The Great Hall buzzed with life—laughter, the clatter of silverware, the warmth of an ordinary day. At the Slytherin table, you nibbled on a pastry, chatting easily with a housemate, unaware of the weight pressing against the boys around you. They sat in uncharacteristic silence, picking at their food, lost in the spaces you could not see.

You turned to them, bright, teasing. “What’s with you all today? You look like you’ve seen Filch in a tutu.”

Draco twirled his fork, forcing a smirk. “Just imagining it now. Horrifying.”

You giggled, carefree, as you took another bite. Across the table, Mattheo stared at his plate, knuckles white. Theo traced invisible patterns onto the wood, lost in thought.

Regulus leaned in, voice steady, though his gaze was miles away. “It was a long night, that’s all. You’re the only one who actually slept... apparently.”

“What, up all night and didn’t invite me? Rude.” You rolled your eyes playfully and resumed eating.

The boys exchanged a glance—a silent agreement, an unspoken vow. You would never know what they had given. Every laugh you gave was a victory, bought with pieces of themselves. You’d never feel the weight of their silence.

The Great Hall’s noise faded as they watched you smile, framed by their somber faces. It was just another day for you—a day they had given everything to see. That was enough. They would carry the emptiness, so you never had to.

Your laughter echoed faintly, a fragile gift they’d never reclaim.