Depths of Despair ✶ Theodore Nott

twenty nine. pity you can never escape your past

The days passed by quickly, and while midst an unknowing haste, you rarely stop to truly acknowledge the term rest before you're already exhausted.

     Working efficiently to combine homework, nightmares and restless nights, classes and sessions with Dumbledore to secure her mind turned out being more tiring that what she had originally anticipated — the still thirteen-year-old collapsing into a seat by the Slytherin table with a exasperated sigh escaping past her lips, successfully attracting the gazes of Theodore, Kieran, Draco and Blaise sitting alongside her.

     Saying nothing, too exhausted to find comprehensible sentences to voice aloud, she reached toward the buffet of breakfast available at hand: filling her plate with amounts of food measured by her appetite. Unbeknownst to her the four onlookers frowned in concern, for there was no way she could eat so little and get through the day.

     "Valerie, are you alright?" Kieran was the first to gather enough bravery to dare voice the question aloud: his eyes refusing to leave his best friend as she looked up to respond with a shrug of her shoulders.

     "I'm...." She hesitantly registered the four doubtful pair of eyes, suddenly feeling herself grow uncertain in her words. "... Fine?"

     It was obvious none of them believed her, and suddenly she felt a hand on each of her shoulders: Theodore turning her toward him, the brunette nearly flinching at the sight of the darkness circling her eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

     "Uhm— Two hours ago?" She revealed, although it was far from the truth. Last time Valerie checked, screaming into nothingness, battling the restrains that was her bedsheets only to wake up with her heart nearly pounding out of her chest did not count as sleeping.

     "We'll, you look... Dreadful," came Kieran's voice from across the table. Draco and Blaise simply sat silent, though nodded in agreement. Neither was very close with Valerie, and therefore felt they had no place to officially intervene, yet still offered their opinion on the matter.

     Valerie's hazy gaze flickered back and forth between the three, before trying to direct attention off herself by the only method she felt comfortable with. Sarcasm. "Merlin. Thanks for that one," she spoke with a humerus tone lacing her voice.

     "You know what I mean," Kieran pressured.

     "Okay, look." She laid her fork down on the table, turning to face them all sort a serious expression spreading across her features. "I'm totally fine. I've just been rather stressed lately, but I've got it under control and it's nothing to worry about." A short pause consisting of silence followed, until she tilted her head to the side. "There. Did I pass?"

     "No, that was a horrible excuse, Leclere," stared Kieran, knowing very well that there was more to the matter than she let on, however chose to drop it. She never liked talking about personal stuff until having managed to sort it out herself, hence why he came to the decision to trust her. "But fine. Your off the hook for now."

     "Excellent. Now, how far along are you on your Potions essays? I need some fit of reference to know how much I must elaborate on—," her attempt at changing the subject was haltered when the usual swarm of owls entered the Great Hall, sailing right below the skylight with intents of delivering all students their mail.

     Greatly caught off guard, Valerie frowned at her own owl approaching: accepting the letter she was handed rather cautiously. Until befriending James Potter, her receiving letters was a great rarity. Now, her father writing her made little sense considering the letter she had received from him only a day or two prior, hence her confusion when turning it around in her hands to figure out who was the sender.

     Who could have known her own curiosity would turn out to be a terrible mistake?

     "Are you okay?" asked Theodore, being the first to have caught on to her widened eyes, and the terror spreading across her features. Of course, he received no answer, for Valerie had drifted so far off into her own world that she no longer even briefly comprehended him speaking to her. "Val?"

     His one-sided attempt at conversation resulted in nothing, for she remained frozen in her seat: staring down at the letter she had dreaded to receive for so long, familiar penmanship spelling out the name she wished to never associate herself with ever again.

     "Valerie?" This time, Theodore had leaned over to whisper straight into her ear, and Valerie flinched in surprise when snapping out of her trance. She hummed in response, forcing her gaze off the letter to meet his questioning blue eyes. "What's going on?"

     She hesitated for a second, simply aware that she needed to regain her composure and rebuild the monotonous facade protecting her every emotion from ever making it's escape before replying. Biting the inside of her cheek harshly enough to draw blood, it happened within seconds. Theodore watched in concern as her eyes were wiped clear of terror, her shoulders straightening out the way they'd all been taught by their pure-blooded parents to do whenever faced with danger.

     'Stand straight and have them fooled', Theodore recalled his very own mother telling him back before she sadly passed away, and though he valued this talent of his to simply close everyone out and pretend like he was alright, it was surpassingly terrifying to see in others. Especially her.

     "It's nothing," she replied simple seconds later with not a stammer invalidating her tone, not a single flicker in her gaze revealing the lies she were telling as if dishonesty was to her second nature.

     But Theodore saw through it all: forced to accept her answer and turn away, yet unable to subside his concern.

     When sure no body was observing her, Valerie released a breath she'd been stubbornly holding in: letting her eyes once more drop down to the letter to simply make sure she had not imagined things. She twisted and turned the envelope, over and over again, but the Leclere emblem remained engraved in the parchment, and the very same name stood written across the back as the sender:

     Olenna Leclere. Her mother had, after four years, finally picked up her ink and her quill to write to her, and Valerie had no idea why.