Haven't posted in weeks, hope you readers are still around :p
I'm struggling to finish writing this story, and I only have a few chapters left to translate before I'll catch up on the French version, which is why I heavily slowed down. I'm happy to have translated this today tho, I really like this chapter. Hope you'll enjoy it as well :)
The following Friday, I learn that the nurse has managed to arrange an appointment with my parents for the following weekend, on Saturday morning. Luckily, they didn't pick the afternoon—it would have been complicated to explain why I was skipping the last training session before the match against Ravenclaw! The team is getting more and more tense, I can tell. The next day, at practice, we discuss strategy. Lily is, unsurprisingly, the biggest threat in their team, but their game relies heavily on their Beaters. Apparently, they're a pair of sixth-years, highly skilled and able to coordinate with uncanny precision. From what the others say, the Ravenclaw team uses five basic formations, upon which they weave secret variations. Even though I'm less directly affected by all this than the rest of the team, given my role as Seeker, I still pay close attention. After all, it's a matter of pride now. Lily has made this match personal.
I use training to pick up a couple of new tricks involving spins to dodge and dive for the Snitch. I spend a lot of time optimising my flight paths to better cover the pitch, and I use the rest of my time practising spinning on the spot so I don't get nauseous during the match if I end up pulling off certain manoeuvres. Focusing on training helps me not to think too much about my parents, and I welcome the break with relief.
I spend my Sunday with Ewald. Arthur is occupied with Cian, and I'm only half surprised when the Slytherin follows me after breakfast. We start with a duelling session in a secluded dungeon, which leaves me drenched in sweat but in high spirits—I managed to disarm my best friend twice! A personal record. After a shower in our respective dormitories, we spend some time in the library doing homework and reading. We chat a little about the books I gave him for Christmas, which he's finished and enjoyed. Apparently, I remind him of Fitz from The Farseer Trilogy in some ways.
After lunch, we head to the grounds by mutual agreement. We stroll leisurely, not in any rush, moving away from the other students. Once we're out of sight of the castle, our hands brush against each other, though I can't say who initiated it, or if it was purely accidental. What is certain is that once they meet, my hand naturally settles into his, and I breathe a little easier. I need to talk to him about my situation with my chest. I know that. I won't get a better opportunity. At the same time, I'm enjoying this moment with him, this day with him. It's been a while. I struggle to convince myself to form the words. I'm scared. Of his reaction? Of rejection? It's absurd, I know it is.
My sideways glances are far from subtle, and I know full well that he's noticed. This is getting ridiculous. I take a deep breath, then I finally speak.
"I think I'm trans."
Wow, okay, that did not come out the way I wanted. Ewald stops, forcing me to halt as well, my hand still in his.
"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"
"That's right," I reply.
"I don't really know what that means," he admits, gently guiding us towards a clear patch of grass, which he carefully dries with his wand.
We sit down side by side, and his hand slips from mine in the process. It feels a little cold, in my heart. I explain everything to him, using the new words that have been swirling in my mind since my conversation with Ocean. I tell him about my chest, the discomfort I feel as it grows, Arthur's role, the discussions with the nurse and my parents, my talk with Ocean… I explain my thoughts since then.
"I don't really know what I think about all this, but I believe that word, agender, fits me. I don't truly understand the concept of gender, these norms. But I'm not sure I understand trans identity either, or what it means. I've never felt the need to put a label on it, but now that I know one, I suppose I might as well use it."
"I see," Ewald replies in a neutral voice. I look away before asking:
"You don't think I'm too weird, do you?"
The silence following my question feels too long, and his answer surprises me.
"That's not really the question, is it?"
"What do you mean?"
Now it's the Slytherin's turn to look away before saying:
"You're afraid I'll reject you, not that I'll find you weird, right?"
It seems I'm not the only one struggling to put into words the things we both know but have never clearly said. The truth, laid bare like this, makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. I freeze for a few moments before timidly nodding.
"Honestly, I don't think I ever put you in a 'man' or 'woman' box since we met. You're just… Vivian."
