Archive of Our Own

October 31st, 1994

The room smelled of incense. It was wafting off their clothes from the ritual thuribles that hung over the Great Hall doorway that evening, coating every student in a layer of cypress and thistleflower. Scents meant to strengthen the pure of heart, and prepare them for battle.

"In Normandy, thistleflowers were once left at the doorstep of a Lord to trigger the Thirty-Nights Rage War," Theo shared, lips twitching madly as Blaise's eyes fluttered shut. "The witch Castelina -"

"Enough!" Draco groaned, lobbing his pillow at him. "You're keeping me awake!"

"Blaise asked for a bedtime story."

"I asked you if you knew of any fantastic deaths from past Tournaments that we can use to create a betting pool," Blaise murmured tiredly.

"We have to go to sleep so we can wake up and start our campaign against Potter." Draco pointed bossily at Theo's bed, "Go to sleep."

"I'm not helping you with that," Theo drawled, heading over to his trunk. "What a waste of time."

"But what if it's also a campaign in support of Diggory?" Blaise teased. "One where you'd get - ahem, be forced to look at his face for hours on end."

"Please," Theo muttered. "You think I'm attracted to his face?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Draco snapped. "He's not even that good looking!"

Blaise and Theo exchanged the same dumbfounded look.

"Oh, he's jealous," Blaise waved his hand dismissively, "all because Diggory beat him to the snitch last year."

"That game was totally rigged against us!"

Theo tuned them out as he rifled through his wardrobe for pajamas and headed into the bathroom. Vincent was already snoring, and Greg had vanished behind the curtains of his bed. Neither of them would be brave enough to say anything to Draco for being too loud this late at night, but Theo shot a sound-muffling charm at their beds anyway. Partially because they weren't wizards worth a damn who would notice, and partially because he didn't want to hear them snoring all through the night.

He quickly brushed his teeth, changed, and crawled right into bed. It was half-past midnight. The ceremony to choose the Triwizard Champions had gone on much longer than it should have, and they still had a full day of classes tomorrow to look forward to.

Blaise was already asleep by the time Theo returned. Draco propped himself up on one elbow and hissed, "You are helping me or else I won't do your Charms essay!"

Theo really didn't want to do that Charms essay so he didn't argue. "Fine."

Draco went to bed looking too satisfied. 

He stared sleeplessly up at the top of his four-poster bed, waiting for the warming charm woven into his sheets to do its job. He tried to think of some way to get out of a whole day of listening to Draco complain about Potter and came up with nothing.

As he drifted off, content and distracted as he was, he forgot to take any special care with meditating. It wasn't a normal night where he felt like he had to, so it never even crossed his mind. Theo slipped easily into a deep sleep, and then into his dreams.

And then into the darker corners of his mind.

Potions class ended with Professor Flitwick bouncing in the air like a fairy. Snape growled and cast his wand on Potter to make him float, barking at him to catch Flitwick or else have a ten inch essay due every day for the rest of the year.

Theo followed Draco and Blaise toward the bright Great Hall. To his left, down a darker corridor that led to the common room, he saw a flash of white.

'Theo...'

He stopped, heart jumping in his chest. 'Mum?'

Her white dress trailed off around the corner and he took off, pushing to run as fast as he could, but his steps were oddly buoyant, like he, too, was floating in the air. He could hear a voice call after him - Draco, Blaise, Millie, someone -

'She's alive!' He called out, hearing his voice ring loudly against the damp stone walls. The world was getting darker as the hope grew stronger in his heart. He was flitting through dungeon classroom after dungeon classroom, each stacked high with furniture and slowing him down so he could never catch more than a flash of her hair or the hem of her robes.

Finally, remembering that he was a wizard, he brandished his wand and vanished all the old cauldrons in the next room, sprinting to the door and yanking it open before it could fully close. She was standing there, right in front of him. Real. Alive! He reached for her and -

She whipped around and slammed her fists on the mirror between them. He toppled backward with a strangled shout, banging his elbows on the hard stone floor.

