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SIMON
Baz is finally back. He’s been gone for two months , and he’s finally back. Of course, being the dramatic vampire he is, he used Open sesame on the Great Hall’s doors. He just thinks he can waltz in as large as life and pretend like nothing happened. Like he didn’t leave me alone in our room for eight bloody weeks! Like he wasn’t off training at some secret facility with the Old Families, preparing for our final battle. Obviously he’s preparing, we’ve known that it all ends some day, only… after eighth year. I just want one last, normal as I can get, year and Baz has already ruined it. Fucking prick.
He looks different somehow. He looks… I dunno, more like a vampire? He’s so pale. Usually his skin is alabaster. All smooth and perfect like he was hand-crafted from marble. But now, his skin is almost as grey as his eyes. He looks ill , I didn’t know vampires could get sick. And, he’s walking with a limp. I know he’s trying to hide it, and he’s likely keeping it from most people, but not me. I’ve been watching him for too long. His left leg is the injured one, and he’s putting just a bit more weight on his right leg to compensate. I’ve never seen Baz with lasting injuries. Merlin knows we’ve gotten into enough scraps over the years, but I guess vampires heal faster. Whereas I’ve had bruises that last weeks, his were gone in a couple of days. It was right unsatisfying. I wasn’t able to return his smug smirks because the proof that I’d gotten a hit or two in was gone.
Although, when I broke his nose, he didn’t go to the infirmary to get his nose set, so it healed quickly, but not in the right spot. There’s only one imperfection on his body, and it’s the crooked nose I gave him. But he looks just as fit with it, if not more. It makes him look rugged in a way, I think girls fancy that.
After Baz stormed into the Great Hall, my magic started welling up. I could feel the heat and prickling sensation under the skin of my forearms. The people around Penny and I were beginning to get restless and clearing their throats, so Penny sent me back to Mummers with a half-full stomach and four scones. The cool, night air on the trek helped me calm down, but every time I thought of Baz’s pallor face and limp, I got upset all over again.
Baz always looks well put together, like he eats three meals a day (he doesn’t) and gets eight hours of sleep every night (neither of us do). He doesn’t look like that right now. He looks uncomfortable and in pain, and just overwhelmingly tired . He looks exhausted, and I don’t think anyone’s noticed.
So here I am, stewing in our bedroom. I took a cold shower to cool my skin down, I left my cross on the counter, but I can’t be arsed to go get it. I hope he comes up here soon, I need to talk to him. His mum’s Visiting was weird and confusing, but it felt nice in a way. It felt nice to know that Baz’s mum tried to Visit him, that she’s trying to give him closure.
If I were a lesser man, I’d use the fact that his mum’s nickname for him is ‘little puff,’ against him. I would never do that. I don’t know what it’s like to have a mum, or an affectionate pet name, it’s probably one of the only things he has left of her. And the kiss she gave me. Even though she was freezing cold, barely solid, it made me feel warm inside. Like she lit a match inside my heart and blew on the tinder, like Baz told me in fifth year. I wish Baz had told me more about her, she seemed like a kind lady--even though she wouldn’t have let me attend Watford.
If anything, I feel bad for him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt sorry or any sympathy for Baz. But, he hasn’t seen his mother in thirteen years, and when she Visited, he missed it. Now, he won’t be able to see her for another twenty years, when he’s thirty-eight years old. I just- I would want to see my mum if she died when I was five. I know he misses her a lot.
I hear footsteps on the stairs outside, I hope it’s Baz and not Penny. (I never thought I’d say that.) When the steps get closer, I realize that it is Baz, that I recognize his tread, even though it’s a tad wonky now.
The doorknob twists, my leg starts bouncing in anticipation. He’s standing on the threshold, staring at me. He looks as glorious as always, somehow. Even at his worst he looks better than anyone.
We stay in silence for a few moments, I decide to break it.
“Where have you been?” My voice comes out softer than I intended.
“I believe it’s quite literally none of your business, Snow.” He even sounds tired.
