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andrew is awoken by the sharp clatter of an ink bottle falling off someone's bedside table. eyes squinting open, he listens to the muttered curse that follows what he assumes was an accident, and wonders who in the world would be up at this hour knocking things over. at first he wants to assume it's harry osborn, mostly because he just doesn't trust him, but on second thought it's probably lucien carr, who's widely known to be the biggest troublemaker in the dormitory. that would also explain why he isn't hearing any complaints from the others -- carr's bed is directly beside his, and this fact combined with andrew's tendency to sleep very lightly means he may have been the only one who heard anything at all. sitting up as quietly as he can, he peeks out from behind the safety of his drawn curtains to see if he's correct. the flash of golden hair he spots as his dorm-mate ducks down to pick up the ink bottle confirms that it is indeed carr, wearing robes over his pyjamas and carrying -- is that a broom?
andrew's jaw drops and with one hand he instinctively reaches behind him for the wand hidden beneath his pillow, a safeguard in case carr sees fit to punish him for discovering his secret. first years are not supposed to have brooms; this andrew remembers from the letter he received inviting him to hogwarts that past summer. but apparently the rules don't apply to carr, or at least he thinks they don't, as he's got a broom in his hand and is clearly planning on using it. compelled by shock and suspicion and, most of all, curiosity , andrew hisses,
"carr!"
the blond freezes with his hand stretched toward the bedside table. spilled ink drips from his fingers and the bottle clutched in them, plopping faintly on the ground as andrew stares at him and he stares back. it only takes him a split second to recover before a toothy grin spreads across his face.
"detmer."
he purrs it as if he's just been presented with a wonderful gift, some generous opportunity he hadn't originally considered. it throws andrew off-guard and his grip tightens nervously around the wand in his hand, hidden behind the curtains. all he can stammer out in response is:
"we're not supposed to have brooms."
"well, it would seem that i have one anyway."
andrew's lips press flat and he watches carr first set down the ink bottle and wipe his hand on his robes, then turn quickly back to him and explain in a hushed but excited tone as his eyes glitter in the darkness:
"and tonight, we're going to use it to cause some mischief."
the corners of andrew's mouth then twist downward. we? this guy must be out of his mind. andrew wants nothing to do with whatever rule-breaking nonsense he’s planning. brow furrowing in confusion and apprehension, andrew asks, "what're you gonna do?"
"we," carr repeats with emphasis, "are going to plant some fireworks in nelson steinberg's bag." he snickers at his own brilliant idea. "they'll cause quite the scare when they go off in his transfiguration class tomorrow."
"who's nelson?"
"ravenclaw, first year, wears that ridiculous sparkly outfit beneath his robes all the time."
"aren't the ravenclaw dormitories up in a tower?"
"hence the broom," carr drawls, beginning to get exasperated by andrew's interrogating. taking a step forward, he yanks open andrew's curtain and extends his ink-smeared hand to him. "now let's go before anyone else wakes up and ruins the whole thing."
andrew stares at the outstretched hand, dumbfounded. slowly he raises narrowed eyes to scan carr's face in the darkness, brow creased above them, and asks:
"why do you want me to come with you?"
dropping his hand to his hip, carr sighs.
"mischief is hardly any fun when it's conducted alone. besides, i need someone to keep watch and you just happened to be watching already."
"it's after curfew."
"of course it is. do you think we could pull something like this off in the daylight? you yourself pointed out that brooms are banned." he says it in a matter-of-fact tone with a mocking edge, and andrew frowns stubbornly in response.
"that means you shouldn't be using one at all, not just at night."
carr heaves a sigh that's probably louder than it should be considering they're trying not to be heard by their dorm-mates, then reaches his hand out, sets it firmly on andrew's shoulder, and stares into his eyes with such intensity that he might very well be reading his thoughts and trying to influence them. andrew goes completely stiff and, though he tries to avert his gaze, finds himself unable to break the connection their clear blue eyes have made.
"detmer," carr says again, and his voice this time is solemn, heavy with importance. "you can't keep following the rules forever. it is our duty to break the law. it's how we make the world wider -- and you look like you could certainly use a wider world."
andrew just gapes at him like he's insane, which he now definitely thinks he is. carr gives his shoulder a final tug.
