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Chapter Text

They find it completely by accident.

Who could have known that hiding from Filch would reveal such a great treasure?

("Fitz, I said that you should have just told the Professor you left your book behind!"

"Well, I'm sorry that I didn't want to face his wrath!"

"You could have just borrowed my book!"

"Now you choose to menton that, Jemma?")

Now, two eleven year old students are not the most prepared for such situations, so what other option is there for them but to stumble into the nearest room and hold their breaths?

There's a lot of elbowing and hissing at each other, but eventually they quieten down and squirm behind their respective hiding places until all is silent except for the gentle puffing of their breaths (and Fitz's pounding heart, which he is certain can be heard for miles).

"I think he's gone," Jemma announces finally, peering at him with wide brown eyes and flushed cheeks from running. Her hair is tousled and she looks ridiculous, but he decides not to comment because he probably looks the same, if not worse.

Besides, he doesn't want to upset her. They've only been friends for a few months (thank Merlin that they'd been paired together in Charms), but Fitz can't imagine that he'd find any other friend as perfect as Jemma Simmons.

"Shh!" he yelps, ducking back behind a dusty old statue for fear of being caught.

Jemma merely rolls her eyes at him (or at least he imagines she does; he can't really see anything but the dusty floor and the behind of the statue) and says in a muffled voice, "It's okay, Fitz. He's gone."

"What about the cat?" Fitz hisses warily, not particularly eager to budge from his uncomfortable hiding spot. It would not do to get caught so soon on his adventures at Hogwarts. "Is the cat gone?"

"Fitz," comes the exasperated reply, and eventually Fitz reluctantly withdraws himself from his spot with a grumble, brushing the layers of dust now on his robes. Jemma's just pulling her head back into the room, obviously having been checking the surroundings for any possible danger.

She pulls a face at the sight of his dirty robes, but before he can open his mouth to point out her own clothes (you're not exactly perfect, he plans to say indignantly), she stares around the room curiously and asks, "I wonder where we are? I haven't been to this part of the castle before, have you?"

Words dying on his lips, he takes a look around and realises that she's right. It looks to be a classroom of some sort, with various desks shoved into a corner and books piling, unused, on a table. Random objects are littered about, almost like a storage room. It obviously hasn't been used in a while however, because multiple layers of dust coat everything.

"Hogwarts is a big castle," he suggests cautiously, "They probably just didn't need this room any more."

"Yeah," she nods, although she doesn't really appear to be listening all too intently to him (rude). Suddenly, she takes two, three, four steps forward until she's standing in front of a large, rectangle object obscured by a large white sheet.

It's only when she's reaching for the fabric when Fitz jolts into action. "Jemma, I don't think you should-"

But it's too late, because the sheet comes falling to the floor in a cloud of dust, and he spends the next few minutes coughing from it. When he looks up again, Jemma's staring at the object curiously. Now that the cover's off, he can see it's just a mirror, with the strange words 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.' carved along the top. Fitz frowns at it curiously but doesn't make an attempt to join his friend, who's still staring at it open mouthed.

"What is it?" he asks, giving Jemma an odd look. He stays firmly where he is, because he is not about to go exploring random abandoned items, thank you very much.

Suddenly, she lets out a loud gasp and takes a step back, throwing her hands over her mouth. "Fitz!"

"What? What is it?" he questions hurriedly, suddenly worried that something terrible has happened.

"Look at the words along the top!"

Fitz frowns at the words again, before shrugging. "Yeah, I know. The must be in another language or something, right?"

"No, Fitz!" Jemma almost sounds exasperated, but her features are such a mix of awe and doubtfulness that he's not entirely sure on how to read her. "Erised," she stresses, like that will mean anything to him.

"Um.. yeah?"

At this, Jemma huffs impatiently at him. "Do you even read?"

"What? Of course I read, I-"

"It's the mirror of Erised! I read it in a book," Jemma says excitedly, "It's a mirror, obviously, that shows you your greatest-"

"-desires," Fitz finishes for her, suddenly cluing in with even wider eyes (if that's even possible). "But isn't it forbidden?"

"Yes!" Jemma nods enthusiastically. "For ages! Nobody knew where it was, you see. But all this time, it's just been here.. in Hogwarts."

"And we've just found it," Fitz says numbly, his brain barely processing Jemma's words fast enough. "The mirror of Erised."

"Yes! Don't you get it, Fitz? We're so lucky to have discovered this!"

"Yeah, well that's all bloody brilliant and all, but what do we do with it now?" he counters, immediately regretting his tone of voice.

At this, her face falls and she pauses, her features moulding into a contemplative expression. It's a while before she speaks again, and it's in a hesitant tone of voice. "Well.. well I suppose the right thing to do would be to tell a teacher. And.. and leave."

"Yeah," he nods, but he's looking at her intently and in that moment a million conversations are shared instantly.

"But.. I don't suppose anyone would mind if we took a tiny peek, right? Just.. just one."

"Definitely not," he confirms with a tiny smile.

And then they both whirl to face the mirror, gazing into the reflection as if their lives depend on it.

Everything goes silent, and Fitz barely registers Jemma's tiny (pleased?) gasp beside him, because he's too caught up in his own vision. He stands in the mirror, looking smart and handsome (he wishes). There's a house cup award in his grasp, and he looks confident. Behind him, his mother stands, looking happy and cheerful and younger than he's ever seen her, worry lines smoothed out. The strain of bringing in money to support them is gone, replaced by a bright smile instead. He sees himself giving money to her mother. With his arms slung around his mother is - oh. It's his father. He's alive and healthy and with a proud smile on his face. He feels his breath catch.

But that's not all, because beside him is Jemma, laughing and throwing her arms around him in a hug. It kind of scares him, to be honest, because this is his hearts desire, and does his heart really desire to be friends with Jemma?

But then Jemma (real Jemma, that is) laughs delightedly beside him, and he decides that he does.

It's a while before they can tear themselves away, but when they finally do they lie down on their stomachs on the dust-ridden floor with their head propped on their elbows and swap reflections.

He tells her all about his, but he hesitates towards the end. "And.. and you were in it too," he admits shyly. "We were friends."

To his pleasure, she gives him a bright smile and nods. "You were in mine too! We have to stay friends now, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, and he hopes that his huge grin isn't scaring her away.

"I was head girl," she sighs happily, kicking her legs lazily. "And I had top marks in everything. Top of the class. My family was happy. All my friends were there. It was.. bliss."

"Only you would desire top marks, Jemma."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to have high scores, Fitz!"

...

"I suppose we should leave now," Jemma says regretfully several hours later, once their clothes are coated in dust and the moon is no doubt high up in the sky. He feels like he's about to drop and collapse into sleep at any second, but his face still hurts from smiling and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in this moment.

"Yeah, we should," he nods in agreement, but they both know that neither wants to leave.

"And.. and we should really tell the teachers about this mirror, shouldn't we?" says Jemma hesitantly.

"Yeah," he nods again.

She laughs when he trips on his robes on the way out.

Their lips are sealed.

...

Second year is when the tradition really starts. And on his birthday, of all days.

"Happy birthday, Fitz!" Jemma cheers as soon as he's managed to drag himself out of bed and down into the hall for breakfast. Before he knows it, she's throwing her arms around him and enveloping him in a hug. Her hair smells rather strange. Nice, but strange all the same. (Maybe she brews her own shampoo. He wouldn't put it past her, honestly.)