“I believe it is. My arch-nemesis goes missing for two months? Of course it’s my business.”
“It really isn’t.” He makes his way toward the en suite, (Oh shit, my cross! I need to be ready to draw the Sword of Mages at any time.) signaling that the conversation is over. It’s not, not for me. I grab his wrist and he freezes. His skin is so cold, it’s almost like ice. He shivers but tries to mask it.
“I need to talk to you,” I say.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
Infuriating bastard.
“No, well, yes, but- but like seriously. And you need to tell me where you were because it might be related.” I don’t even realize what’s coming out of my mouth until it already has. I’ve only just realized that Baz being gone and his mum’s Visiting might have something to do with each other.
“I was on holiday with my family, if you must know,” he says. He’s lying out of his teeth. He yanks his wrist out my grip. We’re facing each other on his side of the room, him looking down his nose at me with that aura of superiority he always gives off. I scoff.
“You’re full of shit,” I seethe. I don’t know why I’m so worked up about this. Maybe because Baz was off plotting my demise? Or maybe because I want to know what hurt him so I can hurt it back. I take a step forward, he takes a step back. “I know you would never miss two months of school to go on a bloody holiday .”
“Well, obviously, you don’t know. We went to a small village in France, it was quite lovely.” He’s just pulling words out of his arse right now.
“I know you. You would never let Penelope win your little academic rivalry to go to fucking France.” By now I have a finger jabbing at his chest. He steps backwards as I step forward until he meets the wall.
“Evidently, Snow, you don’t know me at all,” he scowls. “My father owns a cottage down there, he wanted to take a break.” My magic is welling up again. I feel fuzzy at the edges and it’s getting warmer.
“Stop. Lying! To me!” I slam the palms of my hands to the wall on either side of his head. We’re both breathing heavily. I find myself searching his face, we’ve never been this close before. HIs widow’s peak is as sharp as my sword. It divides his face perfectly in half, flaunting how symmetrical it is. His eyebrows are thick and dark, cut cleanly with not a hair out of place. His eyelashes are longer than a bloke’s has any right to be. His eyes, Christ, his eyes are like the grey of the sky before a storm. He’s got little flecks of green and blue closer to his pupil. Speaking of, they’re dilated and looking down… at… my lips. I subconsciously dart my tongue out to moisten them.
He inhales sharply, eyes snapping back up to mine. My eyes trail down his (gloriously crooked) nose, then trace the line of his cupid’s bow. His lips are pink and soft-looking, like he uses lip balm (I would, but I always lose the tiny buggers). His lips part, I’m transfixed.
I realize… Baz is hot . Like, of course he’s fit. He’s the fittest bloke at Watford, it’s a known fact. But, I’d never realized that he’s… beautiful . I’ve never used that adjective to describe a bloke before, only Agatha, and flowers, and gemstones, and whatnot. But Baz is beautiful too, he’s breathtaking.
BAZ
What the fuck. Snow has me pinned against our wall (though not in the way I’ve fantasised about, I’ll take what I can get). His magic is intoxicating. We’ve never been this close; I can see the way his eyelashes frame his ordinary blue eyes. The strong arch of his brow and his perfectly healed nose. (Tosser.)
My eyes reach his lips and I can’t bring myself to look elsewhere. They’re pink and chapped but plump and… oh, Crowley. I watch his tongue flick out to wet his lips in slow motion. My eyes jump up to meet his.
Fuck, he knows where I was just looking. He stares at my lips in turn, it’s getting unbearably warm; that’s coming from someone with dead, cold skin. (I sleep with my duvet and another blanket in the summer.)
He knows that I was looking at his mouth. And now he’s looking at mine…. What does this mean?
SIMON
I think I might fancy Baz. The thought is wrong and confusing, but… he’s hot and smart and strong and graceful and fucking ruthless. Also a bit of a prick (more than a bit) but I seem to overlook that, more concerned for his well being. He doesn’t look very well. And it’s not like Baz could ever fancy me back. He’s hated me since the Crucible pulled us together. He was looking at my lips though… I don’t know what to think about that. I wish Penny were here, she’d know what to do.
