all my grief says the same thing:this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
and the world laughs.
holds my hope by the throat.
says:but this is how it is
When: December 7th, 22:13 Where: Astronomy Tower Who: @stvneheart
In a way, it felt like it had always been leading up to this.
Susan had always known war. It was impossible not to, in her family. There had always been a lingering silence in their home, even when she had her mother and aunt there to care for her. No matter how much life and love they tried to infuse into their apartment, there was always the sense of something — several someones — missing. It was clear in faces that stared out at them from their photo albums, from Susan’s scrapbooks, in the the tired lines along her mother’s face, and the grief she didn’t quite manage to hide on the nine birthdays that remained uncelebrated each year. Although Susan had known war, had become so familiar with its heavy toll that sometimes their family’s loss was all she felt, she hadn’t fully understood it until her aunt was murdered. Coming home to find their home in shambles, her mother trying to shield her aunt’s body from sight, the terror had burrowed deep in her bones, never to fully leave. Ever since then, there had always been that fear in the back of her mind — would they come for her mother next? Could she protect herself if they did? Or would they come for Susan instead? She would have been the easier option of the two, after all. If Voldemort decided to rid the Bones family entirely, who would go first? Would the only one left be an orphan or a childless mother? It had become a question she couldn’t escape when she lied awake at night: orphan or childless mother, orphan or childless mother, orphan or childless mother?
Now that she knew the answer, Susan just wished she could change the outcome.
She had never skipped class before, not even during the hell they had been put through this year, but after hearing the Potterwatch update that morning, the world stopping on its axis and then spinning too quickly in the wrong direction, she knew she couldn’t maintain her perfect record. Numbness spread through her body as her mind grappled with a way to deny the news, to find some flaw in the story that showed her mother was still alive, the words no, no, no this isn’t happening looping through her mind until it was all she recognised. Facing her friends, the professors, seeing their pity — that would have made it real. And Susan couldn’t, wouldn’t, deal with that. Not now. Not yet. ( Not ever ). She had slipped out of the common room before anyone could seek her out and spent most of the day hiding in Myrtle’s bathroom, staring blankly at the wall, willing her mind to just shut off. Hunger clawed at her stomach, but like everything else, she chose to ignore it, only leaving when her body ached from sitting still for too long. Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to return to her dorm, instead finding herself moving to the Astronomy Tower without much consideration.
The chill of the night air bit into her cheeks, and her hands began to shake as the time passed, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. In the silence of the night, the unforgiving cold all to keep her company, she could pretend that this wasn’t happening. That her world wasn’t breaking apart at the seams, that things wouldn’t ever be the same — she could just pretend that she still had Christmas to look forward to, her mother waiting at the station with open arms.
At the sound of footsteps, Susan snapped out of her mindless staring, turning to greet whoever caught her out after curfew. Her stomach twisted at the sight of Theo. If it had been anyone else, maybe she would have managed to keep her composure. She knew, logically, that Theo wasn’t responsible for his relatives’ actions, that he hadn’t been the one to deliver the killing blow, but still — that was all she could think of when she looked at him. With him there, it became impossible to keep her denial alive, and in its place came the anger. Far easier to acknowledge than her grief.
“Come to pay your respects?” she said, unable to keep the anger brimming just beneath the surface from affecting her tone.
Hannah had always known that Susan Bones was a gift from heaven, an angel, this girl’s night further proved it. The fact was, Hannah was close to losing it. To falling into her depression, to giving into a part of her she had desperately, desperately tried to quell, to going back to who she was a year ago. But it was Susan, it was Ernie, it was Justin, her brother Noah, it was for them that she remembered to fight on for. It was for the younger years, the kids who were more scared than even she was, that reminded her to stay strong. It didn’t make the job of being an emotional pillar for the DA and for everyone else easier, but it made it worth it. But Susan, with all her quiet determination, her love, her resolve, Hannah went to hug her after she’d laid everything out. Hannah tried not to cry, she did, but there was the distinct feeling of relief that under the covers, in their own little world with sweets, hot chocolate, cards, that Susan was alive. Safe. Not in Azkaban. In front of her, in one piece, her pillar of strength, her sun, a light that never went out, it brightened her soul in a very very needed way. A tear fell down her cheek, not from sadness, but from relief, joy.
