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It's really great for me to have that extra boost of motivation. It's a virtuous circle: it motivates me with the translating, and translating anchors me to the story and help me writing the next chapter I have to write in French. I'm really productive these days (because thankfully I get comments on ao3) :)
So I hope you'll enjoy this one, and I'll probably see you soon!
I nearly fall upon arriving, but a helping hand catches me. Alphonse. I've never been comfortable on roundabouts, except in my very early childhood, and I really wonder how I ever enjoyed riding on those torture devices. Anyway, the Floo network and its spinning made me feel nauseous. I straighten up, trying to detach myself as quickly as possible from Alphonse's arm, who guided me out of the way in anticipation of Ewald's arrival. He doesn't take long to show up, and it's around this moment that I finally feel well enough to look around.
We have arrived in quite a large sitting room. The floor is made of dark wood, polished and fitted, and the fireplace that spat us out is very ornate. A still life hangs over one side of the room, while the opposite side features a large door, also made of wood. Heavy dark green curtains block the tall windows piercing the last wall. The furniture matches the floor, and three imposing sofas, the same colour as the curtains, form a semicircle around the fire. Ewald's mother is sitting in one of them, perched on the edge, in a dignified manner. I didn't even know you could look dignified on a sofa. In any case, I guess I know from whom the Slytherin takes after now. The grandmother has disappeared, I don't know where, but I won't complain about that. The silence strikes me after the tumult we just left behind.
"Is everything alright, Mother?" Ewald asks as soon as he arrives, seeming not at all inconvenienced by the journey.
"Yes, thank you. If you have no objections, I'll leave you to show your friends their rooms, I will retire for the moment."
The Slytherin nods in approval, still observing his mother with an unusual solicitude.
"Vivian-Eris, Alphonse, I'll see you at dinner."
And with that, we find ourselves alone. Ewald asks us to follow him, and we fall into step behind him. Behind the heavy wooden door, we discover a large corridor, which must be about two metres wide. Here too, the décor is both understated and opulent, yet also outdated. Large portraits decorate the walls, likely depicting our friend's ancestors. They remain silent as we pass, only turning their heads to watch us. Ewald nods at one or two of them as we go by. Alphonse looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't dare, surrounded by all these paintings.
We then take a wide staircase that leads us one floor higher (I still don't know which floor we are on, having not been able to see the outside yet). Here, there are no paintings, but still the same somewhat dusty atmosphere, even though the cleaning is impeccably done. Our footsteps are muffled by a thick dark green carpet. We pass by two closed doors before reaching a third one in front of which Ewald comments:
"My room. Vivian, I've set you up across the corridor."
Joining action to words, he opens the door that faces his own. We discover a room that is almost small considering the dimensions of the manor. It must still be as large as my room at my parents' house, if not larger. I don't dislike the room. It is well lit, decorated in pastel shades where green predominates. The furniture is minimal, yet still luxurious. A four-poster bed with pale green curtains and legs carved with plant motifs. A solid wooden desk, a large ornate chest of drawers, and a window behind curtains that match those of the bed complete the whole.
I take just enough time to put down my things before following my companions, the Slytherin wanting to show his room to Alphonse as well. It is almost at the end of the corridor, about ten metres away. It is of a similar size to mine, also decorated in shades of green. There is no wardrobe in this one, instead a large trunk that looks very old. The Gryffindor puts down his things and finally lets slip the remark that seemed to be itching him.
"What's your grandmother's problem?"
Ewald sighs, something he rarely allows himself to do.
"I told her quite late that you were coming, and I didn't give her a choice. Besides, it's the first time I've brought people here. She's used to being alone."
"Isn't this her place? And wait, even Arthur has never been here? How come?"
I never question Ewald, out of respect for him as much as from habit to avoid asking questions so I don't get any in return. But in a way, I'm glad Alphonse is putting his foot in it for once. I'm curious too, even though at the same time I'm afraid Ewald will shut down. However, with another sigh, he invites us to sit down before replying.
"I suppose I should give you some explanations. But I'd like it to stay between us, please. No one knows about all this, apart from Arthur, and I'd like it to remain that way."
"I promise!" Al' exclaims with his usual impetuosity, even though he looks serious, possibly interrupting the Slytherin. Ewald doesn't bother to ensure my agreement. He must know that whatever he reveals, he has information about me that serves as leverage to ensure my silence. Or maybe he just trusts me, I suppose. In any case, he continues.
"The manor belongs to my mother. My grandmother gave it to her as a dowry when she married, and she lives in an annexe, in the park. You probably won't see her again, Alphonse. Vivian, you might run into her at Christmas. And no, Arthur has never been here. My mother is… Fragile, and she has a lot of trouble with crowds. I wouldn't have invited you if it hadn't been a case of force majeure. And I wouldn't have done it without my mother's agreement. But she seems happy to meet my friends, even if she's a bit disappointed that Arthur isn't with us. I've talked a lot about him over time… Well. Do you have any other questions?"
Al' remains silent for a full second before asking THE question that bothers, in an unusually measured voice:
"Don't answer if you don't want to, but I've never had the chance to ask you… What about your father?"
Ewald grimaces slightly at the mention of the character.
"I'm willing to answer you, but not right now. This story isn't just mine; I'd prefer to think about it a bit before discussing it. Take your time to settle in a bit; we'll meet again in an hour. I need to go see my mother. I'm counting on you to keep an eye on Vivian, Alphonse. Stay around here, or in the lounge, so I don't have to send the house-elves looking for you."
Before he leaves the room, I sense my friend's mind trying to reach out to mine. I open our link in response.