He seems hesitant to continue, and his fingers tighten around mine again, as if to carry on the conversation without words. But eventually, he finds them.
"I care about you, you know that. I'm not going to reject you for this."
He doesn't look at me. I know he's sincere, and I slowly realise that it's not easy for him to say this. He struggles as much as I do with vulnerability. He never would have said this to me so plainly before Christmas. A part of me can't help but wonder what would make him reject me.
"As for your chest, I can look into potions that might help if Madam Pomfrey can't convince your parents."
I lift my gaze to him. Ewald, always ready to help me, even if it's illegal. Just doing what needs to be done, without flinching. His steadiness, in this moment, soothes me. I don't use words to respond. Instead, I let him feel the gratitude swelling inside me through telepathy. It's infused with the full trust I place in him. It makes me feel vulnerable too, letting him sense it, but I do it anyway.
We don't talk much more that day, simply resuming our walk, hand in hand. I just enjoy his presence, and I hope he does the same. But the part of me that fears boring him, annoying him, can't make itself heard over the warmth of his palm against my fingers. For once, in this moment, I feel at peace. Like I belong. What I feel is love, and gratitude. I can't explain our connection.
oOo
The following week passes without any notable incidents. Ewald is around quite a bit, and so is Arthur. Alphonse, however, is fairly insufferable, as he does nothing but talk about Quidditch whenever we're together. To be fair, aside from the looming threat of Lily Potter, the outcome of the match will likely determine the winner of this year's House Cup. I haven't really paid much attention to the whole thing, but apparently, we're currently in third place. A win with the Snitch would put us in first, just barely. I think I would have preferred not to know. I don't care about my house or this stupid competition, but it does add a bit of pressure.
oOo
Too soon, Saturday arrives. Madam Aster has gone to fetch my parents from home and has suggested I wait for them at the entrance to Hogwarts. I don't particularly want to, but I suppose it would seem suspicious if I didn't… Ewald knows about the meeting, of course, and seeing my nervousness at breakfast, he offers to come with me.
"I won't come with you to the appointment, of course, but I can keep you company while you wait for your parents if you want."
I'm touched by the offer. I don't know if I should accept. I can handle this on my own, and I don't want my parents bombarding him with questions just because he'd be the first of my friends they meet. Then again, maybe seeing his age would make them realise I have good reasons for wanting to grow up and that their reasoning about me clinging to childhood was stupid. Well, knowing them, they're dense enough to somehow draw the exact opposite conclusion. At least they always manage to surprise me, I think to myself sarcastically.
"Are you sure?" I ask Ewald.
He simply nods.
"Okay." I smile.
Arthur, who's eating with us and has ended up knowing about my issues with my parents like the others, also offers to come. I seriously consider his suggestion. But I don't want to give the impression that I need them to reassure me, or let my parents imagine—somehow—that they're pressuring me in any way… I don't know. Ewald is enough for me anyway.
"Thanks, Arthur, but I think if my parents realise I have multiple friends, we'll never make it to the hospital wing! They'll have too many questions for you, and it'll be a nightmare to manage."
"What do you mean?"
"You have no idea how much mere mention of my friends fills them with wonder. I honestly think they almost doubt your existence."
Seeing the Hufflepuff's confusion, I reluctantly elaborate.
"You're my first friends in this life. They were starting to lose hope in my social skills."
Ewald raises an amused eyebrow and drawls,
"Wrongly, of course. We all know how extroverted you are."
Arthur bursts out laughing, and I pout, delivering a light punch to the Slytherin's shoulder, only for him to give me a sceptical look. I groan theatrically before standing up.
"Let's go. I'd love to be late, but I want to get this over with even more."
My best friend follows without protest, while Arthur, sobering slightly, wishes me luck.
"I'll be here if you need to talk after the meeting, Vivian. You'll tell me all about it!"
