Originally Posted by MadMadamMalfoy

Heath was still emotionally reeling from the disaster that was potions class. In the course of one lesson, he'd watched four of his classmates vanish for what he feared was forever, watched another classmate reveal the darkest depths of their evil nature, and been confronted with the fact that his life's ambition was essentially pointless. No, actually he suspected that for a long time now. Professor Varma's rude remarks about acting just confirmed it.

All his life, he'd turned to acting to solve his problems. He thought that if he just acted like Rosier wanted, he could make him see past his heritage, but acting didn't save him this time. Now he wasn't sure why he hated himself more, for failing so miserably at playing that part or for trying to play it at all.

He needed to process the emotional and existential fallout somewhere away from judging eyes. Unfortunately the closest he could find was a dusty corner, and even then he wasn't truly alone. With a sad sigh, he slumped against the wall, paying no mind to the dirt and cobwebs, and sank into a sitting position. He peeked through the veil of dark hair that had fallen in his face to see the one person whose company he wanted, the one person who could comfort him.

He almost reached for her hand but stopped himself just in time, remembering that angry look she gave him in class. Instead he settled for a quiet greeting. "Hi," he whispered, his voice sounding weak and small and sad.