slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

59. t r a n s p a r e n t s o u l

"The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it."
- Albert Einstein

~~~~~~

Cassie Avery

I sat on the edge of my couch, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the floor like it might crack and spill out an answer I hadn't already gone over a hundred times in my head over the last couple of weeks. It still didn't feel real - any of it.

We didn't talk about that night again. About the Mark. About what it meant for him - or for me. There was just... a quiet understanding. But it still didn't stop my mind from reeling when I thought about the look in his eyes when he stepped forward, the steady way he'd held himself at the table like it wasn't the most terrifying thing in the world. I still didn't know how to feel about it all, but it was somewhere between sick and grateful at the same time.

And he hadn't changed. Not in the obvious ways people warn you about when they tell you dark magic stains you forever. He was still leaning against walls near me, still sitting across the common room from me, still catching my eye when something ridiculous happened so we could share the joke without saying a word.

It was like we'd been shoved sideways into a different version of ourselves. No name for it, no tidy explanation if someone asked. Just... different. And ours.

I hadn't talked to Mattheo.

He was still here, somewhere in the castle, but not in our common room, not in any of the places we used to cross paths. He was a ghost I kept walking past in the corridors, or catching in my peripheral vision before he turned and left. No glares, no snide remarks - nothing. He didn't look at me and I didn't look at him.

Good fucking riddance. He was nothing to me now. He had made sure of that.

I caught Lorenzo's eye from across the table, smiling as he winked reassuringly back at me. It was strange, how something as simple as a laugh shared over a stupid grudge could make the darkness feel a little less sharp. The guilt was still there, sitting in the background like an unwanted guest, but for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel so suffocating.

Maybe that's why when someone threw out the idea of sneaking off to Hogsmeade, I felt that familiar flicker of something like hope. A chance to step outside the mess of secrets and danger, even if just for a moment.

I don't even remember who suggested it first - maybe Blaise, maybe Theo - but the idea spread through the common room like fire on dry parchment.

It's banned now, of course. Too dangerous, too easy for someone to disappear. But I think that's why we all said yes without even thinking. The last few weeks have been nothing but dark corridors and whispered rumors, the walls of Hogwarts feeling more like bars on a cell.

I agreed to it before my brain could come up with reasons not to.

And just like that, it was decided - no planning, no whispered strategy. Just us gathering our coats and slipping out as if we weren't doing something that could get us all expelled, or worse.

I smirked faintly and followed them out, my heart thrumming, not from nerves but from the thrill of doing something. Something normal-ish. Something that wasn't death eaters, or betrayal, or wondering what fresh nightmare tomorrow would bring.

The air outside the castle felt sharper, colder, even for November. The road stretched dark and quiet ahead of us, Hogsmeade flickering faintly in the distance. I remembered when this walk had been loud, full of laughing students and groups running ahead to beat the queue at Honeydukes or The Three Broomsticks. Now it was empty, silent, like even the village itself knew how wrong things were.