As we walk away from the table, I realise that Ewald has probably spared me some emotional rambling from Arthur about my relationship with friendship with his joke. And the best part is, he might have done it on purpose.
oOo
We reach the castle gates about ten minutes ahead of the time Madam Aster had given me for my parents' arrival. I'm still just as nervous. I want to cut myself, but I can't do that with Ewald next to me. Well… I can't help but think he wouldn't necessarily notice if I did it carefully. I have a blade in my pocket, wrapped in a tissue. I could take it out without him noticing. I could find the right angle so he wouldn't see me cutting myself. I glance at him. He's staring at the castle gates in silence. Slowly, I slide my hand into my pocket. I keep my gaze fixed on the gates without really seeing them, focusing on the sensation under my fingers. Finally, I manage to free the blade, hiding it in the palm of my hand as I pull it out naturally. A quick glance at my friend tells me he still isn't looking at me, focused on the imminent arrival of my family. His brows are furrowed. I hope he hasn't noticed anything…
I ask, "Everything okay?"
His gaze flickers to me briefly before returning to the gates.
"I have to admit, I don't really know what to expect. I think I'm a bit nervous."
"You've never met Muggles before?"
The Slytherin lets out a small, somewhat bitter laugh, and I feel a hint of surprise. I was only joking.
"Never. It's ridiculous, isn't it? They're everywhere, far more numerous than wizards, and yet everything I know about them is second-hand. In our little bubble, everything revolves around our wands and our magic."
It's more concerning than ridiculous, really. But I don't say that. Instead, I try to reassure him.
"You'll see, there's really nothing to be worried about. My parents are… ordinary."
Ewald adjusts his attire without answering right away. To an untrained eye, he might appear completely composed, maybe even a bit arrogant. But I can read the nervousness in his gesture, perhaps tinged with embarrassment.
I discreetly unbutton my uniform sleeve on my left wrist, bringing the blade close while ensuring my movements are hidden from Ewald.
"It's not really the fact that they're Muggles that's making me nervous, honestly. I'm actually quite curious. But… they're your parents."
A slight smile of satisfaction almost escapes me as the blade slices into my skin. I make two shallow cuts, unable to manoeuvre much in my position.
"And?" I ask, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.
"I'm not really used to meeting my friends' parents. I don't have that many friends." His voice is laced with sarcasm. "And… You're important to me. I want to make a good impression."
I don't immediately know what to say to that. I'm touched. Discreetly, I put the blade back in my pocket while replying reassuringly,
"It'll be fine." I chuckle and add, as I re-button my sleeve, "And if it isn't, believe me, I'll make them regret it!"
Ewald shakes his head, looking slightly amused, before locking eyes with me.
"What did you just do?"
"What do you mean?" I suddenly know what it feels like to be a deer caught in headlights.
"You made a weird movement." Ewald tilts his head slightly, intrigued.
"It's nothing," I reply, forcing a light laugh.
The Slytherin's expression darkens, but at that moment, we spot a small group walking towards us from Hogsmeade, and our attention shifts to them. Ewald instinctively steps a little closer to me, and we watch as my parents approach with their escort. They're still too far for me to see clearly, but it has to be them, right?
Focused on my parents' approach, I'm caught off guard when Ewald grabs my arm and pushes up my sleeve. I lower my gaze to my wrist, where the two red marks stand out clearly, a little blood still trickling. Without looking, I can feel Ewald's eyes on my bare skin, and I fight the urge to yank my arm away. He's already seen it anyway. I don't want to hurt him.
I don't have time to dwell on my discomfort, because he quickly lets go, turning his gaze to the approaching adults.
"You should probably refresh your glamour." His voice is so carefully controlled that I know his Occlumency barriers are fully in place. "You have to see Madam Pomfrey, don't you?"
"That's right," I reply just as neutrally, using Occlumency myself.
I cast the spell quickly before the adults can see us too clearly. Before they reach earshot, my friend turns back to me.
"We're going to have to talk about this, Vivian."