Letting her go, she started to talk, “some of the Herbology club and I, we’re going to find a way to keep our plants alive as well. Cancelling Wizard Card collecting is really the most useless, as if we could plan a coup or something ridiculous with one of these. I’m glad you brought them, I’ve actually got something Noah gave me,” Hannah took a Pumpkin Pasty, letting it hang from her mouth as she went under her bed, searching for the small box her brother had sent her, that he’d cleverly transfigured and disguised. Bringing it up, her wand tapped it a few times after she whispered a revealing spell, the bobbles inside of the box turning into a few muggle comic books. “I asked him to send me a few, he sent me a few Wonder Woman ones, I thought you’d enjoy reading them. Seeing as you are Wonder Woman and mentioned that we needed one, so, I brought her to you. At least we’ve got more than enough to do tonight.”
Sighing, she looked at Susan, finally looked at one of her best friends with both love and concern, “how are you doing? With everything?”
Susan hugged Hannah close, pressing a kiss to her cheek when she saw a few tears escape. She didn’t know where she would be without Hannah Abbot in her life, and it was something she wished she would never find out. Ever since they were kids, Hannah had been the bright light in her life, giving her friendship and love and true feelings of childhood on days where it felt like her home was filled with more ghosts than the living. When they headed off to Hogwarts, Susan bursting with both excitement and fear about being surrounded by more kids her age than adults, Hannah was there, hand-in-hand and willing to support her through it all. Throughout their years at Hogwarts, she had always had the comfort of knowing that Hannah would be by her side, warmth and love always close by. Without Hannah there this year, Susan wasn’t sure she would have been able to keep her spirit up. But people like Hannah — people overflowing with sunlight and kindness and, more than anything, a whole lot of heart — were the reminder she needed why they couldn’t let the Death Eaters win. Hannah had lost more than a person should throughout their life, had been through hell in their sixth year, but still she kept fighting — by far the bravest and most inspiring person Susan knew. Hannah made her want to be brave, too, to keep her hope alive, because people like her deserved to live a happy life away from the horrors of war. Although Susan couldn’t do much about their situation now, she could do as much as possible for Hannah to get out of the war safely and get the future she deserved.
A smile tugged at Susan’s lips when Hannah spoke of the Herbology club. “That’s good — they shouldn’t get to take everything away from us. They’re already messing up all the classes, they don’t get to ruin the things that actually keep us sane too. If you need any help with it — not that I’m exactly gifted at Herbology — you know I’m always here. A coup by Wizard Cards would be impressive, though, I’ll admit.” She raised an eyebrow as Hannah left the bed, sipping her hot chocolate as she waited for her to bring out what her brother had sent her. The Abbotts had become like a second family to Susan growing up, and her stomach twisted at the mention of Noah, wondering how he was faring outside the castle. When Hannah revealed the comics, however, a wide grin spread across her face. “Merlin, I can’t believe you got them. Thank you, I love it. I still maintain that you’re the more wonderful one of the two of us, but we really do need a Wonder Woman right about now, so I’ll take it.” She flipped through one of the issues, feeling almost giddy with excitement over something good finally happening, before her attention returned to Hannah. “Do you know how he is — Noah? Is he staying safe?” She didn’t want to place more worry on Hannah than she was already feeling, but she couldn’t help but fear for his safety too.
“I’m…” Susan trailed off, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to sort out her thoughts. Being there with Hannah, safely cocooned in her bed, she felt herself relax for the first time in a long while, but with it came the exhaustion she had been trying to keep at bay. With everything they had been through lately — students being tortured daily, the news about Justin, the fear about how her mother was doing and their friends outside the castle — it was hardly a surprise that it had slowly but surely been wearing her down. She tried to cling to her hope with stubborn resolution, but it became harder to hold onto as the days passed. “Tired. I’m just really tired. I want to believe that we’re gonna get through this, and that things are going to be okay, but it feels like every day comes with more bad news, and I just… I want a break, you know? I just want this to end, and I’m not sure I’m doing enough to help, but I don’t know what else to really do.” Susan paused, letting out a sigh. Truthfully, she just longed back to her childhood days where she could crawl in her mother’s bed to ward off her nightmares and sadness. “I want to go home. At least winter break isn’t too far away, I guess.” She rolled onto her side to face Hannah better, reaching out to squeeze her hand, eyes searching her face in concern. “How are you? How are you dealing with Justin and everything?”
