Chapter Text
Gansey gets the phone and one of those dubious sim cards that seem like a scam — Adam tops up his account so it should last him for about two years and shows him how to text, make phones calls and take photos. He probably could show him more, like Twitter or Instagram, but Adam himself doesn't know exactly how those apps work. He never needed them and Gansey won't either, if anything, Google was more useful.
The phone is a new Samsung that has the self-tutorial app installed so Adam leaves Gansey with that.
They get fish and chips served in a bundled newspaper — which is a more British thing rather than Irish but that's just the colonization for you — and go to Dealz again before going for a movie in the nearby cinema.
The next day, they visit the zoo, which Gansey loves on such a childish level that Adam is kind of fond of — he was at the zoo only once, in primary school with the rest of his class, but he never liked it as much. The Dublin Castle, that's where they spend the most time and where Gansey buys the most books.
Saturday noon, just after they've finished helping Aurora with dinner, Declan Lynch and Niall Lynch arrive.
All three Lynches look like carbon copies of each other, every single one of them having different imperfections, those little defects that made them real.
Declan's cheekbones were higher and his eyes seemed more grey, like the sky before it started raining. Adam's known him for five years now and remembers him as someone unvarying, with a clear no-nonsense air around him. He wasn't like any Slytherin his age, still tip-toeing around the house animosities — he was unapologetic about whatever he did in a way Adam craved to have in himself — he helped the first-year Adam acclimate to the magical world with soothing words and calmness but never condescendingly, something Adam had never experienced before.
But it all disappeared, over the years in school, replaced by stiffness that overcame his features, flawing his face. Adam could notice Declan's caring and steady demeanour closing off in a manner Adam could relate to — it was stark, in his hunched back, set jaw and wandering eyes, that it was Niall Lynch's fault.
Adam hadn't had an opinion on Ronan Lynch before and certainly doesn't have one now. He is already taller than his brother but not his father, and has the broadest back out of the three, thanks to his quidditch position as a keeper — or so Blue said — and although it all should make him look more mature, it didn't. There is just something innocent about him, Adam has to admit. It might be the eyes, bigger than both his father's and brother's, and warmer, like his mum's, or the mess of curls, puffy and unruly on the top of his head, and far from the elegant and precise cut his brother and father have.
Adam is aware that calling Ronan Swear-Word-a-Sentence Lynch innocent holds some error to it, but there is no more accurate way to put it.
"Parrish," Declan says, wand neatly going into scourgify, cleaning the ash residue off his face. The Floo in the Lynch house was in the old fireplace in the living room, not far from the table Adam, Ronan, and Gansey laid a minute before. "Didn't know you were friends with Ronan."
The senior Lynch comes behind him, towering, and Declan's shoulders square up. This says more about Niall Lynch than anything anyone could notice about his appearance.
Adam doesn't say, I'm not his friend, because it doesn't seem like the right answer with Niall Lynch's scrutinizing gaze on him.
In the corner of his eyes, Gansey is fidgeting from feet to feet, but it doesn't make Adam any less self-conscious — he's deeply aware of those two scars running on his jaw and neck, his a shade paler and slightly greener skin, his lanky frame and his faded, charity shop-bought outfit.
He doesn't belong here.
Adam clenches his jaw and bites the bitterness and the exhaustion down. "Afternoon, sir."
If he called anyone in Newham sir, he'd have his teeth kicked out.
"Afternoon," Niall Lynch says and, although Adam was aware that someone with his standing probably didn't have the most noticeable Irish accent, given the cultural erasure and Lynches' connection to England, but this seems bland. Almost posh. "A new face, I see. We're lucky to meet a friend of Ronan that isn't Gansey, finally."
The Irish vibe is there but it is in no way as strong as the one they heard in Dublin. Ronan's accent is, in lots of ways, similar — with thicker short words, more pronounced r's, the g's at the ends fainter and different sounding vowels here and there. It isn't the Southern Dublin that Adam heard a couple of days ago, it's something that sounds almost posh British, even when Ronan is cursing, with the Irish tone coming out in specific words or when Lynch is thrown off, mostly by Adam's behaviour.
Still, Lynch doesn't sound like he does it on purpose — it is a mix of his parents' accents — it isn't like Adam's pretend posh that got rid of a Londoner's drag, of merged vowels, dropped t's and h's, one that slipped out of Adam's lips on its own and one that couldn't stick no matter how hard he tried.
Aurora comes in, holding a soup tureen. She smiles a bit brighter when she sees the newly arrived two and after she puts the tureen down, she kisses her husband on the cheek, rubs Declan's shoulder in a gesture that seems way too warm and leaves for the kitchen again.
Niall Lynch sits down at the head of the table while Aurora goes back to the kitchen. Ronan and Declan follow their dad and Gansey and Adam sit, each on either side of Ronan. It puts Adam way too close to Niall Lynch, just one empty seat between them.
Ronan cleared his throat. "Da, this is Adam Parrish," he said. "Parrish, my da."
Gansey looks at him expectedly, smiling with that subtle charm he uses on most adults. Adam nods, not wanting to add anything.
"Parrish? I don't think I've heard that name before."
Adam expected it. Lynches were pureblood — the name was one of the few things Niall still have left and one of the few things he respected and sought out. It's human nature, really, to judge the book by its cover, but it's especially evident by people who value their own name more than they should.
Parrish is not a name anyone remembers anymore, but it used to be. Adam's grandparents died during the First Wizarding War, both of his father's brothers moved to Canada before the Battle of Hogwarts. It was maybe twenty-thirty years, but it was enough to forget that the Parrish family who lost their pureblood status in the nineteenth century, had ever existed in London.
It's been almost seventeen years since the second war and everyone still remembered which name was on which side.
While Adam doesn't want to give a clear answer, Gansey doesn't have the same problem, "Adam is a muggleborn."
Niall's attitude changes so fast Adam can almost see the switch turning. He smiles at Adam, still, but it's clear it's fake now.
