"You're making assumptions again," Nem pointed out, well aware that Grantham was letting emotions take over once more. Her jaw was clenched, she was shaking, for Merlin's sake. They kept their tone level, and relatively far from sounding accusatory, though the urge to really push her was almost too tempting. "I have it better than a lot of people, I'm well aware of that, and I've never denied it. Jake hasn't given up in the sense that he doesn't care or doesn't accept me, he just doesn't know how to deal with me." Acceptance was the same as giving up though, wasn't that obvious? Maybe not one hundred percent of the time, but mostly, it was more or less interchangeable, and definitely in this context. "But the fact remains, you don't know my family, you've not seen how we operate. All you know is what I'm telling you, and that's not really knowing." Maybe the hint was a little daring, but it was fun. Could be taken either way, and might be interesting to see which way Grantham went with it, if she lingered on that statement at all.

As she'd stopped, Nem paused, then stepped in front so they were facing her, their own hands still pocketed. They lifted their chin up for a moment, in order to totally free their face from the confines of their jacket. "If it'll make you feel any better, you can punch me," they said, very matter-of-factly. "And you should also know that the people who matter, they won't give up on you."

She wasn't making assumptions; she was making value judgments, and the two were different, AcTUaLLy. "I never said you had it better than others," Bernie also pointed out flatly, though definitely with more heat and tone than Nemesis. But also, it WAS true that Nem had it better than she did. It was so impossible NOT to see things this way and react with anger. "So your dad is ignorant on how to help you? But also compassionate toward you? Wow. Must be nice. Must be sooooo rough to have a soft father."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she found herself cringing. Why was she like this? She knew she was sounding bitter and jealous again and she was definitely biting her tongue to keep from saying worse. Nem was REALLY ABOUT TO MAKE THINGS WORSE THOUGH, for reals, he was!!!! She didn't even realize this had happened, but one second she felt about to burst, and the next she had reached down into her boot and pulled out her wand. She opened her mouth at Nem's request that she punch them, and shook her head. She couldn't do it, she couldn't. Even if she was still trembling with suppressed fury for the world.

"Nemesis, I SWEAR I do NOT want to hurt you." Bernadette flicked her arm out straight, elbow locked into place, her aim on the trees just beyond Nem's shoulder. It was like a reflex to get into a fighting stance, but again, as she did this, her friend's words rang through her brain.

The people who matter don't give up on you.

Bernie faltered, her wand still pointed just past Nem's shoulder. For Merlin's sake, Upstead. Why couldn't you just let her blow up? Why did you have to show her one small iota of kindness? Now she felt her emotions flickering on the peripheral of sadness, the deep sort of silent sadness a person carried around with them for an eternity until one day it got the best of them. Maybe that one day was today.

"You didn't have to." Not in so many words, at least. Reading between the lines, however, it was right there. Not even necessarily in what Grantham did or did not say, but in how she reacted. Granted, not an obvious or exact marker, but close enough to serve, and reliable enough too.

The sarcasm served as confirmation. It was born of emotion, of malice, even, however short-lived. Despite Nem being firm in the knowledge that emotional displays were a clear sign of weakness, sometimes Grantham could be fascinating in spite of them, or maybe because of them. Entertaining, yes, that too. But really, legitimately fascinating. What must that feel like, to be so reactive? How much was she thinking about her actions, if at all? And again, that previous question returned to them, the one Nem really had wanted to know the answer to. Did the anger fill her up? Not to mention the hypothetical follow-up, which they likely wouldn't have voiced: what did that feel like?

In the face of Grantham's biting remark, Nem only stayed silent once more, though it would have been the perfect time to point out that they had not actually mentioned finding any of the Jake situation 'rough' at all, that it had been nothing more than a matter-of-fact statement that she had twisted into something else entirely. It was better to let her keep going; Grantham's responses said much more about her than they ever would about Nem.

