Bite hard [Honoré]

tw: marijuana

The ash from his cigarette was growing too long from neglect. Séverin had spaced out again, mid-cigarette, and suddenly cursed as the ash broke against his fingers, burning. He groaned lightly, cleared his throat, and carried on puffing it, more carefully this time. He needed to cut back. This was his fourth of the day and it was only lunchtime. He wasn’t allowed to smoke, either, despite being of age now. Not on campus, anyway. So, he was hiding near the lake, letting the ashes fall into the grass and, again, neglecting the study materials he had brought with him there. He didn’t want to have to study for a stupid test. It was asinine, really, the way wizards held standardized tests to such a high level. Should his grades in the course matter more than the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. results? He did great in his classes, despite the sudden fall this year, which he thought was excusable.
 
His head of house had approached him with worry about his falling grades. As top of the class, he was now near the middle or bottom. He hadn’t opened up, though, or told them anything. Instead, he just stared at them silently until they allowed him to leave without further incident. He was keeping grades high enough for quidditch, but lacked the passion for knowing it all like he had once had. He was bored. Bored with life, bored with school, bored with the same stupid people he had seen for six years so far. He wanted to leave, on one hand. He wanted to drop out, skip his N.E.W.T.s altogether, and never come back… but he also didn’t know what he would do otherwise. 
 
The ministry was always an option, if he wanted to follow his mother’s footsteps. However, his sister Mylène soured that thought for him quite a bit. She was a ministry girl, high up. His mother had been in the Wizengamot, too, and he thought that his family name, Desrosiers, meant something to certain people, but his mother’s maiden Bonnaccord, was even more influential. He need only drop his mother’s name and he would be a shoe-in to any department. He didn’t know, though. Dressing up in suits and playing nice with coworkers, playing intern and brewing their coffee… it all sounded awful.
 
He was not a good potioneer, nor herbologist. He didn’t care much for creatures (though he did love his cat), and wasn’t artistic to save his life. He wasn’t a people person. He wasn’t a healer. He was a researcher, perhaps, at the best of times, but he didn’t want to research something stupid. He wanted some kind of something that mattered. He had considered going into the crime lab at the French Ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but he wasn’t sure he cared to get in on his mother’s name. Perhaps, he could move somewhere else. London, maybe. Or the United States, just as far away from Mylène as he could possibly get.
 
London, though. There was a part of Séverin that remembered Circe and thought, wistfully, that she could be there waiting for him. Of course she wouldn’t wait for him—he had never written her, and now it had been so long he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He hadn’t seen her since the night they spent together, kissing heavily and touching. He hadn’t even said goodbye that morning. He had just walked out without a word. She probably thought he hated her, which was far from the truth. He could see where she might think it, though. He hadn’t done her a kindness. He had never, yet, seen another girl that made him react quite that way.
 
Of course, he knew of Gabrielle Delacour, a part-veela in the year above him, but even she only stirred him a little bit. He had thought that, maybe, he was just broken in that capacity until he’d met Circe. She had been his first crush, his first kiss, and he wondered if she was his first love as well. Love was a strong word for what he thought he felt, but he doubted he would have another so what did it matter? She wouldn’t be waiting. She had gotten a boyfriend the year after they kissed for the first time, and had given herself to him. She was probably doing that again with someone else. Maybe that Ezra boy he could tell she fancied. Maybe Séverin had been the distraction, and that hurt a bit to consider.
 
His cigarette was out now, but he wasn’t finished. He hadn’t enjoyed it, so he opened the pack, looking at the near-empty inside and wondering how crazy he would go before he got to Chatoeil that weekend to buy more. He had two left, one cigarette and one “lucky” which was not really tobacco. He typically saved the lucky for last, but he only had one class left for the day, and he didn’t mind skipping it to stare at the clouds by the lake.
 
He plucked the lucky and lit it, grimacing a little at the smell of the sweet smoke it produced. He would never get used to the smell. He didn’t care for it, but he liked what it did. Cigarettes, somehow, tasted better. He heard the soft sound of footsteps on grass behind him, and turned, leaving the joint in front of him and out of direct eyesight from whomever might be passing through. Seeing who it was, he simply turned back around and took another drag. It was his brother, Honoré.
 
