slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

60. look what you made me do

"She is at a crossroads: a child's violent will to survive lodged in her chest where her heart should be, but an utter indifference along with it."
- Lidia Yuknavitch

~~~~~~

Cassie Avery

The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday night, the usual low murmur of voices replaced with silence broken only by the crackle of the fire. The others had taken one corner near the fireplace; Theo sprawled lazily in a leather armchair, one long leg hooked over the side, pretending to read the Prophet but clearly half asleep. Draco sat across from him, staring at the flames as if he had never seen fire before.

I was at the table, a stack of parchment in front of me, feigning focus on a half-finished essay I had absolutely no intention of completing. Lorenzo sat beside me, balancing his chair on two legs, eyes half on the fire, half on nothing at all. There was something almost peaceful about it, being here together, doing nothing but existing.

Then the Mark on my forearm seared to life, white-hot pain ripping through my skin and burrowing deep into my bones.

Lorenzo sucked in a sharp breath beside me, his hand instinctively gripping his forearm. I glanced at him, catching the tight line of his jaw and the flicker of doubt in his eyes. It was his first call. The first real reminder of what he'd chosen.

"Bloody hell," Theo muttered under his breath, hissing through clenched teeth as he clutched at his own arm. Draco, as always, tried to mask it, standing rigid and straight-backed, though the colour drained from his already pale face.

It had felt different this time. Not just painful - furious.

We Apparated together, landing at the wrought iron gates in staggered thuds. The long path to the Manor stretched ahead, lit only by the cold wash of moonlight. Every step was heavy. And for Lorenzo, every step looked like a silent question: What have I walked into?

Inside, the air was sharp and cold, the familiar marble floors reflecting the dim light of the sconces. We were led to the drawing room - the same room I'd been called to so many times now that it has started to haunt my dreams.

And they were waiting.

Voldemort waited at the far end, tall and skeletal, the shadows around him somehow darker than the rest of the room. His eyes were still, the kind of stillness that made your pulse trip over itself. Beside him, Bellatrix practically vibrated with anticipation, her smile wide and unhinged as she twirled her wand in her fingers like she was already imagining its next victim.

And my mother stood to his left. Perfect posture. Impeccable robes. Face carved into something that might've once been beautiful, if it hadn't been frozen in disdain.

Mattheo stood slightly in front of them. He looked... different. No cocky smirk. No slow swagger like he owned the room. Just... stillness.

Voldemort's voice cut the silence like a whip.
"You disappoint me."

The words were soft, but I flinched all the same.

I felt the others straighten around me - Theo shifting uncomfortably, Draco's eyes fixed on the carpet. Lorenzo glanced at me once, quick, like he was checking I was still breathing.

His voice sharpened. "You are my eyes and ears. And yet, I have nothing."

Bellatrix gave a delighted little giggle, twirling her wand in her fingers. "Oh, my Lord, perhaps they need to feel what failure costs."

My mother's eyes immediately found me, sharp and unforgiving. "So," she said smoothly, voice dripping with disgust, "still proving utterly useless, I see."