Written for Hogwarts World Cup - EdgarFabian
Fabien's lurking in the corner of the room, like a complete and utter prat. Edgar's looking radiant, only matched by his newly wedded wife, smiles wide on both of their faces.
Fabien has never hated someone as much as he hates Marianne Fawley. She's a vision in white, her auburn hair braided with magically preserved flowers and a scattering of diamonds that glitter in the candlelight. She laughs as Edgar sweeps her around the ballroom; they've moved from a waltz to a foxtrot, the beat of the music starting to increase.
"Cheer up, chap," Gideon says. "We're not all as oblivious as Eddie, and people are starting to talk."
"Do I look like I care?" Fabian asks. He takes a sip of his scotch and then glares into the amber liquid.
"No…" Gideon says slowly. "But Eddie will, when he hears of it, and I know you don't want to make this any harder on him that it has to be."
Fabien narrows his eyes. "Oh, fuck you," he mutters. He downs the scotch and paints a grin on his face. "Hurray, the man I love is married, and it's not to me."
"That's the spirit," Gideon says, clapping Fabien on the back, ignoring the bitter undertone. "Come along, let's get another drink."
Fabien gets outrageously soused and sleeps with one of the groomsmen, a distant cousin of Edgar's. If he squints, he can pretend that it is Edgar, and he hates himself a little in the morning.
Four months later and Fabien's standing in Dorcas Meadowes' apartment. He's crowded in with the rest of the Order, most of them gabbing away; Dumbledore's not here yet and the party, so to speak, has not quite started.
"Anne!" Marlene shrieks. There's a hubbub of cries as all the women gather around her.
"Are you showing yet?" Lily asks. Fabien tenses, and purposely doesn't look, because he's no fool.
"Two months, it's due in April," Marianne says, sounding joyous.
Edgar's inundated with back slaps and friendly hugs. "Congratulations," Fabian forces out.
He thinks he might be sick. It's inescapable proof that what he had with Edgar was nothing, meaningless. He takes a breath, shoving aside his darker emotions, and digs deep.
"I'm happy for you," he says, a genuine smile upon his face. His gives Edgar a bone crushing hug. He smells like sawdust and mint. He always was chewing on Peppermint Petals, his mum never quite managing to cure him of the habit.
He lingers, knowing it could be the last time he'll feel Edgar's solid strength against his own slimmer body.
"You are alright, aren't you?" Edgar asks.
"Yes," Fabian lies, and tries not to choke on it.
When Fabian lies in the dirt outside Hogsmede, he stares up at the stars. His heart's pounding in his chest, and his blood is a sticky pool beneath him growling larger with each fluttering heartbeat. He's bleeding out, too many lacerations to count and it hurts, in a distant, indistinct manner.
He thinks about Edgar Bones and the way his blue eyes twinkled like the stars themselves.
He thinks about love and doesn't regret a single minute of it.