When: November 30th, 21:40 Where: Hufflepuff dorms, Hannah’s bed Who: @abbotthannah
Susan headed straight for Hannah’s bed after returning from her short trip to the kitchens, having gathered all they needed for their girls night. Pulling the curtain aside, she shot her a small smile before motioning for her to move aside. “Hey, scoot over,” she said, dropping her bag in the middle and crawling up beside Hannah, pulling the covers back over the both of them. “I come bearing snacks and hot chocolate.” Opening her bag, she pulled out a thermos and two mugs, passing one to Hannah before pouring them each a mug. She was grateful that even in these times, the house elves were kind enough to provide anything they needed if they just managed to sneak down to the kitchens undetected.
“What are you craving? Chocolate frogs, skeletal sweets, pumpkin pasties? I’ve got a bit of everything, really.” It wasn’t often that Susan indulged in sweets, but in moments like these — nights shared with her best friend, when it was more than likely that comfort food would be needed — she saved up so they could truly indulge. After unpacking the sweets, she pulled out her stack of Wizard Cards, her lips quirking up into a humourless smile. “Figured cancelling all the clubs won’t really stop us, right? Brought them out just in case we needed some entertainment.”
WHEN: 23rd, November, 12:39 pm WHERE: greenhouses WHO: open
Millicent had come by to check on the plants. It wasn’t exactly necessary —- though Neville had looked a little concerned when they’d been deciding on what their process should be with this particular lot of agapanthus (magical, apparently, from New Zealand, and with a weird tendency to bite when feeling threatened, though they had no discernible teeth —- Millie loved them already) —- but Millicent liked the greenhouses. They were calming, and it was always a little reassuring, being surrounded by so much life that she knew how to help, when she wasn’t so good with helping the humans around her —- when she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.
Humming to herself, she checked the pots, made sure Nigellus and Nestor weren’t biting each other and shifted Gwendolyne away from Thanatos —- which was a terrible name for a plant, so maybe it was their fault he kept trying to destroy everything —- and decided to prune a little bit of Desdemona’s leaves so she didn’t wilt from her own weight. Agapanthus were apparently a weed in New Zealand, or at least the common variety —- she supposed this magical variety would be something even more invasive. Personally, she liked them. They were soft and able to bite. How ideal. She was so busy focusing on pruning the correct leaves that she didn’t even notice the door open behind her, until she heard footsteps.
Susan rarely ventured down to the greenhouses after having dropped the subject in favour of her other NEWTs choices — she didn’t have much reason to, really, unless it was to keep Hannah company as she tended to the plants. Although Hannah hadn’t mentioned going down to the greenhouses that particular day, Susan hoped that was where she might be, as she hadn’t been in their dorms when Susan last checked, and she had missed her for lunch. With all the recent events weighing down on them — the news about Justin, in particular, still making her stomach twist just at the thought — Susan just wanted to make sure she was holding up okay, but it was hard to so if she couldn’t actually find her. Making the short trek down to the greenhouses, face partly buried in her scarf in an attempt to ward off the cold, Susan eventually poked her head inside, eyes searching until they settled on Millicent.
“Oh, hey. I hope I’m not bothering you, but you don’t happen to have seen Hannah, have you?” Susan asked, letting the door to the greenhouse shut behind her to not let in too much of the cold. Her shoulders sagged as she took a proper look around the otherwise empty greenhouse, no sign of Hannah as far as the eye could see. “…Though clearly she doesn’t seem to be here,” she sighed, tone defeated. Her eyes caught on the plants that Millicent was tending to, and she raised a curious eyebrow at her. “What plants are those? If you don’t mind, that is.”