At the table, Skye grins and points a fork at him. "Hey there, birthday boy."

Beside her, Trip smiles charismatically. "Hey, Fitz. Happy birthday."

Grant waves and smiles, before quickly reverting back to his normal scowl as Skye gasps and declares dramatically that the tin man has a heart after all.

Jemma pulls away and sits herself down on a seat, patting for him to sit next to her. He obliges and soon enough he's drawn in by the familiar breakfast feast, piling pancakes onto his plate.

"Where do you put it all?" Trip laughs as he shovels down mouthfuls, and Skye grumbles jokingly.

"Don't bother, he won't even let me know his secrets."

As they start to banter (it brings a smile to his face), Jemma nudges him gently on the shoulder. "Hey, Fitz?" she murmurs in a low voice, eyes flickering towards Skye and Trip. "Do you remember last year? With.. the.. thing."

Fitz can only blink at her in confusion. "Thing?" First year had been a blur of many things. He can only guess at what Jemma was talking about. After all, he's not a mind reader. Unless there's a spell for that. Or something.

"You know. The thing," she stresses meaningfully, inclining her head towards Skye and Trip. When he only stares at her, she huffs in annoyance at him. "The mirror, Fitz!"

"Oh!"

"Yes! And.." Then she does something distinctly un-Jemma-like. She flushes and looks down at her feet. "I was thinking we could go back? I mean, it's been a year and our wishes could very much have changed, and..."

"-and you want to go back," Fitz confirms knowingly. He wants to to back too. There's something about seeing everything that you desire that makes you thirst for a better look. Maybe that's why they haven't turned it in yet.

When she nods, he gives her a smile. "Tonight?"

"But we mustn't get in trouble," she insists, suddenly looking alarmed. "I like following the rules."

"I know you do."

"What are you two whispering about without me?" Skye interrupts suddenly, looking mischievous.

"Nothing," they chime simultaneously. Fitz is almost quite proud of them until Jemma babbles on.

"Nothing at all!" she continues, her voice going horribly high-pitched and her smile becoming uneasy. "Just.. talking about.. mirrors. And how.. how reflective they are. Aren't they reflective, Fitz?"

He can barely keep himself from groaning and telling her shut up. Why she's such a horrible liar, he'll never know. He supposes it's up to him to save her skin.

"We love mirrors," he announces gravely.

Admittedly, Fitz isn't the best liar either.

...

Jemma fusses the rest of the day, constantly switching between oh no this is a bad idea we're going to get in so much trouble to I'm so excited Fitz how much time do we have left? And while it's sweet (and amusing) at first, even Fitz starts to get weary after a while (after all, homework doesn't finish itself, especially not with Jemma buzzing in his ear constantly. And of course she'd already finished her homework ages ago because she loves it more then life). Not to mention that Skye's getting incredibly suspicious and keeps accidentally stumbling in on them in the middle of their conversation.

Trip notices too, but to his credit he doesn't say anything and instead distracts Jemma long enough for Fitz to finish his homework (which doesn't take long, being that he's always been gifted at magic - except for Charms. He can't stand Charms).

When darkness finally falls and everyone is fast asleep, Fitz creeps out of the dorm and downstairs. He's relieved to see a figure waiting by the fireplace, and he approaches her hurriedly. "Jemma-"

Then the figure turns, and to his horror it's not Jemma with her long hair and kind eyes, but an older girl, who looks quite frankly like she's not afraid to shoot a jinx at him and leave him hanging by his legs for the rest of the night.

"What are you doing up?" she queries in a measured voice.

"Me? I - uh, um - I was just.." he gulps, scrambling frantically for words. "Water?" he finishes lamely.

The girl doesn't look like she believes him in the slightest, but at that moment Jemma appears at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Jemma?" The girl's tone gives nothing away but her face betrays surprise, however slight it may be.

"Ma-Melinda?" Well, Jemma's clearly confused too. There's silence for a while, and Fitz notices that the girl's eyes land on the wand peeking out of Jemma's pocket.

Just when Fitz is about to unfreeze and sheepishly crawl back back to his bed, the girl nods.

"Be careful, Jemma. Filch is out tonight."

Then she's gone.

...

"What.." Fitz puffs as he follows the dim light of Jemma's wand, " the hell... was that?"

"Don't be mean, Fitz," Jemma reprimands in her most bossy twelve year old voice, but she doesn't seem to mind all that much as she navigates the corridors like her life depends on it. "That was Melinda May. You know her, right? Prefect, right hand to Phil Coulson?"

"You mean the Cavalry?" he gasps before he can help himself.

"Don't call her that," Jemma snaps too quickly, like it's a reflex. Thankfully, she looks sheepish (or at least he thinks so; it's kind of hard to see with only wand light). "Sorry. It's just.. she doesn't like to be called that. She's quite nice, really." As if sensing his doubtful expression, she laughed. "I mean it, Fitz. She is nice. Just quieter, really. And a bit scary, yeah."

"You can say that again," he mumbles grumpily, but she doesn't appear to be listening because suddenly she's tugging on his sleeve with wide eyes.

"Hide! I think I heard someone!"

"Nox," he hisses, and they're plunged into darkness as they scramble for (relative) safety.

...

Moonlight bathes the abandoned classroom by the time they've finally reached it, and although this is far later than he's used to staying up, he can't possibly feel any more awake. Beside him, Jemma smiles and tugs him along gently until they're standing in front of the mirror once again.

"What do you see?" she breathes, letting her hand fall away from his sleeve.

"The same as last year," he tells her. And it's true, he sees his mother waving and his father laughing and Jemma beaming up at him. When he glances over, she's transfixed on the mirror, a faint smile on her features that is so unbelievably Jemma that he wants to laugh (later, he'll find out that it runs in the family). "What do you see?"

"Everything."

He smiles.

...

They sit cross-legged on the floor, hardly caring about the dust (although sometimes he catches Jemma huffing at her robes), a brand new set of wizard's chess sitting in front of them (Jemma's gift to him). He can't help but laugh at her because while Jemma Simmons is the epitome of perfection in everything she says and does, she cannot play chess to save her life.

He snickers when she gets flustered and she smirks whenever he misses an obvious move, but it doesn't really matter because he's having fun.

"Happy birthday," Jemma yawns through a brilliant smile, when her eyes are fluttering closed and she looks about ready to curl up right then and there.

"We should do this again," Fitz suggests before he can stop himself as he scoops up the Queen and places her meticulously back into the box.

"It's practically a tradition now, isn't it?" she agrees without missing a beat.

They stumble back to the dorms sleepily, and he's too tired to question that May knows the perfect moment to slip in and escort Jemma to her bed.

...

"Where were you last night?" Skye whines childishly (for the millionth time - he's counted) over breakfast. She's been bugging them all morning, ever since she woke up in the middle of the night to (apparently) get a glass of water, only to find Jemma missing from her bed.

"Nowhere," Jemma squeaks, before mysteriously (and conveniently) disappearing. He wishes he had the ability to do the same, because Skye attacks him next with vigour, leaning across the table and brandishing a spoon at him, milk and cornflakes flying everywhere as she almost tips over her bowl.

"There's something you're not telling me," she accuses as Grant rolls his eyes and steadies the cereal bowl while Trip laughs heartily and swipes a glass of orange juice out of the way. "You have to tell me! I'm your best friend!"

