"Just ask, Cormac." He held his silence for a moment longer before asking, "How?" "During the battle, I got hit by something one of the Death Eaters cast and it knocked me unconscious." Shrugging slowly, I tried to be as blasé as possible, "The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Hospital Wing and I couldn't see anymore. That was it; I don't even know who did this to me."

"Come on," he cajoled, "you don't have any reason to be jealous, Graz." "Oh please," I grumbled, elbowing him so sharply that he withdrew his hand and rubbed at his side. "What makes you think that I'm jealous?"

"What?" I eventually asked with a sigh, knowing I hadn't gotten the answer wrong. "Lysander?" "Nothing," he assured me, grabbing the parchment of questions. He looked over it with vague disinterest, looking like he was going to ask me another question. But then, he set the parchment aside and sat up properly. Abruptly, he asked, "What do you think of my brother?"

"It's not as if we talked often – or at all – in Hogwarts," I murmured absentmindedly, counting how many baby dragons I could see. There was one missing? From behind me, Weasley spoke up, "Maybe we could remedy that." I turned curiously towards him, watching as hesitation flickered over his features, "It's good to see a familiar face."

"I'm a squib," I admitted, the words actually passing my lips for the first time. Despite how he tried to hide it, I caught it – the small aborted step he took backwards. It was enough.

When he caught my eyes, my mind instantly flickered back to something I'd dreamt. Something random and strange and … domestic. Slowly, I asked, "We've never met before have me? Like, before you first walked into the shop?" He continued to watch me. Only, this gaze deepened like the answer to my question was much more complicated than I'd thought. Just – it made no sense.

Did you learn sign language so you could talk to me? He made a motion as if slicing his right hand through his left – Of course He wanted me to ask why he'd put all the effort into learning an entire language for me. So, I asked – Why? He sighed slightly, speaking aloud yet quietly as he said, "I wanted to be your friend."

"Of course," Sanaa began, finally reaching the end of her essay if the triumphant way she rolled her shoulders was any indication, "there's a Montague out there as well." "Not that he's much of a Romeo," Rachael scoffed, thinking to the Slytherin Chaser. Knowing they would pick up on any sign of a reaction, I carefully steeled myself; by this point, I'd had enough practice.

Scoffing, I didn't comment on the way he reacted to hearing my disdain. "Please don't shield yourself behind your self-assigned label of hopeless romantic because you're not. All you are is a scapegoat for all your friends who can say that whatever backlash their breakup brings is because you told them how to do it. Merlin, you're cowards. The lot of you."

"A smile," I insisted softly. "Maybe it's brave to keep smiling when the world seems hell-bent on erasing that smile?" "Well," he started slowly, watching me with eyes that were so gentle I almost couldn't keep looking at him, "then you're the bravest person I know."

"If things were different, if I could become something other than a burden to you, then I would let myself love you. Like you should be loved." A Theseus au! version of my story When the Clock Strikes 12

"Why are you asking about the Quidditch match?" "No reason," he assured me with a laugh that only made it sound even more like a lie. Jordan was already backing away, calling out for me to, "Pay attention to the commentary."

The answer reassuring smile was false. It was too tight, too small and too … not Harry that I didn't buy it for a moment. Despite knowing that I would be able to see right through it, he continued to give me that imposter of a smile. "It's a long story." "I have enough time." "Another time," he gave me an empty promise.

"Honestly, you seem like you need a friend Draco. When I moved out to live on my own – the thing I needed the most in the world was a friend I could turn to for anything. If you'd allow it, I'd like to be that friend for you." "Why?" "Why not?"

"It's been a while," I started slowly, not really knowing what else to say. "Years," he corrected with a short smile.

"You know Healer Higgs?" she said, munching through her chocolate and searching for something. I handed her a water bottle before she could ask for something to drink and returned to parting her hair in two. "What about him?" "He's gotten himself into a coma," she announced not noticing the way my hands had stilled in her hair at the news.

"Isaac," I said softly, catching his attention as one of my hands moved up to frame his face.. "Look at me, focus solely on me and just ignore him. Pretend he's not here and just distract yourself." Burying his head into my neck, he let out a long hiss of breath before relaxing completely. "What are you doing?" "Distracting myself," he mumbled against my shoulder.

"Why are you really here?" I asked eventually, still not looking towards him. "What do you want?" He was hesitant to admit, "I want one last favour." I looked to him then, mouth parted incredulously. Despite our drinks being brought out, I didn't pick mine up straight away. What right did he have to be asking me for one more favour? As if the last one hadn't been bad enough?

"You're not as good as an actor as you like to think you are." For the first time since he had begun to speak, he turned his head towards me and watched me solemnly, "I'm just the first person that bothered to look closely enough to notice, Eyre."

"Because you never asked," I managed slowly. "You never asked and you just threw a strop instead," He drew away with a scowl, "I didn't throw a strop." With another sigh, he reached out for me once again, hands settling on my waist and holding me as if he wasn't going to let me go, "Besides if you ask me, I'm entitled to throwing a strop."