“Mm, hello.” He greeted as he exhaled, away from where his brother was standing. He thought, for a moment, that this was certainly too weak of a drug for him. He was barely feeling anything. Was this a poor batch, or did he just develop a tolerance to it? “Want a hit?” He offered. Honoré wasn’t, as far as Séverin knew, usually in the market for smoking anything, but he thought it polite to offer regardless. His brother was rebellious, like he was, only a bit softer at it. He probably would do well to radicalize, smoke a bit, and then they could burn the school down together.
 
“How did you find me?” He asked, knowing he wasn’t necessarily hiding, but also that this wasn’t a popular place for students during class time. “You’re probably late for… potions, is it? Are you skipping, naughty-naughty.” He tisked his finger at him a bit playfully, and scooted over for his brother to sit beside him in the shade. It was hotter today than it typically was in May, and Séverin wasn’t going to leave his brother out in the heat by himself.
 
Things had been rocky between Séverin and Honoré this year, more than it had ever been. The two brothers had always been relatively close to one-another, given their near 12-months-to-the-day age gap. They had always shared parties growing up, and sometimes even larger presents. He remembered the time his mother bought them a joint present—a Nimbus 2001 (in 1992), when he was 5 and Honoré was only 4. This was meant to be an investment into both of their futures, though they weren’t really allowed to ride it alone until they were older. Even so, Séverin and Honoré had loved that thing as children, often riding double when they couldn’t decide whose turn it was to play on it. It was now Honoré’s exclusively, now that he had upgraded, at last, to the Firebolt instead.
 
This year, though, Séverin had pushed Honoré away for the majority of the year, barely speaking to his little brother. Some of this was his depression overall, but some was jealousy and spite. Honoré had been given the family business in its entirety. Of course, Mylène wouldn’t have wanted to run a camera business—she was too busy running France and, more recently, dabbling in the International Confederation of Wizards. To be fair, Séverin didn’t really have an interest in business, art, or photography either…. but he didn’t like being picked over for the job by his father. He knew his parents looked down on him for his behavior, his personality, his choices, and his attitude… but he had never thought it would have been so clearly defined in his will. Even his trust fund had stipulations, and he was of age now! What did they think he would do, run wild around Paris, with drugs and women? He supposed, all things considered, he had already done that in London with Circe and her friends, but they didn’t need to know that. Besides, it barely counted. They hadn’t even passed second base.
 
He didn’t wait for Honoré to respond to his offer before he took another hit and held it back out, wiggling it a little bit. “It won’t bite hard.” He promised, teasingly. There was a moment of silence, Séverin exhaled, and then he spoke again. “Do you think Father really hated me that much?” He asked. A simple, but pointed question.

@Honoré Desrosiers

It was already May again. The holidays weren't all that far away anymore. While, usually, that was a good thing, Honoré dreaded them now. He'd be reminded of his parents' death every minute of the day, being back at home. There was no chance for a distraction. At school he could bury himself in school work. He was doing exceptionally well academically this year. Admittedly his social life was barely existent but he didn’t care. He didn't want to talk to most people. They wouldn't understand anyway. Only Lijsbeth's presence he could endure, enjoy even.

Often the boy just went out between classes to get away from his schoolmates' constant chatter. He felt sentimental, thinking of how his life had been before everything had changed. He missed being close to his brother but at the same time he felt uncomfortable talking to him. He was hurting, too, after all. Beides, Honoré was not quite sure how Séverin really felt about the Obturateur going to him once he’d be of age and not to one of the older siblings. Honoré thought that his brother probably didn’t really want the company but he didn’t have a choice to say no to it anymore now.

He strolled down to the lake. The boy was lost in thought but the figure of his brother caught his eye even when he was still quite far away. Subconsciously he slowed down a little as he approached him. Honoré had been so close to Séverin in the past and now he often felt like he was talking to a stranger.

“Salut,” the younger of the two brothers said as Séverin looked at him. He was offered a cigarette and raised his eyebrows slightly. Honoré didn’t smoke. He had never really felt the desire to even try. He shrugged indecisively. “Hmm… dunno,” he muttered.