No, he thinks absently as he attempts to change the topic, that spot's taken.

Chapter Text

The next year, they return to the mirror on his next birthday, as is custom. There's a rather close call with Filch (he swears that man's cat can see through walls, much to Jemma's disbelief), but they eventually end up in the mirror room with flushed faces and short breaths.

Still, he's unbelievably happy when they take steps towards the mirror. Not to his surprise, his image is still the same, except with a few extra new additions. This time Skye smirks from the vision and Trip grins and mirror-Fitz is clapping Grant on the back. It fills him with an inexplicable warmth. Next to him, he hears Jemma catch her breath slightly.

When he whips around and questions what she saw, she shakes her head furiously, and her voice is slightly higher pitched when she responds.

"Oh, nothing. It's all.. all the same. Just.. just caught me by surprise."

She's lying. He can tell (three years so close and you pick up on every tiny habit), but he doesn't push it. She can keep her desires to herself (he's only a little bit curious). He doesn't mind.

(All the same, he's positive she's blushing)

...

They lie sprawled out on the floor, backs pressed to the cold floor, so close he can feel wisps of her shiny brown hair tickling his ear, so close that if he shifted his shoulder he could probably nudge hers (not that he ever would, of course. But it was just a fleeting thought.)

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," she says so suddenly that he flicks his eyes to her immediately.

"What?"

"The words," she says, inclining her head to the mirror, "the ones engraved along the top. That's what it says. It's backwards."

He has to lean on one arm and swivel slightly to see it because she's facing a different direction to him, but when he does spot it, she's right.

"And that explains the mirror's name, too," Jemma continues lightly. "The mirror of Erised. The mirror of Desire."

"Kind of ominous," he responds, settling back down. This time he lies where he can see her expressions, however. He likes the way her features take on whatever emotion she's feeling, how her eyes glint with wonder and her lips part in her familiar smile, like she's reserved it especially for him.

"Yeah." Jemma smiles and curls her fingers around her wand loosely. "They say it's driven people insane."

"Pleasant," he wrinkles his nose. "Am I insane, do you think?"

She laughs abrubtly, and before he can process what's happening she presses a kiss to his cheek. "Only to the rest of the world."

He's not entirely sure what that means.

...

"You do know," Jemma starts abruptly, "that you're my best friend, right?"

He turns to see her expression, to see what's running through her mind to compel her to speak so randomly, but she's staring up at the heavily cob-webbed ceiling with a look on her face that he can't really comphrehend (which is really quite strange, because he's pretty much. learned to read her like an open book).

"'Course," he answers without even missing a beat. He doesn't even need to think about it, right?

"In the whole world?"

"In the whole world."

...

The next day, they spend most of breakfast grinning at each other and cracking inside jokes. It gets to the point where Skye huffs at them and throws a paper towel at Fitz.

"Why do you keep being so secretive? Grant, tell them to stop being so secretive!"

Grant shakes his head, but there's a glimmer of a smile when he bends back over his breakfast.

...

Fourth year is when everything starts to become confusing.

Girls become.. well, girls. He starts to notice things he probably (almost definitely) shouldn't, things like lips and hair and other various parts of the female anatomy that his mum would almost certainly swat at him for thinking.

It's weird. Not just his thoughts change, but he does too. His curls grow unrulier, his eyes bluer and he suddenly grows taller (he's still annoyingly short compared to most, but he's taller than Jemma now at least).

Despite the fact that most of his friends seem to be maturing, he still remains disappointingly boy-ish. However,whenever he confesses to his mum about this she laughs and ruffles his hair.

("Give it time, Leo," she'll tell him fondly, before ushering him off to finish (or start) his homework.)

It's strange. His friends change slightly too.

Skye and Jemma get oddly grumpy at certain times and often snap and storm off without warning (Trip seems to know something about it, because he snickers when Fitz and Grant consult each other in confusion). Grant starts hanging out with girls often and sweeping his hair to the side like one of those ridiculous muggle models (Skye's curiously absent during these times). Trip turns on his charm but stays ridiculously loyal, and is often found spending time with Skye.

Fitz? Well, Fitz has magic and schoolwork and Jemma.

Just - not in that way, of course. Of course, she's a girl (and a pretty one at that, now that he realises it), but he hasn't ever thought of her in... that way. She's sweet and intelligent and smug all in the same breath, and she's purely and wholely Jemma. If he happens to notice that she's female once in a while, so be it. But for the most part, she's his best friend and that's all that matters.

"Fitz?" Jemma frowns impatiently at him from across the table. "Were you even listening to me? I said-"

Except for maybe when she's in one of her moods. He's happy to let Skye take over in those events.

...

It's not who he expected his first crush to be.

He'd expected to like somebody on his wave-length, with a sweet personality (and possibly a love for monkeys). Instead, it's Skye.

She's pretty and stunning with a daring spirit and a cheeky smirk. He finds himself drawn to her personality like a moth to a flame. She's mischevious and sarcastic and everything he really isn't.

Fitz might be in love. He doesn't know, really. What's it like to be in love, he wonders as he smiles bashfully at Skye from over a bowl of cornflakes and nods absently at Jemma), is it like this? A pretty face and happiness? Because if it is, he's not sure what all the fuss is about.

...

It slips out when they're at the library, hunched over several books and talking in hushed voices for fear of the librarian's death glares.

(He hadn't meant to keep it from Jemma, exactly. He's just... never mentioned it.)

Several moments after the words leave his mouth, he pauses and stares at Jemma with wide eyes, suddenly wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

To his surprise, she doesn't look particularly happy. Isn't she supposed to gush over his love life like in the books? Instead of doing that, she drops her gaze to her book and says with careful indifference, "She is pretty, isn't she?" A few moments of silence, and then, "Be careful, Fitz."

Well, he'd been expecting more of a reaction.

It's then that he wishes he'd chosen to sit across from her instead of beside her, because her hair hides her expression, and for once he can't tell what she's thinking.

"What year was the first Triwizard tournament, Fitz?" she muses, tapping the pencil against her lips and frowning at her text book.

And that promptly ends that conversation.

...

He finds out completely by accident.

It's currently a free block for them (supposedly to study, but Jemma had forced him to finish his assignments long ago), and he's just looking for her to check if she wants to come down and watch their friends practice Quidditch when he stumbles into them.

Jemma (sweet, innocent, no-shenagians Jemma) is teetering on her toes, lips pressed against a bigger bloke who's ridiculously tall and most likely a few years older. They spring apart when the door creaks open and she whirls around, with lips parted (guiltily?) and flushed features.

"Fitz?"

"Sorry." He snaps his mouth shut abruptly and turns on his heels to flee.

(He's not sure what upsets him more - that she had never thought to tell him about this bloke, or the fact that she's kissing someone in the first place.)

Everyone's waiting by the Quidditch pitch when he arrives, all dressed in bright cloaks and protective gear, brooms quivering impatiently on the pitch.

"Where's Jemma?" Grant questions, voicing everyone's thoughts.

He shrugs and nudges an upturned rock with his foot. "Busy."

"Hang on, Jemma never misses out on-" Skye protests, but Trip's already dragging her onto the field and into the locker rooms.

...

She finds him sitting there by the mirror, staring at his other happy self with longing. How, he has no idea. Same wave-length as always, he supposes. But she settles herself gently down next to him without looking at the mirror, instead facing him. Before he knows it, both mirror Jemma and real Jemma reach out to touch him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she tells him. She's being genuine. He can tell, by the way her eyes glint and her mouth is pulled down slightly.

