Oscar's fingers twitched at his sides, his pulse thudding as he stared at Carlos. He felt like he should say something, should do something, but the words stuck in his throat. His mind kept flashing back to the moment in the classroom- Carlos unbuttoning his collar, revealing that monstrous bite. The sight of it had made his stomach turn, and he still couldn't shake it.

He had seen his scars before. They had been brutal, ugly remnants of something that should have killed him, but this- this was fresh. This was something different.

And he had been cursed again. What does that mean, what's going to happen to him?

Oscar swallowed hard. "How bad is it?" His voice was low, tight with barely contained emotion.

Carlos, standing against the cold stone wall, didn't look at him. "It's bad," he said flatly. "But you saw that already."

Oscar exhaled sharply through his nose. "I mean what it's doing to you."

Carlos hesitated. Just for a second. But Oscar saw it.

And that hesitation made his skin crawl. His eyes darted over him, scanning his face, his stance, everything. Carlos looked the same as he had since September: tired, sharp-edged, guarded, but there was something off about him, something Oscar couldn't quite put his finger on.

The corridor was dim, lit only by flickering torches, but as Oscar watched, the shadows around Carlos seemed darker somehow, stretching just a little too far, bending at the edges in ways they shouldn't. A trick of the light, maybe. Or maybe not.

Carlos' eyes flickered upward, meeting his. And for a heartbeat, Oscar swore they weren't brown anymore.

He took a small step back before he could stop himself.

Carlos noticed. His mouth pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tightening, and suddenly, he was shifting away, turning half from view like he wanted to disappear into the stone.

"I'm sorry. Does Lando know all of it?" Oscar asked abruptly, trying to ground himself in something solid, something normal.

Carlos huffed a humorless laugh. "Sí. And he- " He cut himself off, jaw tensing.

Oscar narrowed his eyes. "He what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Try again," he snapped.

Carlos' fingers curled at his sides. He took a slow breath, then exhaled through his nose. "He didn't take it well at first," he admitted.

Oscar felt something hot and ugly coil in his stomach. "Are you serious?"

Carlos gave him a sidelong look, wary. "I told you, he came around."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"He was scared," Carlos said, quieter now.

Oscar scoffed. "Scared of you?"

Carlos' lips twitched into something that was almost a smirk but didn't quite make it. "Sí," he said simply. "You have to realise though, you've only seen me before and after, Lando saw me actually transform."

Oscar stared at him, trying to keep his anger from boiling over. He couldn't believe it. He wanted to believe that Lando had just panicked, that it had been a shock, that he'd had a moment. But Lando was supposed to be Carlos' best friend. Everyone knew that.

"You- " Oscar shook his head, exhaling harshly. "You don't get to make excuses for him."

Carlos didn't answer.

Oscar didn't know what pissed him off more- Lando reacting badly in the first place, or the fact that Carlos seemed so willing to just accept it.

And then there was Alonso.

His stomach twisted as the realisation hit him like a punch to the gut.

Alonso had known.

Alonso had blamed him.

He felt his entire perspective of their professor shift, tilting, cracking apart at the seams. He had always been suspicious of him, had always thought something was off, but this- this was worse than he had imagined.

Alonso had looked at Carlos, knowing what he was, knowing what he had been through, and instead of helping him, instead of supporting him- he had blamed him.

He ground his teeth, his fingers flexing restlessly. "You might not want to talk about it," he muttered, his voice dark, "but I think I need to have a word with Alonso."

Carlos' head snapped toward him, his expression darkening. "Mate, no."

Oscar just glared at him. "Are you seriously going to defend him too?"

His face twisted. "I'm not defending him," he snapped. "But if you start digging around, it's only going to make things worse."

"For who?" Oscar shot back.

He didn't answer right away.

For a second, Oscar thought he wasn't going to at all. But then-

"For me," he admitted, his voice low.

That stopped Oscar in his tracks.

For him.

Because no matter how much he wanted to tear Alonso apart, no matter how much he wanted to confront Lando about what he had done, Carlos was the one who had to live with it. Carlos was the one who had to deal with the fallout.

And right now, he looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Oscar exhaled slowly, forcing his anger back down. "Fine," he muttered. "But I'm not just letting this go."

Carlos let out a sharp breath through his nose. "Didn't expect you to."

The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual evening chatter, but to Carlos, the sound was muffled, distant- like he was hearing everything through layers of thick, suffocating fog. As there weren't too many people about, he decided to go and sit at the Hufflepuff table instead, earning a few confused looks. His hands curled around the goblet in front of him, fingers rigid against the cool metal. He hadn't touched his food.

Oscar sat beside him, noticeably tense. He wasn't eating either.

Across the hall, Lando laughed at something Charles had said, head thrown back, utterly unaware of the way Oscar was glaring at him like he was the scum of the earth.

Carlos noticed. He just didn't have the energy to care.

"You're going to burn a hole through the back of his head," he muttered, voice low.

Oscar scoffed. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

Carlos exhaled sharply through his nose, something that almost could've passed as amusement if he weren't so exhausted. His entire body hurt. Not just the bite- the bite had long since settled into a dull, throbbing ache- but everything felt wrong. Heavy. His skin prickled as though something inside of him was pushing outward, too large for his frame.

He wasn't stupid. He knew this wasn't just in his head.

He knew something had changed.

"You should stop looking at him like that," he murmured. "If he notices, he'll- "

"He'll what?" Oscar cut in, eyes snapping toward him. "He'll ask what's wrong? Yeah, wouldn't that be awful."

Carlos didn't respond.

Oscar's fingers curled into fists against the table. He was still angry. Angry at Lando for failing to be the friend Carlos needed. Angry at Alonso for making it all worse. And- though he wouldn't say it out loud- angry at Carlos for thinking he had to deal with this alone.