"Sorry to leave you hanging like this, but I need to see my mother to make sure she's okay. Will you be alright?"
"Don't worry," I reply in the same way. "I've got something to read; I'll survive."
I feel his amusement through our link, and he gently closes the door behind him.
Al' stays silent for a few seconds after Ewald leaves, then sighs as well.
"I really didn't expect that. Did you know his family was like that? It doesn't seem fun…"
I choose my words carefully.
"No, I didn't really know. Ewald is rather secretive." And I'd feel like I was betraying him if I accidentally shared details about his life that he prefers to keep private, so I'll avoid saying much more.
"I've never really asked him too many questions," I add.
Al' grimaces.
"I hope I didn't bother him with mine. Then again, he could have prepared us a bit more. Although, I guess he didn't have much time…"
I shrug. I'm not quite sure what to say. I eventually settle on:
"I'm going to unpack a bit. See you soon?"
The Gryffindor agrees, and I head towards the door.
I stop, my hand on the handle.
"I suppose you're not going to give me my blade back, even if I promise not to kill myself with it?" I ask, not really believing it. I wonder, briefly, if we should talk about what happened between us. The fact that we both let the other cut themselves. In any case, Alphonse's reaction isn't quite what I expected. He almost looks… Apologetic.
"You know I won't, but… About that… Ewald saw my cut, and he asked me what it was. He figured it out. Sorry."
"What did you tell him?" I ask, reacting immediately, turning back to Alphonse, letting go of the door handle. Damn Ewald! Why did he have to notice that?
"That I'd cut myself, that I let you cut yourself. He took your blade. I really messed up, this shouldn't have happened in the first place."
"You mean you cutting yourself, Ewald noticing, or the fact that we both cut ourselves?"
I list, unintentionally ranking things from most serious to least serious in my view.
"That we cut ourselves. I shouldn't have let you do it, but I just didn't know what to do. Ewald understood that, but I'm sure he wouldn't have let you. I messed up..."
I can hear the guilt in Alphonse's voice. Despite myself, I want to comfort him.
"You did what you could. You know, it helped me, that you let me do it, and I cut myself less than I would have if I'd been alone. By doing what you did, you protected me, in a way. Because otherwise, I would have used that blade at another time. It's bad for me not to be able to cut myself, no matter if doing it is bad too. Putting myself in your shoes, or in Ewald's, I don't see a good answer. I'd have preferred it if you hadn't copied me, but again, we do what we can. And you know, if you need to feel guilty, then I should too. Because I let you do it."
"But that was my choice."
"And the same goes for me, right?"
"But it's different with you. What you do is dangerous, you want to die. I did it because I wanted to understand you. Our reasons were different."
"No, it's not the same. What I do isn't dangerous, in itself, because I control what I'm doing. But you should never have tried, because if you ever do it again, it will be my fault."
"No, it would be mine, because it would be my choice. But I don't plan on doing it again."
"I hope so. But according to your logic, you have no reason to feel guilty, because cutting myself was my choice."
"But I could have stopped you. I let you do it."
"Same for me," I reply with a defiant tone.
Al' sighs. I continue,
"I think we're not going to agree on this. Just, stop feeling guilty if you can. You did what you thought was best at the time. I'm the one most affected, and I'm telling you it helped me. Even if you don't fully agree, just know that it helped, at least."
My companion grimaces but nods.
"I'm really going to sort out my things now, see you in a bit."
"See you in a bit..."
oOo
I return to the room assigned to me, curious about what exactly Ewald thought upon learning what Alphonse did. I also wonder if he's going to scold me. What did he feel when he realised I've been able to cut too? And what does he feel in general? Because thinking of him reminds me of the situation we're in. Ewald's family. His mother, who left me with a strange impression, and his unfriendly grandmother. I'm really curious to learn more about him. I'd like to understand him. At the same time, I'm rather angry to find myself here, stuck under surveillance when I could finally be dead. It's strange. I'm simultaneously indifferent to everything and deeply involved in my friendships. I worry about Ewald, about Alphonse and Arthur, and yet all I long for is death.
Alphonse joins me after about fifteen minutes, and I swallow the sarcasm that rises to my lips regarding his inability to keep me out of sight for too long. I don't really feel like provoking a fight. It's been a good forty minutes since Ewald left us, and we're not quite sure how to occupy ourselves. I could read, but Alphonse is bored. We don't dare wander too much around the manor, unsure if we'll find our way back to the salon, and not particularly keen on running into our friend's charming grandmother. In the end, we pass the time playing cards, and my gaze regularly falls on the cut on Alphonse's arm. My heart tightens in those moments, a mix of undefined emotions swirling inside me—guilt, curiosity, shame, a desire to cut. It's in the middle of a game when Ewald finally rejoins us. He looks a bit different from how he is at Hogwarts, and it takes me a few seconds to pinpoint what caught my attention. He seems more... open, less guarded. The fact that he's no longer in his uniform plays a part too, I think. He's wearing jeans and a shirt that could be formal with a tie, but as it is, it's the most relaxed outfit I've ever seen him wear.
"Have you settled in?"
"Pretty well," Alphonse replies. I nod in turn.
"Good. I thought I could show you around the manor a bit before dinner, if you'd like."
"Sounds great!" Al' exclaims enthusiastically.
Ewald's expression darkens slightly as he carefully closes the bedroom door.
"Before that, I thought I could answer your question from earlier, Alphonse."
The Gryffindor stiffens a bit, settling back down onto the floor from where he had started to rise.
"Only if you want to, I didn't mean to be intrusive."
"Don't worry about that," Ewald sighs. "I think it's better that I tell you anyway, to avoid any faux pas with my family. And if I trust you to protect Vivian, Alphonse, I should be able to trust you to keep a secret."