"You must be Ronan's housemate then? Gryffindor is full of muggleborns these days," he says, sounding exactly like Adam thought he would — disapproving.
Ronan looks away, Gansey looks away, Declan looks away.
Adam never thought about it, but there must have been some stigma, with Lynch landing in Gryffindor while his whole family — even Matthew, the literal sunshine — are Slytherins. Niall Lynch doesn't have many connections now, because he was named a coward during the war — back then, Slytherin parted into two groups, Voldemort supporters and the opposition, there were few who didn't engage that escaped the country and usually stayed wherever the flew, be it France, Spain or the US. In Britain, Niall Lynch doesn't have any favours — not from pardoned Death Eaters and not from the opposition. He was a no one, just a pureblood with a fortune.
Apparently despite that, he still believed in that Hogwarts house nonsense that the whole magical world operated around.
"I'm a Slytherin," Adam says, meeting his eyes over the table.
Gansey adds, like it'd mean something to a pureblood bastard, "And a prefect."
"Huh," Niall says, the smile on his face now accompanied by raised eyebrows. "Must have been hard, acclimating to the magical world, catching up with all the missing education."
And if he thinks Adam will admit that he did struggle for the first three months and struggled a little less for another year, he is wrong.
"Not really."
He raises his eyebrows higher. "It's quite unusual, Slytherin and a muggleborn."
"Not really," he repeats. "I'm sure you've heard about a wizard named Merlin."
This shuts him up for a moment. Adam loves to see the whole range of faces purists make whenever he reminds them that the greatest wizard of all time and the most-known Slytherin, was, in fact, a muggleborn, and not only that, he was a muggleborn who fought for muggle rights in the wizarding world. Niall Lynch's reaction is quite settled in the contrast with the usual feverous denial, rage, and demeaning of Merlin's accomplishments — he just sits there, silent, but the way the smirk falls off his face is rather satisfying.
Declan, who has previously sat quietly at the end of the table, fake-coughs and with a small quirk to his lips, says, "Adam is a prodigy. Professor Malfoy says he'll be a great Potion Master one day."
"Malfoy, huh?"
No one says anything because no one, except for Adam and Declan, likes Professor Malfoy.
"What NEWTs you plan on taking?" Niall asks, again, not minding the awkwardness that now sits over the table.
"Da," Ronan says, groaning. "Do we have to talk about it now?"
Niall looks at his son and then back to Adam with insistence clear in his eyes. This is a question Adam will never be ashamed of.
"All of them," he answers. "Expect Astronomy."
Niall narrows his eyes, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Da," Ronan tries again.
Adam smiles, a mirror image of Niall's and Ronan's and Declan's smirk. "It's just not in the stars for me."
Aurora comes in, carrying a huge pot in both of her hands. She lies it down on the table and the spoon inside stirs the mashed potatoes inside. Adam wants to ask her if she needs some help in the kitchen, she's cooked way more than just the soup and the mashed potatoes, but he also does not want to look away — it seems like a challenge.
"Leave it, honey," she says, squeezing Niall's shoulder. Slightly amused, she adds, "I don't need any help, but thank you, Gansey, Adam."
Even before she walks back to the kitchen, Niall says, "You're a smart one, then. Next Hermione Granger?"
Gansey frowns, most likely because Hermione Granger is his most favourite famous person from the wizarding world and her name sounds like an insult in Niall's mouth.
"Not really," he repeats. "I just don't think being a muggleborn is a reason to be underestimated."
Ronan nudges Adam with his elbow, hard, and snorts, "Jesus, Parrish, chill out."
"Do not say the Lord's name in vain," is what Niall Lynch says, completely serious.
And Ronan actually looks scolded, while his brother is smirking from the far corner of the table.
Niall, turning back to Adam, asks, "Are you staying with us for the rest of the holidays?"
"Adam was planning on staying until Monday," Gansey butts in, charming smile in place. "Leave in the evening."
"There's still a few days after that, I'm sure Ronan and Richard would love to have you here for longer."
Richard. Hasn't Gansey known Lynch family for years even before Hogwarts? Adam had never heard anyone referring to Gansey as anything but Gansey unless they were teasing. Even teachers called Gansey just Gansey.
"I can't, my mum is sick," Adam says, trying to sound dejected. It's a good lie, most of the time, because wizards don't know how muggle hospitals or muggle sickness works, but there's always a chance one of them realizes more than they should. "She comes in and out of the hospital. I'd like to see her before she leaves again."
Niall does not say anything. Even the biggest of assholes don't say anything bad when you mention someone close to you is sick. It's the charm of the lie. Gansey believes it, Ronan believes it, Declan believes it and Niall Lynch believes it. Even if someone wanted to know more, they would scatter around the topic, hoping to be delicate and subtle while Adam would answer them with half-truths.
He sometimes wonders how people would react if he just let go of this nonsense and told them, straight to their face, that during the full moon, he will be locked up in the Shrieking Shack, first breaking all his bones and then clawing at his own skin.
Looking at his hand, he can see the beginning of a scar on his palm — it runs up his arm, up to his elbow and has turned striking white over the years. He hopes none of them will ever find out the truth.
Someone clears their throat. Aurora puts a jug of lemonade on the table and it starts to pour the lemonade into everyone's glasses, starting with Niall's. There is the awkward silence hovering over the table, still, as Declan nervously hits the edge of his plate with a fork.
On her way to the seat next to her husband, Aurora puts her hand on his shoulder, leaning over his ear, and says quietly, "Your secret is safe, darling."
Ronan turns around to him, wide-eyed again. Adam ignores him.
Matty arrives after dinner, full on the sweets he's eaten instead of lunch at his friend's house, right at the very moment everyone finished eating and their da was about to start the interrogation again.
His da asks him to go help mum. Ronan does not want to go away from the table. For various reasons.