BAZ
He’s right here, I think I might kiss him. We’re centimetres apart, I could just push forward and our mouths would meet. I could end my life right here, have Snow kill me then get blown out of the window. He’d have to do it quick, otherwise the Anathema could whisk him away before he's finished the deed.
SIMON
Never mind, I don’t wish Penny were here because I think I’m going to kiss him and I don’t want her to see it. Not our first kiss. (First? I’m already thinking of our next one and the one after that.)
BAZ
I think I’m honestly going to kiss him. I slowly shut my eyes. Then he kisses me .
He’s warm and solid and… I can’t believe Simon Snow is kissing me. As a hopeless romantic, I’m disappointed to say that there are no fireworks. But there is a spark. There’s a spark when Simon realizes that I’m not going to push him away, that I want this more than he does, wanted this longer than he has. His hands land on my neck and mine on his waist. He pushes forward, eagerly, slanting out lips and running his tongue along my bottom lip. One of us makes a noise (me). His tongue pushes into my mouth, exploring. He kisses like he fights: hard and strong but methodically. He’s taking me apart so he can put me back together again.
SIMON
I expected Baz to kiss me like how he fights with me. I expected him to be calculated and ruthless and stubborn. But he’s gentle, hesitant like-
I pull away, he leans forward, chasing my mouth. “Is this your first kiss?” His mouth is hanging open he just nods. “Fast learner.” And I dive back in. He whimpers. I made Baz fucking Pitch whimper . I want to hear him make that sound again, so I thread my fingers through the silky hair at his nape and pull, just slightly. He moans instead. It wasn’t what I was looking for, but it’s infinitely better. I work my hand under his jumper and push my fingers through the buttons of his uniform shirt. His stomach is hard and cold, but I stroke my fingers across it and- ah, there it is, another whimper.
I could kiss Baz all day if he’d let me (judging by his reactions, I’d say he would) but we have things to discuss, so I pull away again. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, like he choked down another whimper. I wish he’d let me hear it.
“Baz,” I whisper. He’s got a little more colour now, and he’s warmer.
His eyes are open but glazed over like he’s in shock. I mean, I get it. What would I do if my nemesis-roommate kissed me after seven years of animosity?
“Why,” he says. It isn’t really a question.
BAZ
I need to know he’s doing this for the right reason, and this isn’t some plot to make me vulnerable and tell him all of my secrets.
“Why what?” Clueless idiot.
“Why did you kiss me?” More like, why’d you stop?
“Because I wanted to. But-”
“How long?” I interrupt. “How long have you wanted to?”
“I- I dunno. I guess… since five minutes ago…. But also maybe longer than that.” What the hell does that mean? “How long have you?”
I can’t reveal all my cards. He can’t know that I’ve loved him for years unless I know that this is real, unless I know that he wants this. Us. Whatever we could be.
“That’s irrelevant. What did you want to talk about?”
I realize we’ve still got our hands on each other. I gently lift his palms from my neck, they drop at his sides. He’s got his chin jutted out and I know he’s determined about something. I sit at the foot of my bed. He pulls up my desk chair and sits in front of me.
“While you were… wherever you were, the Veil opened.” Aleister Crowley, I’d completely forgotten because of that infernal coffin. “...Your mother, well, she tried to Visit you.”
My heart stops. This has to be some sick, cruel joke. My mother, I haven’t seen her in thirteen years, and the one chance I get once every twenty years--I get kidnapped by bloody Numpties. This is the Mage’s doing, it just has to be. Aunt Fiona thinks so, too, but she blames everything on the bloody Mage. I miss her so much, and that piece of shit didn’t want me to see her. My eyes start getting teary. I do not plan on crying in front of Simon Snow.
“It’s alright, Baz.” He places a hand on my knee.