"come on. i promise you'll thank me later."
as carr pulls away to finish preparing for his prank, andrew stares after him with a dumbfounded look on his face. he has a feeling anyone else in the dorm would have jumped at a chance to accompany carr on one of his illegal outings (osborn especially, now that he thinks about it) -- but, due to his cautious nature or desire to stay out of conflict with teachers and other students alike, andrew still remains unsure. in the end, it's the strange, profound feeling that he's about to be a part of something big that makes him gather his wand and his courage and go along.
--
the grounds are cold at night, andrew finds when he steps foot on them under moonlight for the first time. his heart has been thumping madly in his chest since they left the dungeons and he's convinced that at any moment they're going to be spotted by a teacher or a ghost or someone and be severely punished. hogwarts is the only home andrew has now; he doesn't want to get expelled in his first year here.
carr, on the contrary, doesn't seem anxious at all. he walks with a bounce in his easy stride as he carries his broom in one hand and his firework time-bomb in the other.
"it's bewitched to go off at exactly 3pm tomorrow, right in the middle of class," carr had hissed to andrew with a grin as he'd pulled his robes on before leaving the dormitory. "i cast the spell myself!"
resisting the urge to ask precisely which charms he’d used, knowing it would probably only make him more anxious, andrew had simply looked upon it with apprehension -- just like he is currently looking upon the tower they're nearing now, staring up at it with wide eyes full of dread.
"you're going to fly all the way up there?" he whispers.
"you can stop mumbling, detmer, no one can hear us out here," carr snaps briskly as he walks ahead.
just to spite him, andrew glues his lips shut and refuses to speak again. if carr wants to fall off a broom in the middle of the night and break his neck, he can be andrew's guest.
coming to a stop, carr considers the tower above them with a thoughtful hum. there are windows all the way up it, but he, like every other student, knows that the first years’ dormitory is at the very top. after a moment of deliberation, he thrusts the broom out toward andrew, who stops clutching at his robes and shivering to look up at him in confused silence.
"hold this while i get out my wand. i'm going to open the window first."
he presses it toward him again and andrew flinches back as if he were offering him the bundle of explosives instead. keeping his hands balled into fists at his side (one around his wand, the other just curled tightly in on itself), he doesn't dare touch it, nearly going cross-eyed as he stares at the handle in front of his face. it's not that he's not used to magic by now, but this -- this is just a type of magic he's never encountered before, and it frightens him as much as it fascinates him.
carr retracts the broom, cocking his head to the side. a smile born of a mixture of incredulity and amusement tugs at the corners of his mouth and he asks,
"what, never touched a broom before?"
andrew shakes his head mutely and swallows, eyes still locked on the mundane-looking object in carr's hands that andrew knows possesses the power of flight. having come from a muggle household and never yet taken a flying class, andrew has not only never touched a magical broom, but has never been one this close to one at all. squinting at him, carr teases,
"what kind of family did you..."
carr's grin fades as he trails off, and his eyes go from narrow to wide in an instant. suddenly andrew feels very exposed, as if he hadn't put on robes at all and were standing outside with only his thin pyjamas to protect him from the cold. he hasn't told carr about his muggle parentage -- he's not close enough friends with him, or anyone else for that matter, to consider divulging one of his deepest secrets. and even if he were, he's a slytherin. he doesn't want to feel any more ostracized in this house of purebloods than he already does. but now it seems the truth has come out of its own accord, and andrew can only wrap his arms around himself again and tremble, hoping his companion won't spurn him on the spot.
carr, at first, is silent, and andrew can only imagine that he's about to burst into laughter, or send him back to the dorms in shame. or maybe he's planning out all the bullying he'll be doing to him now that he knows he's a mudblood . but after a moment a grin dawns upon carr's face, becoming more and more maniacal by the second and andrew braces himself for the worst before he is startled by the broom being shoved into his face again. carr's voice is shaking with barely-contained excitement.
"you're going to fly this."
if andrew thought carr was crazy before, now he's got proof.
"...what?"
"you've never flown a broom before?"
"no, i -- i've never even --"
"good. i love first times."
carr gives the broom a shake before andrew's bewildered eyes, and urges,
"take it."
as andrew slowly reaches out toward it he can feel static between his fingers and the handle of the broom, and his stomach is alive with nervous butterflies at thought of all the rules he’d be breaking if he were to close the distance -- but that just makes it all the more exhilarating when his trembling hand finally wraps around the polished wood and he stares up at carr with wide deer's eyes as if he's shocked at his own actions. carr smiles as he drops his own hand and draws his wand instead, leaving the broom in andrew's care.