WHEN: 12th november, 14.32 PM WHERE: defence against the dark arts classroom WHO: @susanbonvs
Nervous. Indecision. Guilt. Three words Pansy had never been forced to consider before, at least, not in relation to herself. And of all the people in the world, she hadn’t thought that Susan bloody Bones would be the one to make her swallow on the weight of her decisions. Ignoring the brunette was her best bet. But being paired up with her, being forced to confront her face on - was making that decision a hard one to implement. No matter where Pansy looked, she couldn’t ignore the deep lines etched onto Susan’s face - worry, despair, heartbreak? As if the Carrow’s fed off them, Amycus hovered by their shoulder, a sinister smile etched across his face. Pansy tried to ignore that too. It sent shivers up her spine.
If only she hadn’t looked. If only she hadn’t allowed her eyes to dart. If only she hadn’t peered at the pile of letters on his desk - lazily opened in a clear violation of privacy. Susan Bones. The sendee? Her mother. Well, Pansy assumed she was her mother. Given the recent pruning of the Bones family tree, she couldn’t imagine it was anyone else.
Reasoning with herself, she set about opening her book to the prescribed page, preferring to focus on the given instruction. To practice the curses on each other. Another day at Hogwarts. Besides, Susan was probably receiving others letters. And how could she even think about mothers when her best friend was locked up? (A cold hearted reasoning, but Pansy had never claimed to feel affection for the woman who brought her into the world). She was deluding herself. But there was nothing to be done. And that was that.
“So,” Pansy began, returning to the matter at hand. “I’ll go first. No chance for you to wimp out then.”
If there was one thing Susan had prided herself on throughout her Hogwarts career, it was that she always remained a hardworking student. Bordering on perfectionistic, she always put all her effort in maintaining her grades, coming to each lesson with the homework done properly and well prepared to engage with both the professor and the other students in the discussions. Up until this year, at least. It seemed almost laughable that they were expected to go on as if nothing was different, especially in a class that made a mockery of what used to be one of her favourite subjects.
Susan had tried to keep up her resolute protest to the changes the Carrows made to their classes, in her assignments for Muggle Studies and her more active protest during Dark Arts. Refusing to harm her classmates, sometimes leaving her wand in her dorm, volunteering to take hits rather than perform curses herself — even considering skipping class, though she knew that the punishment was likely to be similar to just attending, not making much of a difference in the end. These days, however, she grew too scattered to even truly care. The updates of Potterwatch was one of the only things on her mind, hearing about her friends on the run or in Azkaban with shaking hands. But, more than anything, her mother’s silence kept her awake at night.
Exhaustion and fear were visible in every line of her face, the dark circles under eyes growing starker with each passing day. Her mother had never before gone so long without writing, especially during this year. They tried to keep their correspondence active, even if there wasn’t much that could be said with the post likely being read, but just a few lines about the weather or her grades was enough to let each other know they were okay. Susan had sent several letters by now ( perhaps a bit extreme ), but when the days added together to a week, turning into weeks, without a word, Susan’s fear escalated. Was her mother okay? Was she even alive? Logically, Susan knew her mother led a busy life, and that there were likely perfectly good reasons for why she might not have been able to respond yet, but even just a short update would have eased (some of) her worries. Instead, she lied awake at night, unable to shut off her mind.
Still, if something had happened to her mother, wouldn’t she have heard about it by now? Shouldn’t she be able to tell, somehow, deep down? Perhaps the silence was a good sign, if anything. At least it wasn’t an update on Potterwatch she would never be the same from.
At Pansy’s words, Susan snapped out of her thoughts, having momentarily forgotten she was even in class.
“Wimp out?” Susan repeated, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “We’ve clearly got a different view of what the cowardly and easiest action is here.” At the sight of Amycus passing by them, some of her bite faltered, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. “But knock yourself out, I guess. Show me how it’s done.”
