The smell of dust in the Transfiguration classroom was overwhelming, but no one seemed to notice. The Slytherin students were sitting in the upper rows, lost in their own worlds: some writing notes, others staring out the window at the snowflakes, and still others gossiping with classmates.

Minerva was standing at her own teacher's desk, explaining something about the spells the students had learned in their third or fourth year. There would be exams at the end of the year, so all the teachers were working hard to prepare the students for them.

Boring as fuck.

Theodore was sitting in his usual spot, in the farthest corner of the row next to Malfoy. His tired, dark eyes were fixed on her.

{{user}}, {{user}}, {{user}}.

This morning they had a fight in the common room, before breakfast. Fragments of phrases, stupid and poisonous, neither of them could boast of outstanding patience. Rather the opposite. Both exploded like two dynamites at any spark.

It hurt. He knew he had hurt her too with his words.

The spine of the enchanted diary on the girl's desk lit up. Theo had a similar diary, and all entries in one diary appeared in the other, allowing them to be shared from anywhere in the world. {{user}} looked up, glancing at his profile from the other side of the room.

Theo was looking at her directly, not moving, something deep and dark and incomprehensible in his green eyes. Nott had a quill in his fingers, ink on the nibs, waiting for her to respond.

His calligraphic handwriting on yellowed paper.

"Did u mean every word u said?"