“I didn’t…” he shook his head thoughtfully. “I wasn’t really looking for you. Just needed to get out of the school for a bit and then I spotted you and thought I’d say hello.” The boy looked at his brother as he teased him about being late for class. Again Honoré shrugged, though this time it was a sign of indifference.

“Yeah, potions,” he confirmed. “Honestly, I think I have already read up on everything that we’ll cover this term. I doubt I’ll miss much if I skip.” Truth be told, he hadn’t really intended to skip the lesson. He just hadn’t been able to endure the conversations about all these trivial things in the Grand Hall. He had wanted fresh air and some peace and quiet.

“Which lesson are you skipping?” Honoré asked. He wasn’t going to criticise his brother. It was none of his business if Séverin didn’t attend his classes. He certainly wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

Séverin held out the cigarette and Honoré took it reluctantly. He looked at it for a second or two before he took a very hesitant little pull before handing it back to his brother. He didn’t inhale, really and yet he had to stifle a cough.

His brother’s question came unexpectedly and Honoré was taken by surprise. “No!” was his immediate response. “Of course not. He probably…” his voice trailed off. There was no real explanation for the content of their parents’ last will. “He probably thought you wouldn’t want the Obturateur and I did that internship there so maybe assumed I’d be more interested… I really don’t know.”

Séverin found Honoré’s defensiveness a little amusing, but was more amused by the coughing. He had coughed his first time, too. The first time had been more fun than the recent times. The first time had been for fun, not to escape. He wanted to escape, now. He ached when he thought of summer at his family home, with the memory of his parents haunting him and Mylène’s eyes somehow around every corner. She wouldn’t be as accommodating as his younger brother was, not about the skipping or the drugs or even the cigarettes. He would be drinking at home, maybe daily, and far more than the usual glass of wine with dinner. He wanted to lay on the couch in his dressing gown, high and drunk with a head that was quiet. Sometimes he wanted something stronger than even this, but what was there? He was a scientist, he supposed. Experimentation was integral to knowledge-building, but did he really want to get in over his head with something stronger than marijuana? No matter how much he ached, he was nervous about it.

He had been writing his cousin, Valerian. Valerian was in London, in a large flat with two bedrooms (one of which he never even used). Séverin thought it would be nice to have some company. Despite Valerian being several years older than him, the two boys had always got along. Sev knew he couldn’t stay in that house anymore, and didn’t want to. Honoré would have been welcome, had the flat been large enough to accommodate, but he was too young to live on his own anyway, even though Séverin was technically an adult. Mylène would never have it, either. She couldn’t control Séverin now that he was an adult, but Honoré was still under her protection.

“Botinique.” He admitted. “Not as fun without our cousin Berenice as the professor.” He shrugged. “I hate the course as it is, but especially that try-hard fill-in.” He grumbled. He took a long, deep inhale off his joint and blew the sweet smoke away from Honoré, again. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you barely took any.” He laughed. “You should try again. It tastes terrible and the coughing can be distracting, but I feel myself melting into the grass, and my head is finally clearing up.” He admitted. He caught a glimpse of the clouds and thought that one, in particular, looked like an elephant.

He sighed a bit as Honoré scrambled to answer his pointed question, amused by his frightened reaction more than anything else. There was nothing Honoré could say that would make Séverin feel less like a disappointment to his parents, but he liked pulling his chain and winding him up. It was the only amusement he had lately. Everything else felt numb, or hurt. He didn’t really reply to him.

“I’m moving to London this summer.” He said, again, out of nowhere. “In with Valerian.” He hadn’t informed Honoré of his plans yet, so why not now? “I honestly would rather you join me, but unfortunately for us both, our dear sister has her claws in you for another year at least.” He admitted.

“I don’t think I’m going to stay in France at all, not just for the summer, but I think I’d rather live in London.” He admitted. “The French Ministry would let us in on name alone, I want to prove myself.” He admitted. “Do something right, at least.” He admitted. “Though I think I’ll probably lay stoned on the couch all summer in my fluffiest robe, chainsmoking.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Honoré said, although he didn’t really care if Bérénice taught Botanique or someone else. He felt frustratingly indifferent. Nothing really mattered much these days. He suppressed a sigh. He wished he would be angry but he was basically just like a robot these days, a model student who functioned just the way people expected him to.