"You didn't tell me about him," he accuses. He's being mean, and he knows it. But he can't help it. Jemma is Fitz's best friend. He can't lose that friendship, not now, when she's practically a piece of him.

"You didn't tell me about Skye," she counters gently. Her fingers still linger on his shoulder, and she removes them hastily like she's forgotten she'd put them there.

"I wasn't kissing her," he says pointedly.

Eventually, she sighs and gives him a sympathetic look. "I don't know what you want me to say, Fitz. I'm sorry. But I'm a free person. I can do things without your permission, right?" At this she gives him a little smile and a nudge, which he returns after a moment.

"Yeah, you are," he agrees, because undoubtedly once Jemma Simmons sets her mind on something, there's no turning back. "Just.. maybe warn me before you go snogging boys in the middle of the corridor."

She laughs and sets her head on his shoulder. He can smell her hair, and for some funny reason it smells exactly as it did in second year.

"What do you see?" they say together like it's been rehearsed. Jemma gives him a sunny smile that's he's almost certain lights up the room (even though that's impossible. Right?).

Jemma makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat when she catches her reflection, but just when he thinks she's going to reveal something new and exciting she just averts her eyes and says, "Same as ever."

"Jemma-" he tries to interrupt, because something is clearly eating at her and maybe he feels slightly guilty upon stumbling into her and her - boyfriend. Is that what she has now? A boyfriend?

"What's in your mirror, Fitz?" she adds brightly.

The mirror stays the same as all the other years before it (except he and his friends are slightly older). He expects his mirror to kiss Skye's cheek or hug her or something. It's his desires, right?

Instead, mirror Skye slings her arms around Grant and Trip and pecks them both on the cheek instead.

He stops crushing on her after that.

...

At dinner, when Jemma is off revising for exams, Skye corners him at the table and grins at him in the typical way that often makes him want to run for the hills.

"So, Jemma's getting around a lot," she begins abruptly, grabbing for a piece of bread like it's nothing.

He almost chokes on his food. "What?"

"I mean, did you see her boyfriend?" He definitely has; tall, broad blokes with no intelligence seem to be her type. "It's amazing, really. I'd never expect Jemma Simmons to go for that. I thought.. well.." she blinks at him meaningfully, but he can't convey what on Earth she's trying to tell him.

Blinking suspiciously at her, he shrugs. "She's pretty and sweet," he mumbles. "I don't see why not."

Skye gives him a strange look, and when he finally asks her what she's getting at, she huffs and storms away, muttering something about being clueless.

Beside him, Trip snickers.

...

Fifth year is relatively fun. They make some new friends - a grouchy British guy called Lance, a tall girl with blonde hair named Bobbi (who Jemma seems to adore), and a dark-skinned, unfairly built bloke called Mack, who's actually pretty cool and is happy to study with Fitz whenever Jemma's too busy.

"We should go to Hogsmeade," Jemma suggests cheerily one early morning, when he's still blinking sleep from his eyes and attempting to not fall asleep right then and there in his breakfast.

Everyone looks slightly doubtful at this suggestion. It's snowing outside - winter is certainly not the time to go trudging through town.

Eventually, Bobbi shrugs and sets her fork down. "I'll go."

No one can really resist Jemma, after all.

(Although Lance does grumble and complain all the way down, until Bobbi and Skye collectively tell him to shut up).

...

They spend the rest of the day wandering through shops and hiding from the snow, until somehow it's late afternoon and he and Jemma have somehow been split from everybody else.

Jemma doesn't really seem to mind though (and if he's honest, neither does he), and they peek into windows and throw snowballs at each other.

("You're not supposed to hit a girl, Fitz," she chides as she's darting away from him with a wild smile.

"I thought you hated that saying," he retorts as he catches a ball of snow promptly in the chest with a groan.

"Yes, I do," Jemma admits, wrinkling her nose and pausing long enough for him to scoop up some snow. "Women are undoubtedly equal to-"

She doesn't get to finish her sentence. )

She barely restrains him from buying far too much chocolate, he stops her from fretting over their tests for the day and they both flush red when an older boy whistles encouragingly at them.

She laughs when he slips on a patch of ice, something that doesn't seem to quell even as he lies on his back, the snow seeping through his clothes.

"Fitz! Are you okay?" She seems concerned, but the effect is more than slightly ruined by the joyous laugh spilling from her lips.

"Just fine, thanks," he grumbles, pushing back his smile to scowl heavily. She kneels beside him and brushes flecks of frost from his shoulders as she attempts to pull him up.

"Be careful, it's slippery," she warns as he almost falls over again.

"I realized that, Jemma."

...

"It's cold," Jemma says, shivering slightly and pulling her jacket closer around her. Fitz half thinks about handing her his coat. He knows that she gets cold easier than him, that she can handle heat but if the temperature's even slightly lower then she'll catch a cold or start freezing.

(And then she'll spend the next week shivering and he'll have to look after him instead of revising like he's supposed to, and that would not do)

He's almost about to do it, to, but before he can Jemma lights up (all bright eyes and flushed features) and points to a familiar building buzzing with activity across the road.

"Let's get a butterbeer," she tells him, "It'll warm us up."

It really is difficult to resist Jemma. Besides, it's sort of cold out in the snow, so he agrees heartily and they walk in and order some drinks.

He tells her to sit at the table and wait for him as he waits for the drinks to be served up. She's sitting at a table next to the window when he returns with butterbeers in his grasp, her hair curling messily around her shoulders and her jacket still wrapped tightly around her. She's drawing something in the condensation of the window as he approaches, looking so far away and yet so focused at the same time.

"What're you drawing?" he asks as he approaches, and she suddenly snaps to attention with wide eyes.

"Hmm? Oh.. nothing." Hastily she rubs at the window and the picture is gone before he can see it.

He gives her a questioning look (she's been rather secretive lately) but before he can call her out on it she jerks her head up. "Oh, look, there's the others," she announces loudly, sounding relieved.

Skye, Trip, Mack and Grant pull up chairs to sit around the table, their own drinks in hand.

"What's up," Skye greets cheerfully, stealing one of the chips on the table.

"We lost you back there," Trip states semi-apologetically. "What happened?"

"Fitz kept getting distracted by the sweets in Honeydukes," Jemma says with a roll of her eyes.

Fitz can't help but throw his hands up defensively. "Hey! Don't pin this on me! You were all too happy to let me get you those sugar quills."

"Aw, you brought candy for her?" Skye coos teasingly,and much to his embarrassment he can feel the flush creeping up his neck (hopefully the cold will disguise it).

"Where are Bobbi and Lance?" Grant questions, cutting into the conversation with a roll of his eyes.

"We thought they were with you," Fitz answers with slightly wide eyes.

(They find out where they went when Bobbi and Lance appear just in time to head home.

"There's lip gloss on your face, Lance.")

Chapter Text

Sixth year is, more or less, an explosion.

There's extra work to be done, more homework to be finished then ever. Fitz has always been talented at these things, but even he and Jemma are up to their arms in extra work.

