Clue let his satchel drop to the floor, and sat down on his four-poster, gazing blankly at the wall. Then in came Narcissus, cutting a divine figure in the doorway for a moment before he joined Clue in the otherwise empty dormitory. The younger Slytherin looked at him steadily — as if these last few minutes between the common room in the dormitory had somehow delivered a brilliant clarity, Clue now knew exactly how he felt as he looked at Narcissus. No more confusion, no more complexity.

Unless they started talking again, which was what Narcissus wanted to do. He shook his head coldly; "I can't do any of that clever normal talking." Articulating his thoughts, sharing his feelings, working with logic and emotional intelligence through their issues... Clue just could not do that. He wasn't built that way, he hadn't been raised that way. He hadn't been raised at all.

"Show me, Narcissus. Show me what you mean by your words."

For Clue now knew what he felt, and how he desired to express those feelings. And if Narcissus did not feel the same, then Clue had already ruined their friendship.