Séverin teased him that he hadn’t taken a real pull from the cigarette and Honoré shrugged. “Why should I want to try again if it tastes horrible and makes me cough?” he asked. If his brother would offer a potion or alcohol he might be more tempted but smoking really didn’t seem like anything he might learn to enjoy.

“You’re what?” Honoré asked, suddenly alert in a way he hadn’t been in weeks. He stared at his brother, feeling taken aback. “You…” he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re going to move to London?” He couldn’t tell what upset him most about this - that he couldn’t just leave home himself or that Séverin chose to go to a far away place.

“When did you decide this?” he asked, feeling that the decision might have been made a while ago and his brother just hadn’t told him until now. His voice sounded bitter, the anger that he had thought he lacked was building up inside of him now.

“You want to live in Britain?” Honoré asked, his voice trembling with fury. “You’ll leave me behind?” He felt hurt. First their parents died and now Séverin chose to leave the country.

“Great,” he muttered, “that way Mylène can focus on me alone and shove me into the family business. Goodbye freedom.”

Séverin shrugged a little. “It’s your loss really.” He offered, about the cigarette. “I feel much better with it than without, but you can carry on being the good student as long as you like. I’d rather be high.” He sighed, looking away from him and taking another drag. It was almost out, and he took a final drag before putting the butt out on the ground. He was drinking some, too, taking potions recreationally, but this helped the most, he thought. He thought he was just going to get away with the London comment, but soon Honoré was back around on it. He cleared his throat.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Never really wanted to stay at the French ministry, but now I have more of a reason than ever. No one will even tell me what happened to our parents, who what’s the use?” He sighed. “I just want to fly away, like a bird.” He sighed. “It’s not personal. I’d invite you if you were allowed.” He would, really, but he was almost glad that he didn’t have to share his flat with Honoré, in the same vein.

“Don’t you want the family business? You’re heir after-all.”

Honoré looked at his brother, torn between admiring his rebellious attitude and judging how he let himself go. He wasn’t opposed to getting high himself, but he thought that there ought to be ways that weren’t as disgusting. He even felt a little sick from this slight pull he had taken of the cigarette and he really found the taste and smell quite disgusting.

“That has nothing to do with being a good student or not,” Honoré muttered more to himself than to his brother who would not get his point anyway.

“You’re leaving the country because nobody told you what happened to our parents?” the younger brother asked incredulously. To him that made no sense at all. He wasn’t going to confide in Séverin that he might know more about what happened than his brother did but he thought that if he really wanted to find out more he should investigate further and not just get far away.

“Sure,” Honoré snorted as Sev told him that he’d invite him if he was allowed. It was easy to say so when it wasn’t possible for another year. Given how distant Séverin had been these past months he sincerely doubted that he’d want his company anyway.

Séverin brought up that Honoré was the heir to the family business and the younger brother swallowed hard. It felt wrong that he, as the youngest, was getting the business. It had probably made sense to their parents to make this decision in his favour but he assumed that his brother begrudged him the inheritance and felt less loved.

“I don’t really know,” Honoré finally responded earnestly. “I never really considered it before last summer. I thought I’d have time to make up my mind about what I really want, you know?” He shrugged and looked down as he felt how his cheeks reddened.

“You think I don’t know that being a good student and getting high aren’t mutually exclusive?” Séverin countered. “No, what I mean is that you have your way of coping and I have mine. You’re focusing on winning at school, and I’m focusing on ignoring it. I was a top student, you know.” He shrugged. “I just don’t see the point of it anymore. What does it do for me, except take my time and energy that I don’t want to give?” He shrugged again, itching for another smoke already but feeling woozy enough to ignore the itch.

“You are intentionally being obtuse, aren’t you?” Séverin snapped at his brother. “I don’t see the point in staying where I’m not even trusted with basic information. I am not leaving the country because no one told me, but is that a factor in my decision to go? Why not? No one trusts me, no one here cares about me except you used to. Why stay?”

He grumbled a little, picking at the skin on the edges of his nails, his nails were very short, and there was no nail to play with, so he picked at the skin there. “I think you’ll be good at running it if you want that, but who knows if you even do. You might prefer anything else. Just hire a manager and leave it at that, make money by doing nothing with the company at all.” He shrugged. “Dad cared too much about it, anyway.”