For once, the Gryffindor doesn't reply. The Slytherin hesitates for a fraction of a second before sitting down on the floor with us. He pulls out his wand and casts a few privacy spells, explaining himself in front of Alphonse's surprised gaze:
"I don't want my mother to hear what I'm about to tell you. Even if the chances are slim, I prefer to take all the precautions I can."
The Gryffindor shifts a bit but doesn't ask for clarification. Like me, he waits for Ewald to continue. Ewald takes a deep breath, ensuring we're paying attention before speaking again.
"I'd like you to listen to me without interrupting, as much as possible. I'm not used to talking about this, and I'm having a bit of trouble finding my words."
I'm somewhat surprised to hear him admit that, at least in front of Alphonse. Ewald never shows his weaknesses. Until we started studying Occlumency, at least, he hadn't shown me anything, and when he had, it had only been in private.
"My father is a Death Eater, as you know. After Voldemort fell, he sought to hide. He contacted my grandmother, who agreed to help him. She never joined the ranks of the Death Eaters; she disapproved of their methods, but I think she long believed in their ideology. She would never have tortured Muggles, but did she despise them? Did she think a wizard had more value? Yes. In any case, she welcomed him into the manor. He came from an ancient and powerful family, which was very appealing to my grandmother. He fell in love with my mother, or at least he made advances towards her. My grandmother encouraged it; for her, it was a good opportunity to strengthen the family line, and given my father's situation, he wasn't likely to be too demanding regarding the dowry. I don't know exactly what my mother's political opinions were, even though I know she shared little to no vision with her mother. What's certain is that she wasn't interested in the courtship my father was pursuing. Oh, she never said it clearly; she didn't ask him to stop, because she was both too well-bred and too aware of her mother's will. She simply couldn't afford to outright reject him. However, my father was not a patient man and did not accept this status quo. So, he ended up raping her."
"What?" Alphonse exclaims. "What a bastard! Sorry for interrupting," he adds hastily.
"Don't worry about it," sighs Ewald. "So, my father raped my mother, and she told my grandmother a few weeks later. She hadn't dared to mention it before—caught between shock and shame. Rape was, and amongst certain circles is, a huge taboo and often blamed on the victim. In the meantime, my father had already told my grandmother what he'd done, saying it was a result of his overwhelming passion, or something equally ridiculous," Ewald's expression is hard and closed off, though I can imagine the anger simmering beneath the surface. A mixture of revolt and unease swells inside me, as my thoughts flicker between my own memories and what happened to his mother. I feel the impulse to reach out, to take his hand in support, but I hesitate. He doesn't need me anyway.
"Very soon after, my grandmother realised that my mother was pregnant. She decided that my parents would have to marry. There was no way she would allow the child to be born out of wedlock. She gifted the manor to my parents as a wedding present, and a small, discreet ceremony took place, completely against my mother's wishes. Again, she was trapped by convention and her mother's authority. And my father scared her. He was a Death Eater, after all—killing and torture weren't alien to him. But my mother found a way out, eventually. She had to. She turned my father in to the Aurors as a Death Eater, and he was sent to Azkaban. My grandmother has never forgiven her for that, even though she eventually admitted she'd made serious mistakes. It's still a very sensitive subject. Though my grandmother understands why her daughter did what she did, she still holds some resentment. She believes there might have been other ways. In any case, my mother chose not to terminate the pregnancy, which is why I exist."
It takes us a few seconds to realise that Ewald has finished speaking. A storm of emotions swirls inside me. I feel that there's still things left unsaid. This doesn't explain everything, even though it sheds much more light on the memory he once shared with me. I knew the rough outline of the story, but not in this much detail.
Alphonse is the one to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost queasy.
"I'm really sorry, Ewald. I kept hounding you about your father, while he actually raped your mother. I messed up. I should've been smarter."
"That's in the past," Ewald replies firmly.
"Even so! I was wrong, and I know I never properly apologised. I talked to Vivian about it, but if you don't mind, I'd like to explain why I acted the way I did—not that it's an excuse. I don't have an excuse."
"Oh, so there's a reason other than the congenital stupidity of Gryffindors?" Ewald raises an eyebrow, his sarcasm a bit sharper than usual, but given the circumstances, I guess it makes sense. Alphonse grimaces but pushes on, explaining to Ewald what he already told me about Lucian and the discrimination he's faced, briefly mentioning his childhood and his mother's death, though not lingering on it. When he finishes, Ewald extends his hand to Alphonse.
"Thank you for sharing that with me. I'm glad I understand you better now. Let's put that behind us, alright?"
Alphonse shakes his hand, looking more serious than usual.
"Thanks, Ewald."
"It's nothing. I thought I could show you both around the manor if you don't have any other questions? We've still got some time before dinner."
We nod in agreement, Alphonse looking slightly relieved at the change in subject. Ewald remains hard to read, as always. Out of caution, I lightly brush his mind, and when he opens to the contact, I ask,
"Are you alright?"
"I'm not used to bringing this up. But I'm fine, don't worry."
He hasn't let any emotions bleed into our connection, so I can't tell how truthful he's being. Still, I don't press further. It feels like there are other things, other secrets he's not revealing, but that's just how Ewald is. And as long as he's alright, I suppose that's what matters.