Ultimately, it turned out not to matter. Grantham did not seem interested in a response, if the wand she had pointed at Nem (more or less) was anything to go by. But while she had drawn it, Nem didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't blink. They breathed no faster, and their heart continued at the same steady rate. Nothing. Less, even, than they would have expected, and that realisation triggered within them the most curious sense of loss which, while not exactly intense, translated into a more acute emptiness than they were accustomed to. How could that make sense? That feeling so numb could be at all painful? There was a word for it, maybe, but Nem didn't know what it was, only that the feeling, such as it was (or was not), still wasn't enough. That it would never be enough.

Vaguely aware that Grantham seemed to be going through some sort of journey of her own, Nem tried to soften their gaze, and match what they thought they could see in her, but knew it was unlikely to work. They could tell there was nothing in their eyes either, and so words would have to do.

"I'm not going anywhere, Berns." They clearly weren't, either. Nem still hadn't moved from that spot, their feet were planted and their hands were still shoved deep inside their pockets for warmth, wand still holstered. "Whether you hurt me or not."

Bernie was faltering now, she was. She could feel the anger flickering in and out like a candle at the end of its wick. It was a feeling like a burnout. A Bern…. Out.

She dropped her arm without firing off any spells, suddenly feeling exhausted by all the feelings she'd had and all the ones she kept having. Exhausted. Confused. Staring back at Nem, her eyes were absolutely full of the wonder and confusion and hurt that theirs were lacking. But mostly, she was just… dazed and confused, and still terribly sad.

"I don't get it," she mumbled, her tight little fist clenching and unclenching her wand as though she were squeezing somebody's hand. "You just--- and I wasn't even being nice to you, Nem, so why would you----"

She cut herself off with a sound of sorrow again, something like a shuddery breath that could help her with her self-control. "I refuse to hurt you." There, yes, that was a statement she could be proud of. "You've been nothing but nice to me, always, and I don't understand why, but I… I... refuse. To. To. Hurt. You. I will not be---" Uhhh, what was the word, what was the word she wanted?!

She couldn't say it. She couldn't think anymore. Bernie dropped her half-teary eyes to the ground, her anger dissipating like smoke from the now-spent candle. "I'm good," she reminded herself, talking to herself. "I'm good."

At least this time Nem was prepared for it, the lack-of-anything-whatsoever, when Grantham lowered her wand again. No disappointment, even. Everything very much the same. Had they not made the agreement they just had, about the Vow, would things have been different? Nem thought not, that being more or less threatened at wand-point was something that had likely lost its thrill years ago, if it ever had it in the first place.

Either way, they opted to think no more about it, at least until they could do so in private. They drove the thoughts well back so that their mind was clear again, free to focus entirely on the problem at hand: the faltering Bernadette Grantham, teetering precariously at the edge of some precipice. Exactly what kind of precipice, and why, Nem still didn't know for sure, but they could tell that much.

It really was fascinating.

Just watching her now, after their entire conversation prior - on the bench and while walking - called to mind all manner of images, though Nem's mind defaulted to fire, as it invariably did. Bernadette Grantham was a flame, sparked into life by who-even-cared-who-or-what-or-why, and then... what? Left to burn unchecked for the most part, and then alternately accelerated and stamped out. Sometimes she raged, sometimes she exhausted the air supply, sometimes a gale-force wind blew through to stir her up into a frenzy, and sometimes that same storm sent a downpour to push her back again.

Maybe it was more accurate to say that Bernadette Grantham was not just the fire, but the kindling as well, and the house around it. And, you know, not to feed into a stereotype or anything here, but Nem had always had a knack for that sort of thing. An interest.

While ruminating on these thoughts, Nem had been watching Bernadette Grantham closely, letting herself stammer and stutter her way to some sort of conclusion. At that point, when she started giving herself a pep talk or whatever, they moved back across so they stood by her side once more. "I happen to like you, Bernadette Grantham. That's not going to stop just 'cause you're not that nice to me sometimes." Nem removed one of their hands from a pocket, looped it through one of her arms, and repocketed the hand. Height difference made it awkward, but whatever.

"So, kneazles?"

