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Since The Mage took over what used to be my mother's position —Headmaster of Watford, and leader of The Coven— many things have changed at school: the books available in the library, the drama and acting club, the yearbooks, and many extra classes. He has made of the school a boring and over-controlled place.
So when Miss Possibelf announced to us about the Secret Santa, I had every right to be surprised.
In the afternoon we were called to the Great Lawn. The organization reminded me a little of the Crucible ceremony to be assigned to a roommate, when fate started to mock me, pairing me with the boy destined to be my enemy.
And then I just made my existence more complicated by falling in love with him. Like I couldn't get any lower.
Around me there are only students from our grade —according to Miss Possibelf, so we can choose the gifts more easily, because they are people we know.
One by one, they all pass by to take a little piece of paper from the centre. Dev returns to my side, reading his. I can't read the name.
When it's my turn, I go to the table where there are only a few pieces of paper left. I decide that luck will choose for me, and take the first one that is within my reach.
I turn around and don't even open the paper until I'm back in my seat.
Snow, Simon.
Of course it was meant to be. Fate never gets tired of laughing in my face, looking for clever ways to torture me. Of fucking course .
"Who did you get, mate?" Niall asks me. I just shake my head, ready to keep my secret.
"None of you, if that's what you mean."
He laughs beside me, nudging me slightly.
"I've got Dev." He whispers to me. I've been noticing his little crush on my cousin for months now, and perhaps this is his perfect opportunity to confess his feelings.
Something I couldn't do.
On Saturday afternoon I walk to the nearby village. Niall is coming with me, and we are both still undecided about the gifts.
What things does Snow like?
Screwing up my life, of course.
Sour cherry scones? It's not something I can buy now. And to give them to him on the day of exchange would be too much of a risk.
A scarf? Too much of a cliché.
Clothes? I don't know his size, nor what style he prefers —I've never seen him in anything other than his uniform or pyjamas.
Niall leads me to a crowded shop, similar to a bazaar. A warm smell of cinnamon greets us as we enter, and a bell rings when the door closes.
As Niall slips into the corridors on the right, I take a peek on the let side. There is a shelf with ceramic figures: fairies, princesses, animals.
And underneath, on small hooks, hangs a variety of bracelets. One in particular catches my eye, with three charms: a sword, a castle, and a dragon.
It’s perfect for him.
I head off to pay, but a shelf in the next aisle catches my eye. My eyes are stuck on the cover of a book I know too well: Shakespeare's Sonnets written in golden letters on a blue cover. I take care that Niall is not around, and I pay for both. The owner is kind enough to wrap them up in a paper bag.
I wait for Niall at the entrance of the shop; the intention was to go back to school, but he insists that we buy something for dinner, for the three of us "This will be the closest thing to a Christmas dinner that we’ve ever had.”
Sometimes I think what my life would have been like if there wasn't a magical war on my shoulders. Maybe Dev, Niall and I would have been normal friends, much closer. Simon might not have been my enemy, and maybe we would have been friends, maybe more. But the world is as it is, and I have to settle for that.
The last week of school goes by so quickly, between exams and final papers. The last day, I go back to my room, to finally wrap Snow's present and leave it in the designated space in the Great Lawn. For a moment, I consider leaving a note. Something subtle, that doesn't let him know it was me, but my handwriting would give me away.
So all I do, is leave a golden paper square as if it were a divider— exactly in Sonnet 18, it has always reminded me of him.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade.
I decide that I’ve left much of myself there, and I take the box back to its place. All the gifts are wrapped in the same type of paper, and the only thing that distinguishes them is the label with the owner's name.
Near the wall, they have set up some lights and tables, with trays of food and sweets.
I stay with Dev and Niall —who looks too nervous, trying to be as close to, and yet as far away from Dev as possible. If my theory is not wrong, the feeling between the two is mutual. Good for them.
I look at Snow, too busy at the snack table, with Bunce next to him, a few feet away from us.
As soon as Miss Possibelf stands in the centre, we all stand around her, forming a circle. She and two other teachers hand out the gifts to each of us.
Dev is the first of us to receive a gift. From the look in Niall's eyes, I can tell that he wants to run and hide; I turn to look at him discreetly and raise an eyebrow. He simply rolls his eyes.
My box arrives almost at the same time as Niall's. I look up, and Simon has received his too.