Parrish is still looking deeply uncomfortable, so deeply that he has never seen him this tense, even when Ronan was making an arse out of himself in front of him. Gansey is there, and Gansey's big mouth clearly shouldn't be trusted either, especially in a place that holds the majority of Ronan's childhood embarrassments. But, which is most important, his da is in the room with Gansey and Adam.
As much as he loves his da, he's still his da and he does embarrassing stuff as part of that parenthood deal. That whole conversation at the table seemed to be his da's new way of interviewing a fucking potential suitor which made Ronan feel like a nineteenth-century virgin to wed, which was both horrifying and embarrassing — Parrish probably took it as some intimidating technique and it probably was, just not in the way Ronan's family took it. And Ronan was sure everyone took it the same way.
Ronan does go away from the table.
"Is Parrish the boy you thought was a veela?"
He wishes he could punch that smirk off Declan's face.
But his ma is going to back in the room any moment and Adam already thinks he is a douchebag and it would not help the situation, so he continues to wash the dishes.
Declan elbows him when he gets no response.
"Come on, Ro," he says. "Was he? Was he your little crush?"
"Shut up."
And he splashes the water up in Declan's face and he, in turn, hits him with the dishtowel. This is, of course, the moment their ma decides that Matty could unpack himself and comes back to the kitchen.
They both silence out. There is Gansey's faint laugh in the living room and Ronan contemplates using the little brother card.
"He started it," Declan says, before he has the chance. The little brother privilege stopped working with Declan when he was around ten anyway, but he could at least try and make his ma sympathetic.
Their ma rolls her eyes.
"Sure he did, Ducky," she agrees, voice dripping in sarcasm. "And you weren't teasing him about his little crush there, were you? Not at all?"
She is smirking too, and Declan catches up on it. Ronan hates his family.
"What is little about this? He thought Parrish was a veela, Ma," he goes on. Ronan's cheeks burn brighter with every word. "A veela. Can anyone be more obvious?"
Because Ronan couldn't be more embarrassed, this is the moment his dad comes in and asks, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "A veela? Are we talking about Ronan's little crush on Adam?"
"Da," he spats out through his teeth. "He's in the living room."
He really doesn't want Adam to hear it. Hell, he doesn't even want Gansey to hear it because so far, Gansey hasn't realized, unlike the rest of his family, that he had the most embarrassing crush on Adam Parrish. Has, maybe.
"Don't mind that, I sent them outside to the greenhouse, you can join them later and take them to the mooncalves in a bit," he says, ignoring Ronan's red face. And, just because he fucking has to, adds, "I must say, Adam seems to be a fairly good choice for a husband."
"Dad." He must be joking, Ronan thinks, there is no way in hell.
Declan snickers behind him and their ma is smiling like she is a second away from laughing.
"What? He is a Slytherin, very ambitious for sure, quick-witted and well-spoken. A shame that he's a muggleborn, but I'm sure he will make up for that in different ways." Apparently, he's not fucking joking. "Overall, a good choice, son."
"Jesus, chill, Da. We aren't even sixteen. We're not getting married tomorrow or anything."
"Not with that attitude," Declan murms at the sink.
His ma snorts, covering it with a very fake cough. He sends her a glare.
His da does not audibly laugh, but it is clear in his eyes that he is actually laughing mentally.
"Although I think comparing Adam to a veela is quite romantic of you, that might not be enough to sway him into a marriage in a day. He seems to have a strong no bullshit policy," his da says.
Their ma turns to their da and they look at each other in a way that always makes Ronan feel awkward.
"Which is good," she says. "All Lynches really need someone that takes none of their shit."
His ma cursing always sounds weird, as if it's someone else talking in sync with her mouth, but it's even worse like that, when she and Da stare at each other and write silent poems just with their eyes — it almost feels like flirting and this is something that Ronan would prefer not to witness. He knows his parents' love is still going strong, but he would just prefer not to see this kind of manifestation of it.
He groans. "Can I go?"
His dad chuckles and takes his place next to Declan, using a wand to clean the plates rather than the sponge.
"Sure, honey, just let me know when you get back," his ma says.
He is almost out the door, passing her next to the fridge when he remembers.
"Ma?"
She looks up at him. "Yes?"
"What—What was the secret?"
"I can't tell you, honey, it's a secret for a reason," she answers, finally. "But it's nothing to worry about."
This doesn't really answer his question like he wanted it to. He hates secrets.
The greenhouse is absolutely stunning with lots of different flowers and plants — from what he knows, Aurora supplied apothecaries in the British Isles, including Professor Malfoy's potion business in London, but she also had occasional flower business and had magical flower deliveries during some of the holidays, like Valentines or the Mother's Day.
Adam didn't see much greenery when he lived in London. His parents couldn't take care of most things, plants included, and the parks in London always seemed artificial and barren. He always liked flowers, it's just something that he isn't — wasn't — allowed to show, because it previously cost him a black eye and an I'm not having a sissy in my house.
They've been to the greenhouse a couple of times already but when Ronan comes from the house and says they should go to the mooncalves, he can't help feeling disappointed.
The mooncalves, however, are adorable.
The moment Ronan lets them into the barn, a herd of fluffy llama-looking creatures turn to them, big-eyed and curious. Lynch ushers them inside and Adam can feel Gansey hiding behind his back because while Gansey was also a curious creature, he was definitely more cautious than most.
The mooncalves are slightly skittish at first, but once Lynch takes out two buckets of fodder and gives them to the two of them, they stroll, circling Adam and Gansey and smacking their lips. Within five minutes, Gansey is covered in drool because he can't keep on with feeding them and they decide to munch on his polo shirt as punishment — they are, in a way, a lot like the goats Lynch showed them the second day, just much more adorable and softer.
Lynch sits under a hay bale and a small kid that is really awkward on their feet walks up to him and he feeds them straight from his hand. He looks calmer than Adam has ever seen him, settled.