The manor is large—at least as big as Arthur's family's estate, probably bigger. Everything is spotlessly clean. Ewald explains that three house-elves serve his family, and he introduces us to two of them by calling them with a distinctive clicking sound. Their names are Jamy and Freddy, and they seem delighted to meet us. Thankfully, they're not as talkative as Dobby from the books, or the house-elf I met at the Cliffords'. No, they are... elegant in a way, dressed in what appear to be tuxedos tailored to their small frames, ready to obey Ewald's every command. He dismisses them swiftly after the introductions. Alphonse looks a bit uncomfortable—I suppose he's not used to seeing beings like them. We don't meet the third house-elf, as it's dedicated to serving Ewald's grandmother.
The decor throughout the manor is mostly green and somewhat outdated, though a few rooms stand out. The area around Ewald's mother's room, for instance, is dominated by soft pinks and pastels, and the dining room, which we pass through later on the ground floor, has more modern furnishings. I also really like the library, a room on the third floor equipped with ladders to reach the higher shelves and large windows that let in plenty of light—perfect for reading. I would've liked to spend more time there, but the tour continues.
The last room that stands out is a circular chapel in the basement, with a fist-sized emerald at its centre. Its walls resemble those of a cave, adorned with climbing plants and moss, and the only natural light comes from a hole directly above the jewel. Green cushions, looking quite comfortable, are piled in one corner. When we ask Ewald, intrigued, what the room is for, he explains that it's a place where his mother likes to meditate.
"The room is also used for practising natural magic. It's a wandless form of magic that I don't know much about, but my mother and grandmother dabble in it a bit."
"Could you tell us a bit about what it involves?" I ask, curious.
"If I understand correctly, you don't cast spells in the traditional sense; rather, you send out intentions that mingle with the surrounding magical currents. I know my mother uses it to encourage nature to thrive around the manor, and my grandmother tends to draw energy from the magical flow to maintain her vitality... In any case, she often rushes in here after a long session at the Magenmagot!" Ewald adds with a small, amused laugh.
"And the emerald, is it magical?" Alphonse asks. "Is it why the manor is named that?"
Ewald darkens slightly.
"The emerald isn't magical per se, but I believe it can be used in natural magic to focus energy." I suspect Ewald's knowledge on the subject is more extensive than he lets on. He continues to speak while I let my thoughts drift.
"The name of the manor... is a sort of compromise. It didn't have that name when I was little, but following the events I mentioned earlier, my family agreed to give it a more neutral name to start fresh. This room was a recent addition and inspired the name of the manor. The decor was already fitting anyway, being a Slytherin family and all."
"I understand, I'm sorry."
"It's nothing."
It feels strange to hear Alphonse apologise so much; I imagine he really wasn't expecting any of this. Learning so much about Ewald and realising how wrong he must have been about him before getting to know him must be unsettling. And the events of these past few days aren't helping with stability, I suppose.
As we exit the emerald room, which has left a strong impression on us, Jamy (or is it Freddy?) appears before us with a loud pop, bowing deeply before addressing Ewald.
"The meal is ready, young master; your mother sends me to inform you."
"We're coming." my friend replies with a smile.
The house-elf bows once more before disappearing, and the Slytherin guides us to a large dining room we passed through earlier. A grand ebony dining table stands there, austere, and Ewald's mother is already seated. She smiles upon seeing us arrive, instantly making the room feel much more welcoming. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she invites us to sit, and we take our places. Ewald sits to his mother's right, with Alphonse and me facing them. We occupy only the end of the table; there would be enough room for a good ten more guests. Ewald's mother claps her hands once, and one of the house-elves appears, arms laden with pastel-coloured lanterns. It begins to set them alight one by one, and they start to emit a soft glow that adds to the light from the crystal chandelier above our heads. Then, the creature hastily asks us what we would like to drink. I opt for a simple fruit juice, while Alphonse accepts the Carter-Slides' offer to join them for a glass of wine.
The house-elves quickly bring us an appetiser, some delicious small toasts. Apparently, Ewald's grandmother won't be joining us for the meal, which is a relief. However, I'm beginning to worry that things might become awkward, as we've yet to exchange a word since sitting down. But around this time, Rosemary starts asking us about our experiences, our ambitions, and how things are going for us at Hogwarts... It feels a bit formal, and as in all good adult-child conversations, the questions largely revolve around our classes, grades, and friends. Still, Ewald's mother has a way of asking questions that makes it seem like she's genuinely interested in what we're saying. As the meal progresses, she also asks about the Muggle world, daily life without magic, and eventually confides that her father found Muggles quite ingenious, and she'd love to visit "our side" someday. At no point does she come across as disdainful towards Muggles, which is probably why Alphonse becomes so talkative. As for me, I remain polite, but I struggle to stay focused on the conversation. I'm exhausted. Ewald, on the other hand, speaks mostly at the beginning but doesn't comment much on our answers about the Muggle world. His mother asks him quite a few questions about Arthur, seeming genuinely pleased about his upcoming visit (which now seems certain, and I'm not sure I like the idea).
Once the meal is over, the conversation doesn't drag on much. Ewald's mother excuses herself rather quickly. Ewald reassures us as we head back to our rooms that she has nothing against us, she's just not used to having so many people at the house. I believe him readily, and it doesn't really matter much to me anyway. It's getting late, and the lack of sleep is catching up to me. We gather in Alphonse's room, and Ewald brings up the dreaded subject:
"We'll need to organise ourselves for the night. Starting tomorrow evening, the house-elves will be able to keep an eye on you, Vivian, but for tonight, Alphonse will have to do it, if that's alright with you, Alphonse."
Instantly, my tiredness vanishes, replaced by burning anger. He's not even pretending, not sugar coating things, which is good in a way, but how dare he?
"I don't need a babysitter!" I exclaim, outraged, as Alphonse answers at the same time in a serious tone:
"No problem."