“Hm, I can definitely try to fill you in. Although I have to admit, there have got to be some gaps in my knowledge since I was essentially out of my mind the entire night. For starters, Michael Corner got kissed a lot during spin-the-bottle, I’m pretty sure someone set a charm on the game to mess with him. There’s no way the bottle landed on him that many times of its own accord. Then there was a lot of dancing, a lot of body shots — the costumes were great too, Lisa dressed up as Draco Malfoy which was pretty hilarious.” (Sally-Anne’s heart skipped at the mention of Lisa, but she pushed it down. She had no idea what she was going to do about these feelings, but now was not the time to consider them). “Everyone saw Noah Runcorn throw a drink in my face, which was quite embarrassing — not that I didn’t deserve it, I s’pose,” she admitted with a shrug. “I’m sure there were plenty of other things as well, everyone seemed to have their own drama going on. But you’re right about it being important to let ourselves still have things like parties — even though it feels like everyone’s still going mad anyway. That’s just… war, I s’pose.”
Sally-Anne’s heart sank at the reminder of everything that was happening both inside and outside of the castle walls, and she was painfully reminded that in the end, it didn’t matter what she felt for Lisa or what she thought of Noah. People were still fighting, others were still dying, her parents and Phil Davis and Justin and Oliver Rivers and Professor Burbage were out there somewhere, trying to survive — and perhaps some of them had already failed. It was a sobering thought, and her smile disappeared for a moment as her mind wandered from the conversation with Susan. She was quickly brought back, however, by the sight of the vial her friend was passing to her discreetly.
“No, I swear, you’re a lifesaver,” Sally-Anne smiled again, now relieved as she uncorked the bottle and gulped it down in one swallow. As Susan had warned her, it tasted rather awful — like sour milk, almost — but once Sally-Anne’s grimace faded she immediately started to feel better. Thankfully the potion seemed to be fast-acting.
“Thank you so much, Susan. Merlin, what would any of us do without you?” She smiled softly before taking a large sip of her pumpkin juice to rid herself of the potion’s aftertaste. “I can’t imagine this is encouraging you to come out for the next party, whenever that is.”
Susan’s eyebrows rose higher and higher during Sally-Anne’s recollection of the party, one side of her mouth quirking up in a grin. “That is… wow. Certainly a lot to process.” Her mind settled in on the detail that stood out the most to her during the speech, and she stared at her friend in concern. “Are you alright, though? After the drink, I mean? Even if you did do something to get on Noah’s bad side, I’m sure there are better ways it could have been dealt with than throwing a drink in your face. I’m sorry that happened, though I hope the rest of the party outweighed it. It definitely sounds like Lisa’s costume alone made attending the party worth it, though. I don’t think I ever would have thought of something like that myself.” An amused grin lit her face, before it flickered out at the reminder of the toll the war was taking on everyone around them. “Yeah… I guess it is. It has to end at some point, though, doesn’t it? We can make it through ‘til then. We have to.”
It was difficult, most days, to try to picture an end to the conflict. The horror that the Carrows and Snape were inflicting in the castle seemed nerver ending: each day bringing its new nightmares, turning what once felt like a second home into a prison she couldn’t wait to escape. Fearing for her mother’s safety had become a constant weight in the pit of Susan’s stomach, her skin crawling until her owl arrived with her mother’s newest letter and she could relax — barely — with the knowledge that she was at least alive for now, before the worry began again the moment she sent her own response. With the Potterwatch updates and the news that reached them from outside the castle, it was impossible to ignore the ongoing war; information on who was missing, who was captured, what friends were sent Azkaban as a result reaching them even in Hogwarts. An end to the war was nowhere near in sight, but still, Susan clung to her hope like a lifeline. She had to, even if it was naive and each day made it more difficult to go on. Her hope was the one thing which pushed her to keep going.
“I’m sure you’d be just fine, but I’m happy I could make life a little easier for you,” Susan said, smiling warmly at her. “Well, it might not be the best motivator there is, but you haven’t turned me off the idea completely either, don’t worry. If there’s ever another costume party I wouldn’t want to miss out on highlights of the Draco Malfoy costume variety. I’d probably steer clear of the alcohol, though, I’ll admit. Not too keen on dealing with a hangover, no matter how effective the potions are.”