Three of the mooncalves run around Adam in circles, absolutely synchronised, stopping and turning like a tandem. They rub their heads on Adam's hips, soft fur brushing his hand when he lifts his arm to pet them.
When Gansey manages to extract his t-shirt from wandering teeth, Adam asks, "Is their dance really as beautiful as they say? On the full moon?"
"You could stay and see it for yourself," Ronan says from behind, still hand-feeding the kid.
Gansey looks enthusiastic at the offer, nodding along, but Adam replies, utterly prepared to emphasise his excuse if necessary, "I can't, my mum—"
"—is sick, yeah, you've said," Lynch cuts in. "It's just one day though."
Adam sends him his most annoyed look.
"I mean, you could always apparate in the evening, just to see it," Gansey adds, placating. "But if not, Ronan can recreate it, I'm sure, he's showed it to me once, apparently knowing mating dances is really helpfu—"
Lynch's face turns bright red and Adam can't stop his lips from quirking.
"Shut up."
Gansey, with an expression that is a little less innocent than one could think, feigns ignorance. "What? It was truly beautiful."
Lynch throws a bit of the feed at him and Gansey chuckles but stops quickly enough when the mooncalves start licking his clothes again. Adam expects it to be the end of the argument and thanks Gansey for intervening this one time in his head.
Lynch really can't take a hint though. "You seriously don't want to stay, at least for that one more night? Or apparate?"
Because that's what Adam does best, he decides for a deformed truth, "My parents wouldn't like me to apparate." They wouldn't, but they also won't see him until July, probably.
"It's just a couple of hours," Lynch says, again. Gansey fidgets on his feet, wanting to say something but not knowing what exactly could deflate the situation. "You could even sneak out of your house, make it into something fun for once."
"I said no," Adam reminds him, crossing his arms.
Lynch mirrors him, also crossing his arms and somehow looking down on Adam from the ground — he had the kind of face that could easily make you feel judged. "Doesn't fucking mean you can't change your mind."
"Why would I want to spend another hour with your shitty attitude?"
Lynch gets up, startling the little mooncalf, and stomps off.
"Fuck you," he spats out, slamming the doors to the barn behind himself.
Ronan is almost sixteen so he doesn't cry although he sometimes really wants to. His da says men don't cry and his da is also in the house this time — if he wasn't, Ronan probably curl on the sofa with his head on his ma's lap and she would brush his hair while he rambled on about whatever upset him.
His ma is in the kitchen, rolling dough for a pie, so he stands in the door frame, hovering until she turns to him.
"He doesn't want to stay," he says.
"I'm sure it's not true," she replies, almost instantly. She cleans her hands under the sink. "What did he say?"
It's an innocent question, but Ronan would also have to admit that he was an arse shortly before Parrish snapped.
"He says his mum is sick," he tells her instead, hoping she stays out of his mind for a minute. "It's just one day though, she would still be sick a day later."
His ma waits patiently but he doesn't know what else to say.
"He just doesn't like me."
"Tell you what, maybe give it time? You haven't been friends that long."
Ronan doesn't think it will help. "And how long does time mean? He started liking Gansey within two weeks. "
"Gansey is, indeed, very likeable," she says diplomatically and Ronan is pretty sure he should feel offended by this backhanded insult. "Let's say you give yourself time until the end of the year, that seems like plenty for him to get to know you. Ask Adam to come visit in the summer too, maybe try to spend some more time with him in school. Don't you have a Yule Ball next year, honey? We could agree that this will be your last try?"
That's is a lot of time, really, but Ronan's never been patient. Or sociable, for the matter — he has only two friends for a reason, and one of them is a ghost — he doesn't know what to do with people, how to initiate conversations or going outs. And for a Gryffindor he's never been all that brave, sometimes he thought he would suit better for Hufflepuff.
"You think I could ask him? To the ball?"
He would probably prefer something more subtle than asking Adam out to the Yule Ball — this is something that's universally known to be obvious love confession and if Ronan asked — and Adam miraculously agreed — they would basically step right into everyone in school knowing about Ronan's crush. Not that he thought Adam would agree — he could pray all he wanted, but Adam despises him.
"Of course, honey," his ma says. "You can do anything you put your mind to."
She strokes Ronan's cheek in a delicate movement — she is now shorter than Ronan and has to go on her tiptoes whenever she wants to brush his hair so she's been caressing Ronan's jaw more often as of late.
He wants to close his eyes. Pretends he's ten again and nothing else but his ma matters.
"And when he says no?"
"If he says no, we'll worry about it then. I'm sure Adam is sensible enough to not hold your little crush against you."
She says it lightly but there's a teasing jab there that makes Ronan feel his cheeks and ears heating up in embarrassment.
"Tell you what, we could make a corsage for him together," she adds. They used to do it a lot together — his ma has a magical flower shop and when he and his brothers were younger and their father was away, they would help her make bouquets. "This way you will promise me that you'll at least try to ask him to the ball, yeah?"
"Won't chicken out, more like."
She chuckles. "Your words, not mine."
"He—I think he liked the night crown," Ronan says. Admits. Admits that he had been so mesmerised by Adam's fascination with the greenhouse that he hadn't paid attention to anything else. The night crowns are beautiful in a strange way — like Adam — coloured black and grey and prickly pattern on the petals. They turn white when one touches them. "But they bloom only at night, in spring and summer."
"That's alright, honey. We can freeze it with a charm once we made it."
He wants to hug his ma. Bury his face in her hair or her collarbone. But he can hear his da in the office, talking to Declan, and he does not want him to see him hugging his ma.
"You will help me, right?" he asks instead.
"Of course," she assures at once. "Now go, say sorry and spend a nice night with your friends. You might even bring out your favourite picnic blanket."
Ronan does not join them again which for some reason dampens the mood. For Adam, that is, Gansey seems to be preoccupied with figuring out how animals take to Adam so well and trying to recreate Adam's exact movements. It is so fruitless that Adam, out of pity — and if he could — would explain that this is the werewolf within him — animals instinctively see him as an animal higher in the hierarchy and therefore most of them become submissive. There is nothing magical in Adam's delicate touches, it's a survival instinct.