Ewald reacts before Alphonse for once, snapping back at me:
"Once again, Vivian, you don't get a say in this. There's no way we're leaving you unsupervised when you could kill yourself at any moment." His voice is cold, as it always is when he's hiding his emotions. But it softens slightly when he adds,
"I know it's hard for you, but it's a necessary evil."
I want to scream in frustration, but I try to hold back. I need to inspire trust, not reinforce their suspicions. Still, I'm scared.
"And what exactly will this 'surveillance' involve?"
"Good question," he says. "I'll set up a chair for Alphonse in your room, and if there's any problem, he'll alert me. Or, if you feel like you're about to fall asleep, wake me up," he adds, directing the last part to Alphonse, who nods.
"I can't sleep with someone watching me," I protest.
"You should have thought of that before trying to kill yourself," Ewald remarks coldly.
As much as I care about him, right now there's nothing I want more than smashing his head against the wall.
"I'll be discreet, Viv'," Alphonse tries to reassure me.
I rush out of the room, barely managing to stop myself from slamming the door. Before I can shut my bedroom door behind me, Ewald catches me by the arm. I try to pull away, but he holds on, following me into the room and closing the door behind us. I glare at him defiantly, and he finally sighs, releasing my arm. He then sits down slowly on my bed, gesturing for me to join him. I do, fists clenched, digging my nails into my palms in an effort to calm myself. I sit as far away from him as possible, and his gaze immediately shifts to my hands. I force myself to unclench them, folding them in front of me, using them to support myself (and bite down on them discreetly). A few moments pass in silence before Ewald finally speaks.
"Can you tell me why you're so upset? You must have known we wouldn't leave you unsupervised."
I take a deep breath before responding.
"Because I need my privacy, because it's too intrusive. How do you expect me to sleep with a man in my room?"
"You've slept at Alphonse's before, haven't you?"
"I spent the first few nights freaking out in my own corner, actually."
Ewald sighs.
"You'll be under watch no matter what. But if there's a way to make it less uncomfortable for you, if you have any ideas, I'm open to listening."
"No one in my room? Because aside from that, no, I don't see any other option."
My friend grimaces.
"That's not possible. But if you want, I could offer you a dreamless sleep potion and a sleeping draught to help you rest. It's not good to take them too often, but just for one night, it should be fine."
"And be completely defenceless? No thank you."
"Alphonse means you no harm, you know."
Rage boils inside me again, quickly followed by panic. I bite down harder on my hand. He can't understand.
"It doesn't matter," I mutter bitterly.
Ewald frowns and moves closer to me, deliberately slowly. I tense up. He gently takes my hands, pulling them away from my mouth. I don't resist. I start to feel myself dissociating.
"No, it does matter," he replies softly. "Please, explain it to me."
"It's pointless," I say, hating how his hand around mine feels so comforting.
He stays silent, and I keep trying to control my breathing. I wonder absent-mindedly what he told Al' to stop him from following us. Finally, I blurt out:
"I wouldn't even know how to explain it to you. You can't understand, because you've never felt any of this."
"In that case, let me feel it," Ewald suggests, looking me in the eyes.
I look away first. I really don't want to do this. But a lingering anger inside me pushes me to show him, to make him feel what it's like to suffer, maybe. My thoughts are a jumble. I open our link. He's listening. I push into his mind my fear, my tension, the pressure I feel from being under constant watch, the hyper vigilance I can't let go of. I use the last bit of control I have left to hold back my self-loathing, my urge to kill myself, and everything that might reinforce his desire to control me. I let him understand that my instability stems from what's happened over the past day. It's not the right time to impose this kind of surveillance. I desperately try to make him see that.
But in pushing these emotions, I give them strength, and my breathing becomes more laboured. I start to hyperventilate again, and the thought that Ewald has already seen this doesn't help me keep calm. I feel him release my hands, and a surge of instinctive protest flows from me into him. It fades the moment he carefully wraps his arms around me.
We stay like that for a long time, and he helps me organise my feelings, radiating calm and reassurance, like warmth from a fire. And, despite myself, it works. My breathing slows, and the heaviness in my chest begins to lift. I can even feel my eyelids growing heavy, worn out by the storm in my mind and the chaos of my life since last night.
Ewald pulls away slightly to help me lie down and even helps me take off my shoes. It's strange, but it doesn't bother me. I'm lost in a fog of exhaustion. He tucks me under the duvet. The bed is soft, comfortable.
"You should sleep, Vivian. It'll be alright."
"Stay with me. I'd rather you stay than Alphonse," I whisper, reluctantly.
"You're sure?" he asks softly, sounding surprised.
I just give a small nod in response, and he sits on the bed next to me, leaning against the wall. I turn to face him and reach out slightly, hoping he'll take my hand. He must understand my gesture, because after a brief hesitation, he does.
I fall asleep like that, clutching his hand in mine. At some point, I wake briefly to the sound of whispers, but Ewald gently tells me to go back to sleep, his fingers tracing calming circles on my hand. I drift off again. A few hours later, I wake up from a nightmare, startled for a moment by the figure lying beside me. Quickly, I realise it's Ewald—he must have fallen asleep next to me. My movements must have woken him because he stirs, opening his eyes.
"Are you okay, Vivian? Sorry, I fell asleep," he says, his voice low and a little groggy.
"I'm fine," I mumble, not fully awake myself. "It's no big deal. But you should make yourself more comfortable unless you want a stiff neck."
"Are you sure you're okay? You're crying."
"I just had a bad dream," I reply, turning away from him so he can't see the tears. I dreamt of being raped. I want to cut myself.
"Are you sure you want me to stay? I can ask Alphonse to watch over you. It might be more comfortable for you," he suggests gently.