“It’s not ‘alright.’ Are you fucking kidding me?”
“N- no, I- I would never lie about something like this. She- she was standing at my bed. She was sort of cross that you weren’t here. She asked where you were and if I’d hurt you. She said it’ll be twenty years before she could see you again. She sounded so sad , Baz.”
A tear slips down my face. He squeezes my knee.
SIMON
“She said, ‘I’d do’ for what she wanted to tell me. She was fading, but she said, ‘Tell my son, tell him that my killer walks--Nicodemus knows. Tell Basilton to find Nico and bring me peace.’”
He shudders. I feel horrible. I stand, I’m going to do something I told myself I wouldn’t. “She told me to give you this.” I bend down and press a kiss to his temple. He’s full on crying now. His shoulders are shaking and his hands are over his eyes. “Then she came back, she said, ‘My son, my rosebud boy. I never would have left you. He told me we were stars.” Then she said my name, said ‘my rosebud boy’ again. And she left.”
I sit beside him and place a hand on his back. I think I’m pretty okay at comforting people. I helped the littluns in the care homes because they were least susceptible to my magic. I comforted Agatha once, when she’d gotten into a row with her mum at Christmas. I’ve never had to comfort Penelope, when something bad or unfortunate happens, she gets angry, not sad. I usually just have to calm her down.
But I don’t know how to comfort Baz. He’s my arch-nemesis, and a vampire. (Can you still be nemeses after snogging? I don’t want to be.) Well, he’s not really either of those things right now, he’s just a boy who misses his mother. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him to me, using my other hand to rub circles on his back.
I speak before thinking, “I know, Baz, I know. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna help you find Nicodemus, and we’re going to find out who killed your mother, okay? It’ll all be alright, yeah?”
Baz sniffs, and pulls away, straightening up. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like something just ended.
He uses his long index fingers to delicately wipe a tear away. I fish the handkerchief I took from Agatha last night out of my pocket. It’s wrinkled, but it’ll do. He raises an eyebrow, “Long story,” I deflect. He plucks the handkerchief out of my hand, dabbing under his eyes.
“You missed…” I trail off, bringing my right hand up to cup his cheek. We stare into each other’s eyes, his are still a bit watery. I swipe my thumb over the stray tear. His eyes flit down to my lips, then back up. He raises an eyebrow again. I give him a small smile and lean forward, putting my lips on his. He sighs and melts into me. I love the way his lips warm up because of me. I bring my left hand to his waist. His hands curl around my neck, they’re freezing but I’m getting used to it.
I do what I do best: something reckless. I swing my leg over both of his knees, straddling his hips. He makes a muffled noise in surprise and I smile into our kiss. He ends up licking my teeth and we giggle, he sounds heavenly. I’ve never heard him laugh before, I want to make him laugh every day for as long as he’ll have me.
I nudge his shoulders and his back hits the bed. I’m up on all fours above him, bracketing his body. I lift my head a bit to see if he’ll reach up for me, he does.
BAZ
I’ll cross every line for him, every time.
This still doesn’t feel real, I can’t believe Simon Snow kissed me, told me my mother Visited him, wants to avenge her death, and now we’re snogging on my bed. Is this a dream?
I’ve no reference but Simon Snow is an excellent kisser. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to my cheek, then sitting on my thighs.
“We’ll work together. I’ll be the Watson to your Sherlock and we’ll avenge your mum, yeah?”
He’s such an idiot but he’s endlessly sweet. I bring my hands to his hips, “Sure, Snow.”
“So now that we’re working together, can you tell me where you were?”
I sigh. “Don’t laugh."
“I won’t, I promise,” he says sincerely.
“No, really. You can’t,” I say.
“I won’t .”
I take a deep breath and release. “I was kidnapped.” This is the first time I’ve said it aloud.
His face twists in rage. “What?! By who?!”
“Not ‘who,’ what. It was… Numpties….”
“Numpties.”