He was grumpy, angry, and annoyed by Honoré at the moment, feeling like the other was being obtuse and not understanding or listening to him. He didn’t understand where Séverin was coming from, and that annoyed Sev more than anything else.

Of course Honoré knew that Séverin had been a top student. For a long time it had encouraged him to try harder and harder so he would not be a worse student than his intelligent elder brother. He understood that everyone had their own coping mechanism but he felt that Séverin was giving himself up whereas he tried to keep functioning, tried to keep his chances while he didn’t really care about things. Honoré hoped that the time would come when things really mattered to him again. At the moment he focused on school work but even top grades barely lured a smile onto his face. The only thing that felt good was his music but even that was not that easy. He composed sad songs, sometimes cried when he played them, but he enjoyed this sadness somehow. It was comforting to know that he could still cry, that he could still feel.

“Yeah,” Honoré said quietly, “I understand.” He really understood his brother’s way of thinking even though he did not agree with it.

“I still care about you,” Honoré said, his voice a little hoarse. It was depressing to hear his brother doubt him. They had always been close, but their parents’ death had changed them and their relationship. “I’ll miss you,” he offered but didn’t look at his brother as he did so.

“Hmm,” Honoré said and shrugged, “I feel like everyone expects me to be all grown up all of a sudden. I cannot make a decision for the company now. Running the business is a big deal and I really don’t know if I want it. It feels like too much responsibility too soon.” He wasn’t sure why he was being this honest with Séverin after the things that his brother had said so far but he somehow needed to say his thoughts out loud. Sure, he could put someone else in charge and just own the business but that wasn’t really an appealing option and it likely wasn’t what their parents had been expecting him to do anyway. He assumed if they had been okay with someone who wasn’t immediate family to run the business they’d have left it to Mylène or Séverin and not to him.

“I still care about you.” 
 
Séverin frowned, looking down at the ground and flicking a rock with his fingers rather than answer right away. He knew Honoré still loved him, still cared. He knew Honoré would miss him, but it would be easier if he wouldn’t. If he didn’t love him. If he didn’t care. Séverin didn’t care much about himself anymore. He spent his days languhsing in a depression spiral, getting high, ignoring his responsibilities, or worse. He showed up for quidditch and kept his grades decent enough to still qualify to play. He stayed (mostly) out of any real trouble… but there was no joy, no hope in it. It was difficult, and he ached.  
 
Some part of Séverin felt very much like a bird, hoping he could fly away from what scared him and hurt him and caused him anxiety and pain, but even he knew that leaving the Desrosiers estate, and their elder sister, wouldn't really make him feel any better. He was lucky he was moving in with a roommate, as he doubtlessly wouldn’t have been able to take care of himself in this state. He would let the rats into the apartment, leave empty pizza boxes on the floor, and spend his nights faded in a haze of Bliss and his days excited by a seven-percent-solution. He would be at rock bottom, then. Mylène would rescue him, of course. Even if she didn’t know where he was going—and he wasn’t planning on telling her he was moving—she would somehow show up on his door, force him to sober up and shower, and snatch him back to his old room post-haste. Then, he would be back in those walls, thinking of his parents…. And Honoré would realize what a dumb loser he really was, after-all. 
 
After all, didn’t his parents think so? They had left Mylène the estate and Honoré the business and what had they left for him? From what he was aware, even his third of the monetary assets had stipulations on them. He had to finish school. He had to be seventeen. What did they think, that he’d just take the money and drop out and screw it all to everything he’d worked so hard for? Maybe that was a worthwhile judgement, because at the moment, he didn’t want to come back for his seventh year. 
 
He sighed, finally looking up from the rocks. “I know you care.” He said, finally, quietly. “You shouldn’t, though. Caring makes you weak. You and Mylène have that in common, and I’m learning to cut ties. You should, too.” He didn’t mean it. He loved Honoré, and the boys had been very close. He would be devastated if Honoré left, but a part of Séverin knew that and didn’t want to be taken seriously. He wanted to be contradicted and told that he had value, that he was worth something. That Honoré needed Séverin as much as Séverin needed him. 
 