Instead of answering, I pass him a part of the blanket and once again extend my hand towards him. He takes it, and his touch helps to dispel the lingering shadows of my nightmare. He settles in a bit more comfortably before saying quietly,
"Alright. Good night, Vivian."
"Good night," I whisper back before slipping into sleep once again.
oOo
When I wake up the next morning, my head feels heavy. My bed is empty, but Alphonse is sitting in a chair near the door. He looks up when he hears me stir.
"Sleep well? Ewald's gone to see his mother, you've slept for ages!"
"What time is it?" I groan, as it can't really be called speaking.
"Nearly eleven in the morning."
Damn. I've slept a lot! Then again, that's probably for the best, less time spent conscious, so I suppose it's not so bad.
"Do you want a bite to eat? Ewald said we could call the house-elves if we needed."
"I'll be fine. But I think I'll have a shower."
Alphonse briefly grimaces but nods his head.
"Er, okay, but we need to wait for Ewald to come back to see how we're going to handle it."
"What do you mean? There's no way anyone's staying in the bathroom while I'm in there!"
I got up too quickly in my outrage, and my head protests by feeling even heavier. This nonsense is giving me a full-on headache.
"Yes, yes, of course." says Alphonse, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "But Ewald had an idea for keeping things safe without disturbing you too much, only I don't really know what it is, so we'll wait for him, alright?"
"It's not like I've got much choice." I sigh.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, me still on the bed and him still in his chair, before he glances at me, looking curious.
"Speaking of Ewald, you two are pretty close, aren't you? I get the feeling you trust him more than you trust me."
There's no jealousy in his voice, just a little curiosity and maybe a hint of betrayal, or perhaps I'm reading too much into it. I sigh.
"In a way, yes, I suppose. I do care for him, but I care for you too. I mean, I care for both of you, and it's not really comparable. You're both my friends, and I share things with you both, and other things with one or the other." I try to explain, still not fully awake, unsure if I'm answering his question. "In this case, since the firefly hunt, I've had a telepathic link with Ewald, and he helped me unlock my memories, so he's had access to some… intimate things. It's not often you share your emotions with someone."
"I didn't even know that was possible, will you show me how it works?"
"Er, show you, I'm not sure, and if you want an explanation Ewald would be better, but I could always try if you're interested…"
Al' smiles, then asks in a teasing tone (though I can tell it's a real question):
"So, what is it that you only share with me?"
I take a moment to think before answering in French:
"This language, for a start. I think it's something special to both of us, each in our own way."
Alphonse nods, looking more serious, and I continue in English:
"Our love for adrenaline and that night walk on the rooftops too. Can you imagine Arthur or Ewald up there?"
We both laugh at the thought of Ewald, always so neat and cautious, crawling through the mud to avoid cameras or climbing a crane without magical protection. I'm not sure if I've reassured Alphonse, but that's when Ewald rejoins us, smiling as he comes in.
"Glad to see you're awake, Vivian. How are you feeling?"
"Gross, I'd really like a shower, and apparently I couldn't go until you explained your latest plan for watching over Vivian."
Ewald doesn't bother to react, he just responds in a neutral tone:
"I see. The plan is simple: I want you to stay connected to me, and one of us will wait by the door while you're in the shower. If at any point we call you and you don't answer, we reserve the right to come in. Shall we?"
I frown but don't protest. I need to keep playing along, just a little longer... I'll find a loophole sooner or later. It's bound to happen. And I can't give them any more reason to mistrust me.
oOo
Once I'm finally alone in the bathroom (as alone as you can be with a permanent emotional link to a Slytherin), I undress and start searching the room, just in case Ewald or Alphonse have left anything useful behind. The room is quite large, by the way, and the floor is tiled with marble veined in green. The furniture is silver and quite sparse. There's a mirror (a full-length one, mind you), hopefully not enchanted (I find it seriously creepy; some of the girls in the dorm use ones that compliment their hairstyles). Just in case, I don't get too close.
There's a sink with some hygiene products on it. I see a toothbrush lying there, probably Alphonse's, I imagine. I have no idea how wizards brush their teeth; we really should have covered that in Muggle World Studies, it would have been useful... Anyway, apart from that, there's a huge marble bathtub taking up one corner of the room, with a window that looks out over the garden at the back, naturally. A small piece of furniture next to it holds a dry towel, which is probably for me. It's not great. In the absence of anything better, I bite myself and punch the floor a few times (not too hard, so I don't make too much noise). It's not enough to relax me, but it's better than nothing.
The shower does me some good, but I don't stay too long, stressed by the idea that one of the boys is right outside the door waiting for me. By the time I get out, it's almost lunchtime, and we head to the dining room. Just like the day before, Ewald's grandmother is absent, and once again, the meal is pleasant and delicious, even if I don't eat that much. I just don't feel like it. And despite the whirlwind of new things, I don't forget my goal. I consider pocketing a knife, but they'll probably notice, and they aren't very sharp anyway. I guess I'll have to wait a bit longer...
After lunch, Ewald takes us outside, and we get to see part of the Carter family estate. Or Slide? I don't dare asking Ewald which name is his mother's. Maybe when Alphonse won't be around anymore. I prefer asking personal questions when I'm alone with the person who intrigues me. Anyway, when we step out of the manor, we first find a charming French-style garden, with white benches for resting and pretty archways. There's even a little pond with lovely water lilies, hidden behind a hedge. As we continue, we come across a small forest that conceals the outbuilding where Ewald's grandmother lives. We don't go near it. We limit ourselves to walking around the manor rather than venturing further into the grounds. We're almost back to where we started when we reach a vegetable garden located near a discreet door leading into the manor. Ewald explains that it's maintained by the house elves, who enjoy working the land and providing for their masters.