"Carlos."

He turned his head slightly, meeting Oscar's gaze out of the corner of his eye.

"You're getting worse," he said, blunt and unwavering. "And I still don't know what that means. What's happening to you?"

Carlos stiffened. His grip tightened on the goblet before he forced himself to let go, placing his hands in his lap instead.

"I don't know," he admitted.

It was a lie. Or at least, part of one. He had ideas. None of them were comforting.

Oscar's jaw clenched.

"Well, we're going to figure it out," he muttered.

"Lando, he- we're okay now, we sorted it out, he's as much against Alonso as you are right now, it's-"

"I don't care, he shouldn't have reacted in the way that he did. Fuck, Carlos. He should be sitting with you right now, it should be him asking if you're okay and trying to help, instead of pretending everything is fine."

Carlos winced, closing his eyes. "I know. I know, Oscar."

Later that night, Oscar found him outside.

He hadn't meant to. He was just walking, trying to get his thoughts in order and decided to go and take a breather up at the Astronomy Tower. But the moment he stepped up there, he saw a familiar figure standing near the railing.

Carlos.

He was facing away, shoulders hunched, his hands gripping the edge of the railing so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

He hesitated. He thought about leaving, about giving him space.

Then a sharp, wrong feeling crawled up the back of his neck, stopping him in his tracks.

The shadows around Carlos' feet-

They weren't right.

Oscar blinked, and they were normal again.

A chill ran through him.

"...Carlos?"

His head tilted slightly, but he didn't turn around.

Oscar stepped closer. "What are you doing out here?" Silence. He frowned, moving until he was beside him.

The moment he saw his face, his stomach twisted.

Carlos looked worse than before. His skin was pale, almost sickly under the moonlight- the full moon wasn't for another two weeks- and his eyes- God, his eyes- they were too bright, too sharp, like something else was staring back at him from behind them.

For a split second, Oscar thought he saw his pupils thin, narrowing into something less human, but when he blinked, they were normal again.

Carlos exhaled through his nose. "I can't sleep."

He didn't know how to respond to that. He stayed silent, watching as his fingers twitched against the railing, his nails pressing hard enough to scrape.

Oscar's fists clenched at his sides. "You're not okay."

Carlos let out a humorless breath of laughter. "No. I really don't think I am."

There was something hollow in his voice. A quiet, exhausted acceptance. Like he had already come to terms with the fact that whatever had happened to him in the Chamber of Shadows was permanent.

Oscar hated it.

"What does it feel like?" He pressed.

Carlos was quiet for a long moment before finally answering. "Like I don't fit in my own skin," he murmured. "Like something is... stretching."

Oscar swallowed hard. The shadows at their feet flickered. He swore he saw them move towards Carlos.

He stepped closer, an unconscious instinct, like he could shield him from something neither of them fully understood.

"I don't know how to fix this," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar looked at him, and for the first time since learning the truth, the horror wasn't just directed at what had happened to him.

It was at the fact that Carlos- strong, sharp-tongued, stubborn Carlos- sounded defeated. Oscar clenched his jaw, he wasn't going to let this break him.

"Then we'll figure it out," Oscar said, voice low but firm. "Together."

Carlos glanced at him, some unreadable emotion flickering in his too-bright eyes.

He didn't answer.

But he didn't walk away, either.

The cold stone of the Astronomy Tower pressed against Carlos' back as he sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, the night air chilling the exposed skin of his arms. Above, the stars shimmered in the velvety black sky, but he barely registered them. His thoughts were elsewhere- buried deep in the echo of the Chamber, in the phantom sensation of fangs sinking into his flesh, in the unnatural weight pressing down on his very being.

Oscar sat beside him, one knee bent, arms draped loosely over it. His expression was unreadable, but Carlos could feel the tension radiating off him. Oscar was still processing- still caught between horror, anger, and something else he couldn't quite place.

"I was going to ask Alonso," Carlos muttered, breaking the silence.

Oscar turned his head slightly, frowning. "Ask him what?"

"What the second bite means." Carlos' voice was flat, drained of any real emotion. "What happens when someone's recursed. If the effects are permanent."

Oscar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "And?"

He let out a short, bitter laugh. "And I think I'd rather ask Madam Pomfrey instead."

He blinked, caught off guard.

Carlos turned his head to face him fully. "Will you go with me?"

Oscar hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Of course."

A flicker of something- relief, maybe- crossed Carlos' face as a gust of wind rolled through the tower, ruffling their robes and sending a shiver down his spine. He exhaled, watching as his breath curled into the air before vanishing.

"I need to write to my family," he murmured. "They need to know."

Oscar's jaw tightened. He knew Carlos wasn't just talking about any family member- he meant his sisters. The ones who would understand. The ones who would probably take this news worse than he had. "Yeah," Oscar said quietly. "You should."

He nodded absently, rubbing at the side of his neck. His eyelids were heavy, exhaustion weighing him down like a stone tied to his ribs. He hadn't properly slept in days.

Oscar noticed. "You look like hell more than normal," he muttered.

Carlso huffed out a weak laugh. "Gracias."

"Lie down before you collapse," he rolled his eyes.

Carlos sighed but didn't argue. He shifted, settling onto his back against the cool stone, staring up at the endless sprawl of stars above them. His body still ached. The unnatural heaviness still lingered. But for the first time in days, the exhaustion finally won out.

His eyelids fluttered closed.

Oscar stayed where he was, arms still resting over his knee, watching the way Carlos' breathing evened out, the tension in his face softening ever so slightly.

He didn't say it out loud, but he wasn't leaving.

Not tonight.