Chapter One

Welcome Back to Watford

Mummer's house is empty when I arrive. The halls are silent as I make my way to the spiral stairs that wind towards the topmost turret where my room is. Our room I suppose. But Snow is hardly ever there, just to sleep, mostly. I pause outside the door to our room, listening to make sure he's not in there.

"Blood is thicker than water!" I tap my wand against the door gently and it swings open, greeting me with a flood of dusty sunlight and the smell of apples. Damn it, he's back already. Even though Snow isn't physically there, he always leaves a wake of mess behind him, like a fucking hurricane. His bed sheets are already wrinkled and the pillows are scattered haphazardly across the comforter. A duffel bag has been dumped next to the bed, the zipper undone and a pile of cheap jeans and shirts poke out through the top, not even folded, wadded up. I shake my head, irritated. I'll mention it to him later, just so I can see him look uncomfortable as I sneer at him.

If someone asked me why I hate Simon Snow I could probably come up with a whole novel as to why. He's a protagonist in this world, with his stupid blond hair and ridiculous ordinary eyes (blue, just blue, like a fucking crayon). I'm an antagonist, I'm the villain, creeping quietly through the dark, waiting to strike. We're not supposed to get along. He's the sun and I'm the darkness. Another reason: he keeps trying to tell the whole bloody school that I'm a vampire, not that anyone believes him, but it's fucking irritating. We'll have to kill each other one day, so why pretend to be friends? For us all of the petty fighting and arguments are just practice for a future where one of us finishes the other.

I had magicked my trunk up here right when I got dropped off by Fiona at the gates, she didn't come inside, just stopped and let me out. I don't blame her, it's hard enough for me to come back, I can only imagine what it's like for her. Pulling my headphones out of my bag, I quickly find my phone and plug them in, I press shuffle and begin to unpack as Can't Be Sure by The Sundays starts to play. I really could be doing this by magic, I can think of at least 6 different spells that could do this faster than Snow can blow up something in class. And those are just the ones in English. But unpacking my hand, finding a place for each and every sock, shirt and shoe is… comforting? It's like coming home after a long holiday, even if that home is infested with a person whose the human equivalent of an overexcited puppy combined with the H-bomb.

Not that I'd ever admit that to anyone, as far as they know I hate Watford because it stands for everything wrong in my life. Watford is a constant reminder of my mother's death, it's a good kick in the ribs every time I think about how far gone her school is, the bloody Mage might as well as sent us all to Normal schools the way that things are around. Under my mother's care, we had one of the most prestigious libraries the magical and Normal world has ever known. Name any spell book and Watford probably had it. Now that fucking idiot has banned three quarters of the books and replaced them with Normal books, and not even the good books, now it's a fucking kid's library filled with Dr. Seuss and A Children's Garden of Verses, like we're at a ruddy daycare or something.

I'm so absorbed in my music and my thoughts that I barely notice Snow enter the room. I make a show of taking out my headphones and turning off my music (right in the middle of I am the Antichrist to You by Kishi Bashi too, is there nothing he can't ruin?).

"Baz." He nods, quickly turning to his bed and fumbling around with his duffel bag.

"Snow," I sneer, sliding my now empty trunk underneath my bed and picking out a book from the stack next to my bed, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. I lazily stretch out across the blankets, one leg draped over the other, trying to tell him that I'm not leaving any time soon.

"How was your summer, find any virgins to sacrifice? Or maybe a litter of kittens to drown?" Snow's throwing shirts and jeans into the drawers without even so much as folding them, bloody heathen, was he raised by wolves?

"What do you care what I do in my spare time? I can sacrifice as many virgins as I like and it wouldn't kill you, would it, Snow?" I raise my eyebrows at him and he blushes, stammering.

"Well- I – uh, whatever." His face is practically glowing scarlet as he blusters.

"Clever comeback." I smirk at him, opening my book and ignoring him. Well. Mostly ignoring him, he takes up a lot of space, with his noise and his brightness. He's like a magical spotlight, it's impossible to ignore even if you want to. I don't trust Snow, as inept at magic as he is, to ignore him. If I could sleep with one eye open, I would. I'm sure he would do the same.

As soon as he's done "unpacking", if you can even call it that, he leaves for dinner. I don't usually go down for dinner, Cook Pritchard is a distant cousin and knows about my situation. She's a dear, always remembers to set aside a bit for me later, so I can eat by myself. When I eat, my fangs pop out, it's embarrassing, not to mention a hard thing to hide.

I suppose since anyone who's back will be enjoying dinner now, I might as well hunt, the catacombs should be stocked with rats after a whole summer of repopulating. If it ever came down to it, I could always be a rat catcher, I'm already half a disgrace to the name of Pitch, why not make it a full disgrace? I shake my head, starting off for the catacombs.

I don't get back until late that night, the moon shines through the open window, illuminating Snow in his bed like he's a Disney princess. He's either sleeping or pretending to. I could bite him. Right now, his too long neck peeps out from underneath the thick blankets. Suddenly I'm more tired than anything, I change quickly into my pyjamas and climb into bed, piling on more blankets. It's not worth having Snow throw a fit about closing the window, this is the one thing I let him have, it's like trying to reason with a child. Not worth it.

I close my eyes and fall asleep to a medley of Snow's calm breathing and the peaceful sounds of the world outside.

I'm laying on the ground in the Wavering Wood and it's night. The full moon rises overhead and stars peer through the spaces between the tree branches high above me. I can feel the warmth of someone's hand in mine, our fingers intertwined and shoulders touching. I turn my head, and it's Snow. I'm so shocked I can't move, and then his head turns toward me also and he smiles.

"Baz," his face lights up like a candle and his body so he's on his side, propped up on his elbow so that he's almost leaning over me. "Crowley, isn't it beautiful?" He reaches down and tucks a lock of hair behind one ear.

"Snow? What are you doing?" I should hate this, I should be punching him in his stunning face, or cursing him away from me, but this feels… nice. Like what I imagine dating would be like.

"Does it matter?" He leans down and whispers in my ear, his breath is warm and I can smell his hair, apples, soap and cherries, it sends a shiver down my spine. "Unless you want me to do something?" I can feel myself blush and then his face is hovering over mine again, and he's got a stupid smirk on his face as he leans closer and closer, our lips are barely apart and then-

I wake up, sitting with a jolt and shaking my head. It's still dark out, it's too early to be awake, but now I feel jittery and- confused? Yes. I need to- I don't know, get away for awhile. I just need to try and forget about- whatever the fuck just happened.