slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

50. little dark age

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
- William Shakespeare

~~~~~~

Cassie Avery

Sleep didn't come easily anymore. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of summer - the balcony nights, the missions, the screaming of people I'd never even bothered to learn the names of. And Mattheo, always Mattheo, with those dark eyes that made it feel like he could see inside my head even when he wasn't using Legilimency.

Now he was here, at Hogwarts, and I couldn't decide if that made me feel safer... or worse.

To everyone else, he was "Professor Snape's nephew," a transfer from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons or - honestly, people kept making up stories because no one actually knew. He'd been given his own room in the Slytherin dorms, which was basically unheard of, and of course he acted like he'd been entitled to it all along. Whispers followed him everywhere he went. People noticed him in the way they noticed fire - dangerous, fascinating, and impossible to ignore. He fit into this new version of Hogwarts like he'd been born for it, like he'd been waiting for the castle to darken so he could finally walk its halls.

Me? I still felt like I was suffocating.

Hogwarts used to be safe place. But everything had changed.

The Carrows had taken over discipline, and they didn't hand out lines or cleaning duties anymore - they made people use curses. Dark magic, Unforgivables, on their own classmates. Slytherins mostly got away with token punishments, but even I could feel the castle shifting into something ugly.

I dragged my fingers through my hair and finally forced myself up.

Onyx was already awake, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a quill between her fingers, pretending to work on a parchment but very clearly watching me instead.

"Finally," she muttered.

I'd been avoiding her questions for over a week now, but clearly today she had decided that enough was enough.

"You're staring," I muttered, reaching for my tie.

"You're different." No hesitation. No sugarcoating. Just Onyx being Onyx.

"Everyone's different," I said, shrugging.

"Don't do that." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You don't... feel like you anymore. What the hell happened this summer, Cass?"

My throat went tight. I wanted to tell her everything. About the balcony, the blood, the way Death Eaters talked about life like it was disposable. About how I'd stopped sleeping in my own room because the walls felt like they were closing in. But instead, I said, "It doesn't matter."

Onyx stared at me, like she could see every crack I was trying to hide. "It matters to me. You're my best friend. Or I used to be".

That cut deep. "Of course you still are".

"Am I?". She uncrossed her legs, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. "This wouldn't have anything to do with him, would it?".

My hands stilled. "Who?".

"Mattheo Riddle," she said plainly, like it was obvious. "He shows up here out of nowhere, gets his own room - which, by the way, is ridiculous - and suddenly you're quiet. You expect me not to connect the dots?".

I turned back to the mirror, smoothing my robe. "He's fine."

Onyx snorted. "Fine? That boy looks at people like he's deciding which one he wants to murder first. And don't even get me started on how he looks at you."