"there. now, once the window's open, just fly up and levitate the bomb into steinberg's bag."
andrew, standing forlornly with the broom clutched awkwardly out in front of him, asks, "h-how will i know which one is his?"
"you will. just trust me."
carr turns away, then, and aims his wand up at the window at the highest level, tongue poking out from between his teeth in concentration.
"alohamora."
both boys gaze up at the tower above them, watching as the window slowly creaks open thanks to the push of the wind. grinning triumphantly, carr turns back to andrew and gestures to the broom.
"your move, detmer."
andrew drops his eyes to the broom in his hand and gulps. shakily he slips his wand back into his robes and takes the broom in both hands.
"do you know how to mount it?" carr asks, looking amused as andrew handles the broom like it might snap in two at any moment.
"i... i think i can figure it out," andrew mumbles as he lowers the broomstick to the level of his hips and lifts one leg over it. he's seen quidditch players ride them before; in fact, he'd made a point more than once to go out and study on the grounds while the teams were practicing just so he could watch them, longing for the freedom they must feel as they loop and dart around the air. his heart skips behind his ribs as he settles on the broom and fully realizes that this is his chance to experience that exact feeling for himself.
"alright, now take this --" carr reaches forward and tucks the bewitched bundle under one of andrew's arms, then steps back and points impatiently toward the open window above. "-- and go."
the tower looms hundreds of feet above andrew, looking more and more intimidating by the second. he can feel the broom thrumming with latent energy between his legs, and he's afraid to move a muscle lest it shoot out from under him or worse -- buck him straight into the side of the stone tower. he knows he's supposed to kick off, but he feels like his limbs are frozen in place due to some odd jinx. as carr’s eyes burn into him expectantly, he takes a deep breath, swallows the lump of fear in his throat, and hesitantly pushes his heels off the ground.
immediately the broom shoots fifty feet into the air, taking andrew with it. a yelp erupts from his throat but is blocked from escaping his mouth by the teeth digging into his bottom lip, effectively diminishing it into a muffled squeak of panic as he soars up, up, up into the air. he’s never been to a theme park but he can imagine this is what a bungee ride must feel like, being tossed straight into the sky so fast that your eyes stream and your insides feel like they’ve been left behind. terrified and thrilled at the same time, andrew grips the broom so hard he thinks he might get splinters and squeezes his watering eyes shut just as tight. as he ascends, the broom tilts underneath him, its front tugged upward by his grasping hands, and for one fleeting moment he fears that the imbalance is going to make him slide off until he realizes that he has, quite by accident, pulled himself into a smooth and easy stop.
his eyes flutter tentatively open again and he finds that he is simply floating there in place, high above the ground but still below the open window he’s trying to reach. his grip on both the broomstick and his lower lip loosens and a shuddering breath pours from his lungs as he slowly looks down and flexes his fingers against the handle in silent awe. he catches a glimpse of the ground far beneath him and his stomach lurches, not out of sickness but incredulity. he can hardly believe what he’s seeing, what he’s doing.
he’s flying.
carr, far below him, is looking up at him with a mad grin that he can spy even from all the way up in the sky. he figures that, for most wizards, flying is pretty commonplace, but carr seems to understand that what andrew is experiencing is something entirely and utterly new, something far more exciting than any magic he’s tried before. after returning carr’s smile with a bewildered one of his own, andrew experimentally tilts the broomstick to the side, guiding it as if it were the handlebars of a bike, and presses forward. following his direction, the broom flies him around the tower, at first slowly but speeding up once he gets the hang of steering it. it seems to just come naturally to him, flying, just like charms did. after he’s looped himself around the tower a couple of times, rising higher with each repetition, he’s grinning ear-to-ear and reveling in the feeling of the wind blowing through his hair and robes, his exhilaration making him suddenly impervious to the cold.
from down below, carr shouts, “stop showing off and drop the payload already!”
ignoring the fact that they’re supposed to be quiet just as carr is, andrew chuckles with an ease that he hasn’t felt in years and easily swoops up to the open window a couple meters above him. hovering beside it, he peers inside and examines the room within. the moonlight pouring in through the windows makes it easy to see each of the beds, but his previously-forgotten worry pricks at his nerves when he remembers he still needs to figure out which bed belongs to steinberg. but, just as carr had promised, he figures it out very quickly when he notices the light twinkling off the glittery elvis outfit laid out beside one of the beds. just below it sits a backpack laid open next to the guitar propped against the bedside table. filled with confidence again, andrew cautiously removes one hand from the broom’s handle to reach into his pocket and grasp his wand. pointing it at the bundle beneath his other arm, he mutters an incantation under his breath.