“Yes, I know. I was leaving the club, my wand was in my bag and they ambushed me. I didn’t even have time to get it out; the leader just clubbed me in the head and they dragged me to their bridge. They must have banged up my leg somehow, because it hurts when I walk.”
“Baz,” he says quietly. He shifts to my right, laying on the bed next to me. I turn so we’re facing each other. “How’d they keep you?”
“They locked me in a coffin for six weeks,” I say. If we’re going to be working together and doing whatever… this is, I need him to know what I am. “They didn’t give me any food or water-”
“So-”
I cut him off, “They only gave me blood. I don’t need food and water as much as humans do.”
Simon looks down at where his cross would be. Where is it? “So I was right, then? This whole time.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Snow,” I say. “What are you going to do? Tell the Coven?”
His eyes wide. “No, of course not.” He pauses. “What would they do to you if they found out?”
I sigh. “Snap my wand and strike me from the Book.” His mouth falls open, just staring at me. “It won’t matter to them that I’ve never drank human blood. Do close your mouth, Snow. You’ll catch flies.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. I raise an eyebrow.
“For what?” I ask.
“For trying to out you all these years. I- I never knew… and if I had, I wouldn’t have tried to tell anyone. Especially since you only drink animals.”
“It’s fine, Simon. It’s not like anyone believed you-” He cuts me off.
“Y- you called me ‘Simon.’”
“Did not,” I huff.
“Oh, you so did,” he grins. I know he won’t let this go, so I kiss him as a distraction. He pulls away, “Wait-” Is he regretting this? Us? “If- if the Numpties knew to give you blood, does that mean whoever sent them after you knows you’re a vampire?” I flinch. My family and I never use the V-word, it’s odd to hear it said so casually, by Simon nonetheless. “Or did the Numpties use their magical creature senses?”
“You’re right,” I say. (Never thought I’d say that to Snow.) “Numpties are too stupid for that. Whoever sent them knows what I am… which means they probably killed my mother.”
SIMON
I don’t know how Baz came to that conclusion, it’s rather shocking. “H- how? Why?”
“Whoever had me kidnapped didn’t want my mother to Visit me, because they knew she’d tell me who killed her. They’re either working together, or the same person. It can’t be a coincidence that I wasn’t at Watford when the Veil thinned, the universe is rarely so lazy.”
He’s-
BAZ
“You’re brilliant.” I duck my head a bit, there’s not enough blood in me to blush. No one’s ever really called me that. Only Dev and Niall when I steal us some booze or play a particularly good match of tennis. Certainly not my father, or the love of my life. “Can I suggest something?”
“Don’t make it stupid.”
He huffs good-naturedly and lightly punches my shoulder. “We should get Penelope in on this.” A look of skepticism must cross my face, because he jumps into an explanation. “You know she’s wicked smart,” I nod. “She’s really organized, she makes lists and stuff, and her mum or dad might know something.”
“But-”
“She won’t tell anyone about what we’re doing, or you, or… us.”
“Fine,” I concede. Having Penelope Bunce on your side is always an advantage.
He kisses my nose and rolls out of bed. “You know what? I’ll tell her tomorrow, at breakfast. Don’t you need to feed tonight?”
“I do,” I say, standing up.
“Can I-”
“You are not coming with me,” I say firmly.
“Please, Baz. I want to see your fangs,” he grabs my hands, looking up at me like a child on Christmas morning. “I bet they’d look so cool.”
I slump. I can’t say no to him. “You can come with me to the Wavering Wood, but you’re not watching.” He smiles and my undead heart starts to speed up.
In the Wood, we come across an area of trees that have been hacked to bits. Simon looks sheepish next to me, a hand on the back of his neck.
“I, er… I came out here while you were gone. I was a little upset.”
I raise an eyebrow, “A little?”
“Go drink your blood, Baz,” he deadpans. The corners of my mouth twitch.
Simon Snow knows what I am and still kissed me. He isn’t trying to tell the Coven, he’s acting like it’s normal, like I’m not a monster.
