Depths of Despair ✶ Theodore Nott

twelve. desperation calls for rash decision-making

News traveled quickly, and Remus Lupin's absence from teaching classes had been cause of the sudden dread toward Defence against Dark Arts as a subject.

     It had been an uttermost tragedy — at least to everyone but the Slytherins — when walking inside the classroom marked by professor Lupin's brilliance, and instead spotting Severus Snape stood beside the board: dark robes adding to his almost eerie appearance, curtains closing out all light from even touching inside the four walls surrounding them.

     After the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins' shared class first thing in the morning, many students were in a bad mood upon exiting the classroom — excessive amounts of homework handed out, Snape's lack of compassion still
echoing through their thoughts. Werewolves: it was far ahead of where they had left off with Lupin before his mysterious absence, yet when Hermione Granger brought up the obvious error to professor Snape she earned nothing else than a deduction of house points.

     Valerie easily saw through Snape's behavior. It took her no less than a minute to conclude it had indeed been a full moon the previous night, hence Remus Lupin's disappearance. She knew not what professor Snape wanted out of his cruel hints, but normally she would be annoyed.

     Had she not found herself slipping off into her own inner distress more prominently than she'd like to admit, she might have even called him out for it.

     However, she didn't, and although Kieran had yet to figure out the reason behind her unusual quietness, one glance upon his best friend was enough for him to grow concerned.

     A week passed them by quickly, and as her odd behavior seemed to linger, he finally mustered up the courage to question her about it. Although the walk from their common room to the Great Hall was no longer than five minutes, he asked, 'Are you okay?', at least seven times. To his many questions did he receive nothing but halfhearted nods, a wave of her hand, or a quiet 'I'm fine', spoken aloud.

     By now, Valerie had expected him to believe her: she was an excellent liar, her ability to conceal parts of the truth she wished not to be revealed never once failing her, however Kieran's mission to figure out the cause of her distress carried on with grace. Stubbornness was a trait Kieran Lacroix could both be praised and criticized for. It may drive her crazy, but his unwillingness to give up saved her many hours of overthinking, because he always got her talking.

Not this time though, for Valerie was too deeply sunken into the abyss that was her thoughts: confusion, doubt and denial wrapping around her ankles and wrists — holding her down, making the voyage back to present time so much more difficult. Eventually she gave up struggling, gave up with the excuses.

What use was there in doubting memories of a time before: of a time shaping the present, making the concept of doubt less likely to be validated as certainty?

"Val." Although her gaze snapped away from her lunch: meeting her best friend's initiative upon eye contact, she was not yet surfaced — not yet out of the memories pulling her down. Kieran could tell, her eyes distant, unfocused, however he continued on. "You should eat."

     She had yet to even touch the food on her plate: staring down with dismay, the temptation to eat long lost. "I'm not hungry," she replied as softly as she could: wishing to reassure him as well as possible. He remained skeptical, and rightfully so — she had not spoken an ounce of truth from the moment she stepped foot out of the girls' sleeping quarters, making excuses although it was obvious she was too caught up in concern to even hide her flickering gaze, or the blankness across her features.