“wingardium leviosa.”
the package slips out from between his arm and ribs and floats into the open window. with his wand he directs it toward the open backpack and slowly, silently lowers it inside. once it has disappeared below the zipper and can no longer be seen, he slides his wand back into his pocket and looks down at carr to give him a triumphant thumbs up.
at that same moment, the backpack explodes.
the BOOM that sounds from the window behind him has andrew whipping around to the sight of fireworks bursting and whizzing all around the dormitory. the screams that follow it are a certain indication that he has awoken every student in ravenclaw tower and that if he doesn’t make his getaway immediately, he -- and carr, if he has the decency not to abandon andrew and leave him to take the punishment for their joint crime (something that andrew would not put past him) -- is going to be caught.
so, before anyone can see him, before he can even think about what he’s about to do -- andrew jerks the broom forward and dives straight for the ground.
if shooting up was the start of the bungee ride, this is obviously its grand finale. careening toward the earth at what feels like a hundred miles an hour, andrew might as well be free-falling directly to his death. but, forgoing all his fear, he manages to pull back at just the right moment to prevent himself from crashing and instead goes flying across the grounds, so close he’s almost brushing the grass below.
carr, who surprisingly hasn’t left yet, immediately takes off running after the flying blur that is andrew on his broomstick, laughing maniacally all the way. andrew slows himself down, lets his sneakers hit the ground, and by the time his partner in crime catches up to him, he’s pulled the broomstick out from between his legs and is running just as frantically with his heart thundering in his chest. carr’s still failing to stifle his cackling as he bounds beside him and asks,
“what did you do?!”
dazed from his exploits and out of breath already, andrew hisses back,
“me? i didn’t do anything -- you said it was supposed to go off tomorrow!”
carr throws his head back in exuberant laughter, then says slyly, "i suppose i must have set it for 3 am instead of pm. we can't all be as good at charms as you, detmer."
--
miraculously they make it back to their own dormitory without being caught, aided by the fact that the staff has all gathered at ravenclaw tower to help quell the commotion and wrangle the rogue fireworks and no one is left to guard the dungeons. still grinning like a cheshire, carr slips his broom, which andrew had clung to the whole time they made their escape, back under his bed where it will not be discovered. its absence leaves andrew’s hands tingling curiously as he climbs back into bed, this time with his curtain left partially open so he can look over at the blond settling into the bed beside him. as carr leans back against his propped-up pillows with great satisfaction and catches andrew’s gaze, he asks,
“does your world feel wider?”
with a smile creeping to his lips, andrew looks down at his flexing fingers and responds softly, “um, yeah, it actually does.”
“you were brilliant.”
“thanks,” andrew says with glowing cheeks, and looks away shyly for a moment before shaking his head and amending, “no, really, thanks -- thanks for getting me to try it, you know? all of it. and… thanks for not freaking out about me being a --”
“-- an only child?” carr cuts in smoothly.
andrew’s brow furrows. “...what?”
“not everyone’s parents are cool enough to gives their kids broomsticks. most have to steal them from their siblings.” lucien gives him a wink, then, and adds in a coy whisper: “your secret’s safe with me.”
relieved, andrew nods and folds his tingling hands on his lap. his voice is soft and full of the gratitude of which he speaks. “ thank you, carr.”
“told you you’d thank me,” carr says smugly, and after he’s laid down and turned his back to andrew to sleep, he adds, “call me lucien.”
andrew is quiet for several minutes after that, staring at the back of lucien’s blond head as it glows silver in the moonlight. after a while he speaks up again, voice still hushed. he knows lucien may not hear it, and maybe he expects him not to, but he asks anyway.
“...can we do it again, sometime? i-i mean, not the fireworks -- the flying.”
at first, there’s no response, but then lucien languidly rolls over and grins at andrew with his head still pressed to the pillow, purring, “any time, detmer.”
the glow from andrew’s cheeks seeps into his chest, and quietly he offers,
“-- andrew.”
lucien, facing him now, closes his eyes contentedly. “any time, andrew.”