PHILIA ⇢ r. lupin

2 | Fall Blues

✧✦✧

Gian drank tea the way it was supposed to be drunk--with plentiful amounts of sugar and milk--so much milk that there were eddies of cream that swirled like storms in the liquid. The tendrils of steam dissolved in the air, the temperature now too cold to emit the latticework of vapor. He preferred it like this--he enjoyed gulping it down without having to tear up at the sensation of a hot blanket burning down his throat and charring his insides. He liked being warm, draped in an oversized cotton muslin blanket while sipping delicately on his lukewarm tea. 

It was a miracle that the kitchens were so close to the Hufflepuff common room, otherwise it'd be harder to sneak past the prefects, and how else would he acquire his midnight tea and snacks? He ate plenty at dinner, but there was always a growl that tore through his stomach later, and he suspected it had gotten used to his night trips to the kitchen at home. He missed being able to turn the radiator on and eat a pre-packaged fruit parfait his mother always picked up for him from the shops. He had a taste for the flavor, even if it was perhaps abysmal compared to the homemade assortments they had at Hogwarts, but perhaps the flavor was all in his head. Him and his dad used to eat them on scalding summer nights, reclined outside on a lawn chair while listlessly twirling their spoons around the plastic while talking endlessly about anything. There was a flavor in that memory; it was bitter and sweet all at once, two tastes that Gian didn't think clashed well together, but now that he was gone, it was a heartbreaking blend that he ached for.

He had almost forgotten that Opal was sat across from him until she cleared her throat. His gaze lifted and she gave him a hearty smile, one that he returned while hunching over the mug on front of him. He took a sip of his tea then realized one of the elves must've charmed it to make it hotter; he picked up the pewter dispenser of milk to pour more in. Threads of white clouded the brown and made it look like liquid honey. 

"I don't understand why you do that," remarked Opal, observing him with critical eyes. "It ruins the experience of having a cup of hot tea. It's no good when it's cold."

"On the contrary, it enhances the experience. I don't want it to dissolve my tonsils, and milk cools it enough that it's not scorching, plus gives it a nice extra flavor," Gian explained, swishing it around with one hand. "If anything, everyone should be drinking their tea this way. It's chambré, as the rich would say." 

She snorted. "Chambré is for wine, you sod. Tea should be fucking scorching. It should be able to melt your enemies if you throw it at them."

Gian raised his eyebrows at her and discreetly inched his stool back. "Do you throw tea at a lot of people?"

"My enemies," she replied roguishly, a smirk on her face that made his expression shift. "You'd be surprised at what I've done, Gian. I don't tell you everything." 

A devastated look fell over his face as his features unthreaded into one of pure anguish, as if the news had delivered a soul-crushing blow to his heart. He'd known this girl since first year, and loved her every minute, so the suggestion that she wouldn't tell him everything struck grief right in his chest. His lips parted into a small 'o' and he frowned down at the tea, suddenly having no appetite for it any longer.