“Don’t try and be a martyr, all they end up is with a fucking grave, nothing else,” he says flatly. He wants to scoff at the idea of going out at peace with oneself, because the idea of doing so seems like a fucking joke — Theo has never been at peace with himself for a single day, and he wonders what it’d feel like to be proud of his choices and unwaveringly honest about who he is. He wants to tell her that he doesn’t think he’d ever have found peace like that in a world where Voldemort had died and stayed dead, let alone in a war-torn hellhole now. He wants to say that it’s unfair that she’s the last of her family name and she shouldn’t let it die so easily.
But his years-long friendship with Susan has always made him less Theo around her; less harsh, less jagged around the edges, less angry and bitter. So he buries the words in a graveyard with the rest of his damn thoughts that never made it out — most are there from tiredness, honestly, but these are because he knows what Susan is going to say, even if they’ve rarely talked about it. Because Susan is inherently good and she has high-standing morals about what’s wrong and right, whereas his are blurred no matter how much he’ll reason that they’re logical instead, and he does not want these differences to make their way to the surface so that they will be forced to acknowledge it. Funny how their families had been intertwined from the beginning because this war, the deaths, the ruining, and he wants so hard for it not to break this for them now.
He breathes. “Can’t let your grades suffer now, we both know how important it is for that at least, if nothing else. You doing all right in your other subjects so far?” It’s a forceful steer of the conversation, he know.
“I’m not trying to be a martyr,” Susan said quietly. Her stomach twisted at the thought. She would never have made the connection herself; had no desire to take on the label or meet the fate it came with. She didn’t want any sort of recognition for her actions; she was just trying to navigate her way through the year — through the war — with some semblance of clear conscience and the comfort in knowing that at least she was doing what was right. Susan found it more difficult to know just where that lied these days, though: how far she should go in her efforts in the war and where self-preservation should take preference. The thought of her family having lost so much in the first war only for it to be for nothing in the current war if they lost and the Death Eaters prevailed, though, was enough motivation for Susan to feel like she had little choice but play an active part in the conflict. “I’m really not. I don’t want that. But I’m also not just going to turn a blind eye to what’s happening and just sit back and hope this war turns out the way I want it to. I can’t do that — I just can’t. Maybe that’s not the best path or the safest, but it’s the one I’m taking.”
Susan hated the reminder that they were on different sides in the war. A small part of her wanted to face it head on: question how he could stomach taking part in the detentions, if he truly agreed with his family’s beliefs, urge him to somehow be better and make a difference in the war. But the truth was that she couldn’t stomach the answers if they were what she feared. They had gotten good at pretending, the two of them; their friendship growing in secret, a comfort she didn’t want to give up. As long as reality didn’t seep through their cracks, they would be okay, but this year it had become almost impossible to ignore. She didn’t want to imagine what her mother would say ( what her aunt would have said ) if she knew that Susan had not only befriended a Nott, but actively ignored their family history and the implications that had in the current war. Perhaps it was cowardly, even selfish, to cling to their friendship this way when she tried her hardest to do the right thing during the war, but turning her back to it was a decision Susan kept repeating.
“Well, Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts hardly seem actual classes anymore,” she said dryly, before taking his cue and moving on to a subject that wouldn’t leave their friendship in shambles. “The rest are going well, I think. Charms is still my favourite, and I’m definitely not going to let anything drag my grades down in that. Potions….” Susan trailed off, grimacing. “Decently enough, I suppose, but it’s difficult to really excel when you’re not one of Professor Slughorn’s star students, isn’t it? He certainly seems to enjoy playing favourites. Not that Snape wasn’t similar in that regard.”
Time: 4 November, 20:00 (dinner) Location: the Great Hall Status: open
After nearly 10 hours of tolerating Madame Pomfrey’s fussing and scolding – as if it was his fault he was tortured in the first place, or that nearing on a quarter of the remaining seventh years had already graced the hospital wing – he was finally cleared to go to dinner. Getting there, however, proved more than a challenge than he’d anticipated. Every step knocked fresh breath out of him, and every rest against the wall sent his vision spinning. What should have been a five minute walk took fifteen.