I say nothing, unable to fully suppress the worry rising in my chest.
oOo
The meeting between Ewald and my parents goes well. I think they're just so thrilled to see that I have friends who aren't imaginary that they don't even question why he's here. Or maybe that's just normal child behaviour? Probably, actually. Madam Aster is in a hurry, so we don't spend too much time talking. She leads the way toward the castle, my father walking beside her, bombarding her with enthusiastic questions about Hogwarts, her job, and magic in general. My mother, on the other hand, stays by my side, questioning Ewald about his life here, his interests, and trying to talk to me as well, but I really don't feel like engaging with her. I'm too annoyed. Not that it matters—Ewald handles it all effortlessly.
I wish I could take his hand, but my mother is between us. And besides, I don't want to know what my parents would think of it.
I feel the Slytherin's mind brush against my barriers even as he continues his conversation with my mother. I open up to the contact without hesitation, and though there's a certain restraint in our exchange—probably because of my cutting—it's still comforting.
"I'm here for you," he transmits, and it warms my heart a little.
We don't exchange any more words; he's too focused on his conversation with my mother anyway. But it's true. He's here for me. I'm the reason he's here. I don't deserve this kind of luck. And yet, he's here.
Too soon, or maybe not soon enough, the infirmary door appears at the turn of the corridor. My friend politely takes his leave. I almost wish he would stay. Instead, I just say, "See you later, Ewald!" in an upbeat tone, while my mother bids him farewell as well. Madam Aster also slips away after opening the doors, and suddenly, it's just my parents and me following Madam Pomfrey through her domain.
She leads us into her office, seating me to my mother's left, my father on the other side.
"I appreciate you taking the time to come here," she begins. "I'm always glad to meet the parents of our students and to see your involvement in your child's well-being. As I mentioned, I am the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey. How would you like to proceed with this meeting? I can go over the situation and the possible solutions with you, or you may ask me directly about the concerns that weigh on you most."
"Thank you for your hospitality," my father replies before continuing. "We're pleased that the wizards have finally remembered that this is our child we're talking about and that we do, in fact, have certain rights as parents."
His tone is polite, and it takes me a fraction of a second to fully process what he just said.
And to realize that this conversation is not going to go the way I expected at all.
oOo
I keep my lips pressed together as I quickly change in the Quidditch changing rooms. No one tries to talk to me, and that's for the best. My mind replays the politely surprised expression of the nurse, my parents' closed-off faces, and I feel like I've just witnessed a train derailment. I step out onto the pitch. The wind has picked up, and heavy raindrops are crashing violently against the still-dry ground. I hear the other players grumbling a bit about the elements starting to rage. I smile with disdain. At least nature is giving me the gift of matching my anger.
"This incident has indeed been brought to my attention, and I understand that you feel wronged. I am a nurse, and I have always regretted my world's tendency to treat Muggle parents as insignificant when we are talking about their own flesh and blood."
Madam Pomfrey had somehow managed to calm my parents. To refocus the conversation on the matter at hand. I, on the other hand, just stood there, speechless, feeling like I had been laid bare before scavengers, my private life exposed and judged through their lens.
"Focus, Vivian!" Alphonse shouts at me as I brush past the goalposts, disrupting the Chasers' pass and making things easier for the half of the team we're training against. It's not the first time he's told me that. I dive down sharply without responding, hoping to drown my mind in the storm raging around us. Other captains might have called off training in this weather. Not Alphonse. But he has given very strict instructions to avoid injuries.
"With what she's been through, it's normal for Vivian to reject her femininity. But I don't think altering her body is the right way to heal her mind."
The rage continues to eat away at me. I'm playing badly, I know it. Worse than badly. The Snitch could be dancing the Macarena right in front of me, and I still wouldn't notice. How did my mother dare? I want to smash everything.
"I understand that this is a possibility that shouldn't be overlooked, but in your daughter's words, I did not get the impression that this trauma was a triggering factor. The terms she used, and the discomfort she described, seem to align more with transgender identity, as experienced by other patients I have supported. However, your concern is entirely legitimate, and it would be advisable to seek a second opinion from a Mind Healer."