SIMON
While I’m waiting for Baz to finish eating, the dryad from a few days ago floats toward me.
“What do you seek, woodland destroyer?”
“I told you, I’ve saved the Wood three times!”
“What do you seek?” she repeats, ignoring me.
“Nothing,” I shrug. “I’m waiting for Baz.”
“The bloodeater? With the pretty eyes?” She’s right, his eyes are extremely pretty.
“Yeah, I found him. Well- not really, he came back.”
“Something has changed,” she says knowingly. “Not your enemy?”
“No, I guess not. I mean we’re working together to find his mum’s killer. Do you know anything about the day the vampires attacked the Nursery, like thirteen years ago?”
“We don’t like to get caught up in human affairs, we stayed here.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so helpful,” I say sarcastically.
A twig snaps and I see Baz walking through two tall trees. His top lip is thinner, pulled up by large, white incisors protruding from his gums.
My eyes widen in fascination. I walk up to him quickly and grab his jaw, tilting his head this way and that to inspect his fangs. I’m about to drag my thumb down one when Baz twists his neck, “That’s quite enough, Snow,” he says coldly.
“They’re wicked,” I say ignoring his tone. “Where do they come from? Do they like, disappear when you don’t need them? Where do they go, then? How do you make them come out? Is it like little tubes in them, like are they hollow? And you suck the blood through?”
He gives a sigh that says, ‘I regret everything,' and pinches the bridge of his nose. He still answers, though. “I don’t know, yes, I don’t know, I think about eating, and no, are you an idiot?”
“That’s a perfectly reasonable question to ask, Baz,” I say, crossing my arms.
“It isn’t. It should be perfectly obvious that I pierce the skin with my fangs, then suck the blood from the outside. They’re not bloody straws.”
“Well, I know fuck all about vampires.”
“I know,” he says. “I barely know anything about them either.”
We get back to Mummers at around quarter past ten. Baz and I have both changed into our pajamas (not in front of each other) and get into his bed. I’d argued that I would get too hot, further from the window, but he said his lack of body heat would cool me down. I like the idea of that, how he runs too cold and I run too hot, it’s a balance I never thought we’d have.
He’s already lying in bed when I finish brushing my teeth. He has the duvet pulled up to his chest, on his back, hands interlocked behind his head. He looks so fit, it’s unbelievable. He’s gazing at me with half-lidded eyes, like I’m something he wants to eat. I recognize it as the same look I always thought of as him wanting to punch me. Maybe he’s wanted to kiss me the whole time. Or both.
His eyes shift to the cross necklace threaded through my fingers. I cross the room and toss it out the window. I hear the merwolves chitter down below in the moat.
“I hope they choke on it,” Baz scowls. I smirk, I’ve always found his disdain for the werewolves amusing. I climb into bed with him, he holds his arm out invitingly. I lay my head on his shoulder, sighing when we make contact. He’s cool and smooth, like my own personal ice pack. I nuzzle into him and he wraps his other arm around me.
“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, squeezing me quickly. I inhale deeply, he smells of cedar and bergamot, and something else, something inherently Baz. It’s a bit smokey, probably from being a descendant of the House of Fire. I press a kiss to his collarbone.
“Are you ready,” I start, “for what we might find?”
He sighs. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
“I… don’t know. Of course I want to avenge my mother, to bring her and I peace. My aunt and father, too. We’ll finally know who sent those vampires and why.” He pauses and I say nothing. “Maybe if the Old Families knew that you’re helping me, they won’t give you such a hard time. Aunt Fiona, especially. They adored my mother; we all did.”
“Your aunt came to see me when you were gone,” I say. I tilt my head back to look up at him. He looks down at me with concern.
“You’re alright?”
“Yeah, of course. She wanted to know where you were, if I’d done something to you.”
He rolls his eyes. “She can be a bit… rash, but she meant well.”
“I know. She really loves you, looked like she was willing to burn the whole world down to find you.” He smiles. It’s a small one, a bit sad. “What is it?”