'You did this to me!' She screamed, fighting to be heard through the glass. She slammed her face into the mirror again and again and again. Her voice was scratchy, like she'd been screaming for a long time. He gaped helplessly, watching the mirror start to crack from the inside. Fine shards scratched her hands, leaving smears of black blood on the mirror. 'I'm trapped! I'm trapped, Theo! I can't break free! You trapped me here!'

His lungs heaved for air. Pure, icy terror froze his tongue. 'I - you - what? What?'

His mother stopped hitting the glass. She pressed her bloodied palms along the mirror, staring down at him with an expression of disdain, maybe even hate. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the purple irises glittering with a faint red light. She was wearing the long white robe she'd been wearing after death, but the hem of it was singed and torn, and he could see her feet were bruised and bleeding.

When she opened her mouth, her teeth looked too long. Pointed. Her eyes darkened until they were fully black.

'You trapped me in this world after I told you to let me go.'

'No,' he whispered, the sound coming out more like a breathless sob. 'No - no - no.'

The mirror shimmered and melted down into sand. She was standing there before him, so very real, so very dangerous. She stalked forward with abnormally long steps, moving too fast, too smoothly, like a spider scuttling over the floor. Her eyes wept bloody tears, tracking black rivers down her face. Her mouth kept pulling down into a deep sob, but then she'd flinch, and writhe, and an expression of utter agony and hate would wrench across her face as if it were being torn out of her.

He pushed uselessly against the ground, but he was stuck. She crouched over him, strings of her bloody hair dragging over his face. 'What do you know of necromancy?' She hissed.

Every evil story he'd ever read flooded his mind at once. He choked on the answer, too afraid to look at her, sick with guilt because he'd done this. He'd done exactly what she asked him not to do and now he'd cursed her to be here, in this purgatory behind the mirror.'

'But I didn't know it would do that,' some part of him thought. 'I never would have tried it if I'd known -

'Tell me what you know, Theo,' she commanded.

There was a tug at his gut and he fell through the floor only to hit the ground again, cracking his head against the stone. He started shivering. Hot lifeblood ripped out of his side, drenching his clothes. He could feel gravity pulling him down at triple pressure, like it wanted to drag him through the floor again.

'It's a sacrifice,' his mother whispered. Only - her voice. Her voice was wrong. It had a reverberation to it. A growl. An underlying hum of disgust.

'That can't be her', he begged someone - anyone, squeezing his eyes shut. 'It can't be.'

'Of course it's me.' There were fingers in his hair, breath on his face. He was too afraid to open his eyes. 'I'm trapped between worlds, my sweet. Do you know how many monsters live here?'

He shook from head to toe, trying to get away from her, but his blood was sticking him to the ground. His throat worked, trying to muster the volume to call for help, but every time he thought he had it the word just died on his tongue as if he'd lost his voice completely.

She kissed his forehead, saying softly, 'If you want me to find peace, you must go.'

'Go where?' Bolstered by his own voice, he tried to call out, trying to shout as loudly as he could, but he could barely utter more than a whisper.

She pushed him into the floor. The stones scraped his wounded chest.

'Go on. Do it.'

The knife was in his hand.

'No. No!' He tried to toss it away but she snatched his hand, holding it tight to the hilt. He was overwhelmed with the realization that Draco and Blaise would never forgive him if he died here for this spirit, this siren, tricking him in the dark. 'She wouldn't want this!'

'YOU wanted it!' She snarled, leaping on him and driving the knife down into his chest -

Theo woke with a choked yell, slamming his skull into the back of the headboard.

He couldn't breathe. His lungs were rapidly working like bellows but there was no air. He was trapped in a hole - in a grave.

Theo's hands flew out, touching velvet, touching satiny bedcovers he hated, touching his bed.

I'm in the dorm, he chanted frantically, but he was too disoriented to believe it. It was pitch black. The air was stale and hot and he still - he couldn't -

Theo nearly tore the nearest curtain off, flinching from the sound of the hangings rattling off the rail. He was suddenly aware of how delicate the silence was. Holding his breath, he crawled out of bed and hared over to the bathroom, barely making it past the door before his lungs gave out and Theo let out a high-pitched gasp that was more like a choked wail.