The shock is so intense it nearly knocks me off my broom. That would have made my life easier, I think bitterly, gripping my sleeve tightly.
"Watch where you're going, you dragon dung! You're useless! At least Jenkins knows how to fly! Bitch!"
I don't even respond; there's no point. The game is stopped. Alphonse orders me back to the castle. He looks furious and disappointed.
"You're a menace today! You'd better pull yourself together for the match!"
His face is stern, but he still tells those complaining about him letting me play at all to shut their mouths. It's unfair. It's deserved.
I shoot towards the ground, pulling up at the last moment. It doesn't make me feel anything. I head for the changing rooms to grab my things, the rest of the conversation looping in my head. They had kept talking about me as if I weren't there, as if I weren't concerned, and my anger had been so overwhelming it had sealed my mouth shut. My shock, too. Madam Pomfrey seemed slightly more reasonable than my parents, but even she had suggested I see a Mind Healer.
I punch the wall of the changing room, finding some satisfaction in the dull pain, in releasing a fraction of my anger.
"I'm right here, you know! Does it not bother you to talk about me without asking for my opinion?!"
"Vivian…"
"No, Mum! We've already talked about this! When are you going to stop denying my efforts, denying that I'm doing well, that I'm at peace, just because it doesn't match what you think? Just because you wouldn't have experienced it the same way?"
I had turned to Madam Pomfrey at that moment.
"Yes, I killed a man that day, after he attacked me, after he attacked Arthur, my friend. I killed him to protect us. I don't regret anything. And I am at peace with what happened. Yes, I would have preferred it not to happen. But it did, and I have accepted it. They must teach you that, right? That not all victims experience assaults the same way?"
She nodded, silently, gently. I didn't need encouragement to keep shouting anyway.
"I don't want to have a chest. It's a well-thought-out decision. It's for my own good. Yes, I'm trans. There's no other convoluted explanation that would suit you better. You keep whining about your right as parents to be consulted on decisions that concern me, and what do you do? You deny my own right to decide what's best for me? This is my body, mine! I am the most important person in this matter, for fuck's sake!"
oOo
I walk away from the changing rooms without even bothering to cast an Impervius charm. Anyway, I have only clothes in my school bag. Nothing fragile. I take a few steps towards the castle before turning my heels towards the Forbidden Forest. I don't want to see anyone.
My outburst had briefly silenced the room before my parents and the nurse started speaking all at once. Madam Pomfrey had tried to bring calm, I think. My parents were scandalized by my tone, my words, full of what they called legitimate anger. It had taken a long time for everything to settle. Of course, my parents reminded me that, no matter how mature and intelligent I was, I was still just a child. My tongue burned with the desire to spit the truth at them. I stayed silent.
I pause when I reach the edge of the forest. No teacher in sight. The memory of the obstacle race comes to mind, and I pull out my broom. Let's see how fast I can fly in here. I start off with a rush, forced to slow down almost immediately to avoid a tree. Now, my life is at stake, or at least my physical integrity. My mind sharpens like a blade, the distracting thoughts deserting me as the branches whip at my limbs. At this speed, the raindrops feel like thousands of needles hitting me without slowing down. The air is thick with the smell of ozone and wet earth, storm and humus. I must not slow down. I cannot slow down. Because when I slow down…
In the end, they had considered my opinion. Reluctantly. They quickly forgot my presence again but were more cautious in their statements. In the end, no one had truly won. I could continue with my puberty blockers, but no permanent solution would be considered before a 'reasonable reflection period.' At least four months. A concession made begrudgingly by my parents. I was, of course, encouraged to talk to a Mind Healer in the meantime, ideally on a regular basis.
"Don't get defensive, young lady. Even if you're at peace with this event, it has likely left some marks, and it's not normal that you were left without any follow-up. Additionally, you might find it helpful to have someone to share your discovery of transgender identity with."