“What? Nothing.” I bite his shoulder lightly.
“Baz.”
“I’m all she has left of her sister. She misses her a lot, I see it in the way she looks at me.” My stomach growls loudly and he smiles. “You and your stomach.”
“Oh, shut it,” I say. I get onto my knees. “Come to the kitchens with me?” I ask hopefully.
“Why not.” We grin at each other.
We open our door, tiptoeing down the stairs and running across the Great Lawn. The halls look different at night, dark and cold, uninviting.
Baz turns on the kitchen lights with, “Light can be found, even in the darkest of times.” I think it’s from that one book series, about the wizards and witches.
He gracefully hops up onto a countertop. I say, “Tell me about the book that’s from?” His eyes light up.
BAZ
Simon is bobbing around the kitchen, pulling out leftovers from tonight’s dinner. “It’s this book series,” I start, “called Harry Potter . He reminds me of you a bit. He’s an orphan, he grew up Normal--well they’re called ‘Muggles’ in it--and he gets introduced to the Wizarding World at eleven. He goes to a magic school in Scotland, called ‘Hogwarts.’” He snorts. “I know, it’s a tad on the nose. Anyway, he gets sorted into Gryffindor. I think you’d be in Gryffindor, too.”
“What’s that?” he asks, muffled by the turkey leg in his mouth.
“They’ve got these Houses, you get sorted by a magic hat and it puts you in dorms with people similar to you. There’s Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Gryffindors are brave, daring, chivalrous, according to the hat.”
“The hat talks ?”
“It’s a children’s fantasy series, Snow. And it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve heard of, by far. So, Harry meets Ron and Hermione, they’re in the same House, and they become best friends for life. The main antagonist of the series is Voldemort, he’s an all-powerful dark wizard. He killed Harry’s parents because of a prophecy, and he tries to kill Harry throughout it.”
“What was the prophecy?”
“I don’t remember verbatim, but it had something to do with when Harry was born and how Harry has a power Voldemort doesn’t know about, and neither of them can live while the other survives.”
“Harry wins in the end though, right?"
“Of course he does,” I say. “What kind of shit ending would that be if he didn’t? He ends up living happily ever after, he marries his best friend’s sister, and they have three kids. And Ron and Hermione get married, and have two. It’s all tied up in a neat, little bow.”
“That’s nice,” he says. “I hope our story ends like that.”
My heart flips at the word ‘our.’ “You wish to marry Bunce’s sister?”
He rolls his eyes, walking up to me. “That’s disgusting, you prick.” He places his hands on my thighs and stands between them. Oh, Crowley. “I want our story to be tied in a neat little bow, no plot twists or cliffhangers, just happily ever after.”
“I didn’t know you were familiar with literary devices,” I say. I can’t help myself. He grins, bringing his right hand to my neck, squeezing my thigh. “It will, though,” I continue. “You’ll help me find my mum’s killer, I’ll help you defeat the Humdrum. After that you’re home free, you could do anything you wanted.”
“Penny and I are getting a flat in London,” he tilts his head, our mouths centimetres apart. “You’re welcome to visit anytime you’d like.”
“Anytime? Really?” We’re whispering now, breathing into each other’s mouths. My eyes slide shut.
“You could show up at three in the morning, I wouldn’t mind. Penny might, though.”
“Bunce can shove a sock in it-” He puts his lips on mine. I take a shaky breath. We move together, gently, reverently. My pajamas are thin and he’s so warm, I could just melt into a puddle at his feet.
I never thought I’d have this, I never thought he’d want this. But he’s here, real and solid, moving his chin the way I like. He splays his hands across my lower back, pulling me closer to his warmth; I wrap my arms around his neck.
We need to talk soon. About what we are, what this is. The way he’s kissing me right now isn’t the way you kiss due to pent-up frustration, or for comfort. He’s kissing me like he loves me. My eyes fly open, I need to see him. See if this is my actual reality. There’s a freckle on his eyelid I never noticed before. I know it's weird to kiss with your eyes open, but I can't find it in me to care.
