Finito
The next day came, then the next, and the next until this God forbidden detention was over. Theodore and I were free from the chains of punishment, for now, at least. Snape stopped bothering us, the continual pester of being right on time ceased, the Room of Requirement but a distant, fresh memory we shared with lots of laughter and meaningful confessions. Detention was over, finally. Though, Theodore and I had grown quite closer to each other; after all, these hours spent together, those deep conversations and heartfelt discussions of the past and... that about my father, had made us understand each other's value. That, despite our clashing personalities, we could be friends, or whatever this between Theodore and I was.
Or so I thought.
As soon as detention was over, the next day Theodore was acting... strange. I was walking down the corridor towards the courtyard with Pansy, my best friend, her arm hugging mine as we were chattering about our eventful day. When Theodore and his little group of friends seemed to be standing at the end of the hall, chatting and smoking cigarettes, the grey, odd-smelling cloud fogging their faces. Theodore’s back was leaning on the stone-built wall behind him, one hand shoved in the pocket of his pants as he pushed his Slytherin robes back. His other hand was rhythmically tapping on the butt of the cigarette, his deep, strong voice carried that ethereal Italian accent to my ears. He slowly turned his head towards me at the sound of shoes drumming over the dull ground, my hand instinctively raised to wave at him, maybe even greet him up close.
He just turned away.
My hand fell back to my side, feeling more confused than ever. He had snapped his head back to his friends, back to the group of Slytherin boys that were talking to him with such eagerness to grab his attention. Theodore’s expression remained unmoving, unchanged and stripped from emotions; even the sparkle of interest had dimmed in his eyes. Maybe it was because the breakup between Daphne and him had finally been registered in his head. But I couldn’t notice one simple, singular emotion whatsoever.
Pansy bumped my ribs with her elbow softly, her arm tightening around mine, partly to keep me walking, her gaze piercing the boys at the end of the corridor. Something inside me stirred uncomfortably, like something had fallen from a high height and shattered at the pit of my stomach. I gulped hard, holding my head high, suddenly silence fell upon both Pansy, me and Theodore’s friends as we walked towards them. Theodore kept staring at the floor with that casual indifference, the cigarette in his lips coming and going with each brief inhale. Pansy and I passed them, the silence now growing eerie among the boys, only the sound of burning cigarettes and ashes falling mindlessly on the floor echoing. My eyes were stubbornly glued at the end of the corridor and out in the courtyard, peripheral sight catching a glimpse of some boys' side eyeing us for no reason apart from walking around them.
Out of a sudden Pansy’s feet came to a stop, her head tilted as she turned back towards the boys.
“It doesn’t hurt your ego to greet others, y’know.”
Pansy’s ironic volume came out flawlessly, followed by a flipped middle finger towards them. One of Theodore’s friends – a guy named Mattheo Riddle – took a step forward towards us, rolling the sleeves of his black hoodie up to his elbows. Mattheo’s twin brother – Tom Riddle, surprise surprise – regarded us with a careful, measured chilly glare, disdain written all over his neatly structured posture as his hands were clapped behind his back. Another guy with a loose fridge of platinum blonde hair scowled his upper lip, his judgmental gaze scanning Pansy and me up and down. Theodore, on the other hand, pretended not to have taken notice, letting his guard dogs bark at us as he feigned a nonchalant attitude he was known to have. It just bothered me that he would go back to this state after everything we had shared. After everything we talked – wholeheartedly, raw and exposed to each other. And I just couldn’t understand why it bothered me to this extent. Which only angered me further.
“Heck you just said to us, Parkinson?”
“Are you deaf, Riddle? Or did your ego did, indeed, get hurt?” I butted in, nodding my head up at Mattheo provokingly, clearly on purpose. My hands were firmly placed on my hips, tongue clicking over my teeth as I glared at him, daring him to react, to do something, anything.
“That’s enough, Matt. We surely do not want to drop to their level.”
