"All right," he said softly. And it was. It was good enough—after all, he'd just admitted to himself he didn't know how this would all end, either. It might be the best decision they ever made, for a multitude of reasons, and it could just as easily be the worse, but at least it would be something. Something better than fizzling out.
In a way, it was sad. The first utterances acknowledging they were no longer a couple. No longer was it unsaid, no longer was there vagueness to the classification of their relationship. But he felt a growing happiness amidst the sadness and the desperation, that there was now an excuse to see her, to talk to her, in a way that still let him learn how to mend whatever seams had come apart on them. And that was a very great thing.
"I shouldn't stay long," spoke Octavius after a moment, trying hard to divert the subject. "I cut out a bit early, and left my sister with the goat, and—" He shook his head, trying hard not to think of the disaster that would undoubtedly be awaiting him at home. Instead, he fished in the pockets of his robe and drew out a slightly crinkled envelope in which he'd tucked some photographs. "I thought you might like to see these, though." He slid them across the table to her, and rested his chin in his hand. "He favours the red and gold, so we're pretty certain he'd be a Gryffindor, but he also likes to put it in his mouth, so—though admittedly, not as much as the Jimmy Buffet…"
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