He pulls away, “You’re lovely, y’know that?”
“You can’t just say things like that, Snow. A few kisses and you think the world’s turned upside down,” I say. “It’s not decent.” Crowley, I’m blushing. What gives him the right to compliment me? Bastard.
“Who cares about decent?” he smirks. “I’m the Chosen One and you’re a vampire; there’s nothing decent about us.” We grin at each other.
SIMON
Baz is funny when he isn’t being a dick. We’ve never really talked like this. Today is probably the most we’ve ever spoken to each other in all our years combined.
His face drops. “What is it?” I ask.
“What- what is this?” he stutters. “What are we?”
Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. Well, I thought we would help each other--me with his mum and him with the Humdrum--and we’d snog throughout it. But, I guess--no, I know I want more than that. I want- “Can I be your boyfriend?”
I feel him tense up. Was that the wrong thing to ask? “Yes, you can. There’s only one condition,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“You can’t touch my fangs, you can’t even ask to touch them,” he says assuredly. I roll my eyes.
“Fine,” I huff. “I have a condition, too, then.”
“Go on, Snow,” he says, like he’s a king listening to his subjects’ complaints.
“You have to call me ‘Simon.’”
“No,” he says immediately.
“Some of the time,” I say quickly. “Just- I dunno, it makes me feel like you actually like me.”
“Simon,” he starts, my heart stutters, “of course I like you, I’ve liked you since the day we met.”
What?
What?
“Since the- the first day? B- but you’ve always been such a prick!” I exclaim. What the hell is he on about?
“When the Crucible dragged us together, I knew that there was something there. I knew that the way I felt about you- well I knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that. In second year I realized that I actually fancied you,” he confesses.
“You’re shitting me,” I deadpan.
“Honestly, I’m not. I never told you for… obvious reasons, I thought that if I was horrible to you, my feelings would go away. They didn’t- but by that point, what’d I’d done and said was irreversible. You already hated me and nothing I could do would change your mind, so I pushed it down and played my role. Not to mention the rivalry between the Old Families and the Mage, my family would hate it if we were friends, or… more.”
“I- Baz, I don’t know what to say-”
He gently places a hand on my cheek. There’s a light in his eyes, something I’ve never seen him before. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says.
”I- I think I’ve fancied you since- for a while, longer than I’d thought before. I never- I don’t think about things I don’t want to.” He raises an eyebrow. “Like, after my first year at Watford, I thought that this school and magic and everything would be taken away from me, so I set it aside; I thought that it was a dream, so I set it aside in my head. I didn’t think about it so that I wouldn’t be disappointed when I woke up. It became a… habit, sort of. I just don’t think about stuff that’s hard or unpleasant so I don’t have to deal with it.
“That’s what happened with you. I set aside anything other than dislike, because it was easier than everything else I felt. Now that I think about it, those feelings have always been there.”
I think that’s the most I’ve ever spoken in my entire life. While I was talking I realized that the look in his eyes is adoration. Maybe… something else. Something like love. Does Baz love me? Do I love him back? Well, I know I love magic and Watford and Penny. But I’ve never loved anyone romantically; not even Agatha. I know that’s horrible, but there was really nothing there. Penny was right the whole time. Of course she was. And it’s not like Agatha loved me, either, she would have spoken to me if she had. Agatha and I never really talked of substance. Well, I wanted to, but she only responded to surface level topics.
But Baz, Baz makes me feel alive. I think I do love him. I won’t tell him though, at least not yet. We’ve only kissed today and decided to be boyfriends ten minutes ago.
He places his forehead against mine. His other hand comes up to bracket my face. I lay my hands flat on his chest and we just breathe together. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring; nor our investigation or the war, but I know that if Baz is with me, it’ll be alright. No matter what we find or what happens, we’ll carry on.
Baz and I will carry on together.