Once again, the enigmatic, more-than-adequate-at-magic Nemesis Upstead always knew the right/wrong thing to say to her. Actually, more often than not, it was the right thing to say. How was this possible?! Like always.

Bernie's face turned a bit red at this admission from her friend, whom she liked back, but maybe in a different kind of way from their like. She kept her eyes on the ground till she was sure she wasn't showing AS MUCH of her feelings on her face, and then she kind of flicked her stare up and over to Nem. Standing rather still (with all suppressed fire considered), she accepted the arm-looping, nodding in conclusion at the end of it all as though she'd won the self-debate that had been raging within. She didn't trust herself to speak out loud at this moment, so she merely nodded to show she'd go along with wherever Nem was leading them.

Yes, nod nod, the kneazles. Could they get back to seeing Phil, please. It was a small world after all, and who knew for how much longer they'd have the freedom to go where they wanted and see who they wanted. Creatures or people included. Who knew? Who could say?

Nem didn't need to hear anything more, especially now the rage seemed to have Bern-t itself out for now. In fact, as long as Bernadette Grantham didn't linger on the subject in that moment, that meant Nem didn't have to immediately navigate her kind of raw emotion. Not being personally familiar with that sort of thing, it was often better if they had a little time. Not necessary, exactly, but preferable.

In the end, they opted not to say anything either, not about that little outburst, or that little guttering flame, or that little blush. Nem only resumed their way down the path, now arm in arm with Bernadette Grantham, leading her onwards, escorting her to a better place the kneazles.

It was time for their twice daily walk and Mamie always frequently sometimes occasionally had a pep in her step when she got into the fresh air. This afternoon was one of those times. Sure, she was a witch without a wand, but she could stretch, she could see the sky, and the Quidditch pitch.

She could...imagine...she was flying through the air. Feel the wind, the world at her command. Wait, wait, wait...no...no, that was from a musical.

Mamie couldn't imagine anything. She did a little half-skip, then remembered she wasn't supposed to be having any fun, so she went back to just basic walking. One foot in front of the other. Head down. At least it was almost spring.

Even if Nem did not have the benefit of the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad on their side, available to deliver swift justice to any have-a-go-hero who tried to take them on, they likely still would have been just as carefree in making their way around the castle as they were now, school full of enemies or not. Maybe it was the knowledge that they could handle themselves, maybe it was the arrogance of believing they were more capable than anyone who would try them, and maybe it was that they simply did not recognise the danger, or considered it worth their attention. Or just all of the above.

Having the freedom to roam the castle and the grounds, Nem had been making productive use of their ample free time. There was plenty to focus that time on (and more than enough motivation to do so, though they had completely lost it for a while), including, but not limited to, practicing the branches of magic that the Big Man had introduced them to almost two years ago now.

Rather than walking to or from anywhere at the moment, however, Nem was just standing, staring out at the horizon at the surrounding mountains. They heard the approaching footsteps, but looked around only when they came close.

Nem said nothing, not right away at least - no reason to. They just quietly kept an eye out.

Keeping her head down had the sole drawback that she was not always aware of her surroundings. True, she successfully avoided ever tripping over tree roots or snakes slithering by or anything, but big picture surroundings like people looking at her or a lion stalking her like prey? Owls or eagles flying overhead? She would not notice.

She was pretty close to Nemesis, then, when she finally realized anybody was standing on the pathway ahead of her.

Definitely closer than she would have dared get if she had realized it was Nemesis Upstead, aka the tertiary reason three of her best friends were probably definitely dead.

But she was here now. And he hadn’t hexed her when she wasn’t paying attention, so they probably did not really care. And why should he? She was just a Muggleborn. Not worth their concern. Could she walk away and act like she’d never seen him? Nope, the Slytherin was looking now. She was certain Nemesis Upstead saw her seeing them. No backing away unseen now. She glanced behind her, then took a few more steps toward the fifth year.

"Hi," she found herself saying. No running away now.