I look at him long enough to see his reaction. The first thing he takes out of the box is the bracelet.
When he notices the charms, he opens his eyes in surprise, and his smile is absolutely brilliant. I see him tell Bunce to put it on, and then he admires it on his left wrist.
If I didn't have a reputation to uphold, I'd be smiling.
However, when he pulls out the book of poetry, his expression changes to one of confusion. I decide that I've had enough, and go back to my gift.
A compilation by Allan Poe. I've never read anything by him, but I guess it's okay.
I try to think about who could have been my Secret Santa, but Dev and Niall's conversation distracts me.
Both nervous as fuck. Dev holds up a note, from which I manage to read "Would you kiss me under the mistletoe? -Niall".
A very good take, I guess.
I decide to leave them alone, and go back to my room. Tomorrow I have to go back to Hampshire, and I haven't packed my things, so that's what I do.
A while later, Snow returns to the room. The bracelet makes a little tink when he moves his wrist, and he doesn't stop shaking it. Mentally, I pat myself on the back for the good choice.
"Hey, Baz?"
I try to keep a neutral expression when I turn to see it. He holds the book in his hands, open in the sonnet I marked.
He knows it. That it was me. If he has read the sonnet, perhaps he knows why I marked it.
"What do you want, Snow?
He hands the book to me. I don't take it.
"Could you explain this to me? It's in Old English, and I've only managed to understand a few words."
I try not to make it obvious that I was holding my breath. I take the book from his hands and clear my throat, without stopping to ask myself why there is so much trust between us.
I read the poem aloud, trying to make it understandable for him and keeping the sense. He watches me attentively, sitting on his bed, and leaning his chin on his hand. I try to keep my composure.
"As long as there are people still alive to read poems this sonnet will live, and you will live in it.”
His half-open mouth distracts me. I return him the book, trying not to look at him directly.
"Thank you. It's, well, I liked it very much. I wonder who my Secret Santa was."
I shrug my shoulders, as if I'm not interested.
He just shakes his head with a little smile, and throws himself on his bed, reading quietly.
I feel overwhelmed, by his presence and by the vulnerability he doesn't know I've shown him, so I leave the books I was putting on the desk and go into the bathroom, intending to take a shower.
When I come out, I hope Simon has already fallen asleep. However, I find him sitting on his bed, holding two copies of Shakespeare's Sonnets.
Two copies.
I take a quick look at my desk, where I'm sure I left mine completely exposed. What an imbecile I am.
"Baz, it was you?"
I pretend not to hear it as I go to my bed. Perhaps, if I ignore it long enough, any conclusion he had reached will be forgotten.
"Baz." He says again, a little louder.
He leaves both copies on my bed, both open on the same page I read to him. The only difference is the pencil notes I made in my book when I was 16, which I never bothered to erase —about a boy with blue eyes and golden curls.
Is it too late to say it was a coincidence?
His hand rests on my shoulder, and I'm tempted to push it away, but his warm skin feels too good to do so.
"Forget it, Snow. It doesn't mean anything."
I try to get into my bed, but the grip of his hand on mine stops me. It feels like an electric current filling my whole body, and making his skin burn over mine.
I look up, finding his blue eyes fixed on my lips. By instinct, I moisten them a little.
"Snow, I'm-"
Before I can say anything, his mouth meets mine.
He's kissing me.
Simon Snow is kissing me.
I kiss him back a couple of seconds later, bringing my hands to his waist. His tongue makes its way into my mouth, and Crowley. If I died now, I'd be the luckiest man to leave like that.
Simon's hands cups my cheeks, caressing the skin. I sigh over his lips, before we part in search of air.
"The poem almost screamed your name." Whispers, a few inches from my lips, smiling. Smiling at me. "I have to admit that was an ingenious declaration"
I smile, because I can't help it.
"I didn't declare anything, I don't know what you're talking about."
Then he kisses me again, just for a couple of seconds.
"Your lips say something else."
I bring him to me again, so that he sees neither my smile nor my blush. He lets himself fall on my bed, dragging me with him.
"The bracelet was a special detail. It’s very beautiful."
He's lying next to me, his hands playing with my hair. The metal of the charms caresses my neck.
"I knew it was for you as soon as I saw it." Simon smiles and kisses me again, again and again.
Aleister Crowley, I'm living a charmed life.