“Drop? I would say rise. But you do you, Malfoy.”
“How dare you disregard me like that, Parkinson!”
“What, is your father going to hear about this?” Pansy let out a snorting laugh, bumping my shoulder to bring my piercing gaze away from Theodore, who remained staring flatly at the ground. As if the floor was sharing the story of its life to him – that's how focused he looked; his head low, hands shoved deeper into his pockets by each second ticking by, the cigarette he was once smoking now long forgotten, stomped beneath Theodore’s shoe. Why was his ignorance annoying me, making the blood in my veins burn and seethe full of a complex series of emotions? I let out a huff, my teeth gritting against my tongue, biting it as hard as I could to bring myself to reality. Anywhere apart from openly gawping at Theodore, which Pansy had already caught up on.
“Fuck it,” I whispered with a hiss in Pansy’s ear as I leaned closer to her, my mouth twitching into a glower full of frustration and ire, bumping Pansy’s shoulder with my elbow sharply, “we are only wasting our spit.” I spat out vexatiously, grabbing her right upper arm firmly, dragging Pansy away without sparing the boys a glance – yanking my pissed glare away from Theodore with a heavy heart and heavy, loud feet, practically stomping my way out. Pansy was stunned; eyes wide and searching my frowned grimace for any sorts of answers, not even arguing, her thin eyebrows furrowed up to her smooth forehead in what seemed with worry, concern. She knew that this conversation / argument was not going to get us anywhere, everybody knew that. Pansy also knew there was something I had hid from her, something in the way her concerned gaze kept drifting between Theodore and I meant she knew better than to let this matter die down. As well as everybody knowing that only physical fights could solve our arguments in the prideful, noble House of Slytherin.
Out of hearing distance, the boys remained standing still at the end of the corridor, nearly speechless. Mattheo was the first to break the silence with a derided huff; his sharp, fiery glare still fixated on Pansy’s back – who was getting dragged away – and Ophelia, who for some reason seemed more irritated than usual, her angry stomping similar to a spoiled child throwing a tantrum over a toy they didn’t get to have. Excessively loud, echoing down the dull walls and stiff stone-tiled ground with each shoe striking harder against the material beneath. Probably that time of the month, or so the boys thought.
“What the... they just... left?”
“How come Knight didn’t break your nose, Riddle? She made it anew last time. Perfect rhinoplasty work, if I may so say myself.”
“Shut up, Malfoy! It was a moment of weakness! Let’s not forget the glue incident in your hair from two years ago. Pansy did an amazing job on those bleached platinum hair of yours.”
“It certainly looked like she was holding you down, brother.”
“Ugh, you guys are such cunts! Yo, Theo, what’s wrong with you, mate? You literally said nothing to those cows.” Mattheo directed a critical glare at his friend, Theodore, who was leaning his back against the wall throughout the entire interaction. As soon as Mattheo’s insult came out, his question sent Theodore’s eyes shut, as if it was the first time anyone had spoken about Ophelia and Pansy in such manner. Then, his head shot up, his lips tightly forming into a thin slit as his nostrils flared widely with a clenched jaw, teeth gritting like he was a shark sensing blood in the horizon.
“Don’t talk about them like that.”
“... Fuck you mean ‘don’t talk about them like that’? Isn’t that how we always talk to people who dare—”
“I don’t give a flying, bloody, darn fuck, Mattheo! I said don’t talk about them like that!”
“... Bullshit,” Mattheo’s whisper began, his jaw hanging low, open, gawking stupidly at Theodore as if he had realized something, as if two puzzle pieces had been placed in the back of his head, full of new, shocking information. He then let out a humorless laugh “You like that git, Parkinson?”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me you fucking like Knight?”
“That’s none of your business, Mattheo.”
“Oh, piss off!”
“I didn’t say I like her!”
“You just broke up with that slut Daphne! And you just... you just fancy that bloody minger Knight—”
“I said don’t fucking talk about her like that!” Theodore shouted; his voice unnaturally unbalanced, unhinged, as if his logic was hanging by a single, thin thread that kept wavering with each ragged breath he took.