I'm breathless. I didn't see the branch, as I ventured into the forest; it was too dark with the storm. I fall hard to the ground, my momentum stopped. I desperately try to catch my breath as tears stream freely down my cheeks. I hear a distant crash as my broom hits a trunk. My stomach is on fire. A fire that consumes all the air reaching my lungs.
It takes several minutes in the fetal position on the ground before I can force my lungs to function normally. I hope I haven't broken anything. I hope my broom isn't destroyed. If only the branch had hit my head, maybe I could have just died… I slowly become aware of my body, which is screaming in pain, now that my abdomen no longer feels like it's being burned with a white-hot iron. Everything hurts, I'm soaked, my cheek in the mud. I'm pathetic. I hurt.
All I remember is that the Mind Healer isn't mandatory. I barely managed to say a polite goodbye to my parents, too furious that they had imposed their will on me, and they left with Madam Aster without me walking them out.
I stay lying there for several minutes, I think, before trying to get up. It takes me some time to succeed. My stomach is reluctant to uncoil, the slippery ground doesn't help. Once standing, I search for my wand and cast a Tempus. Almost time for dinner. My condition probably requires a Healer's attention, but there's no way I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey after this afternoon. She might convince herself that I really need a Mind Healer. I start looking for my broom, reluctantly casting a Lumos because it's really dark. I'm fully aware that yes, I have problems, traumas. But that doesn't mean my reactions are really linked to them, and far from being irrational. People tried to decide for me what was good for me, and the worst part is that they have power over me. Even though, of course, part of my aversion to having a chest comes from its hyper sexualization, that's not the underlying reason. It's a bonus. And of course, I have scars from my old life, but what helps me are my friends. Talking about all this to a stranger repulses me. I don't need a Mind Healer. I may, maybe, in some way, need help, but not this. It's just a solution that doesn't suit me. I need emotional support, not an analysis of my thoughts. I handle that very well on my own, thank you very much. Even if it's unfair to burden my friends, they're there for me. And that's the only help I can accept. I'm strong. And I grew up on my own.
oOo
My broom isn't as difficult to find as I feared. It's about ten meters from the crash site, with a bent twig but nothing worse. I'm relieved I didn't have to cast an Accio. I was worried I might have damaged it further if it had gotten stuck somewhere. For a moment, I think about flying back to the castle, but I'm not sure I can stay on the broom, and a branch to the stomach is enough for me. The anger has given way to an overwhelming emptiness inside me, filled with resignation and discouragement. It's as if the branch, in expelling the air from my lungs, had also deprived me of the fire that pushed me forward. I need to move, though. I quickly orient myself before starting to limp toward the castle. I need to find a way to wash up, if possible, and put on clean clothes before running into anyone.
I walk for what feels like a long time before emerging from the forest. My pain doesn't subside. When I lift my t-shirt, I discover a large bruise on my stomach, which I observe with detachment. It probably needs to be treated. I shrug. I continue limping toward the castle. It's when I look up a few meters later that I see two figures heading in my direction. Even at this distance, in the growing night, I recognize them. I sit down. They'll reach me anyway, and I'm in pain. It takes them a minute to get to me.
"Vivian?" Arthur asks.
"Hey." I grimace a smile at them.
"I'm guessing the meeting didn't go well?" Ewald says, dryly.
"Not really, no." I reply with a smile, surprised to find the situation almost funny, grateful for the detachment the Slytherin shows.
"What happened to you?" Arthur asks, suddenly concerned.
I imagine my injuries are visible, then.
"I hugged a tree with slightly too much enthusiasm," I answer, with a hint of sarcasm.
"Seriously, Vivian…" the Hufflepuff sighs, moving closer to examine me. "You'll need a Healer. What did you do?"
"Flew in the Forbidden Forest," I reply laconically, gesturing toward the first trees not far away.
Ewald's gaze is heavy on me, but for once, I don't resist. After all, I have no problem telling them. I give them a summary of the scene in the infirmary, sticking to short sentences because talking seems to hurt my stomach. I realize that all my anger hasn't dissipated after all. It remains like a handful of embers nestled in my heart, on which my story blows. My friends' reactions soothe me, though. They support me. They understand me, or seem to, and that's all I need right now.