Nevertheless, they manage to make time for fun. Skye, Trip, Lance and Grant drag them out to watch Quidditch practice. Bobbi joins in as they zoom around the pitch and aim for each other (and by that, it means mostly Lance) and Mack collects stray bludgers whenever they zoom off course. (One time they accidentally smash a window and get detention for a week, even though Skye pointed out that the window was easily fixed with a wave of a wand)

Despite all this chaos, Fitz and Jemma find time to sneak up to the mirror room in the middle of the night as per usual custom. It's not his birthday (they'd spent that studying and snacking on home-made cookies from his mum), but it's still as much fun as ever. Maybe it's because of the adrenaline, or the prospect of the mirror, or maybe it's because he enjoys spending time with his best friend, but all the same he almost wishes they did this more often.

He smiles as she recites several new-found spells and methods to him in a hushed voice as they climb the stairs (she just about falls to her doom as the stairs decide to shift right when they're about to step on) and she laughs and shoves him gently when he asks if there's one for conjuring monkeys.

It's storming heavily outside, the rain thunders down and occasional sparks of light flash through the windows, creating a rather creepy atmosphere. Surprisingly, he finds he doesn't mind all too much, because Jemma slides her oversized cloak over the both of them and they huddle together like little kids cramming under an undersized umbrella.

"I used to be scared of thunderstorms," she tells Fitz once they've entered the mirror room and closed the door firmly behind them. "When I was a little girl, that is."

He gives her a curious look as she settles herself onto an old desk and swings her legs back and forth like a little kid. "What changed?"

She shrugs and gives him a kind smile. "I got a letter in the post and suddenly I could make magic fly from a wand. Storms didn't seem quite so scary after that."

...

It's past midnight and he hasn't even thought to glance at the mirror yet. He's not entirely sure why. Maybe it's because he knows he'll see the same thing as last year. Maybe it's because he kind of likes it when Jemma talks, the way her words flow easily together and every one is said with meaning and (mostly) conviction, and the way her eyes shine when she's enthusiastic about something or she thinks up some new idea that they'll most likely bounce back and forth with each other.

Eventually it's her that breaks the conversation. She swings herself off the table (not exactly gracefully, but it's more eloquent then he could ever hope to be) and gestures to the mirror with a tiny smile, reaching up to tug the white sheet from the mirror. "What do you see?" she queries with a knowing smile.

For a moment, everything is more or less the same as last year. His parents smile happily and wave at him, all of his friends laugh and grin. Mirror Jemma rests her head on his shoulder.

And then mirror Fitz does something that he will probably never forget for as long as he breathes (and maybe even afterwards, too). He presses his lips to Jemma Simmons's and tangles his hands in her hair.

He whirls away from the mirror abruptly, and he knows he's pale when Jemma rushes over, concern etched on her pretty features. "Fitz?"

He's going to be sick.

...

He's going to be sick.

But he's going to be sick for a completely different reason then he'd thought before, Fitz realises as he hugs his pillow to him back in his dorm, unable to move and yet unable to stop fidgeting with the pillow at the exact same time.

He's never imagined being with Jemma in.. that way before. Not even in his wildest dreams. She's his best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

But now.. now, he realises several things about Jemma Simmons that he is pretty sure have been lurking in his subconsciousness for a while now. Like the way her hair frames her face perfectly, or the scent of her shampoo (which is still a complete mystery and yet still exactly the same as second year, by the way), or the way her eyes seem to crinkle when she laughs.

Or.. other things.

The point is, Jemma is strictly his best friend. She trusts him (and he, her) and he can't just ruin everything with one silly little crush. It's just a phase, he reassures himself. Just like it was with Skye. It'll blow over soon enough and then it'll be like everything's normal once again.

He can't lose her friendship.

(It doesn't exactly help that she distinctly has a type for stronger, bulkier men with charm and defined muscles, either. Which doesn't put him even in one category, by the way.)

Fitz doesn't get much sleep that night. How has he managed to develop a crush on his best friend without even realising it?

...

"Fitz? You look a little ill," Jemma says worriedly as soon as he approaches the table for breakfast. He wonders whether it would be a good idea to sit next to her, to see whether his theories were true, whether the mirror was correct, whether or not he would like to snog Jemma bloody Simmons. Just because the mirror is magic, doesn't mean it's always correct, right?

At the last minute, he chickens out and sits next to Skye like the coward he knows he is. Skye is safer territory, Skye is easy to hang around with (not like Jemma, but at least he's not wondering what it would feel like to kiss Skye this way).

Jemma's eyes flicker with concern (and something else?), and she frowns at him in the way she does when she's assessing somebody's injuries. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Yeah," Skye pipes up suddenly. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," he grumbles, but his heart's not really in it as he pokes at his breakfast.

He doesn't miss Jemma and Skye's concerned looks, but to his relief Trip and Mack appear (rather conveniently, now that he thinks about it) and rapidly change the topic.

"Stay away from the common room," Mack announces smoothly, sliding into the seat next to Fitz (to his relief, he must admit. He'd been half frightened Jemma would try to sit next to him).

"Why?" Comes the collective confusion from the table

"Lance and Bobbi are arguing again," Trip answers, raising his eyebrow knowingly and helping himself to a piece of toast.

"What else is new," Melinda May says as she walks past, ignoring the group's astonished looks as she goes to sit next to Phil Coulson.

"Was that the Ca-"

"Don't call her that!"

...

Even though Fitz is pretty sure he's tired every trick in the book to avoid being alone with Jemma, somehow she corners him in the middle of the library where he's studying with Mack. For a moment, he briefly considers pretending like he doesn't realise she's there, but then Mack gives him a nudge with his quill and he knows the game is up.

"Oh, hello Mack, hi Fitz," she announces in a loud voice, blinking at them (there's several glares from fellow students trying to concentrate; no doubt seventh years trying to piece their life together one assignment at a time).

"Hey," Mack grins.

"Hi Jemma," he mumbles awkwardly, paying closer attention to his homework. Question Number Five; What are the ingredients needed for the Polyjuice Potion? Or something like that. The words are kind of blurring anyway. Maybe he needs a break. Yes, he definitely needs a break. Preferably away from here. Far away from here.

"Terribly sorry to bother you, but could I please borrow Fitz for a moment?" Jemma smiles sweetly. "I'm having some problems with this particular assignment."

It's painfully obvious that she's just trying to talk to him, but he doesn't really know if he can face her alone, not after what he saw in that mirror. The thought almost makes his neck flush red, and he scrambles quickly for an excuse. Mack merely raises his eyebrows at him when he stutters for an answer.

"Um.. Can't - Can't you ask Bobbi?"

"It's a very specific problem," Jemma says, giving him a pointed look even though her smile is still as cheerful and sunny as ever.

Fitz throws a glance to Mack for help, but the other boy just shrugs and flips a page in his book. "Right then," he nods, scooping up his homework. At least he'll get out of Charms work for a little. Has he mentioned that he detests Charms?

...

If he's going to be completely honest, he has absolutely no clue where they are. Some nameless place on the school grounds, no doubt, but the scenery is pretty and Jemma seems to like it so he doesn't really mind.

The grass is green and water ripples in the lake next to them (a bird squawks somewhere nearby as well, but he chooses to ignore that particular factor), and it's a picture perfect scene. Right next to them is a sturdy tree with bark beginning to peel and it's leaves in full bloom.