Maybe Adam was too harsh with him. They aren't friends but Ronan did invite him into his house, even if it was strictly for Gansey, and was quite welcoming for someone who hated Adam. Truth be told, Adam probably wouldn't be so easily provoked if it wasn't so close to the full moon and he wasn't feeling his every muscle and bone preparing for the transformation, spasming and cracking, pulsing pain in sync with his headache — Lynch usually stretched his patience thin and when it was already barely holding up, it broke.
He contemplates if there is a way to say sorry while petting two cute mooncalves who decided to put their heads on Adam's laps, rubbing their cheeks on his trousers like overgrown cats. He scratches behind their ears, feeling like they were telling him something with their huge eyes — they are truly hypnotising.
The scratching stops when Gansey gets pushed by another two or three mooncalves, landing from the collar down in the mud. Adam tries not to laugh at him and fails miserably.
"Scourgify," Adam tries, a soft chuckle stuck at the back of his teeth.
They try another three or so spells but they don't work. They decide to go back to the house, Gansey goes back to his room, to grab some clean clothes, and Adam goes back in the corridor to clean the trail of mud on the floor.
He passes an almost closed door when he hears something hitting it.
Going inside, he notices Lynch on the carpet next to the bed, walkman in hand and cassettes sprawled around him. When he looks at the floor, another cassette lies next to his feet, the tape torn out from the plastic case.
Adam contemplates saying sorry. Contemplates saying an excuse. Both of those things are not in his nature.
"Don't you think you need some help with that?" he asks and his accent slips, making the 'h' silent and the 'th' sound more like 'f'. He wants to clear his throat. "Before you break it, I mean."
Lynch, in his typical manner, answers, "No."
Adam stands there and watches Lynch trying to squash the tape into the walkman with the thicker edge inside. It's truly painful.
"It's the other way around."
"I know."
Do you really, he thinks but doesn't say anything. He's made enough jabs today.
Ronan turns the cassette around, closing the walkman and puts the earphones on, clicking the biggest button. No music comes out, from what Adam can hear, and there's a characteristic sound of the walkman but no sound of spiralling tape.
"You have to rewind it," he says, still awkwardly standing in the door.
"Doesn't it, I dunno, do it on its own?"
"This is eighties tech we're talking about," he says, and then realizes who he is talking to. "It's just too old for that."
Adam hovers in the frame for a second and then comes in, sitting in the mess of empty cassette cases and the plastic wrapping of the earphones. He reaches out and Lynch gives him the walkman.
He opens the tape, just to see what it is and sees a handmade label with Murder Squash - demo on it, which does sound exactly like something Lynch would love and he would hate. He puts it back and rewinds, aware that Ronan hasn't stopped staring at his hands the whole time.
Ronan says, "It stopped."
Adam unclicks the rewind button and scoots closer to Ronan, shoving the walkman back into his hands.
"This is the play/pause button, rewind button, this is the volume dial and those are—" he says, pointing out one by one. He gets to the tremble and bass dials and stops. "Well, not as important, just keep them in the middle for now."
Ronan takes out one earpiece and offers it to Adam, looking away.
He takes it, scooting even closer, close enough that he can feel the heat coming off from Ronan's side.
He hits the play button.
Squash one, squash two, squash three—
And then it exploded in an incoherent screaming accompanied by the weirdest combination of nineties punk and EDM that he didn't even know was possible to create.
"Fuck," Adam says. "Did they record someone dying?"
Adam takes the earphones out after a particularly loud screech. Ronan grins at him, looking like the cat that got the cream.
"That's the greatest thing muggles ever made, Parrish. Pay some respect."
Adam throws the earphones at his face.
"Do you want to go fly for a bit," he asks, out of nowhere, and it does not sound like a question. Adam hates that it triggers his shoulders into a tense hunch.
This isn't a widely known fact, he hopes, but Adam can't fly. The flying lessons with Madam Hooch were the only class he didn't pass — in fact, he didn't even manage to get the broom off the ground. It had, Adam suspected, a lot to do with his fear of heights and the way his father would push Adam's face through the window in the attic while his anger took over his avoidance of Adam's room.
It's humiliating, being almost sixteen and not able to fly, and Adam never wants anyone to know about it, especially not Lynch.
"You go, I'll prefer to stay and read one of the books from the downstairs library," he says, instead going for a half-truth.
"Fuck, why are you so boring?" he says. "It's just a fly, my da buys a new broom, like, every month, you will never fly on any of them in school."
This makes Adam even more rigid — he knows people like Ronan can't imagine being a wizard without brooms and he most likely could fly before he could put together full sentences.
"No," he replies. He wants Ronan to drop it. Wants to forget the only area of magic Adam had failed miserably.
"Just half an hour or so, everyone loves flying—"
Lynch puts his hand on Adam's knees. The touch makes him flinch and the involuntary response makes Adam even angrier — he pushes Lynch's arm away and gets up.
"No."
Adam leaves the room, reminding himself not to bang the door. This isn't Hogwarts. This isn't a safe place.
Adam doesn't see Lynch again, only hears from Gansey that he and the rest of the family went for mass again — because Ronan and Aurora went to one the day before too — and when they come back, Adam pretends to be asleep in his room.
He spends the Sunday either alone or with everyone. They eat a big breakfast that consists almost only of eggs, corned beef and bacon, with the whole house present at the meal. He stays behind when the Lynches and Gansey go to church but when they get back, everyone has lunch together — roast lamb and leek soup that tasted better than anything Adam could eat — and then Aurora made them 'hunt' chocolate eggs in the greenhouse.
Adam stays with Gansey, most of the time, Lynch always standing on the other side, barely speaking whenever Adam was present.
When on Monday evening, Adam apparates to Hogsmeade, Lynch doesn't even say goodbye.
