Chapter Text
He was aware of that sickness since he was small. That rotting feeling inside, in his soul. Ignore, ignore, ignore. That's the only way to cope with it. What else could he do? Nobody besides him knows what it feels like. The guilt. The shame.
His friends didn't know. Nobody knew. It's not something you talk about lightly. It's a secret you take to your grave. He's a freak, a weirdo. All of his friends are. But they wouldn't understand. They're not like him, nobody is. Their skin don't crawl when someone mentions it in their presence, their hearts aren't scared of love or the future.
Now that Lukas might know? No. What if he tells someone? Maybe it was just a glance. Maybe it didn't mean anything. But he can feel the burn of his gaze. The silent question. The accusation. You're not like them. I know. I know what you are. I see the sin in your soul. I see your shame.
Septimus sits up with a gasp, drenched in sweat. He nervously looks around as if checking if he's there.
- It was just a nightmare... just a dream... - He whispers to himself. He looked around to see his friends asleep. It's the middle of the night, after all. But he knew he wouldn't fall back asleep soon. The nightmares kept coming since school started few weeks ago. Since they saw each other for the first time after that Quidditch match. It didn't bother Septimus that much during summer, no. But now, seeing him again? Pure agony. He expected laughs and rude words as always, but there was just silence. And his questioning eyes. As if he wanted him to make a wrong move. Nobody else can tell, right? They don't know. Everything is fine. But Septimus was going paranoic. What if they do know? What if they secretly judge him? What if actually every word, every laugh, was telling him away? Fuck, they knew, they had to. But wouldn't they leave him after knowing? Right. So they don't know. His thoughts were a messy cycle.
It didn't exactly help that Septimus and him had many classes together. Too many. Septimus didn't dare to look him in the eye. To address the staring. The unusual silence. Lukas seemed weirdly distant now. As if Septimus was the only thing on his mind. He must be planning something. All of his friends probably already know. Merlin's beard, it felt like the whole school knew. Like he was walking around with a glowing sign that said "I'm different".
- Septimus. You seem distant lately. - he heard his father's voice, but it was muffled with his thoughts.
- What? - he muttered, still staring at the cup of tea in his hands.
- Hey. Look at me. - the worry in his voice made Septimus look up. - What's busying your mind so much?
He wanted to laugh. What isn't on his mind? It felt like he was being watched, constantly examined. What if dad knows? No... no, he can't. He can't. Septimus still remembers the innocent question he asked when he was younger. "Can boys love boys?". He remembers as his father stilled, staring at him in silence. Like he said something wrong. Like he was wrong. Like he could tell that his son's soul is rotting. Little Septimus didn't get an answer, but the silence was enough. We don't talk about this.
- Nothing. Just... hard to transition back to school, you know? - when did he get so good at lying to dad? He used to be the only person he was honest with. It felt like their connection, their trust, was crumbling. And Septimus knew dad feels it too. Knew that he doesn't believe him, but chooses not to press. Maybe he already knows. Maybe he knows that his son is beyond saving, that his mind is already rotten with that secret. Maybe he always knew.