimace of understanding.
"I understand, but I'll only touch you there, okay? You can trust me. I held you in my arms earlier, didn't I?"
"Why don't you want to let me do it?"
"Because it's easier to bandage someone else than to do it on yourself, and because I feel responsible in a way."
I sigh. His guilt is starting to become annoying, just as mine is overwhelming. He moves closer to me.
"If I ever make you too uncomfortable, you'll tell me."
I let him get closer; I don't want to fight any more. It's getting late, and I'd prefer that Ewald or Arthur don't arrive before all evidence of what just happened is hidden. Al' transforms some pieces of fabric into bandages and uses an Aquamenti to clean my cuts. Only the last one still bleeds a bit. It's when he places his fingers on my arm to put on the bandage that he understands why I didn't want him to touch me. He flinches in surprise, tracing one of my scars with his fingertips. He lets go of me.
"What is this?"
I look away.
"Vivian?"
"My scars. What did you think, that more than ten years of self-harm left no marks?" I ask bitterly.
"How do you manage to hide them?"
"I use a spell."
"And that's why you didn't want me to heal you?"
"Yes," I admit "Even if I also hate being touched because of my traumas."
Al' pauses, looking unsure how to react.
"Would you be willing to show them to me?"
"Why would I do that?"
"I'm sorry, I don't want to bother you! I'm just curious, but it's probably inappropriate; forget it!" Alphonse says, a bit panicked.
"It's okay," I sigh. "I suppose it's not very healthy, but there isn't much that is healthy in my life. I'm willing to, but on one condition."
"What condition?"
"In exchange, you let me use your wand to recast the spell; I can't afford to walk around without it."
"I can't let you use my wand; I'll cast the spell for you."
"I need to cast it because it draws on the magic of the caster, and if you move away from me, it will fall. Plus, I'm used to keeping it active. If you're worried that I'll do something you deem stupid, you can just keep a hand on my wrist while I cast the spell, just in case, but you can trust me," I reply, repeating his own words back to him.
The Gryffindor hesitates a bit, then responds:
"We'll see. First, let me finish healing you."
I have a double interest in him agreeing. To hide my new cuts and the bandage, of course, but also the ones I made during class. I really don't want Ewald, or worse, Arthur, to see what I've done.
My companion quickly finished bandaging my wounds. Then he nodded.
"It's okay."
"For what?"
"For your spell; I'll let you cast it."
"What made you decide?" I ask, curious.
"I need to know if you've done anything else that you're hiding."
I sigh. He's starting to become as paranoid as Arthur. I check that my scarf covers my neck well. He doesn't need to see more than necessary.
"Very well. Cast me a Finite."
Alphonse casts the spell. My glamour stops draining my reserves.
"Bloody hell!" Alphonse exclaims.
He grabs my arm, pulling me towards him as if to see better. I immediately pull away.
"I can't believe it's this bad. I can't believe I didn't pick up on it sooner, either."
"It's fine, Al'; it's nothing."
"Nothing?!" the Gryffindor starts shouting. "It's nothing?! Do you realise that I can't find a single bloody centimetre intact on your arm?"
"My hands seem to be in pretty good shape."
Al' raises his hand as if to hit me, but he stops himself.
"Stop taking this lightly. It's serious, all of this—your life, your body. It's not a game! I really care about you; do you understand that? And Arthur cares about you, and Ewald cares about you, and so do your parents. Just because you've been through some shit doesn't mean you can treat everything like it doesn't matter!"
"I don't allow you to say such things. You say I take all this lightly? You're the one who's doing that. Do you think I enjoy cutting? That I want to commit suicide for fun? I survived; I've lived eleven years in this body, and in order to survive, I did what I had to do. I've always been on my own! Do you think I take all this like a game? But do you think one can survive by taking everything on the chin at full force? Sometimes madness is the only way to preserve the little mental health one has left. And even then, I've never totally let myself go. I could have lost myself a thousand times; it was so tempting! And yet I've held on, and I'm here. So forgive me for being broken; forgive me for having survived! And don't worry, I fully intend to fix that last point!"
Al' stares at me for a few seconds with wide eyes, surprised by my vehemence. I myself don't know what came over me. I punch the wall, then another, and another, until Al' pulls me back. I don't resist, simply freeing myself from his grip.
"Stop!"
I look at him coldly.
"Let me put my spell back on; I don't know when the others will arrive."
"Vivian, the discussion isn't over! I'm sorry if you took what I said as a reproach; I'm scared, okay? I don't want to lose you, and I feel like you want to detach from everything—"
Oh, but don't worry; it's not just an impression, I think, not being stupid enough to voice my thoughts aloud.
"I can't understand what you've been through, and I didn't expect what I saw. Can we sit down and talk calmly, please?"
I sigh, taking a moment to calm myself.
"I really need to restore the spell, please. Then we can talk more if you want. But I doubt there's much to say."
"Thank you."
He hands me his wand, not letting go, and I recite the incantation. Fortunately, the glamour requires almost no gesture; I would have had a hard time moving my hand correctly with Alphonse's still on the wand. I hope the spell works well. I have to try it twice, but it finally works out. Al' casts a Tempus after I return his wand to him. It's twenty-seven minutes past four; the others have already finished their last class. I imagine they won't be long in joining us.
"Viv', we don't have much time, but I want you to know that I'm really sorry, okay? I don't want to lose you, and everything I'm learning since yesterday means a lot to me. I'm sorry if I'm not receptive enough. Just keep talking to me, okay? You're not alone any more."
"That's nice of you," I reply.
"Are you mad at me?"
I sigh.
"No, I have no reason to be mad at you. However, can you keep what you saw and the fact that I cut myself between us?"
Al' nods.
"Don't worry. I'm not too proud of it, you know? But I'm keeping your blade."
I'm about to negotiate, but I hear a noise. Someone's coming. Indeed, a few seconds later, the passage opens, revealing the seventh years. That was close…
The rest of the day flies by quickly. With the house-elves taking care of loading the trunks onto the train, I have nothing to prepare, and the boys aren't planning to leave me alone anyway. I catch Ewald's gaze lingering on Alphonse's arm at one point, and I'm afraid he might ask questions about the cut, but he doesn't say anything. I can't help but feel guilty for not thinking to suggest that Al' cast a glamour on himself too. I really would prefer that this story stays between us. At one point, Al' goes to prepare his things, leaving me alone with Ewald and Arthur for a while, and then we all find ourselves together with Cian in a carriage heading towards the Hogwarts Express.
oOo
"Madness is always there, on the edge of my mind, almost always within reach, but I must not touch it.
Yet, even in my sleep, it insists on reminding me of its presence, and it would be easy to finally give in and banish the pain. Madness. Oh, once free, this fire within me would quickly consume me. It would urge me to climb high, towards the sky, and jump. And sometimes, when a flicker of madness escapes, people see it as a fantasy, a hidden oddity. When it is something else, while being exactly that. They tell me that I'm mad while laughing, but they wouldn't believe the truth… Not yet.
There is a state of extreme fantasy that I could attribute to madness or to an uninhibited me. Madness is always there, and I have only ever played with its lace edge. Madness..."
—Excerpt from a notebook of Aurore Berger, preserved by Quentin Lemage after her death—
So, looking forward to your feedback, especially on Alphonse's reactions.
Thanks again to everyone reviewing and/or favoriting/following the fic
See ya