With the tour finished and several hours of daylight left, Ewald suggests we play some Quidditch. We've all brought our brooms from Hogwarts, and Alphonse seems immediately excited by the idea. As for me, I'm indifferent, but it's something to do, and I do like flying. And who knows, maybe by some happy accident, I might fall off my broom or get decapitated by a branch?
oOo
The Quidditch pitch isn't a proper pitch as such; there's only one goal, but that will suffice for the three of us. Ewald mostly suggests releasing a Snitch and seeing who catches it first. Alphonse insists on having a Bludger to spice things up, and I think that will give me an excuse to fall. My "joy" is short-lived, as Ewald then pulls out his enchanted climbing bracelets and forces me to put them on, adding a Gluing spell.
"Just so they don't accidentally fall off your arms."
I hate him.
We still have fun; admittedly, I had somewhat forgotten that Ewald is a Seeker. Alphonse is better in the role of Keeper, but he flies very well. I don't think I do poorly; I'm naturally comfortable on my broomstick, but I lack Alphonse's experience and Ewald's analytical skills to be completely on their level. And besides, they have longer arms than mine. That's cheating. I do manage to catch the Snitch once, compared to twice for Alphonse and three times for Ewald.
We head back to the manor to shower before dinner, and I do some stretching beforehand, eventually followed by my two companions, even if Alphonse thinks holidays are for resting. Dinner goes like the previous ones, and it's soon time to return to our rooms. My two companions suggest playing Exploding Snap, but I tell them I prefer to read quietly, hoping they'll ease off on their surveillance a bit… After all, no one has emptied my trunk of the few blades that must still be there. Unfortunately, they're too inaccessible to retrieve discreetly under someone's watch. In any case, my plan fails. They end up settling at a small coffee table, teleported there by the house-elves, in front of a game of Dominaris, which they graciously refrain from commenting on too loudly, at least. I pretend to read vaguely, but I'm not really into it. Suddenly, I regret burning my blue notebook. I wish I could write. I also wish I could die, or at least cut myself, but hey, it's nice to dream. Since I don't have a better option, I eventually pull out a pen and some paper from my trunk, and the boys look up from their game, intrigued, before losing interest in me after making sure I'm not doing anything dangerous.
Words don't come to me, so I write that on the page. I leave a haze of scribbles, random words, and vague drawings. "I don't know what to say." "I've lost my words." "Mute." "Tumults." At one point, I draw a lighthouse, like the one missing in my head to guide me through my fog. I draw burning flames like my mad mind. And I draw blades, a rope with a noose, a bottle of poison, a syringe. And I play at imagining how I could kill myself with what's within my reach. I write more words in French on the back of my sheet.
Égarée dans un brouillard de mots
Intangibles gouttelettes d'eau
Que je rêve d'attraper
Si je pouvais m'y abreuver
Et ne plus être muette
Me couper aux arrêtes
Des souvenirs qui me brûlent
Ma douleur est ridicule
L'exutoire est interdit
Même mes mots me fuient
Ne reste qu'une feuille morte
Que le vent emporte*
At some point, the boys finish their game. Alphonse, ever curious, asks me what I've written. I hesitate for a moment, but I eventually hand him the sheet, telling him to only read the poem, keeping a part of the paper in my hands to prevent him from flipping it over and seeing the drawings.
"It's… nice, even if I don't really understand much," he finally reads.
"I'm going to sleep, see you tomorrow, Viv'."
"Good night," I reply, along with Ewald.
Once the Gryffindor leaves, the Slytherin sits down next to me, at the edge of the bed.
"The house-elves will watch over you tonight. If you need me, don't hesitate to wake me up, or ask Jamy to appear; he can wake me for you. Don't hesitate, okay? It doesn't bother me."
"Do we have to have the house-elf?"
"He won't really be in the room; he just has a way to monitor magically. Is that acceptable for you?"
"I suppose..." I grunt, with a lack of enthusiasm that I'm not trying to hide at all.
"That's good," Ewald smiles. "Would you accept to show me your poem as well?"
"It's in French; you won't understand anything."
"We can try an exercise if you don't mind."
"What kind?" I ask, vaguely intrigued.
"We'll establish our link, and you'll read the poem in your head while trying to convey its meaning to me."
"Why not…" I spontaneously reply.
Reading the poem is strange. I know that through our link, Ewald also perceives the emotions that pass through me to some extent, and it's an extremely intimate experience to think that he understands my words as I understand them. I have no doubt he knows what my words mean, even if they're in French. When I finish, he gently breaks the link before reaching for the paper. I feel hesitant and fragile when I let him take it. I don't look at him when he watches all the drawings evoking my wishes for death. I just snuggle deeper under the blanket. He eventually folds the paper carefully before placing his arm over my head and gently setting it on the bedside table.
"It will get better, Vivian. I won't accept anything else. I won't let you down."
His hand rests near mine, like an invitation. I gently take it, and he squeezes it.
"Thank you for sharing your poem with me," he adds, telepathically.
Without me needing to ask, he stays there, holding my hand, until I fall asleep.
oOo
I wake up several times during the night, and I have bad dreams when I manage to sleep. I can't help but regret that Ewald didn't stay longer with me. And I hate myself for that thought. I don't want to dwell on the level of comfort his presence gives me, nor on the slight calm it brings. I don't want to open up even more. I can't. Except my throat, of course; This I would gladly open up, if only those bloody "friends" of mine would stop watching me 24/7.
oOo
"It's snowed! It's snowed! Come and see, Vivian!"
