Depths of Despair ✶ Theodore Nott

forty seven. faulty barriers are difficult to uphold

Valerie decided, one day into school, that Dolores Umbridge was a the walking embodiment of a bloody nightmare.

It had taken Kieran a single Defence Against the Dark Arts class to earn himself a Thursday-evening-detention. Evidently, him uttering a row of obscenities right in the woman's face had not been appreciated: Kieran had seen his actions as heroic, standing up for his fellow class-mates to hopefully rid them of the bore that was theoretical learning. Umbridge had seen it as the gravest of misconducts, and at first Valerie had snickered at the disgruntled look upon her best friend's face when he was awarded the punishment.

When he returned the following Thursday, his left hand red and bloody with words carved into his skin, her humor merged into pure rage.

She had been sat in one of the couches by the fireplace, Theodore to her right and Blaise across from them. Theodore was caught doing homework: McGonagall was truly ruthless when it came to her essays, as they were expected to turn in five full parchments the following morning. Valerie had finished it already, and sat staring blankly into the fireplace instead, trying her very best not to hiss in pain whenever the mark on her forearm burned (a constant reminder of her task). One thing, and one thing only was expected of her: after her conversation with Dumbledore the previous night, she feared she might have set herself up for failure.

She had extracted information, yes. But she might have ultimately eliminated any chance of ever getting within close enough proximity to the headmaster ever again, and it was an issue she had to sort out before a killing curse was inevitably aimed right at her chest.

Blaise had complained about Divination for some time: why he had not dropped the subject when he despised it so, remained a mystery. Then he realized his whining fell on inattentive ears, and opted to lean back in the couch instead and stare right up at the ceiling — turning his rant into an inner dialogue rather than speaking it aloud.

Valerie had been able to hear Kieran's thoughts long before he actually entered the Slytherin quarters. His mind was scattered, enraged and less protected than she had ever experienced it before: he was good with occlumency, having practiced on Valerie's request as she suspected he wished not to have his every thought invaded on when in her presence. His subconsciously lowered guards were what initially caused her to tense in her seat, eyes narrowing with concern.

"What the hell," she muttered to herself when hesitantly tuning in: taking into account just the amount of distress pulling her best friend under.

Theodore had been first to notice the change in her demeanor, straightening out his posture and lifting his quill from his parchment. "Everything okay?"

Her eyebrows were drawn together into a frown as she shook her head. "It's Kieran," she muttered mindlessly, disassociated from reality as she continued her mental invasion (she was sure Kieran would not mind). "He.... His thoughts are... so loud."

Her words were hushed, but Theodore stilled in alarm: Blaise sat right across from them, and he was quite certain neither he, or any of their friends for that matter, were aware of what Valerie could do as she had been advised by Dumbledore to keep quiet. He shuffled closer to her on the couch, eyes showcasing alarm, "Valerie, Kieran is not here."

It appeared she was too far within her legilimency, as she failed to even comprehend his silenced proclamation. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise sit up in curiosity: finally choosing to acknowledge his friends' strange behavior. However, Blaise was clever, and a single look upon Theodore, and he knew he should keep quiet. His gaze did, nonetheless, flicker back and forth between him and Valerie, trying to puzzle together what was happening. Did she mention something about Kieran's thoughts?