Theo collided with the sink, scrabbling at the faucet before giving up just to clutch the shiny porcelain for dear life. His head swam and a desperate, catching gasp tugged at his chest over and over again, wrenching the air from his lungs like a breathlessness curse. His face felt hot but his whole body was cold, ice cold, and the two sensations together made him even more lightheaded, more dizzy, until he wasn't sure if he was going to scream or cry to throw up or hyperventilate into unconsciousness.

"Theo?"

A voice. He looked up, but his eyes were so full of pain-stricken tears that he couldn't make out anything but a dark shadow in the mirror. His fear skyrocketed. He shot back clumsily only to collide with -

Warmth.

"Theo?" Blaise caught him. Now that someone was touching him, he could really feel his breath ripping out of his lungs, jerking Blaise's light hand on his ribs back and forth.

I can't stop, he wanted to say, tried to say, but his mouth wouldn't move. He was like a sick dog panting in the corner, helpless as a fever infected his bloodstream. But this was no fever. Theo felt like he was actively crumbling into pieces. A dull, aching pain started crawling up the back of his legs and spine as his muscles seized in one place for too long, meeting the cutting, agonizing pain in his chest. He would have sobbed if he had the breath for it.

One of Blaise's hands moved to his back and started to work big circles between his shoulder blades. The other settled on his shoulder, squeezing solidly.

"Breathe," he said.

"I - I can't!" Theo managed to choke, not recognizing the sound of his own voice. His throat barely opened up enough to let him speak. "I - I - "

Blaise moved, not letting go of him, but sliding his hand up and cupping the back of his neck.

"Follow me," he said, pulling gently, forcing him to take a step backwards. "It's okay."

Clumsily, Theo let him manhandle his dumb and stiff body into place. One second they were standing together near the wall, and the next he was in a heap on the tile floor. Blaise sat behind him and hooked one arm around his waist, pulling Theo close to him so they were flush together.

He was in bliss from the warmth alone. The lines of heat from Blaise's legs and arms, not to mention the core of him, was like a blazing fire. Theo shivered uncontrollably as Blaise wrapped both arms around him, crossing one diagonally over his chest and cinching the other around his ribs.

Blaise took a deep breath. "Just follow me," he said, speaking in a normal tone of voice. Even though Theo knew it was an act, he clung to the even lilt of his friend's words, willing this to be nothing but a blip, something normal, something that wasn't an indication of something terribly, horribly wrong with him.

"Breathe in..." Blaise took another deep breath, and this time Theo could really feel his chest expanding against his shoulders. He tried to follow, managing to lengthen just one of three gasps in a row in the time it took Blaise to finish his breath. "And out," he murmured, exhaling with an audible hiss.

Theo closed his eyes and listened. Felt. He was so deathly cold that he raised one of his freezing hands up to touch Blaise's. He folded Theo's fingers under his palm and held him a little tighter.

On the next breath in he didn't do much better, but on the breath out Theo managed to lengthen his exhale into one long, if choppy, copy of Blaise.

They inhaled. When Theo's lungs struggled to obey him, Blaise calmly squeezed his hand and rubbed a small circle in his chest with his palm.

They exhaled. It came easier than before.

Inhale. This time it was the painful stitch in his side that made him gasp.

"And out," Blaise said, bending his knees to flex his ankles, boxing him in. Instantly, Theo felt a little better, and some muscle in his chest relaxed.

For a while, that was all they did. They breathed quietly until long after Theo had slowed down enough to match him, until the worst of the chill melted away and his shivering was reduced to light trembles in his legs.

Blaise didn't let him go the whole time. Not even when Theo broke the silence to whisper, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Blaise sniped, though he wasn't truly annoyed, for he squeezed Theo a little closer. "I'm glad I woke up. I wouldn't want you to go through that by yourself."

"I don't know what...that's never happened to me before." His mind recalled the dream. Nightmare. Message? His heart skipped a beat and that shaky, overwhelming feeling rushed back over him. "I don't know what that was. I just - I had a dream about...about..."

His throat closed up again. Blaise shushed him and tucked his nose into the crook of his neck.

God, it felt wonderful. Theo kept his eyes closed and tried to bottle up this feeling. 