I emerge painfully, a murderous aura probably taking shape around me as Alphonse suddenly stops at the entrance of my room.
"Uh, sorry, did I wake you?"
"Indeed." I reply as coldly as possible (it's appropriate).
I grab my second pillow and throw it with all my strengh towards Alphonse. He dodges the projectile without any problem, which is quite vexing. My gaze is drawn to the book on my bedside table. It's tempting. It's a shame I respect books too much. But Al' doesn't need to know that. I raise the book in as threatening a manner as possible before hissing:
"You have three seconds to get out. Three."
"Sorry, Viv', sorry… But it's snowed!"
I take a deep breath and reluctantly place my book down before throwing my last pillow at him (since I won't be able to fall back asleep anyway). He dodges again, but not Ewald, who enters the room at that precise moment, looking concerned.
"Is everything alright? I heard noise and…" The pillow interrupts his sentence at that exact moment.
"It's Alphonse's fault, he woke me up! Get your revenge however you like, Ewald!" I shout immediately to absolve myself.
"Hey! You were the one who threw the pillow!" Alphonse protests.
"You asked for it," Ewald judges.
"That's right, team up against me two to one!"
"Do you want a duel, Bludfire?" Ewald asks slyly.
Alphonse pales slightly.
"I'm good, thanks." He replies reluctantly.
"I prefer that," Ewald smiles, looking like a bird that just ate a canary. "Well, if you're both awake, I suggest breakfast."
"I'm coming!" Alphonse yells, and my eardrums curse him.
"Go ahead, I'll take care of Vivian," Ewald sighs, probably exhausted too by so much enthusiasm.
Once alone, Ewald closes the door and graciously doesn't draw the curtains, allowing my eyes to adjust quietly to the dim light. I change under my covers, still irritated by the constant surveillance I'm under, and dazed from lack of sleep. At least the Slytherin stays fairly quiet, for which I'm grateful. We then join Alphonse in the dining room; Ewald's mother isn't sharing breakfast with us.
Once our stomachs are full, we go outside for a snowball fight, a must according to Alphonse, who has lost ten years with the arrival of the white cloak. We chase each other, shouting and laughing through the paths of the French garden, and despite myself, I have to admit that I'm having fun. It does me good to laugh. In the background, my brain wonders how long it would take for me to die of hypothermia, of course. But apart from that, I'm enjoying myself, and we even witness the rare sight of a dishevelled Ewald. I make sure Alphonse gets more than his share of snowballs to get back at him for the rude awakening. I even go so far as to wait until he's under a tree to cause all the snow accumulated in its branches to fall with a well-placed snowball. As I pass by a dip in the ground, I realize it's the pond, and a devious plan comes to mind.
With a brush of thought, I catch Ewald's attention and lay out my plan. The Slytherin finds the idea of dropping Alphonse into the pond quite funny, assuring me that he'll know how to warm him up with his wand if needed. With my friend's complicity, we manage to lure Alphonse, caught up in the game, onto the thin layer of snow on the ice… And with a loud crack, the sixth-year goes to say hello to the algae. He doesn't suffer too much from the encounter, as he instantly surfaces from the (shallow) water and starts chasing me like a madman, hurling threats. Their impact is diminished by the stutters and shivers caused by the cold. He still manages to catch me because it's hard to cry with laughter and run at the same time (and again, he has the advantage of longer legs). Ewald finds the situation amusing but eventually intervenes before I have an intimate acquaintance with the pond myself. He warms up the Gryffindor with a wave of his wand, and our games continue until hunger digs into our bellies.
As we return to the manor, we are greeted by Ewald's mother, who seems to have been watching our antics from afar. She teases us about our dishevelled appearance, and Ewald smooths down his clothes with an almost embarrassed look that disappears when Rosemary bursts into laughter. She laughs, and it's the first time since we've been here, I believe. She laughs, and her son looks almost surprised, which quickly transforms into a happy smile. Despite myself, I ponder once again about this enigmatic woman who has endured a fate similar to mine, in a way.
oOo
The meal passes in a friendly atmosphere, and I feel almost sad when Alphonse announces that he shouldn't linger too long. He's going to celebrate Christmas with his family in France. A pang of sadness hits me at the thought of my home country, and thinking about it inevitably brings back memories. I become quieter, but amidst the farewells, no one seems to notice. The Gryffindor leaves through the Floo Network, and we all accompany him to the lounge (except for the grandmother, of course, but I doubt Alphonse is too saddened by that). When the green flames disappear after engulfing him, I feel both a sense of emptiness and relief. Emptiness, because he took up space, for all his casualness, but also in thinking back to France, to my past. Relief, because now it's just Ewald left to keep watch over me. And I'll eventually find a way to outsmart his vigilance. I have a thought that's both gently sad and deeply comforting. If all goes well, this is the last time I was seeing Al'.
oOo
"I walk, I climb, I sit to stand up again, words only escape from me through my fingers. Almost never truly by my voice. And those who matter stay there, since you are not here. But to be honest, I don't need you. I still exist. I'm here, in my world of silence. The words are sealed by my closed lips, and they only spin in my mind, or rather the sensation of those closed lips shapes their form and is my thought. It becomes a period. Like this one."
—Excerpt from a document on a USB belonging to Aurore Berger—
* Lost in a fog of words
Intangible droplets of water
That I dream of catching
If I could quench my thirst with them
And no longer be mute
To cut myself on the edges
Of memories that burn me
My pain is ridiculous
The outlet is forbidden
Even my words flee from me
Only a dead leaf remains
Carried away by the wind
So, what did you think of everything we learn about Ewald and his family?
I had fun writing the snowfight :)
Reviews? Please