Fitz fidgets nervously and waits for her to pry it out of him (because he really can't keep anything from Jemma, and he knows that if she asks then it'll all come spilling out and then things will be awkward, and he really doesn't want that to happen), but instead she drops her satchel at the base of the tree and swings herself up onto the lowest branch. While he watches in bewilderment (he tries not to think about the fact that she's wearing a skirt), she scales higher and higher until she's waving at him from one of the highest branches, peeking down at him through a bunch of foliage.

"Well?" she calls down to him, teetering on her branch before sitting herself down. "Are you coming up?"

"Up?" He licks his lips nervously and hesitates. "The tree?"

"What else, Fitz?" Her tone is exasperated but her expression is fond, and soon he finds himself dropping his own bag and awkwardly picking his way up the branches to join Jemma, who's blinking happily at him and swinging her legs back and forth.

"You know," he huffs as he climbs up onto the branch next to hers, peering at her from over an outcrop of leaves, "this would be much easier if we just had a monkey to help."

"Ugh, Fitz! Why would you need a monkey when you have magic?" Jemma rolls her eyes, but she laughs merrily anyway and he finds that he's rather pleased by that fact. Then, she raises her hand and pats the empty space beside her with an inviting glance.

"Uh- no- actually, I'm fine," he says quickly, "this branch is actually pretty good. Good. Yeah."

Her smile fades slightly and he instantly feels guilty, but before he can even think up an appropriate apology she lifts her shoulders up in a tiny shrug like she's got no clue what she's supposed to do. "What's wrong, Fitz? You haven't been the same since the mirror."

"Uh.. Really? Actually, I hadn't noticed."

"You've been avoiding me for days," comes her flat answer.

Well, there's really nothing to say to that, is there?

"Was it the mirror?" she asks softly, and then she's got him pinned right there and then. Because he can't lie to Jemma, but he can't exactly tell her what he saw either. It'd get incredibly awkward and then their friendship would never be the same and he's certainly - no, definitely not ready for that to happen. Not now, or possibly ever. Because if he's being honest to himself, even if he does have a teensy, tiny crush on her and she doesn't return it, he's undoubtedly content and willing to remain by her side as her best friend.

She seems to understand what he's thinking as always (physic link, Skye calls it) because she gives him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Fitz."

But he does want to, it's just the simple matter of he can't, so instead - "I just realised that.. I can't get everything I want in the mirror," he says very, very carefully.

And for possibly the first time, he allows himself to think of what it would be like to be allowed to kiss Jemma Simmons, to hold her hand and go on moonlit dates just like all those cheesy movies that his mum and Skye both insist on watching at least once every single month without fail.

("It's to remind me of true love," Skye smirks, all while snacking on a heart shaped box of chocolates given to her by who in the world knows.

"Everyone's got to watch one," his mum berates whenever he moans about it.

"They're sweet," Jemma agrees when asked, "But I think I much prefer the Doctor and Rose. Or Amy and Rory, maybe.")

Jemma gives him an understanding look, and then she twists to stare out at the lake. Can he see the ripples reflected in her eyes? Probably not. He's just being silly now. "If it helps, I don't think my vision is very achievable either."

He wonders what in the name of Merlin that's supposed to mean.

Chapter Text

Seventh year is quite possibly the best and worst year of his life.

Immediately, they're piled with school work, with studying for the NEWT's. And even though everybody complains and moans, even Skye and Lance stick diligently to their paperwork. Everyone knows what NEWT's mean. They mean the future. The better results, the higher the chance of getting the job you want. Fitz is not entirely sure what he wants to do, but he knows that he's been told he's gifted in several subjects.

(His mum still clicks her teeth and tells him proudly that he takes after his father.)

All the same, no seventh year turns up at the breakfast table without at least one yawn escaping and a tired look on their features. There's late nights spent revising, constantly quills nearby for emergency and probably an unhealthy amount of coffee consumed (especially by Bobbi, who always seems to have an emergency flask on her to give to someone else lest they crash).

However, it's Jemma who seems to take it the hardest. They hardly see her outside of class (except for breakfast and dinner - she seems to have forgotten about lunch), and when they do she's always in a hurry, with tousled hair and pale skin.

He decides to do something about it when she just about falls asleep in her breakfast, holding out a hand to both steady her and tap her on the shoulder.

"Jemma."

She starts and flashes him an alarmed look for a moment, before she seems to remember where she is and relaxes, blinking blearily at him. "Fitz?"

"How long have you been studying?"

Jemma gives him a sheepish smile and a small shrug. "Honestly? I don't really remember."

Just when he's about to reprimand her for obviously not taking enough care of herself, Skye leans over the table with a welcoming grin.

"Yeah, we haven't seen you in years, Jem."

"Oh, please don't call me that," she interrupts with a small scrunch of her nose.

Skye promptly ignores her. "Listen, we've got that big match against Slytherin coming up. You and Fitz have to come, as moral support."

"Match?" Jemma frowns. "Oh! You mean Quidditch."

"Duh," Skye comments, rolling her eyes as she breaks a bread roll in half with an eager glance towards the both of them. Fitz just shrugs - he's happy to support his friends, and even happier if Jemma's there. Besides, she does look worn out. Homework is most decidedly not healthy, no matter what Jemma seems to think. "Please, Jemma? If we win this match then we get to take away the Quidditch cup! It's pretty much the biggest event of the year! You have to come watch it. I get it, studying's fun and all, but you can take a break every once in a while! Besides, Fitz is hardly a great moral booster."

"Hey!"

Jemma finally gives a small nod, raising her eyebrows at Fitz and laughing. "Okay, okay. I'm coming."

Skye punches the air. He winces.

...

True to her word, Jemma's the one waiting patiently for him in the common room early in the morning. It's quiet, everyone's probably left already (Mack insists he's like a sloth when he sleeps).

She sits curled up by the fireplace, a fluffy jacket wrapped around her and a thick scarf bundled by her side. There's a beanie propped on her curls and she still looks pale from cold even though the fire is roaring and it can't possibly be any cosier inside.

She doesn't notice him at first, lost in the book on her lap. It's only when he taps her on the shoulder that she starts, flashing him a bright smile.

"Fitz! Finally! I've been waiting for ages."

"What?" He blinks at her, although the thought of her waiting for him is oddly amusing.

"Come on, we're going to be late, and I do not want to face Skye if that's the case," she says cheerily, and before he can even process what's really happening she's tugging him down the corridors with a gloved hand and a silly smile on her face.

...

The match is, surprisingly, quite fun. Even though the temperature is beyond freezing and and his fingers feel numb from clutching onto the binoculars and squeezing his eyes shut any time one of his friends make a dangerous looking dive, it's still spectacular. (Also, the way Jemma lights up whenever their team scores isn't a bad sight either.)

Phil Coulson and Melinda May commentate, which is an immediate success with the crowd (except for the Slytherins, who look so displeased it's not even funny).

("Look there, we have Morse and Ward cooperating together for a move which was used by the Steve Rogers himself, a star player here at Hogwarts only-"

"Phil. The game.")

Jemma clutches onto his arm tightly when Trip swoops and is knocked off his broom, and they both scramble for the binoculars to see the fate of their friend.

("Antoine Triplett is off the field unfortunately, which means Hartley is in as substitute. Not a bad replacement at all - but he's certainly going to be annoyed.")

Jemma frowns as Slytherin scores again, and she grips Fitz's arm tighter (not that he's going to complain about it, but he'd kind of like to feel his fingers again).

("24-13 to Slytherin, unfortunately, those sons of-"

"Phil.")