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to tolerate being hugged this long by anyone else, except maybe Narcissa. But, this was Blaise. Blaise wouldn't ask him any questions, or lift his chin and force him to look into his eyes and tell him about the dream, or hound him with gentle words meant to elicit a promise of yes I'll come to you if I'm hurt.

Blaise was simply staying there with him, being who Theo needed. Like he always was.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes. Theo swallowed them back with great difficulty.

After along time, Blaise finally said, "Want to go to bed?"

"Please," he tried to smile, but his voice sounded strained and small and pathetic. Still, he tried to lie his way to normal. "I'm liable to freeze to death in here."

Blaise huffed. He left briefly as Theo cleaned his face. When he returned, he was holding a fresh pair of folded pajamas from Theo's wardrobe.

"You'll sleep better," he explained, leaving him to it.

Theo got dressed slowly, wrestling with this huge emotion in his chest. Why was Blaise so kind to him? Blaise wasn't like this with anyone, and Theo had really done nothing to deserve it, not in recent years.

He had to wash fresh tears away three more times before he finally wrestled his emotions down into something manageable. It was not lost on him that no one except for Finley and (when he was much younger) his parents had ever taken this much care of him before.

Draco's acerbic words from a year ago echoed in his head, like they so often did. You never give, Theo. You only take. You're like a black hole.

Draco had never been so right, really.

The only light in the dorm was from the heater in the center of a room. It emitted a warm red glow that lit up the floor. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he caught a motion from Blaise. When Theo padded over to look, wondering if he had some Dreamless Sleep he'd dug out of his trunk, he was stunned to realize that Blaise had actually stolen his pillow and was meaning for him to crawl into his bed.

Blaise motioned again and that was all the prompting he needed. A second later, Theo was tucked under the covers. Blaise pulled the curtains all the way around, enclosing them.

The darkness only lasted a moment.

"Whoa," Theo whispered, looking at the faint twinkling lights strung between the four corners. It wasn't bright enough to keep him awake, but it was enough to make out the shape of Blaise's face. It reminded him of the ambient light from a clear, starry night shining through his bedroom window in the Tower. "I didn't know you'd done this."

"It's nice, right?" Blaise smiled, speaking almost at a normal volume. "Don't worry, there's a really strong silencing charm on my bed, too. It doesn't work unless the curtains are closed. I got tired of Draco complaining that I was waking him up."

"I wondered why I hadn't heard you talking in your sleep recently," Theo smiled, feeling more like himself.

Blaise rolled his eyes, rising up on his elbow to squish his pillow around. "Gods forbid I disturb Prince Draco."

They snickered a little but quickly settled down. Theo was still chilly, but with both of them under the covers he was already starting to feel warm again. Still, Blaise kicked up a folded throw at the end of his bed and draped it mostly over Theo.

"Thanks," he said again, wincing at how hollow the word sounded in light of everything Blaise had done.

"Too bad this isn't my bed at home," Blaise lamented. "I've got this body pillow charmed to read your body temperature so you never get too hot or too cold."

"I need that," Theo said seriously.

"I'll get you one for Christmas."

They fell back into silence, but it was comfortable. Soft. Theo's eyes felt heavy, yet he also was too wound up to even consider falling asleep. He threw his left arm over his head and sighed, trying to muster up some words that would convey his gratitude. "Really, Blaise, thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me," he mumbled. Theo could detect a hint of nervousness in his voice too, like he was also too keyed up to sleep.

All the things that had been running through his head for over a year (three years, really) flashed through his mind. He wanted to say them all, but mostly, I'm sorry, and you deserve a better friend than me.

But just looking at Blaise he knew that he was never going to be deterred by Theo's pathetic little speech.

I just have to be better, he decided, looking up at the top of the curtains again.

"Theo, listen..." Blaise took a steadying breath, playing with a loose thread on his blanket. "I'm not gonna ask you a question, don't worry. I just want to tell you that..."

Theo watched him, one arm still half-covering his face as Blaise struggled to line up his words. He couldn't tell if it was the sparkle from the nightlights that were making his eyes look wet or not, not when Blaise's voice was so even.

