It was just another Friday—the third one since Theodore Nott broke up with you. Three weeks of silence, three weeks of aching questions he never answered, no matter how many times you begged him not to walk away. And still, he did. Since then, every day had felt like some private version of hell.

History of Magic droned on in the background, Professor Binns as dull and lifeless as ever. You sat hunched over your parchment, doodling idly in the margins because who honestly listened in that class anyway? Behind you, Theo sat a few desks away, the same distance he’d kept since he ended things. To you, it was just another day to endure. To him, it was something else entirely.

You never noticed when he lifted his wand, never caught the way his lips shaped the word that would unmake you.*

“Obliviate,” Theo whispered.

In an instant, the best parts of him vanished from your mind—the laughter, the late-night whispers, the warmth of his hand in yours. All that remained were the jagged edges: the arguments, the silence, the break. He had done it to set you free, to force you to hate him instead of longing for him.

Your pencil froze mid-sketch. A strange fuzz settled in your head, but you shook it off, unaware that something priceless had been stolen.

By the time class ended, you were smiling faintly at something a Ravenclaw boy had said in the corridor. Your laugh rang out, easy, untroubled. And down the hall, a brown-haired boy lingered, watching from the shadows.

“Send my love to your new lover,” Theo murmured under his breath, the words catching like ash in his throat. “Treat her better.” And then he turned away.