"I think they're going to lose," Jemma hisses worriedly at him, like she's afraid their friends will overhear from all the way out on (or above, he supposes) the pitch. "Oh no, they're going to lose! What should we do? Should we cheat?"

"Cheat?!" he yelps at her suddenly, eyes wide. "Bloody hell, no, we're not going to cheat! What are you thinking?"

"I just want them to win," she frets, blinking at him through her bundles of clothing, all windswept and features flushed. "If we could just perform a little spell, I'm sure no one will-"

"Jemma!" he interrupts, gripping her wand hand as if to stop her. "They'll do it. Just watch. Besides, are you really ready to risk being expelled for the Quidditch cup?"

After a moment, she shakes her head and flicks up to meet his gaze. He tries not to think about the mirror at that moment, instead focusing on Quidditch, on cold, on his best friend. Really, anything but kissing Jemma Simmons.

"Do you know what spell to use?" he adds after a moment of hesitation.

"Fitz!"

"Just in case!"

...

There's no need for spells because they win. Jemma cheers. Fitz is the first to visit the others after the game, Jemma dogging him with beaming features. Their friends look weary, battered and weather worn, but that's all hidden by the positive joy on their features.

"You won!" Jemma announces with a big smile.

Everyone's laughing and celebrating and cheering. Somewhere near the back, Fitz can make out Phil Coulson grinning smugly at the Slytherins and congratulating the players with vigour.

"We won," Skye confirms with a slight squeal, her grin so big he's pretty sure her face is going to hurt later on. "We won the cup! Maybe you two were good luck charms! Even though Trip did land himself in the medical wing."

"We're just going to visit him now," Bobbi and Mack appear out of nowhere, waving a box of chocolates at them. "Give him this. You guys coming along?"

"He's going to be so mad he missed out," Skye grins devilishly, snatching her broom from the ground and propping it on her shoulder.

("Bobbi, your moves were amazing," Jemma gushes on the way back to the castle, shivering from both cold and possibly excitement (he's not entirely sure) even though he's already sacrificed his scarf to her.

"What am I, burnt toast?" Skye grumbles. Fitz snorts.)

...

And later;

("How're you doing, Trip?"

"Just fine," he grins. "Skye promised to make sure my name was known.")

...

The after party is fun, there's loads of butterbeer and rowdy party goers - not to mention plenty of dark corners where couples seem to naturally gravitate to. Skye mockingly pushes him towards one of these corners, and he returns looking heavily flushed. (the blush only turns deeper when Jemma appears out of nowhere to enquire why in the world he looks so embarrassed. He tells her it's because of the heat)

"I thought you were going to the party with Jackson?" he yells over the loud music and enthusiastic cheers (ones that sound suspiciously like Trip and Lance).

"Johnson, actually," she corrects, before swishing her mug of butterbeer (and just about spilling it in the process) and giving him a tiny (regretful?) shrug. "We broke up."

"Oh," he says, because what else is Fitz supposed to tell her (especially when a cruel, mean part of him is sort of glad). "I'm sorry."

"What was that?" Jemma shouts at him, crinkling her nose as if that would help her to hear him better.

"I said.." he pauses for the briefest of moments, "sorry about that!"

"Oh." Why does she look surprised? He's normally supportive of her, isn't he? Right? Doesn't she want him to feel sorry? "It's okay, Fitz," she amends quickly, flashing him a winning smile that seems to make up for everything. "It was fun and he was really quite nice, but if I'm honest.. he was a bit boring."

He tries (he really does) to stop from feeling rather happy about this, but he can't help but grin at her in response and clink his own butterbeer to hers. Maybe it's the atmosphere, or his mood or even the presence of his best friend that makes him suddenly feel brave, but he pauses and then blurts out before he can even really think about it, "do you want to go dance?" When she doesn't respond, he races to find an appropriate answer, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. "With Skye and Trip and the others, of course. Yeah."

A strange emotion flickers across her eyes, and she gives him an apologetic look. "Oh, I'm sorry Fitz. I'd like to, but I really have to get back to my assignments. NEWTS and all."

"Right."

...

The next day, work returns back to normal. There's piles upon piles of homework and studying to do for the NEWTS. Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, the list just keeps creeping on and on and on.

It hits everyone hard, but Jemma especially. They see her at breakfast and dinner only, and even then she's frowning to herself over one question or another. Fitz badly wants to talk to her, but he's up to his elbows in work as well.

At first, they chat easily over meals and make plans to study together. They help each other with assignments in the library, point out mistakes and correct flaws. But they always have classes and free periods at separate times. Eventually, she takes to studying with Bobbi and he with Mack. Days fly by and something begins to happen that Fitz had never imagined in his wildest dreams - they start to fall out of touch.

There's simply not enough time in the day to get to talk to her (and he's quite frankly not brave enough to plan one), not unless he wants to fall out of work and fail his tests. And as much as he loves being with Jemma, soaking in her smile and her laugh and the way she rolls her eyes at him whenever he brings up the topic of monkeys, NEWT's come first.

So eventually the inseparable pair become.. well, distant. Studying with Mack is fun and refreshing and new, but sometimes (most of the time) he finds himself wishing it's Jemma instead.

They share friendly conversations at breakfast, but it's horrifyingly mundane things such as 'hello Fitz, nice weather today isn't it?' to which he'll reply awkwardly and she'll end up squinting through her next assignment.

(There's one scary moment where she has to pause as if to think of what to say to him - something that was almost unheard of when they used to bicker about things with no filters whatsoever on their mouths.)

Skye becomes incessantly cheery during these times, and rather quiet when Jemma leaves early with claims of studying to get back to.

When he enquires what's wrong, Skye just shrugs and pokes at her food. "Just feels like something's missing when you guys aren't keeping secrets from me like usual."

She's right, he decides. There's a decidedly Jemma-shaped hole in his heart.

...

Right now, even the Cavalry would be a gift from the heavens themselves, Fitz thinks one night as he lies wide awake at half past one in the morning. Because Melinda May has always had an air of calmness about her, like she knows what to do in the circumstance of any situation.

(In fact, he knows she helped Skye with her little situation with Grant - they're not allowed to speak of him any more.)

Not that his problem with Jemma is a romantic one, of course. Sure, he finds her attractive and perfect from time to time, but all he really wants is his best friend back.

Too bad the Cavalry's gone and bloody graduated.

...

Holidays swing around far too quickly. He goes home to his mum, who gives him a look as soon as he steps into the kitchen and places a plate of cookies on the bench.

"Something wrong?"

Of course she can tell.

He hesitates. "I don't know."

His mum raises her eyebrows like she knows exactly what he's thinking, plucking a cookie from the plate. "My advice? Think about it. Talk about it. Then, Leopold Fitz, do something about it."

He takes the biscuit (and, hopefully, the advice).

...

When he gets back to school, Fitz decides to heed his mum's advice. After all, what can possibly go wrong? So after quite a bit of fidgeting, he approaches her after Defence Against the Dark Arts (or DADA, as Trip, Lance and Skye all enjoy calling it).

"Jemma." She looks surprised, messing with the corner of her book and pausing awkwardly.

"Oh! Hi.. Fitz." Her smile is as sunny as ever, but it's not quite the same as usual.

"I have some free time today, and, well, I mean I thought if we could maybe.. uh, study in the library? Together?" he blurts out hopefully, immediately wanting to eat his words at her disappointed expression.