"I want you to know that you can tell me anything. Anything. I mean it. And I don't mean just your secrets, or your - your family stuff, I know that you don't want to talk about that, and that's fine." He avoided Theo's gaze, focusing on the string he'd pulled loose. "You can talk to me about anything that's going on in your head, even if you think it's stupid, or - I don't know, a waste of my time?"

"I talk to you," Theo said, a bit reproachfully.

"No - I mean, yes, you do, and it's gotten so much better this year and I'm not - I don't mean talking to me. I mean, you can tell me the stuff that goes on in your head when you get all quiet." Blaise finally turned to look at him. "Like in the bathroom just now, before we got up. When you're...gone. Or like, when you're sitting in a window?"

Theo flinched, but in a second Blaise was there, laying his hand on his shoulder to keep him close. "It's okay. I know you like your quiet, and to keep your thoughts to yourself, but you don't have to be so....edited with me, you know? Not all the time. Not if it's easier not to be."

Blaise made a face and turned away again. "I know this is coming out like I'm asking you to be more open but that's not how I'm trying to say it, I just...I just want you to know, because I thought that, maybe, you didn't know."

I know, he wanted to say.

But, had he?

"And you can always wake me up if that happens again." He added, saving him from needing to respond. "Or even if you just don't want to be alone. Okay?"

Theo couldn't answer so he just nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Blaise patted his hand and shuffled in closer so their arms were pressed together.

A tight silence settled over them. The pressure behind his eyes got worse with every second. Theo wasn't even sure what he was upset about. Was it the fact that Blaise was too good of a friend to him? Latent misery from the nightmare? A residual reaction from his little fit in the bathroom?

Or was it just the weight of all the rotten secrets coiled up inside him? The necromancy from last year, the deep-seated fear that he would never be smart enough or fast enough or good enough to live up to his father's expectations, the dangerous edge of oblivion he'd walked along for years, wondering if it was some kind of cosmic mistake that Theo was alive at all?

"Blaise," he said, hardly believing that he'd found his voice. And still, even though he'd done the hardest part by breaking the silence, he found himself wanting to hold back. To stay silent and dismiss, curl away, keep it all close to his heart.

But it was Blaise.

He started to shake as he closed his eyes and whispered, "On this day last year, I almost died."

Blaise went completely still. Theo glanced at him to make sure he'd heard and was shocked to see something wholly unexpected in Blaise's wide, horrified eyes. Guilt.

"I was doing a ritual," Theo quickly explained, trying to wipe that look off his face. "I wanted to talk to my mother."

"Necromancy?" Blaise rasped, curling his hands under the blankets.

"Yes. I...it takes a sacrifice, something living. And I used myself - I mean, that's how the spell works. I had to use my own lifeblood to open a window through the veil, and then she - and then I called her to the mirror."

Blaise listened in silence as he explained it all. How he'd prepared for months to do it. How he'd purposefully pushed all the other Slytherins away so no one would suspect what he was up to. How not even his father knew that he'd found the ritual in a book in their house, or that he'd been studying it since second year.

It was all coming out easier than he expected, up until he had to describe how the ritual almost ended.

"I'd dropped my wand, and I was bleeding out. It was cold. I was cold. I felt too weak to even try to reach for it." Word by word, all the volume in his voice began to trickle away, until he was reduced to a raspy whisper. The lump was back, choking off his throat, but Theo endeavored on. "I didn't want to save myself. I wasn't going to, I think, but then she gave me this memory..."

It washed over him again, as fresh and as bright as the first time he saw it. Looking at himself through his mother's eyes. It wasn't so much the beauty of that moment that was lodged in his brain, but the feeling that her words conjured in him.

You can go anywhere now.

She'd resurrected a forgotten dream. The world darkened after she died, yes, but that was not the only part of the world that lost its luster. The magical world itself seemed to be bracing for a storm, getting more and more grim every year. The freedom and hope and wild, imaginative dreams he'd had as a child were so dead in his mind that he couldn't even remember what they used to be, could only remember how they used to make him feel.

But when her voice spoke in his head with so much love and excitement, ringing with true belief, it ignited those feelings again. They became a tiny candle flame in the center of himself, barely giving off any heat or light, but just bright enough to keep the worst of the shadows at bay. Yes, times were dark, but he didn't want to believe that's all his life would be.