“You’re grown enough.” Séverin assured. “I promise, most adults have no idea what they’re doing from one day to the next. You can do this, probably better than them. Dad definitely thought better than me, and he was right. I would have sold it. Or put some random manager in their place and run off to Colombia with all the money I made.” He laughed, but it was dry. 
 
He sighed. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Honoré. I am just… tired. Tired of everything. I just want to be numb for now. You’re moving on and doing great things and me? I’m just… languishing.” 

"How you can say that?" Honoré said, an unpleasant feeling taking possession of him. "Sev, you're my brother. I love you and nothing will change that." He wanted to add that Séverin was all that he had left. Him and Mylène, of course. And Lijsbeth, in a way. Anyway, he felt he had said enough already. Talking about feelings wasn't easy and he had said a lot by now, much more than he usually said. however, it had felt necessary given Séverin's dark mood.

"I don't mind," he said when his brother told him that caring made him weak. "Actually, I'm not sure it does." It hurt, though. It hurt a lot. Caring, feeling did hurt so much. It was like acid within him. It was eating him from the inside but Honoré didn't want to be numb. He wanted to be allowed to say that he loved his siblings, wanted to admit that he missed his parents. It was odd that he missed them so much now. During the school year he had barely heard anything from them. So not missing them should be easier now than during the summer and that again was scary. The summer was close, after all.

"Honestly, man, you scare me when you say these things. Especially now we need to stick together to get through this." Was there 'a getting through this', though? Their parents would stay dead. That was a wound that would never heal no matter how much time passed.

Séverin spoke of the company and Honoré's gaze drifted to the far distance. He felt that there was some truth in what his brother said but he wasn't convinced. How should he ever be able to run a company, a big and successful company? What if he ruined it? What if he made changes their parents never wanted?

"I'm not sure about that," Honoré said, partly because he wasn't sure, partly because he felt that was what he was supposed to say. He was anxious to take over the company after school but also kind of excited. It was not what he had planned. It was coming way too quickly, too. He felt like he had to be grown up before he'd have time to find himself. However, it was futile to think about that now. His path was determined now.

"Don't... don't say that," Honoré said, considering to reach out to pat his brother's shoulder but refraining. "You'll be fine. Everybody copes in a different way. I just have to stay busy. I cannot pause or I feel it'll break me." His voice had been barely louder than a whisper towards the end. So much honesty was rare in the Desroisiers family and Honoré felt awkward and vulnerable sharing these thoughts with his brother.

Awkward and vulnerable were feeligns the boys were sharing at the moment. Séverin was rarely open with the other, with anyone. He often kept his dark throughts to himself, but things had changed a lot in the past year and now his darker thoughts were harder to ignore. In some ways, they had consumed him. He sighed, looking up at Honoré and wishing for another cigarette despite still feeling  a little queasy from the ones before. He didn’t need nicotine as a food group, but somehow it felt like he did. It still gave him chills and made him nauseous, but he didn’t mind it. Perhaps he should eat something to take the edge off the nausea… or maybe that was a joint just making him hungry. One thing he didn’t like about the drug. 
 
Séverin had taken to punishing himself at mealtimes by avoiding food. It all tasted like ash, anyway, and the hunger pains grounded him. He didn’t quite think of it as an eating disorder—he wasn’t obsessed with his weight or body, and even more, couldn’t quite care less if he was found attractive by the opposite sex. Still, it felt necessary almost, compulsive. He needed to punish himself somehow for not being able to save them. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen them die, but he should have made them prouder when they were alive. Now that they were dead, he saw no point in it. They couldn’t be proud of him in death. He didn’t really believe in an afterlife, either. They weren’t waiting up in heaven, watching him. They were dead. They were nothing. It was like they had never existed in his life. 
 
He sighed again, only partially listening to Honoré talk, but hearing the gist of it. Loved him. Didn’t care if caring made him weak. Blah, blah. It hadn’t helped, though, hadn’t broken him out of the darkness. “I miss things being the way they were before.” Séverin said, the most honest he had been so far. “Miss just hanging out with you and being carefree and just, talking about quidditch or arguing about school or picking fights with each other just to bicker.” He sighed deeply. “It just feels meaningless now. Innane, even. How can life just keep going around in the same old usual quidditch, bickering, school work… nothing is the same. How does life keep going?” How did he expect his younger brother to be wiser than him? Maybe it was because Séverin had always been immature, and Honoré had always been the mature one between them. 
 