Well, look at that, another kid willing to talk to them, and one of those usually locked away, at that. That was getting to be a trend, though most kids in this place were spending most of the time in that room. Still, Bernadette Grantham had not been scared off, predictably enough, and then there was Nem's own twin sister, Pax, kept in the room with their little brother while Nem roamed free, and yet still perfectly willing to interact with them, and pass along any useful information. There was Cambridge too, of course, who did not shy away in lessons, and now...

"Turov." Actually, these were some of the first words they'd exchanged, at least on a one-to-one basis. Funny how these things turned out. "Hey." She didn't need to be so twitchy, with the looking back; Nem wasn't going to do anything without good reason. It did depend on the Thought of the Moment, exactly what constituted 'good reason', but certainly so far they'd done nothing overtly untoward.

Depending on perspective.

Twice a day everyone stuck inside The Room was brought outside for a little while. Dahlia had come increasingly dependent on these times of day. Not only did it give her some much needed fresh air but it also supplied a small sense of normalcy to her day. Not to mention on weekends it helped with figuring out the time. This was also the only real chance she got to see her cousins and friends that weren't being kept inside the room. As well as being able to check on her flowers in the greenhouse and the creatures in the barn/sanctuary if she was quick enough.

Today was one of those days were all she could manage was walking. The pain, the anger, the fear, the anxiety, the inner turmoil was getting to be too much. Most days she did well with hiding how she felt. She was able to push down all her feelings and get on with the day with as much of a brave face as she could muster. People were counting on her to be strong, to be the Dahlia they all knew that was constantly laughing and smiling. Someday's it was manageable but today wasn't one of those day.

Having not really felt in the mood to do much today, her long light brown hair was kept loose, falling all the way down her back. Her bright blue eyes appeared sadder than normal. Lia shoved her hands deep into her pockets as she continued walking along one of the pathways with no real destination in mind.

Quinn wasn't doing much better in terms of emotional health.

Being in that room so much was making it harder for him to have hope for the future. If they couldn't figure out a way to escape, they were sitting ducks down there! If someone came to save them, they could easily be taken hostage and used as leverage. This was possibly the worst situation they could be in, but... Quinn couldn't vocalize any of these worries. The Hoods were always around now, so he couldn't speak as freely as he wished he could.

What he knew he could do was be there for his friends. Even though Quinn himself wasn't feeling too great, he was able to push that aside to help other people—and he could tell Dahlia wasn't doing so good today. He fell in step with Lia and looped his arm with hers. "Hey... how're you feeling?"

There was a whole lot of bad that seemed to come along with being one of those that was in The room. It was cold, dirty, dark, eerily quiet, boring, lonely and so many other things it wasn't even worth listing it all. Despite all of this though, there was a small bit of 'good', if anything good could come out of it. Studying was a thing, no her wand wasn't there to prefect all that she was learning in lessons but she did have tons more time to read. And there was also lots of time to talk, talk to family and friends and time to make new friends. In lots of ways... everyone inside The Room had become family. At least in Dahlia's eyes.

Yet, today wasn't the best of days. Looking on the 'bright' side of things and staying positive wasn't happening. Everyone deserved to have an 'off' day and this was hers. Lia continued to stare at the ground with each step she took, even as Quinn caught up with her and looped his arm around hers. "Tired," she answered simply in barely above a whisper. Tired physically and mentally. Sleep wasn't always easy lately. "Cold." For some reason she was almost always cold now. The sunshine and slightly warmer weather wasn't much help anymore. She was also upset, afraid, angry and many other emotions but those didn't need to be spoken out loud right now.

"What about you?" Lia gave his arm a small squeeze finally glancing over at him. He looked almost as bad as she felt. Which was to be expected honestly but it still bugged her to see her friends doing so poorly.

Not needing to introduce herself was a relief, so Mamie relaxed slightly. The Hufflepuff kept walking until she was next to Nemesis, while still leaving room for personal space. She'd always avoided Nemesis, mostly due to his proximity to that Bernadette Grantham, who she still hadn't forgiven for almost getting her killed twice. But the Gryffindor wasn't here, so that meant there would be no near death experiences today. Well, no more than usual for an occupant of The Room.