Painfully, Theo described the memory to Blaise, trying desperately to make it through without cracking. He only got as far as, "I saw a memory through her eyes, of me -" and his voice promptly broke. The pressure in his chest cracked open, releasing a torrent of emotion like he hadn't felt in years. He pushed both hands over his face, his mind working to cling to something else, anything that would help him ground himself for long enough to force these emotions away again.

Blaise made a sad noise and pulled at his shoulder. "Theo, it's okay," he said, a bit anxiously. "Come here. Shh, don't hold your breath, it's fine, it's fine."

Theo curled up on his side, mostly on Blaise's pillow. Blaise had slipped his left arm under his neck when he moved and suddenly he went from feeling overexposed and humiliated to warm and protected.

If anything that just made him cry harder. He pinched Blaise's shirt between his fingers and cried into his collar bone. It was frighteningly loud. Theo was never loud, but this was so out of his control that he was helpless but to listen to the sound of his own wretched sobs, only just muffled by the bed and Blaise.

So, instead, he focused on the sound of his best friend's voice just above his head. He wasn't saying much, but he'd occasionally murmur shhhh or It's okay. Theo clung to his every word, letting them wash over him as powerful sobs wracked his body. He felt sick and pathetic and ugly and like some horrible thing that should have been left on the bathroom floor - except for when Blaise's voice would bring him back.

"It's okay, everything is going to be okay," he repeated quietly, maybe trying to assure both of them.

Theo had almost never taken anyone at their word in his life, but in that moment, he willed himself to believe that Blaise was right.

Eventually, when the worst of the tears had passed, Blaise moved the hand that was making slow swipes up and down his spine up to slide through his hair instead.

"So, she showed you a memory of yourself, through her eyes?" He asked gently.

Theo only stuttered a little through the rest of the details. He described the feelings she was feeling and the sight of himself, learning how to walk. He made it through how much those words meant to him, but just barely. His voice choked out a few times, but every time Blaise was there to catch him and hold him through it.

Finally, it was over. Theo felt raw, like his face had been scraped away by sandpaper. Blaise whispered to him to be quiet and snuck out of bed again, returning with tissues from the bathroom and a damp washcloth.

Theo sat up to clean his face, crossing his legs on the bed. Blaise pulled the curtains back around and settled in next to him. Theo couldn't bear the thought of looking at him so he kept his eyes down and fiddled with a tissue.

"After she showed me that, I decided I had to try and - and live, even if I didn't...even though I didn't really want to. So, I picked up my wand and cast the counterspell."

Saying it out loud just cemented that he was truly the most wretched person. He prickled with shame. If this didn't make Blaise even a little disgusted with him, then he was truly too good a person for Theo.

"And then?" Blaise prompted.

What a relief it was to think of the miserable aftermath instead of that moment. "And then I think I passed out for a while. But when I came to, it wasn't even dark yet. I cleaned up all the traces of what I'd done and just walked back to the dorms. Crawled into bed. Slept for like, sixteen hours." He huffed, remembering how awful he'd felt when he had to wake up and go to breakfast the next day. "Snape thought I was sick. Remember how a lot of people caught a bug after we all had to sleep in the Great Hall? So, I got two days to recuperate, and that got me through the worst of it. It took about a month for that wound on my chest to heal, though. It'd wake me up from a dead sleep sometimes feeling like I'd stabbed myself all over again."

"And you just handled all that alone?" Blaise asked directly, clenching his hands into fists. "You didn't tell anyone? Or get any help? You could have dropped dead any day but you didn't, by miracle alone?"

"I guess," he sniffled. "I almost told Draco. I was so close to saying something just a few days after it happened. We were alone in the dorm, and he was being...not awful." His stomach hurt as tears burned his eyes again.

He screwed his eyes shut and willed them to go away. He was almost successful until Blaise said in a wobbly voice, "But why not me?"

Theo's head snapped up, impatiently batting tears away. "No, Blaise, it's not - it wasn't because of you. There's nothing wrong with you. It was because I was afraid you'd hate me. Draco - well - I already knew he hated me and I thought that his opinion couldn't possibly sink any lower if he knew, but also, he's...he's like family? You know? So even though we weren't getting along at the time, part of me has always felt that he'd never really turn his back on me if I needed him. But you - you were the only person I really had left who was choosing to be my friend, besides Millie, and I couldn't risk losing that. You. Losing you."