“Maybe we should get up and go to the cafeteria. It’s nearly dinner time, and if we get there early we’ll get all the good food to ourselves. I haven’t eaten today.” He admitted, not admitting to having not eaten the day before, either. It might have been obvious, considering his slim face was getting gaunter every day. 

“I do, too,” Honoré muttered as his brother stated that he missed things being the way they had been before. Sev went on, though, and Honoré listened. He felt a sting as his brother said that just hanging out, being carefree felt meaningless now. Although he didn’t actually phrase it like that, Honoré felt that they’d never be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same again.

He wanted to have something to say that would motivate his brother, to give him some hope but he felt that everything was crumbling down now. He had kept himself busy so that he just wouldn’t have to think about the future, wouldn’t have to realise that their parents wouldn’t come back, that this wasn’t just a bad dream he’d wake up from.

How did life keep going? He didn’t know. People died all the time, babies were born every day. That was the way things were going and yet, while he knew this and would usually say that it was only natural that every life ended with death sooner or later, it was different now. Since they were personally affected by these deaths the general logic did not seem to apply anymore. It didn’t help to think of others who had lost a parent or, like them, both parents. Others had survived this before them but that didn’t mean that they’d get through it unscathed.

“It’ll always hurt,” Honoré finally said, “I guess at some point we’ll just get used to this pain and accept it. It’s horrible to know that we cannot do anything to change it, though. I mean, we’re going to school, studying all kinds of different things and yet… in a situation like this we’re just helpless…”

Séverin suggested going back inside for dinner and Honoré nodded. “Yes, let’s go,” he agreed. He ate regularly even if not always a lot. It depended on his state of mind. When he felt stable, he had a good appetite and ate a lot. Now, however, he felt certain that he wouldn’t have a big meal. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t look gaunt, unlike his brother. “You look like you haven’t eaten properly in a while,” Honoré said quietly. “Promise me to take care of yourself, please.” He didn’t add that he didn’t want to lose his brother as well but that thoughtwas on his mind now.

“Just a vessel.” Séverin shrugged, contrary. However, he appreciated that Honoré seemed concerned about him. Séverin wouldn’t let himself go to the point of death, but he was tired, upset, and despressed and it showed. He was eager to get out of Beauxbatons now, eager for his summer plans of rleaving the country and going somewhere new to start fresh. It was the only thing keeping him going—start fresh. No one there would know who he was, who his parents had been, or that they were gone now. He was an adult, no longer under Mylène’s protection. He needed to be an adult. He needed to be somewhere new.

He wished Honoré understood better without being so personally affronted, but Séverin knew he was letting his younger brother down by escaping. Honoré needed support, too, and while Mylène would be there for him always… Séverin always had been. They had been something of a pair, close in spirit. They had even been close physically, often touching and hugging (despite Séverin’s insistence that they were not doing those things—they were). Séverin would miss that, too. He pretended not to need physical contact, but boys rarely got affection from anyone other than their parents and siblings, and Séverin definitely didn’t have any girlfriends to get it from.

He stretched his back a bit as he stood and went with Honoré inside. Dinner looked terrible (though, quite the opposite, seemed perfectly normal), Séverin picked at his food, but his hunger did cause him to eat more than he intended, leaving him with a bit of a stomachache. He sighed, leaning into Honoré at the table, the way he might have before this. He would miss him.

They reached the dining hall and Honoré realised that he was actually really hungry. Unlike his brother he had already eaten two meals today but he was still growing and almost constantly hungry. He felt he could eat several plates of the delicious meals offered at Beauxbatons. He tried to hold back, though, always thinking of how it might look if he had so much food.

To his great relief Séverin had a proper meal, even though his brother did not look like he enjoyed the food. Honoré thought that the meals at Beauxbatons were really good and nutritious. He felt it was easier to keep going when he was not hungry and the boy wanted to keep going no matter how hard it was sometimes.

After they finished dinner and the empty plates magically disappeared in front of them, Séverin leaned against Honoré and sighed. Things would change for them, that much the younger of the two brothers knew. Ever since their parents’ death the direction their lives would take in the future had changed.

[end]