"Why are you all alone?" she asked, looking up at the Slytherin and then out at the mountains where he'd been looking before. What was Nemesis looking at? But, more importantly, the alone question. Being alone was terrible. Mamie would rather be in The Room with all of her friends than outside the room without them. Well...she would have before all of her friends poofed. She supposed she did not really have many friends in The Room anymore, thanks to Rosier and their tempers. All except Aboli, and she supposed Noah, by association. "Is there something out there?" There meaning in the mountains, obviously, since that's where she was looking.

Quinn hated The Room—it represented all of the subjugation he had faced this term. He was physically below everyone else in the castle, where the Alliance wanted him to believe he belonged. It was a barely habitable room, what the Alliance wanted to make him think he deserved. That made him hate it even more—even on his bad days where he was feeling his lowest, he knew he wasn't what the Alliance said he was. He hated them for trying to make him think he was.

He did have a lot of time in The Room. A lot of it was devoted to chatting with friends, he tore through all of his books, and the rest of his time was spent thinking. And pacing. Examining the walls. Trying to come up with something in there that could help them. He was always met with grimy walls.

A small half-frown took overtook Quinn's mouth when he heard his friend's response. He knew already she was upset, but it still hurt him to hear Lia say it. He didn't know what to say to comfort her, so he gave a small nod. "Yeah, same here. Tired, cold... not so good. But... it'll be alright. Eventually," Quinn said, trying to muster up a smile.

"Hey," Quinn said, an idea popping into his head, "what's your favorite part about spring?" Something to get their minds off of the situation.

Seeing Quinn frown did nothing at all to help the sadness that ached down into her bones. What made it hurt more was that fact that she knew she hadn't even said much at all. Two words and she had him frowning. It stunk. "What's worse, the coldness or constantly feeling tired?" She couldn't decide, both were equal in her eyes. Lia nodded this time. "If we all stick together." Separately they didn't stand a chance, together they could prevail and make it through this.

Dahlia flashed the tiniest smile at him. "All the newborn creatures of course and the flowers." So many blooming flowers and plants. She missed being able to just sit and smell the scent of flowers each time the wind blew. Or to be in the barn playing with all the creatures inside.

Quinn shrugged. "I think the tiredness, for me. Makes my brain all foggy. It's harder to think," he sighed a bit. Thinking was one of Quinn's only pastimes down there, so not being able to think effectively was a pretty big hinderance.

Quinn agreed that they'd have to stick together. That was one of the ways he thought about escaping—everyone runs at once. They can't get them all, could they? But that was a last resort, since it was bound to get some of them hurt. Or worse.

Flowers were a topic Quinn knew he and Dahlia were versed in, which was honestly most of the reason he asked the question. He knew they could have a nice conversation about them that could take their mind off of the situation. "Yeah, my favorite part is the flowers, too. Seeing a bunch of my garden bloom at once... it's so pretty," he sighed wistfully, thinking about the last couple springs in his garden. He wouldn't be able to get that again anytime soon, since he would be at Hogwarts for the next couple springs... wouldn't he? He hadn't thought about what would happen over the next couple terms. He could barely think past the end of this one. He hoped he would be able to be here for the next couple springs.

There it was, the million galleon question. Nem considered the kid, linked their fingers together and stretched their arms, palms downwards. Once each shoulder cracked, they unlinked, and shrugged. "Usually am." It was not a 'boo hoo woe is me' type comment, but a statement of facts. They simply preferred it that way sometimes, and though for a long time they had integrated with the rest of the flock at nearly every possible moment, the situation had clearly changed. Even when Nem would have liked the presence of someone like Grantham, or whoever else could provide mental stimulation or just temporary entertainment, the place was not exactly lousy with candidates. Not free-walking candidates, at any rate.

But then, they had always known it was lonely at the top.

