A/N: Whenever I have come up with names for my original characters, many times I have thought of them off the top of my head. And, usually, they stick like a magnet and their name feels right. There have been a few exceptions, but this has mostly been the case. I always know when a name feels right. I also know when I truly don't like a name. To be honest, I have always regretted calling this fanfic "Hearts are Blind", because it was such a generic name. I was very young when I started this (I think 16!) and I am 30 now. There are many things I wish I could go back and change (and many things I have and have yet to), but when it comes to names, you can't really change them. People get used to names, especially the name of the story! But what I'd like to mention is actually not about the title. It's about the name of a character. A very minor character, but it has bugged me for a long time now and I figured, you know what? Before he becomes more prominent, I should just bloody CHANGE HIS NAME. That's right. I am speaking of none other than... CHORTLE BOREALIS. What's that? You hardly remember him? Of course, you do! With a name like that? I've had readers question his name and for good reason. It was a ridiculous name. And I enjoy unique names, but Chortle was too unique. It was like WTF were you smoking at 16?! kind of unique. So, starting at this moment, and because the little one is about to enter back into the story (sorry for the spoiler, but you'd be really effing confused if I didn't disclose this information ahead of time), his name is changing... to Laurel. Yes, soak it in. Laurel Borealis. I think it has a ring to it and just enough uniqueness. And the moment I said it aloud, I knew it was the right name. Hopefully the change isn't too drastic for anyone (like anyone cares?! he's hardly been in it!) and I've tried to go back and edit his name into previous chapters. Hopefully I didn't miss any. If I did... damn, new readers are going to be so confused... Also, new readers are going to be reading this right now confused as shit, because they've always known him as Laurel... I think I should stop writing this author's note now.
It's Never Enough To Say You're Sorry
He wasn't surprised to find the Headmaster waiting for him when he got back to the castle. The old man stood at the top of the stairs leading up to the double doors. Wasn't he cold? Did he really feel the need to stand there, like a parent catching their child sneaking back home on a Saturday night? He was already not in the mood. He nearly just told him the truth when he asked where he'd been, because nothing seemed to matter in that moment. But he refrained, because he didn't want to cause either of them any more problems. You would think he was furious enough to not care if she was found in Hogsmeade... but...
But he loved her.
She had completely destroyed him and he loved her just the same, though part of him wished he didn't. Right now a large part of him wished he didn't...
"I was at Jasper's." His voice was surprisingly subdued, perhaps because he was so emotionally exhausted from the last couple of hours.
The Headmaster's piercing gaze did not lift. "At this hour?" He asked politely, but his expression was anything but polite.
"He's unwell." He wasn't lying. The man hadn't been well in years. "I was worried. I went to check on him."
"Oh?" Dumbledore raised his white eyebrows in what was supposed to be interest, but it just came off condescending. Or maybe Severus was just being sensitive. "Is he alright?"
"Fine." Severus said shortly and walked up the steps, past the man. "He'll live."
"Sure you don't want to send someone to look after him?" The man turned his head to watch him and then followed as he went through the doors. "If he's in a very bad way, he should have someone there with him—"
"He's fine," Severus snapped without turning around. He continued through the entrance hall without a glance over his shoulder and went through the door to the dungeons.
Dumbledore watched him leave with a sigh.
I hope you're not making the same mistakes again, Severus...
"—and when you add the Agrippa, remember to wait until it thoroughly merges with the ground Nux Myristica. Three counter-clockwise stirs at medium heat. If it turns green, you've done it wrong. Questions?"
Severus looked out at his students, but he couldn't see any of their faces. His mind was occupied with the woman who'd been in his arms the night before, heart racing beneath his touch, whose hands had literally shoved him from her life. At the time, he was still fuming. Now he'd had time to cool off and all he could think of were the foolish words that he shouldn't have spoken and never in such a disgusting fashion. But... it was too late. She would be long gone now...
A hand raised and Snape zeroed in on it. "Miss Samael," he said flatly, trying to control the edge in his voice. "What is it?"
It didn't help that he had to be reminded of the detestable human filth every time she raised her hand and he was forced to speak that name...
"Um, forgive me, professor..." The girl's hand lowered back down with a shake. "But you... you wrote two stirs... on the board." Her voice was soft; timid and reluctant. She'd rather not say a thing, but she couldn't help herself when his words didn't match what he'd written. She knew it was a mistake, though. The man stared back at her like he wanted to throw her through a window.
"Would you like to teach this class in my place?" Professor Snape quipped sharply.
The girl's black ringlets shuddered as she quickly shook her head.
He glowered at her for a moment longer and then he addressed the rest of the class, "I suggest you all begin now, before you waste anymore time."