"Fitz, I.. I promised I would meet up with Adam today," she says, wincing regretfully at him.

"Oh. Oh yeah, of course. Sorry." He can't help but feel a wave of disappointment.

"Maybe.. Maybe some other time?"

"Yeah," he nods, but it's awkward and flat. Then, as she's moving away, before he can stop himself, "Who's Adam?"

"He.. oh, he's.." she pauses almost definitely flushes and avoids his gaze determinedly, "a friend. Yes. Completely and totally."

(His suspicions are confirmed when he spies them snogging in a hallway several days later.)

...

"You should do something about it," Mack suggests when Fitz starts doodling between the lines instead of actually studying properly.

"Yeah," he grumbles, "I've been told that."

...

It's only several days later when he's lying wide awake in his bed that he actually decides to do something about it. Well.. not quite do something about it. More like revisit it. Before he can even think about whether it's a good idea or not, he slips his robes on and creeps down the stairs. It's almost disconcerting not to see Melinda May or Phil Coulson sitting on the couch in the common room.

Still not quite sure of what he's doing, his feet lead him instinctively up the various stairwells and through corridors (fortunately not catching sight of Filch, who's normally up prowling the corridors).

It's only when he's standing outside the abandoned classroom that Fitz realises where he's really come - halfway across Hogwarts castle just to visit a mirror that'll probably make him miserable. He wonders whether he should actually enter or just go back to bed, but as always the mirror is intriquing as ever. What will he see, he wonders. Will he see himself as he did last year, with his friends and family and a rather large crush on Jemma? Or will that have disappeared along with what seemingly had vanished with their friendship?

It feels weird entering the room without Jemma at his side - years of visiting the mirror and he'd never done it by himself before. Instead of bringing back happy memories as it used to do, it feels empty and silent, almost as if it's been abandoned.

Until he hears noises.

Whipping around, he spots a figure crouched down by the mirror, shadowed by the darkness so that he can't possibly make out who it is. For a moment, he's baffled. He's always been certain that no one knew about the mirror except for him and -

"Jemma?"

And yes, now that he's closer he can see her familiar shape, her long hair and the way she sits, knees tucked up to her chest. She whirls and gives him a startled look, mouth opening soundlessly for a split second.

"Fitz? What are you doing here?"

He's about to ask her the same thing, about to wonder how in the world they both ended up in the same place at the same time when he notices the red rims around her eyes. "Have you been crying?"

And then suddenly, without any warning at all, her arms are flung tightly around him in a hug (he'd almost forgotten what it feels like to be hugged by someone as compassionate as Jemma Simmons).

"I'm sorry," she rushes out. "Sorry that I wasn't making enough time for you or being a good friend or doing any of those things that I should have been, but NEWT's are so important to me and I was being stubborn and I've only really just realised how much I miss you."

For a moment, Fitz can't really do anything but blink at Jemma's hair and pat her awkwardly on the back. But then he takes a step back and lets his hands fall back to his sides. "It's okay, Jemma. It was my fault too."

"No, but-" she starts up again, looking overly worried, and if it weren't for the tear tracks tracing her face, he might have snickered at her.

"Why were you crying?"

Jemma hesitates then, and she seems to take a long time sitting herself back on the floor in front of the mirror. "I.. It's like what you said, back in sixth year. Do you remember? When you said that what you saw in the mirror was unachievable?"

Fitz remembers all too well.

"Yeah, well. I might be recounting that particular event now," she admits sheepishly, and he can't help but grin at her in spite of everything, purely because she's Jemma and he's missed being friends with her and her smile is sort of contagious. He's about to give her a few comforting words, but she's already talking, several steps ahead of him even when he's constantly trying his hardest to catch up. "Have you ever thought about what you want to do when we graduate, Fitz?"

He pauses, because if he's completely honest - no, he hasn't. He just wants to be happy and explore his options and have fun. He's never really thought too far ahead about things in general; planning ahead is not his style. "No, not really."

But it is certainly Jemma's style, so he's not really surprised when she smiles at him and says, "I have."

"Course you have."

"That's not funny, Fitz," she reprimands light-heartedly and swats at him. "I always thought it would be fun to be a healer at St. Mungos."

"Fun?" he gapes at her. "Do you know how much work that takes?"

"I know. And that's why I'm not sure, why I'm not really positive that I could even make it in-"

"You can do it," he blurts out suddenly. "You're top of the class in everything, 'course you can do it."

"Oh," she says quietly, looking surprised but rather pleased (and is the lighting just really odd in here or is she blushing?). "Well, only second to you of course. You're brilliant." When she eyes his look, she laughs and nods insistently. "I mean it, Fitz! Nobody else could hold a candle to you-"

Kissing Jemma Simmons is like everything and yet nothing all at once. It's like fireworks and party crackers and (rather oddly) quill ink (he guesses she's gotten back into the habit of chewing her instruments) all mixed into an explosion - and yet it's nothing all at once. It's almost like he's been doing it all his life (which he definitely hasn't, because if he had he'd remember it), like it's just as normal and common day as Skye being sarcastic or Jemma having tea at breakfast, like it's always been there and maybe he's just missed it.

And then she pulls away with wide eyes. "Fitz," she gasps, and suddenly he feels terrible. "What are you doing?"

There's really nothing to say other than the truth when he can still taste her on his lips, so he ends up spilling all of it right there and then, in completely the wrong words and completely the wrong time and completely the wrong place. "You've always been in my mirror, from first year, yeah? Sixth year, I- I-" he can't quite find words so he gestures between them instead, rubbing at his neck anxiously. "I'm sorry. I just - I don't know how to say it. I-"

To his surprise, she starts to laugh, and he feels himself flushing red. Was it really that bad? Did she find him a joke?

Instead, she smiles at him. "I've seen you since third year, Fitz."

"Oh," he says, dumbfound. "You have?"

"I thought you were avoiding me because you didn't like me back," she admits.

"What.. what are we supposed to do now?" He's pretty sure he could rival the colour of Jemma's red sweater.

(She giggles when he accidentally bites her lip.)

...

"So.. is this what we are now," he asks hesitantly, after (quite a lot of) kissing, he will admit. They lie on the dusty floor, not unlike when they were younger, so close he could tug at her hair (or kiss her cheek).

Jemma gives him a small smile and a curious look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean... are we still friends? Or.." he can't quite bring himself to say it, in case it's not real, in case she shuns him and leaves.

"We can be whatever you want to be," she tells him lightly, shifting up on her elbow and smirking at him. "But I would prefer-"

He sneezes.

"Oh, Fitz."

"There's a lot of dust in here!"

...

("Jemma," he starts off hesitantly, "I need you to say.. if this doesn't work out.."

"It will," she insists.

"But if it doesn't. We'll.. we'll still be friends?"

She smiles.)

...

"Fitz?" she starts suddenly. "You do know that your my best friend in the whole world, right?"

He smiles as his mind immediately conjures memories of third year, of lying on the ground and Jemma's wispy hair and the dust on their cloaks.

He twists to press a shy kiss on her cheek. "You're more then that."

The way she places her fingers under his chin and pulls him against her lips is answer enough.

...

("Wait, you're telling me this friendship fiasco was all because of sexual tension?" Skye groans when she spots them holding hands the next day.)

...

Her pillow smells like fresh laundry, strange shampoo and home.

(and I got a lump in my throat, 

cause you're gonna sing the words wrong)