Nem followed Turov's gaze out to the horizon again. "Mountains, I'm guessing. Probably some trolls." Looking back at the second year, they levelled her with an unwavering stare. "Why? Hoping for something in particular?"

Mamie frowned as Nemesis gave her why question a when answer. She did not think that habit was a good reason for doing anything, except maybe breathing. But there were other reasons for breathing, like that it kept you alive. Alive was good, even if it was lonely without her friends. But she obviously wasn't going to argue about whether his answer was a good answer or not. She didn't want to get poofed into oblivion like Ashley, Moose, and Minjae, and Kale. She liked being alive.

The Slytherin's answer to her second question wasn't much better than the first. She glared up at them, forgetting for a moment that Nemesis was one of Rosier's goons now and annoyed because teenagers were annoying. She'd also forgotten she was a teenager herself now. Luckily she wasn't feeling argumentative, so she moved on from her annoyance about the bad answers to her perfectly good questions. She'd just demonstrate how one answered a question well. That would show them.

"Just curious," she said, pausing for a moment while she considered if she had been hoping for something or just guessing what might be there. She supposed she had hoped to see an owl, but knew she wouldn't. "Maybe I was hoping there'd be an owl, with Quidditch scores." They were more than halfway through the season by now, and she did not have the faintest idea which teams were doing well. How would she ever decide which team to cheer for if she didn't know which one was good?

"Do you like Quidditch?"

"That's a constant feeling lately, isn't it?" Whether Dahlia meant being tired or her brain being all foggy was purposely left unclear. Focus was key each and everyday but that focus she had normally had was slipping a little more each day. Lessons were getting harder to concentrate on and learning new spells wasn't coming easy.

Being down in The Room constantly for hours on end when not in a lesson or on daily walks, there wasn't much to do but study, talk to others and think. Think about ways to escape, about what would happen if they couldn't get out, about going home. It was a constant loop of sad thoughts mixed with happy memories. A never-ending battle between the good and the bad inside her own head and heart.

Enough of that though. Quinn had brought up a much more pleasant topic and Lia was determined to at least attempt to focus on that. "That's always nice. One day there's not much to look at and the very next day all of the flowers bloom at once and there's so much color." It was a beautiful sight. "Do you plant a variety of different flowers in your garden?" She was curious to know if he stuck to the same ones each year or if he had a specific way he did things. "Maybe you can come over sometime and see my garden." Yes, she was choosing to look ahead into the future as if everything was perfectly fine. They would be getting to go home soon and things would go back to how they belonged.

The frown was noted, but Nem didn't remark on it, and only waited to see if some sort of rebuttal would come. But no. That was something, at least, but it didn't make up for the fact that Turov was apparently one of those offended-by-everything types, judging by the face journey she'd just been on.

For the record, though, Nem was well aware by now that they were one of the few people in this place who was not one of those types.

"Owls aren't getting in," they pointed out, in a flat voice, though Nem knew this kid must have long since been aware of that by now. "So that would be a wasted trip, unless one of those mountain trolls is interested." It was usually people of a similar intelligence level to mountain trolls that were really into all that stuff, after all.

Speaking of which.

"No," Nem said simply. Anticipating the follow-up, they added, "Not worth my time."

"I knoooow the owls aren't getting in," Mamie said impatiently, wondering if Nemesis maybe lacked an imagination. She wasn't stupid, she was just hopeful. Those were two different things. "Trolls can't read," she said, with a bit of an upward inflection like a question. She was...pretty sure that was true. They had learned about trolls in creatures class once. She didn't remember anyone saying trolls could read, which probably meant that they could not. It was a vital differentiator between herself and trolls, and she could theoretically read and they could not.

She'd have to verify with Williamson back in the Room.

She glanced curiously at Nemesis, given his comment about the worthiness of Quidditch. She disagreed but she felt the same way about history of magic--not worth her time. Not everybody had to agree on what was interesting or not. "Well I like it," she said quietly. She was silent for a minute, wondering what they did think was worthwhile, and then added, "I miss flying."