And then there was the staring. Whispers he could handle. He could even tolerate hushing conversations as he passed. The open-faced stares, though, with no attempt to hide them as he hobbled in, ushered and assisted like a fucking child, was not something Michael had been prepared for. He tried his best, really. He lasted a solid 20 minutes, which, all things considered, was pretty fucking impressive, right? But he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Taking a fucking picture, why don’t you?” Michael nearly spat. His knuckles were white around the edge of the table. What was it Promfrey said about steady breathing? “It’ll last longer.”
The days after the walkout had left Susan on edge, the silence on the Carrows’ part almost more frightening than if they had reacted violently from the start. It was clear some form of punishment would come — they wouldn’t be the Carrows if they let it slide — but not knowing when, or what, or even who would be forced to endure it left Susan’s skin crawling as she waited for something to happen. When it finally did, it was worse than she had imagined. Hearing about the torture Michael went through was horrifying enough on its own, but seeing the aftermath of it as he entered the Great Hall was another thing entirely. Susan’s stomach dropped at the sight of him, and she couldn’t help it — she stared.
“I’m sorry. You’re right — it’s rude of me to stare. I’m so sorry.” Susan shook her head at herself, diverting her eyes away. She wasn’t sure what else to say; if there was anything she could do which would somehow make it better. Are you okay hardly seemed like a question which would be appreciated — the sight of him was answer enough, really, and she doubted he wanted more attention brought to the past night than he’d already gotten. Still, Susan felt she had to do something. It wasn’t fair that Michael alone had been targeted for something they had all been part of.
“Look, if you — if you need anything,” she started, a slight grimace marring her face as she realized the words could come across as pitying rather than concerned, that she might just be making things worse rather than helping, “then just let me know. Even if it’s just to get people like me who wouldn’t stop staring to piss off, then just say the word. I’ll try to help out.”
“You’re not going to live to the end of the year if you just don’t do what they say.” Theo feels like he’s said this thousands of times already; is it the cowardice in him or sensibility that tells him it’s because he seems to be one of the only ones that has their head screwed on straight around here. “Maybe they’ll pair you up with me for your next detention and it’ll be all right.”
It’s a poor choice of a joke, and he knows it the moment he’s said it, dryness coating his words. He doesn’t flinch from it, though — even though, the truth is, he’s not entirely sure what he would do if he was forced to torture Susan. There’s a part of him that he thinks wouldn’t cross that line, because there are some things you can come back from and he doesn’t know if this is one of them. But with the Carrows and their sharp eyes on him? The other Slytherins, just one owl away from relatives? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.
He shakes his head. “D’you want to look over mine? McGonagall can get fucked if I’m not coming out of this year with an O for her subject.”
Theo had a point — Susan knew he did, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. It was a difficult line to toe; trying to stay safe like she had promised her mother before she had boarded the train back to Hogwarts, and doing what she knew was right, even though it endangered her. Susan didn’t want to share her family’s fate, was terrified that she would, but at the same time — shouldn’t she, if there was no other way? If they had been ready to die for the cause, shouldn’t she be brave enough to do the same? She wasn’t sure how far she would have to go in this war — how far she would be expected to go — but for now courage felt like a better choice than self-preservation. All she really knew was that she couldn’t turn her wand on a defenceless child and look herself in the mirror again. “If that’s what it comes to —” she began, voice faltering, trying to cover it up with a shrug, “then at least I go out at peace with myself.”
Susan didn’t know whether Theo aimed for a terrible attempt at humour or some sick form of comfort, but the words left her speechless. She had never considered the fact that she could be staring down the end of the wand of someone she actually cared for in detention, and the thought twisted her stomach. Did he mean that he wouldn’t torture her or that it would just be somehow preferable when it came from a friend? The thought of either option left her somewhat nauseous. After all, wouldn’t helping Susan just get Theo himself in trouble? She wouldn’t want him to get hurt. Being paired for detention was a possible reality she wasn’t ready to face yet ( maybe not ever ), so she tried her best to erase the thought from her mind. “Or maybe they’ll just get tired of handing out detentions for the most insignificant things. It has to be exhausting at this point, really.” She doubted it would ever happen, but a girl could hope.
She couldn’t contain a surprised snort at the force of Theo’s words, and she sent him a grin. “It would feel a bit like being kicked while we’re down, wouldn’t it? Thank you, though, that’d be really helpful.”
