Emerson Wilmore was an exemplary Ravenclaw student, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and an unyielding moral compass. However, things took a twisted and deviated turn in her life after her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was murdered by L...
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The week dragged on in a blur of parchment, ink, and exhaustion. Emerson barely had time to catch her breath between essays and late-night study sessions with mostly Olivia but sometimes, Mattheo, Theo and Enzo.
Emerson and Mattheo didn't get the chance to practice Occlumency since that night in his room. There were no quiet evenings sat cross-legged on his bed or no quiet talks about memories. The distance wasn't intentional. It never was with them, but life had a way of interfering.
Between the ever-growing pile of homework that their professors seemed hell-bent on assigning for their Sixth Year and Mattheo being caught up with intense Quidditch training, their nights slipped away too quickly. It was the week before Slytherin's match against Hufflepuff. It was an important game, maybe the most important one of the season. Their loss to Gryffindor earlier in the year had put them on the back foot, and if they wanted any hope of taking the Cup, they needed to win this.
And, unfortunately for the rest of the team, being on the back foot lit a fire under Adrian Pucey, who now seemed to believe that military-level training was the only thing that could redeem them. He had the entire team out on the pitch before the sun rose and again after dinner, flying drills in the freezing wind until they could barely keep their eyes open.
And it was starting to show.
Since the only time together they really had nowadays was during meals and classes, Emerson could see how it was wearing on them. Mattheo's posture was slouched more often now, a slight furrow living permanently between his brows. Enzo looked like he could fall asleep standing up, and Theo, who normally slouched for the aesthetic, now seemed to be barely holding himself upright. At one point, Theo nearly fell asleep in the middle of Transfiguration on Olivia's shoulder. Their walk had turned into a shuffle, their sharp remarks softened by the kind of fatigue that coffee couldn't fix.
But none of them complained.
If anything, they seemed more determined.
Every time Emerson saw Mattheo after training in the morning, he nodded at her with the ghost of a smirk, as if to say I'm fine, don't worry, but she could see through it. The dark circles under his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders and the way he winced when he thought no one was looking, he was running on empty.
"I swear, if Pucey pushes them any harder, they're going to start hallucinating," Olivia muttered one afternoon as they walked back from the library. "I saw Enzo staring at a wall for five straight minutes. I asked if he was okay and he said he was reading the energy of the castle."
Emerson snorted. "Honestly? I believe him."
"They're going to pass out on their brooms at this rate. I swear, Pucey's a sadist," Olivia sighed. "I thought it was just because he hated Mattheo, but it's not even personal. He's doing it to the entire team."