Blaise just looked at him, his eyes wide and glossy with pain.

Theo struggled to explain it better. "I guess I wanted to spare you from knowing. I mean, what could you even do? It was my screw up. The pain was the price I paid for being so selfish. And then when we - when Draco and I fought and I was off by myself for a while, I really thought it was for the best. I didn't want you to have to be around me, knowing how I was and how - how much I was lying to you. You deserved to do better things with your time than worry about me. It's not like I was worth all that worry in the first place."

Blaise reached out to cup his cheek, startling him into silence. "Theo, how could you think that?"

He pulled away. "What do you mean?" He scoffed. "I almost killed myself, Blaise. I almost let myself die, and all for a stupid and selfish reason. On top of that I was awful to you for years." This almost grieved him more than what he'd done. "I was afraid that if I admitted what I'd done to you after it happened, you wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore, and you would have been right to, by the way! So I was being even more selfish in the end by keeping this from you, because I don't think I can survive without you, Blaise!"

He snapped his mouth shut. He'd never planned to actually say that to Blaise, though he'd thought it many times over the years. It felt too needy, too vulnerable.

But Blaise didn't even twitch.

"And yet, you went off on your own for half a year anyway," he pointed out, shaking his head. "How does that - oh."

In his quiet pause, Theo began to shiver, but when Blaise tried to touch his arm he leaned away, wrapping his own arms around himself.

"You thought I did hate you," he murmured. "After what Draco told you, and I...and then we fought..."

Theo winced, because he was right. "It's fine."

"It's not, Theo!" Blaise insisted. "You were dealing with the aftermath of this on your own, and I had no idea! How is that okay?"

"It shouldn't be on you to take care of me," Theo replied, strongly. "I needed the space to clear my head and pull it together again. It's not up to you to do that for me."

Blaise groaned, running his hands over his face. "Okay, listen, I know what you're saying, and on some level, I get it. Really, I do. But I don't want you to put on an act for me, either."

"I'm honest with you," he disagreed, but he looked away as he said it.

Blaise took his hand, forcing him to open his crossed arms. It made the ache in his heart throb, so even though he felt like a coward doing it, Theo kept his face down so Blaise wouldn't see him trying so hard to control himself.

"Not when you go away in your head," Blaise said pleadingly. "Not when you keep your secrets so close that I don't even know you have them. If I'd known that you had gotten hurt..."

"You couldn't have done anything," Theo repeated in a bare whisper.

"But I can help you carry it," Blaise insisted, his voice wavering with emotion. "Do you really think that it's fair for you to listen to me go on and on about my mum and my stepfathers, but all I get to do is try to distract you from your thoughts, or sometimes sit with you up on the fifth floor? Why can't I listen to you for a change? It really helps!"

The idea of talking about any of numerous hurts he carried around felt about as appetizing as drinking poison. Had Blaise seen what just happened when Theo told him about the ritual? Gods, what would happen if he ever even approached the other things?

While he struggled to find the words, Blaise moved over so they were side by side, pressed up together. He clasped Theo's limp hand in both of his, squeezing it hard and taking a deep breath. When he spoke again it was with resounding gentleness. "You don't have to say anything, or talk to me about those things if you don't want to. You don't. But there is nothing you could say to me that would make me hate you, or leave you behind. Nothing."

Theo took a breath. His body felt warm and tingly, like after he finished running around the lake. It was oddly relieving even though there was still a persistent catch in his chest.

Maybe Blaise was onto something. Maybe it would be better to not hold back so much.

"What if I tell you that your dress robes look tacky?" Theo joked, weakly.

Blaise scoffed and swiped a tear off his cheek before Theo could do it himself. "I'd remind you that you don't know anything about fashion."

His mouth twitched, but he was too wrung out to laugh. After everything that had been said, he felt like he owed Blaise a little more than to end their conversation with an attempt at levity.

Theo leaned over and tentatively wrapped his arms around Blaise, turning so he could burrow his face in the crook of his neck. In the safety of that, where Blaise couldn't see him, he said softly, "It's just that I feel like this almost all the time."