"You still need to get treated, Vivian," Arthur sighs.
"I know," I admit reluctantly. "Can you do it, please?"
"I'm not a Healer!" protests the Hufflepuff.
"But you're competent enough, and I don't want to see Madam Pomfrey right now. Please."
"Fine," Arthur gives in, but I can tell he doesn't like it. "But if I realize what I'm doing isn't enough, you won't have a choice."
I nod reluctantly, sharply.
"Let's at least get back to the castle," Ewald sighs. "I'll carry you."
I'm about to protest, but he gives me a look and adds:
"I saw you walk."
I don't say anything else, letting him cast a spell to ease my weight before gently lifting me off the ground. He holds me in front of him like a baby, and I wrap my arms around his neck to sit as best as I can. My stomach hurts less curled up. I dirty the Slytherin's pristine uniform, but he doesn't say anything. Hesitantly, I nestle my body against his chest, bracing myself for him to push me away at any moment, but he doesn't.
"Sorry for your shirt," I whisper to him.
His arms tighten briefly around me, a sign that he heard me, but he doesn't say anything. When we're in sight of the castle, he casts a Disillusionment Charm on both of us. Arthur remains visible, opening and closing doors for us, guiding us through the less frequented paths to my tower. I'm too vulnerable in this moment to deny the gratitude that tightens my body when I see them act like this.
oOo
In the end, Arthur treats my most serious injuries while Ewald takes care of all the scratches and bruises the tree branches gave me. He also gently washes my arms with a very controlled Aquamenti, managing to make hot water appear, Merlin knows how. I notice that he's also searching for the cuts I made earlier to close them up. He doesn't comment, nor do I, but it's a clear reminder that we have an unresolved conversation. He finishes before Arthur, and holds my hand while waiting for the Hufflepuff to finish. Eventually, the latter steps back with a somewhat satisfied look.
"I've done all I can. You'll need to be careful tomorrow and the day after, and if there's any unusual pain, go to the infirmary, alright?"
I sigh but don't protest. I'll see when the time comes. I just thank him warmly, and he replies:
"I'm glad I could do something. And I'm happy that you've learned to recognise when you need help."
I grunt. He's not entirely wrong, but I don't like admitting it. I've changed. Against my will, but I did. There's now a trust between Arthur, Ewald, and Alphonse that wasn't there before the revelation of my past. Despite myself. And I haven't yet decided if that's a good or bad thing. The boys offer to accompany me to the Gryffindor tower, but I decline with a smile. I change before we leave the tower together, then we part ways to go to our respective common rooms. Ewald gives me a long look when we separate, and I wonder what he's thinking. He lets me go, though, and I wonder if he knows about the knife in my pocket. If he suspects that I'll use it. Probably. He's not the type to delude himself.
Finally, lying in my bed, I can't find sleep. Nothing surprising, but it's exhausting. I try to strangle myself a bit, but as usual, I can't manage to pass out. It's then that I realise I could see if the stunning spell we learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts works on humans. I point my wand at my temple, feeling a hint of excitement at the gesture, and I pronounce the incantation. The world finally disappears.
oOo
"My insomnia leads me astray and torments me. My mind never seems to know rest, even though it longs for it. Thoughts collide violently in the dark hours of the night as my eyes stare at the ceiling and its depths of darkness. I've tried the military relaxation techniques, I've tried cutting off the blood flow to my brain. I've tried letting my thoughts run free as well, but none of it soothes them. And I remain in the darkness, a puppet of my exhausted mind, waiting for the chaos to calm, hoping it will allow me to slip into dreams that perhaps won't hurt me with their sharp edges."
-Excerpt from a document found on Aurore Berger's computer by Quentin Lemage after her death-
If you enjoyed reading, don't forget to let me know by letting a review!
What did you think of this meeting with Pomfrey, and how Ewald and Arthur dealt with Vivian?