slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

64. 'tis the damn season

"Even under the best of circumstances, there's just something so damn tragic about growing up."
- Jonathan Tropper

~~~~~~

Cassie Avery

Christmas morning felt strange.

Hogwarts should have been warm and glittering, all golden light and enchanted snow, trees towering at every corner. Instead, the castle was bare - just stone walls and long tables under a ceiling the color of dirty slate. It was quieter than I'd ever known it. Most of the students had gone home for the holidays, leaving the halls hollow and echoing, like the castle itself had been drained of color under Snape's rule.

It should have felt lonely. And maybe it would have - if not for them.

Our group had crammed together at one end of the Slytherin table, laughter and bickering filling the space like we were determined to drown out the silence around us. Theo was already making dramatic faces over the sad-looking Christmas pudding, Blaise was teasing him for eating it anyway, Onyx looked half asleep on in her plate, and Draco - well, Draco was doing his usual impression of someone disgusted by everything while his mouth twitched dangerously close to a smile.

And then there was Lorenzo.

He sat close enough that his arm brushed mine every now and then when he reached for something. He wasn't doing it on purpose. Probably. Except sometimes he'd leave his arm there a second too long, and when I glanced at him, he was already watching me - smirk tugging at his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing.

It seemed the same as always between us. Easy. But after the other night - the way his breath had ghosted my lips, the way his hand had gripped my thigh like he was afraid to let go - it all felt different. Charged. Like every glance, every brush of his hand against mine, hummed with something waiting to happen.

I tried not to think about it. Which, of course, meant it was the only thing I could think about.

I forced myself to look away, further down the table, to distract myself - and that's when I saw him.

Mattheo.

He sat further down, alone, shoulders hunched as if even here, on this day, he expected to be unwelcome. There was food in front of him, but he hadn't touched much of it. Every so often his gaze flickered our way - never long enough to meet anyone's eyes, just a glance, like he was reminding himself of the distance.

I felt Lorenzo still slightly beside me, his own attention following mine.

He didn't speak right away, but his shoulders had gone tight. His fingers tapped idly against his goblet, a restless rhythm I'd learned to recognize.

When I glanced at him, his jaw was tight, his gaze locked on Mattheo. There was something sharp there - not anger, not quite - but layered. Like he was weighing something he didn't want to admit.

The unspoken question sat heavy between us, and my chest tightened. Slowly, I gave him the smallest nod.

For a moment, I thought that would be it. That Lorenzo would keep looking, keep thinking whatever thoughts he never said aloud. But then his jaw set, and he shifted, leaning just enough into the silence that it carried across the empty hall.

"You want to sit with us?".

The words landed like a stone in still water. Blaise actually paused mid-chew, Theo arched an eyebrow, and Draco's head whipped around like he'd imagined it.

Mattheo blinked, as if he hadn't heard right. His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Finally, he muttered, "Uh... sure."

The scrape of the bench was loud in the silence. But then Lorenzo shifted over slightly, making room beside him. It was such a small gesture, nothing really, but it landed heavy.