𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 |𝐃.𝐌

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 | 𝐜 𝐨 𝐫 𝐫 𝐢 𝐝 𝐨 𝐫 𝐚 𝐜 𝐜 𝐢 𝐝 𝐞 𝐧 𝐭 𝐬

"𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞."
- 'sparks fly' by Taylor Swift

──────────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰──────────
HEMERA

The Great Hall finally buzzes with life after three months of no one stepping a foot inside. More and more students walk through the heavy double doors, filling the room and flooding the free seats on the benches of all four house tables. Murmurs and laughter echo around the huge, high-ceiling dining room despite the fact that the first day of classes has officially arrived. No one seems particularly bothered by the upcoming lectures, and amongst the unfamiliar faces of some first years, I even notice a few smiles of blazing excitement.

The delicious smell of freshly baked croissants and honey-coated pancakes attacks my senses with every inhale I dare to draw in, causing my mouth to salivate at the mere idea of suppressing the low grumble of my stomach with them.

My attention is drawn to Theo sitting opposite me on the other side of the Slytherin table when he speaks. "Honestly, I think it'll take me a while to get back on track with waking up early." He helplessly runs his hand down his face, tiredly pulling his bottom lip down just a little before it bounces back to the straight line of his mouth.

I take the evident exhaustion lining his features as a chance to ask, "How'd you sleep last night?"

Given that the glare I receive is sharp enough to stab right through me, I guess that sharing a bed with Blaise remains as hard of an assignment as it's always been. Blaise has always had the tendency to kick in his sleep and not just simple shoves that would go unnoticed-— I'm talking about his limbs going on full propel mode like a toddler being dragged out of the playground against their will.

And then, there's Theo's trepidation that would interfere if he ever thought of piling a few pillows on the floor and sleeping there. When Theo was eleven, and during our first night at Hogwarts, he was pranked by some sixth-years who told him that Sir Nicholas, the ghost that wanders around the castle nearly headless, was searching for prey to recreate the scene of his death. In the fear of ending up decapitated, Draco, Theo, and Blaise ended up sleeping in the same bed and refused to peek from the heavy duvet until Pansy and I had to pull the cover off of them ourselves the next morning.

I don't know if a small part of Theo never managed to recover from the trauma, but there hasn't been a single first night back that he's actually slept in his bed alone, in the past five years. Last night only counts as the sixth.

On his right, Pansy snickers, her yawn cutting her off. She already looks drained, and I don't find it in myself to tease her about it. One glare from her can easily have me sleeping in full-body armor in the hopes of waking up with all my limbs intact, knowing that every slicing look counts as a promised threat.

"I don't want to go to class." Draco's long-lasting whine from beside me makes me glance at him. I'm met with the sight of him pressing his forehead against the surface of the table, face-down, his platinum hair contrasting the dark wood. For a split second, I even wonder if he's even breathing right, but as soon as a sigh flies past his lips, I know the answer.

I notice how the food on his plate remains untouched, and the glass I previously filled with apple juice has been pushed a few inches away.

"Don't be a big seventeen-year-old baby," I tell him, stroking his shoulder in what I hope is a comforting gesture. He doesn't lift his head, but I hear him sigh again, this time louder than before. "Come on, you'll feel better once you eat something."