#rawrrawrgideon

His grades were slipping. Not horribly of course, but it was enough for Theo to get angry and break a quill pen out of frustration. He had even confronted the Professor after class to ask him about it, making sure no one else was around to get on the Flitwick’s case, even going as far as to yell at him. But his grades were set in stone unfortunately, and due to Theo’s temper towards the professor, there was no way he could get extra credit now. 

He was about to head to the library, ready to just get himself back on track even if it meant missing dinner, when he was grabbed by his robes. He turned around so fast that his books dropped on the ground, and he had the person who touched him without permission pressed against a wall with his wand held against his throat. He relaxed a little when he realized who it was. “What?” he snapped then, letting Gideon slip from the wall as he went to pick up the books he dropped.

"Did someone shit on your pancakes this morning, Dory?"

He shot the other a look, before making his way back down the hall, determined to get away from the other. But Gideon was persistent, he knew that, and unbelievably annoying when he set his gaze on something. So after a minute or two of poking and prodding on Gideon’s part to see what was wrong with him, Theodore hissed and turned on him again.

"Before you, I didn’t have this problem!"

Gideon just stared at him blankly, that stupid look he got when he was either stunned or confused. Theo could count the seconds until he started drooling.

"What?"

"Aye," he huffed out, "What. My grades are slippin’, ya’ prat.”

"And that’s my fault?"

"Dory?"

It was late at night, dinner time even, and he was found in the courtyard in a vulnerable position. His face was buried in his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. Had it been any other moment, he might’ve hexed the image out of Gideon’s mind, but he couldn’t find it in him to move. Didn’t know what else to do besides sit there and just listen to the crinkling of a burning letter on the ground, or the scuffing of Gideon’s shoes on the ground.

He felt himself swallow, wondering what he was supposed to say. Because while he wanted the Gryffindor gone, he knew he wanted him around as well, so he felt himself caving in and just choking out a sound that was a mixture of a sob and a plea. “He’s dead,” he said in a ground out sound, lip quivering with anger and dispair. “He’s fuckin’ dead, th’ bastard.” 

He doubted the other would understand. He never really told him much of anything, just bits and pieces. He guessed he didn’t give Gideon enough credit where he was do, because the other boy took a seat next to him and just stayed silent for a moment, before looking at him. 

"Good. He deserves it, right?"