“... Cazzo,” Theodore sighed heavily with an exasperated breath, throwing his hand up to his wavy strands, messing them up with an uncontrolled toss, his shoulders visibly tensing. He seemed strangely lost, atypically out of character and confused. Why did he care, he didn’t know. Why it bothered him when people spoke ill about Ophelia, that also he didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to feel so bothered by his friends insulting a random girl.
“I’m leaving.” Theodore broke the eerie silent charm that had clouded his friends and him, separating their mindsets worse than ever before. Mattheo’s eyebrows singed together, a scowl forming his lips into an ugly grimace.
“What? Why?”
“I need time alone—”
“You always need time alone! Explain whatever the fuck happened!”
“I said I need time alone, Mattheo.” Theodore insisted with a steadier breath now, dragging his hand down from his messed up, disheveled hair and over his face.
“Whatever, man. That’s not cool.” Mattheo snarled desperately at Theodore; his hand extended to reach out to him, only to be met with the cold, distant aura where Theodore once was standing against the wall. Mattheo let out a long, tense breath he had been holding in his prideful chest, letting it out quicker than when he took it in. The boys remained standing at the end of the corridor as Theodore walked past them with a low head, his complexed, stoic gaze fixated on every crack of each stone placed on the floor. Until he was gone, taking whatever pieces left of perplexity along with him.
“Enough. He needs time alone, let him be.”
“You say that because you don’t care about him, Malfoy! I do! He is my best friend and he... he just seems so out of touch lately.” Mattheo mumbled the last part, more like talking to himself with the way he bit back his words, as concerned as Pansy was at Ophelia’s puzzling reaction.
“This won’t go well.” Tom suddenly spoke up, his grey eyes catching a fleeting glance on Theodore’s guarded, broad back before the latter disappeared around the corner. “These two will destroy each other.”
And, just like that, time passed, seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. Hours of me being glued inside my dorm room. Pansy had, surprisingly, not asked me anything about Theodore and me. Yet. Not that there was anything to discuss about, of course. For all I know, Theodore could be insulting me with those dickheads' friends of his. Agreeing on how stupid I looked when I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him, how ugly I looked when I raised my hand to wave and him turning his head, ignoring me like I was but a fly annoyingly buzzing in his ear. It felt strange, not being able to look away from him. As if he was the flame attracting pestering moths in a warm summer night.
After Pansy and I parted ways, she mentioned we would talk later. Most likely about this situation, to fill her in on nothing. All these days spent with Theodore had emotionally brought us closer, yes. But not this close. Though, both of our reactions upon seeing each other were weird, there was no denying the obvious. And Pansy had known nothing apart from sharing a stupid detention with Theodore, not knowing all the things Theodore and I had shared. A detention I both wanted to cherish in the back of my head and forget it completely.
My room was typically still; the fire crackling inside the heart casted a cozy atmosphere around me, the thick, black blanket covering my feet offered warmth on my usually chilly bones. When suddenly, there was a knock on my door. Pansy. Most likely. Here to seek the answers to all her questions. The clock struck midnight. The arrows inside the hard wood, black clock ticking swiftly as if they were trying to speed up time. My eyebrows frowned together. Midnight. Pansy would never leave her dorm this late of night – something about her beauty sleep, blah, blah, blah, skin care and such.
Hesitantly, and out of pure curiosity, I got up from the bed, pushing myself up as the mattress dipped beneath me before returning to its normal size. My feet slithered lazily down the fuzzy, emerald carpet, the material sucking in the sound of my footsteps. My hand reached out, grasping and twisting the doorhandle, creaking the door open with a high-pitched squeak, my head tilting quizzically as it peeked out behind the door. Eyes widening at the sight of a messy haired, hollow cheeks and bags under those exhausted, icy eyes sight before me, looming over me.
“Theodore...?”