The Buddy System. *Updating In Process*

38. Ink, Memory, and Mercy

Theo had been staring into the fire for so long that the flames had practically imprinted themselves onto his irises — tiny flickers of gold dancing in the green.
The rest of us were spread out lazily around the common room, melted into various pieces of furniture like overworked house-elves at the end of a shift.

Draco sat on the rug behind me, his legs bracketing my hips, one hand absentmindedly stroking my shoulder as though reassuring himself I was really there.
Pansy and Blaise were sprawled dramatically across the sofa under a single blanket, bickering quietly about whose foot was colder.
Bleu was curled into the crook of my knee, purring like a miniature thunderstorm.

But Theo...

Theo wasn't really here.

He was sitting on the rug closest to the fire, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. His gaze never moved, never blinked, never softened. It was as though someone had carved him from stone and forgotten to bring him back.

I watched him for a long moment.

Then I shifted forward, resting my elbows gently on my knees.

"Theo," I murmured, voice soft so I wouldn't startle him. "What's going on?"

He jolted—actually jolted—like someone had cracked a whip behind his head.

"Hm? What?" His eyes darted around the room too quickly, too defensively. "Nothing—nothing at all."

Oh, sweet Salazar.

Theo Nott was many things—loyal, brilliant, quietly dramatic, sometimes unintentionally hilarious—but a convincing liar?

Absolutely not.

Pansy snorted into her hot chocolate, nearly spilling it onto Blaise's lap.

"Oh please," she drawled. "You look like you swallowed a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

Theo shot her a murderous glare.

Blaise soberly nodded beside her. "A big one."

"Thank you, Zabini," Theo said flatly.

Blaise tipped his mug in salute.

Theo then turned toward me—hesitated—and finally, with the smallest, saddest exhale, his shoulders dropped.

Not a collapse.

Not a surrender.

Just... a letting-go of the tension he'd been holding like armour.

"Alright," he said finally. "Fine. You want to know what's going on?"

I nodded and scooted closer. Draco's hand slipped from my shoulder down my arm, his thumb brushing softly across my wrist in quiet support. I felt the chill of the room fade a little.

Bleu lifted his head, sensed the shift, and rested a paw on Theo's foot.

Theo took another breath—his chest rising slowly, like lifting something heavy.

"I didn't want to say anything tonight," he began, voice rough. "I know you two—" he waved vaguely at me and Draco without looking up "—probably had plans for tomorrow. And I didn't want to... interfere. Or ruin anything."

Draco snorted. "Theo, you're not capable of ruining anything unless you physically light something on fire."

Pansy, without looking up: "Which you do. Frequently."

Theo scowled. "It was one experiment."

Blaise coughed. "One per week."

Theo flipped them both off without breaking eye contact with me.