Hogwarts Legacy: The Price of Power

Kindness

It was dark in the Room of Requirement. Dark, and very quiet. Dracaena curled on the sofa, shivering lightly, but she didn't reach for the fluffy blanket that had appeared by her feet. Cold was good. Cold was numb. Her stomach growled, but she didn't reach for the platter of sandwiches Deek had silently left for her. Hungry was fine. She wouldn't feel any less empty if she ate.

Her mind chased itself in circles, creating ideas and theories and painful imaginings of her boyfriends coming back to her, fantasising about dramatic scenarios where they were in peril, and she saved them, her transgressions forgotten. They'd laugh about it all, knowing it was all a misunderstanding, and everything would be alright. They'd curl up together on the sofa and fall asleep, and by the time morning came, everything would be back to normal.

She knew it wasn't true. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. But it was nice to think about, even if it hurt. Like picking a scab she knew she must leave alone to heal, she couldn't help but think of them.

She winced. She had classes with them the next day. Both of them. Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Would they all sit together as they usually did, only in awkward silence? Would they fight over who had to sit next to her, one shielding the other? Or would they abandon her at their shared desk, finding somewhere else to sit, showing everyone just how far she had fallen? She deserved that. No doubt the whole school knew already, with how fast rumours flew. Her desperate chase after Ominis would have caused more than a few gums to begin flapping.

So be it. Let them talk. Let them scorn her. Let them see her for what she was. It was no more than she deserved.

That said, maybe she could get a jump on it. Sit with Natty and Poppy in both classes. She could tell them what happened. They wouldn't judge her, though she almost wanted them to. She could do with talking to them. Talking to someone. Anyone.

The door creaked open, and Dracaena raised her head. Was the Room really so powerful that it had called Poppy to her? Poppy knew about the Room, after all, and...

Sebastian stepped inside, lighting the lamps with a wave of his wand. Dracaena jerked upright, finding her feet and gaping as he gazed back at her impassively. He eased the door shut, and it closed with a click that echoed.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, her eyes wide and pleading, his cool and dark.

"Seb-" her voice cracked, her throat dry. She swallowed. "Sebastian, I'm sorry."

He nodded once, but didn't move.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I didn't mean what I said to you."

"You had a point," he said, his voice low. "I did want your help curing Anne. But that was never the reason I made friends with you. That was never the reason I stayed with you."

Dracaena took a hesitant step towards him.

"I won't ask your forgiveness," she said, quietly. "I don't deserve that. What I said was wrong, nothing can excuse what I said to you. I couldn't ask for a better friend than you, you've always had my back. I... I couldn't ask for a better partner."

Sebastian looked away, ducking his head. He clenched his jaw, then strode to her and enfolded her in a tight embrace, pressing her head to his shoulder. Dracaena shivered, clutching handfuls of his shirt, weeping silently.

"You keep saying we shouldn't fight," he said, his back rigid. "You're right. All of us need to be better." He took her by the shoulders and met her eyes, his expression steely once more. "You more than me or Ominis. I get why he's angry, Drac. We've both lied to him, over and over, but your lies hurt the most because he loves you. He trusted you. He's my best friend, and if anyone else hurt him like that, I'd kill them where they stood."