For some unknown reason, it bothers him.
"You look like shit, mate," is the first thing Teddy says to him when they meet in Herbology class.
They are in the greenhouse, it's Adam's second lesson after the Easter holidays, mixed with Gryffindors, and Teddy is only there because he is Professor Longbottom's main assistant from Hufflepuff. Adam hasn't seen him in two weeks — when Adam stayed at the Lynch farm, Teddy went to London with Professor Potter, lazying around the Grimmauld Place, for the most part, texting Adam from time to time to complain about Professor Potter's terrible cooking skills.
The air within the glasshouse is hotter than Scotland should ever be at that time of the year and Adam feels it deep within his bruised body — he's aching, most of his poorly treated joints aflame, and sweating to the point he contemplates taking off his cloak. He can't do that, of course, because he has a huge gush made of a claw pattern on his forearm that starts to randomly bleed and probably won't heal for at least another week.
He must admit that if he looked even half as bad as he feels, he would look terrible.
"Hello to you too, Teddy. My holidays went great, thanks."
Teddy rolls his eyes, leaning with his elbows over the flower box Adam is taking care of right now. His raised eyebrow is deeply irritating, especially given Adam's thin patience right now.
"So how is having four friends instead of two?"
For a minute Adam wonders what he is talking about, especially knowing that he was half of Adam's friends, Blue, who was still staying with her muggle relatives until the end of the week, being the other. Then he realizes he means Gansey and Ronan and that thought comes to his mind easier than he thought it would.
"I don't have—" he says, but the words taste like lies on his tongue and he pauses. "Can you just leave it alone?"
"If you don't have more than two friends then why is Lynch staring at you like that?"
He looks up at Teddy and he's glancing behind Adam's shoulder — he isn't going to turn around but he can feel someone's glare adding to the tension in his back.
"We—We fought," he says and it sounds like he is asking Teddy.
Adam isn't sure whether this is the cause of that glare but he also doesn't know what else it would be. He isn't sure because he thought he was forgiven — it was implied. The first thing he did when he woke up in the Hospital Wing, this time only with Professor Malfoy and Headmistress McGonagall checking up on him since Professor Potter and Teddy went to London, he looked at the pile of clothes, his phone and the book Professor Malfoy left for him.
It was already noon when Adam felt less tired and opened his phone. He had a text from Gansey and when he opened it, it had a video attached. It was the mooncalf dance, recorded over the full moon night.
It was a very Gansey thing to do and Adam would have assumed that it was Gansey recording it — it was shaky and a bit blurry but he couldn't really use the phone that well yet — but then Gansey showed up in the frame. If Lynch was still mad, he wouldn't agree to film this for Adam.
"Oh," Teddy says, mischief in his eyes and smirk. "Lynch does look like the type that argues about everything, you know, a bit like Blue, and you're a stubborn bastard, I'm not surprised. What was he pissed off about?"
It sounds innocent but Adam feels like it's a trap.
"He wanted me to stay for the full moon, at his house."
This is the most confusing part of the whole thing. He still doesn't know why he wanted Adam to stay and, while he had a reason to be pissed off at Adam's outburst, he couldn't get why he insisted so much in the first place.
Teddy whistles with an annoying grin on his face, making a couple of students turn from Professor Longbottom's lecture, glancing at them curiously. He sends them a glare and they stop.
"That would end up so well," he says. "Doesn't Lynch live at a farm? You could eat so many cows. Or the two of them could throw you the stick, you know, have some fun."
"Teddy."
He crosses his arms. "What?"
He's casually joking about Adam's worst nightmare like this could ever be an anecdote he'd tell at his grandma's Christmas dinner while eating hush browns and Adam—Adam feels tired both physically and mentally.
"I mean, it would be fun, if you wouldn't eat them alive within the first couple of minutes," Teddy continues, nudging. The good intentions are there but they aren't working."Werewolves aren't really meant to be lap dogs."
Adam. A lap dog.
"Bloody hell, Teddy," he says, admittedly too loud, and a couple of stares turn to them. He hisses, "Say that louder, yeah? So everyone knows."
Suddenly, there is silence. The lecture is broken up completely and the murms from the bunch of the students that were standing in a circle further down the greenhouse quieten.
He feels his heart beating rapidly in his throat while his body freezes.
"Language, Mr Parrish," is all Professor Longbottom says. "You know I don't like giving my students detention."
He's still smiling lightly and it doesn't help Adam to see whether or not anybody in the group around him heard just a word too much.
He straightens his back, trying to look like he didn't just have a mini heart attack. "Excuse me, professor, I'm sure you're familiar with Teddy's annoying personality, seeing as he spends a lot of time with you, and will forgive me this one time out of sympathy."
"Mr Lupin," Professor Longbottom says, not hiding his amusement. "Let Mr Parrish do his work on his own, please."
Teddy sighs, pats Adam's bruised shoulder unexpectedly lightly and already walking away, whispers, "Sorry, Adam."
Adam stands there for a couple of minutes, pretending his heart isn't still trying to escape his ribcage and busies his hands with wet soil and scratchy stems.
He gets back to watering a row of purpling puffapods, collecting the shiny beans that started to grow on some of them into a bucket full of water. They aren't allowed to touch solid surfaces because they could literally bloom into your hands. It's the most calming feeling, the manuality and the repetitiveness of the motion.
The bucket is getting filled out so he turns around to get another one and bumps into Lynch, literally hitting his chin with his forehead.
"Shite," Lynch says, rubbing his jaw.
He looks over to Professor Longbottom but he is back in full swing with his lecture, letting Adam off the hook, probably because he knows how hard the full moon was on Adam this time.
Adam stays quiet, mainly because he is pursuing his lips, trying not to make any sound slip through his teeth — it's been two days from the full moon and he's still bruised, clawed and everything hurts, his head was the only place he could have actually touch without feeling his skin burn under his fingertips and now its been replaced by a pulsing bump.