"Feel like what?" Blaise asked just as quietly. Theo could feel the slightest tremble in his body, as if Blaise was afraid of the answer.

"Just...miserable. Sad. Empty." The words dragged off his tongue. He hid his face a little tighter into Blaise's shoulder. "I don't think there's anything you can do about it. That's why I don't tell you. It doesn't go away even when I'm with you, or Draco, or anyone. In fact..." He had to stop because his voice gave out and it took a minute to work up the control to finish. "I think it gets worse when I am happy, because I know it's not going to last."

Blaise sighed deeply, pressing his face down into Theo's neck as well. He was afraid, for a moment, that Blaise would start crying too, but he didn't.

Instead, in a small voice he whispered, "I wish you didn't feel that way."

It was not what he expected, but it was also somehow better than any response Theo could think of. What does one say to something like that? I'm sorry? Get over it? Keep it to yourself, then?

"I wish I didn't either," he murmured back. "I wish I could be a better friend to you, but -"

"Would you shut up about that?" Blaise flicked the back of his head, "The quality of your friendship has nothing to do with if you're happy or sad."

Theo held his breath for a second, trying to work that out in his head. "It doesn't?"

"No." Blaise tightened his grip, as if to really drive his point home. "In fact, this has made me realize you're an even better friend than I knew, if you've been there for me this whole time feeling like shit."

"But I...I'm not...you're always full of energy, and stories, and jokes, and I almost never play along." He pulled away, too confused to let this go. "I never even went to a quidditch game until last year."

Blaise smiled fondly. "I'm not Draco, I don't need you to match my energy. Actually, I prefer that you don't. We have this bright side - dark side thing going for us that unnerves the other Houses, haven't you noticed?"

"No," Theo said honestly.

Blaise leaned back, drawing the covers away so they could lay down again. He flipped his pillow, effortlessly removing any awkwardness Theo was feeling about soaking his pillowcase with tears.

"Theo, being your best friend kind of makes me feel like...well..." Blaise hummed thoughtfully. "It feels like being friends with like a wild animal. But...let's see, it's got to be something scary looking, like a panther."

Theo pulled the blanket under his chin, smiling a little, "Okay..."

"And I don't just mean because you're intimidating, but also because in this scenario you're very clearly a wild animal to everyone around us. You're different, Theo. It's not immediately obvious to most people in the pure-blooded world who know you and your family because you put on such a good act, but here you've done away with all that pretense. You're just walking the halls with us as if you're a normal human, doing homework or whatever, and you don't take any notice of the people around you."

"And why should I?" Theo interjected, smiling as his analogy grew more and more ridiculous. "I am a wild panther."

"Exactly," Blaise said with complete seriousness. "When people see me with you, they're scared of both of us, but intrigued by me because I managed to get close to you. It's pretty clear that you're not interested in making other friends, so that makes them wonder how'd he do it? What does he know?"

Theo rolled his eyes, "And what do you know that they don't?"

"That I'm a wild animal too," Blaise grinned. "I just wear a very convincing skin suit."

He had to laugh. Blaise snickered and rolled onto his back.

"I see what you're saying, though," Theo said before the moment passed. "We're the same. Very different, but the same."

"Mhm," Blaise nestled down and closed his eyes. His hand moved under the covers to touch his forearm, like he was assuring himself that Theo was still there. "I like you exactly the way you are. In fact, if you could get even weirder, that would be great."

He snorted with laughter, which set Blaise off, and then they were both giggling madly, trying to be quiet despite the silencing charm, which only made them laugh harder.

Eventually, they calmed down. Blaise drifted off to sleep first, still with his hand loosely covering Theo's wrist.

He waited until Blaise's breaths had deepened to move around, flipping on his side, facing Blaise. He moved in close enough that he could rest his forehead along his friend's arm. He smelled like the clove-scented body wash he used that reminded Theo of the winter holidays.

He thought about how the memory from his mother made him feel.

He wondered what it would feel like to look at himself through Blaise's eyes, because clearly he was seeing something that Theo couldn't.

Theo fell asleep pondering what that could be.