Lynch does not say sorry because why would he. He just stares at Adam like he expects Adam to apologize.
"What was that all about?" he asks and Adam has no idea what he means. "What did Lupin say?"
"Shouldn't you be listening to the lecture?"
"Pot and kettle, Parrish."
"It's more like pot and an oven, seeing as I'm professor's assistant and you are just a normal student."
"Why aren't you fucking assisting him then, oh great oven," he says, sounding utterly ridiculous.
Adam ignores him, looking for a clean, empty bucket under one of the tables. All of them are covered in soil or fertiliser or something even more disgusting. It's distracting enough and although he now realizes Lynch is too stubborn to be off-put by ignorance, he also doesn't want to think why Lynch behaved the way he did, in all instances — now and at the farm.
"Look," Lynch says from behind Adam's back. "They're in the colour of your eyes."
Adam turns around, ready to snark something back at whatever the stupid joke was about, and is momentarily dumbfounded.
He's holding a couple of small flowers between his fingers, like a small bouquet put together. They are a mix of two types of one species, the usual dark blue and white made them bloom in pleasant warm cornflower blue colour. They are grown here for one specific potion that Adam learnt to brew last year and made it every month since then — he was forbidden from touching them, had to use either gloves or levitate them into the cauldron — and Ronan is just standing there, with a proud grin in full swing.
"That's aconite," he says slowly, holding Lynch's gaze. "It's poisonous."
Lynch drops the flower, wide-eyed. His face is getting redder and redder, adding to his alarmed expression.
"Fuck," Lynch says. "Fuck, I—What the fuck I'm supposed to do now?"
His arm is dangling in front of him and he almost looks like a child that got their hands dirty when they shouldn't have.
Adam hesitates. It is aconite and it's slowly poisonous to everyone, especially when one breaks its stem, but Lynch would be fine if he just went to get Professor Longbottom — for Adam, aconite will burn his skin within the smallest touch. Another beauty of being a werewolf.
He sighs — mentally, because Lynch looks panicked — and reaches for a plant that is growing near the puffapods, in the boxes underneath, in a cold, wet environment. He takes a couple of leaves, presses them between his hands, twisting until he can feel them squeezing out a salve.
"Give me your hand," he says and Lynch, for once in his life, doesn't object.
Adam unscranches the leaves, putting them veins up onto his open palm, careful not to touch his skin. As he covers his fingertips, his own touch the bare skin and he feels his hand burn over a couple of places. It adds to the general pain, pulsating through Adam's muscles and drilling into his bones.
"Will that help?" Ronan asks. "Or are you trying to kill me faster?"
"It's dittany herb," he explains. "It's used for healing minor injuries, blood loss and minor poisoning."
Ronan wiggles his hand, moving the leaves and suddenly Adam feels his fingertips numbing with new waves of stinging, feels the skin peeling off.
"You should go to Professor Longbottom," he tells Lynch. "Just to make sure."
"Right," is all Ronan says, his cheeks still coloured, and he takes his hand back, walking away.
Adam watches him go. He doesn't know what he was thinking, for him to help him and hurt his hand in the process when he should have just sent him straight to the professor.
His stupidity is burning his fingertips, creasing pieces of skin, and making him stare at his feet when Professor Longbottom looks at Adam when Ronan leaves the greenhouse.
He picks up another dittany leaf and fists it between his fingers.
Ronan met Noah during the third year winter. It was on a windy afternoon in the Astronomy Tower, just after Adam Parrish lied and then ditched him in Hogsmeade for Blue Sargent.
Ronan didn't want to tell Gansey what happened but he also wanted to cry it out for a couple of hours and then forget it ever happened. Which was why he went to the Astronomy Tower while everyone was still in Hogsmeade.
"Oh my," he heard. "I really don't know what to do with crying children."
Ronan was still crying, but he was now also pissed off. "I'm not a child."
"Right," the voice said. "And I'm alive."
A ghost of a boy in Hogwarts uniform showed up in front of Ronan, thin and almost completely see-through. He had hollow cheeks and a bruising under his eye, looking even more pitiful than Ronan. The jumper on him was a part of a school attire from over ten years ago and there was a Slytherin crest on his chest — his face was so sullen that Ronan couldn't imagine that he had ever been anything but a ghost.
"Can't you just go away?" Ronan asked feeling new tears prickle his eyes. "I want to be alone."
"Do you really?" the ghost said.
Ronan did not want to be alone. He wanted to be in his ma's arms, tucked into a blanket in front of the fireplace, or hiding in Declan's bedroom or in Gansey's dorm room, covered by the braided wool blankets Gansey used in the winter.
"Yeah, I do."
"No one wants to be alone."
He didn't want to be alone.
"Go away," Ronan said, curling his legs under his cloak and tucking his knees under his chin.
Instead of leaving, the ghost sat down next to him on the sill, making the air even colder with his general presence.
"Why are you crying then?" he asked. When Ronan didn't answer, he continued, "Is it a bad grade? Kids still cry about bad grades, right?"
Ronan snorted. His grades weren't bad, but even if they were, he wouldn't care.
"Bullying then," the ghost guessed. "I hated that too."
Ronan looked away, offended.
"Do I look like someone who gets bullied?"
The ghost hummed and it was such a warm sound Ronan felt a bit like he was sitting in the Barns in the kitchen.
"Right," he replied. "You're a Gryffindor, you're usually the bullies."
Ronan looked up from behind his arms and glared at him.
"So what was it? Is it Valentine's day again? That's usually when all the heartbreak happens," he said. "I don't think it's February yet."
Ronan took off his gloves and threw them at him, one by one, but they all flew through him, dropping over the edge of the tower and fell somewhere into the snow in the courtyard.
The ghost didn't even flinch, just staring at Ronan with those pale dead eyes and a smile that was too smug to be genuine.
Ronan hated it.
"So, who broke your heart?"
Scratch that, Ronan hated him.
He had been trying to concentrate on crying and sulking and not thinking. But this wasn't a broken heart, it was just a stupid crush that Ronan caught because Adam Parrish was beautiful and smart and could eat his own weight in chocolate and was good at everything he did. And Ronan will forget that he had ever even met him and he will forget that stupid Slytherin Adam Parrish and his beautiful face and the way he lied and went out with Blue Sargent instead. To hell, he will even start playing quidditch just so he could show Parrish what he was missing whenever he watched his girlfriend play.
He just needed to cry it out first. His ma always says crying it out helps.
"So what's her name?"
Ronan wished he had something else to throw. He could throw his hat, but he was already feeling cold in the face, his wet cheeks were freezing because of the cold breeze that was present all year long in the Astronomy Tower.
"Hey," the ghost said, this time in a much softer tone. "You can tell me, I promise won't make fun of you."
Ronan glanced at him, hesitating. His eyes were still prickling and he started to sniffle, but he was feeling almost a bit better — more angry than sad.
"Adam," he said.
"Oh," the ghost said. "Which one?"
Ronan glared at him again.
"I mean, which house? There is at least five Adams right now in Hogwarts."
"Why do you have to know?"
"Dunno," the ghost says. "So I can sneak into his dorm and pretend I'm an annoying poltergeist who hates him?"
Somehow, it made Ronan cry harder again, even if it shouldn't have. He didn't know if the ghost was joking or if he was serious, but it didn't matter — he couldn't annoy Adam into dating Ronan and even if he could, Ronan didn't want him to. He wanted Adam to be just as interested in him as he was in Adam on his own, without feeling pressured into going out with him to get rid of a shitty ghost.
"I don't—want to you to—to annoy him," Ronan said, sobbing a bit.
The ghost looked at him for a moment and Ronan pretended that he didn't feel as if he could read his soul — his gaze seemed to be too piercing for someone who had such hollow eyes. He sighed and with one cold hand patted Ronan's knee — he didn't feel the touch, just a freezing breeze as the ghost's fingertips sank into his legs less than an inch.
"You like him that much, huh?"
Ronan knew it was irrational, on some level, to like Adam as much as he did. They interacted only a couple of times and each time Adam seemed deeply uninterested in any sort of conversation. And while initially, Ronan thought he was beautiful, it was the time he took after to observe Adam that made him certain. He felt like he knew him in a way no one else did — Adam was known for being the best student in most classes and was rather quiet outside the classroom setting, but Ronan had learnt more about him. The way he would bite his fingers while he was reading, the way he always sat straight whenever someone was watching but would slouch when alone, the way he would taste every chocolate piece with a slow, relaxed expression, the way he would help the younger kids from his house with homework at breakfast, the way his cheeks would colour in the cold air, the way he would look unbelievably tired and pale sometimes, like he was about to fall over, and still persisted up the stairs to the North Tower — all the little quirks made him even more beautiful.
Ronan sniffed. "He's from Slytherin."
"Adam Parrish?" the ghost asks. "The we—"
He covered his mouth with his hands, looking at Ronan wide-eyed.
"The what?" Ronan asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Nothing," the ghost says, clearly lying. "He's just a very special student here."
Ronan supposed he was if even ghosts recognized him by name.
"Did he say something mean to you?"
He glared at him, hugging his knees closer again.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"If he did, you shouldn't take it personally," he continued. "Adam doesn't have that many friends, he is not good at talking to people without scaring them off."
It didn't make him feel better. Ronan didn't have many friends either.
Ronan leaves the greenhouse, holding his hand in front of himself miserably, wondering whether his fingers feel numb because of the poison in the flowers or because Adam held his hand for over a minute.
He's not far, still can hear Longbottom's monotone voice vibrating through the glass walls, when Noah appears next to him, sporting a shit-eating grin.
"Shut up," Ronan tells him. If he could, he would punch him or push him, just for a good measurement. Unfortunately, Noah is never solid enough to do that.
"I didn't say anything," Noah says. "Yet."
"Your ugly mug said enough."
"Hey, I'm not the one who compared my crush's eyes to a poisonous flower."
It wasn't his fault. He hasn't seen Adam in a couple of days and the last time he did, he wouldn't even look at him without disdain in his eyes.
So when he saw Parrish in Herbology, looking totally comfortable with Teddy Lupin bothering him, he had to do something.
So he had the chance when Lupin got called out and Parrish was still pissed and all Ronan's mind was telling was, say something nice, say something nice, say something nice, without actually telling him what that something nice was. He saw a pretty flower. The pretty flower was blue. Adam's eyes are blue. The dots were connected before he managed to think it through completely.
Why are they even have aconite in the greenhouse anyway? Some idiot — like him — could die.
"I mean, props for trying," Noah adds, floating behind him.
"Props? What are you, sixty?"
"No," Noah says. "I'm dead though, that's almost like being sixty."
Ronan holds back a smile.
He doesn't actually know how long Noah has been dead. He seems to know enough of the stuff going on around and had definitely gone to school after the Second Wizarding War, but it's been almost seventeen years since. Maybe Noah is sixty, who knows.
"I'm sure Adam appreciates the effort," Noah adds, a smirk still present. "Or will, once he realizes why you're making an arse out of yourself every time he's around."
"What? You calling him stupid?" Ronan asks. He's almost back at the castle so Noah will disappear any moment — he's rarely present around people in general, Ronan's never seen him in the Great Hall like the rest of the ghosts. "Where is the house solidarity?"
He looks at him and he is getting more see-through with every step.
"Dunno," Noah says, now sounding faint. "That's more of your deal, isn't it? You're a Gryffindor."
Ronan stops at the entrance to the corridor.
"I'll see you in the hospital wing?"
Noah nods, smiling up again.
"As long as you don't die on the way," he says. He shakes his head. "Aconite. Are you trying to kill your crush, Lynch?"
Before Ronan can snark something back, he dissolves into the air, leaving a cold breeze behind.