As shuffling of potions ingredients erupted behind him, Severus stalked over to the board and wiped it clean. He didn't rewrite the recipe. Instead, he spat over his shoulder, "Since Miss Samael has taken it upon herself to point out that the board notes shouldn't be followed, you can all complete the recipe without written instructions." He turned back around and glared at the girl in question, as subtle groans spread throughout the room. "And twenty points from Ravenclaw, for Miss Samael's cheek."
The groans spread into full-on hisses of irritation, as the rest of the Ravenclaws turned glaring eyes on their housemate. The fourteen-year-old girl shrunk in her seat and lowered her eyes to her cauldron. Although it was hard to concentrate after that (with all of the accusing whispers from either side of her), she was able to complete the potion just fine. Her talent in her classes was the only thing that cancelled out her shyness and anxiety.
"Hello, Pan," came a light voice from the wide, arching windows across the room. "Why so glum, chum?"
The girl had just walked into the Ravenclaw common room after the extremely unpleasant hour in potions. She naturally still had her head drawn down and she glanced up at the boy from beneath her wet lashes.
"He takes points no matter what I do," she said quietly and walked to where the boy sat in the window.
He had a book in his lap and his somewhat short legs stretched along the sill, crossing at the ankles. He hadn't looked up at her again, except for the glance when she first arrived. He turned a page and his golden eyes roamed the text, as he answered her, "You should change your name." He settled back and hiked a knee up to lean the book against it. "Then he wouldn't have a reason to hate you."
"I'm not old enough to make such a change..." The girl scrunched her nose up and her doll-like blue eyes watered more. Her name was actually 'Marzipan Samael', but everyone just called her 'Pan'. Well, her siblings did, anyway... and Laurel. Everyone else called her nothing, at all. She had never made any friends during her first two years there. She was too afraid. She never wanted to bother. She was devastated when she'd been placed into Ravenclaw, while her sisters had been placed in Gryffindor long before her. She held onto that devastation and it made her unapproachable. She wasn't mean. Meanness left room for friends, even if they, too, ended up being just as mean. But if you were timid and shy and frightened of everything, no one wanted to be your friend. But that didn't mean she blamed any of them. She knew it was her own fault for not scrounging up the courage to change. The boy next to her was the only one who sought her out and thrust companionship upon her.
Pan glanced over at the boy in question. His white-blonde hair was tousled and sparkled when it caught the light from the sun. Laurel Borealis. His older sister was currently the assistant to Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. She maybe would have liked to meet the young woman, but she was too frightened.
"At least you're old enough to go to Hogsmeade." Laurel quirked his silvery eyebrows up and looked sideways at her. "I have to wait until next year."
"I don't have any fun when I go, anyway." The girl stared dejectedly at her shoes, as she leaned her back against the side of his leg.
The boy watched her face in interest, tilting his head a little. He reached a hand out with a sigh and ran his lithe fingers through the ends of her hair. "Just try to," he said gingerly and then settled back into his reading position.
Pan's heart did not race when he stroked her hair affectionately. She wasn't sure she even felt romance yet. What she felt when she was near Laurel was a magnetism; like an invisible thread that connected their spirits. She imagined it was the same type of connection that twins were born with. And she knew a lot about twins... as did Laurel.
"Besides," the boy continued suddenly, after several minutes had passed. "How will I get my licorice wands if you don't go?"
The girl gave a small smile and nodded sharply. "Okay," she agreed. "I will go."
Laurel smirked and turned another page.
When he was sorted into Ravenclaw last year, he had taken his seat next to her in the Great Hall. There were other empty spots much closer, but he saw the girl at the end of the table and knew he was supposed to join her. He wasn't sure how he knew... but he was certain of it; more certain than he'd been about anything in his life. And it didn't alarm him or confuse him. He didn't wonder about it. He was calm, and infinitely serene in a way, as he walked to her.
She'd glanced up in surprise as he lowered himself into the spot beside her. He didn't say anything and she didn't either. He just raised his eyebrows at her and then turned his attention to his plate, where he ate in polite silence. For the first several days, he sat with her during meals and inside the common room, but he never spoke. She eventually gained the courage to ask him why he was always there, but all he did was reach his hand out for the first time and run his fingers through the ends of her hair.
"Because my soul is attracted to yours," he'd said simply and then nothing more.
He was only eleven then. He was twelve now, but he seemed older... or his spirit seemed old. All she knew was that she felt incredibly small around him (even though she was two years older) and the feeling was not an unpleasant experience. Sometimes she imagined herself turned into a slight, glass sphere and placed within his small-framed chest.
"Mr. Borealis?"
The two of them looked to the door of the common room and saw their Head of House standing there.
"Hello, professor Flitwick." Laurel smiled at the small man. "Do you need me?"
"You are required in the Hospital Wing," he squeaked pleasantly. "Please, hurry on, before your next class."
The boy saluted with a flourish of his wrist and the man went away.
When the two were alone again, Laurel swung his legs over the edge of the sill with a sigh and sat with his back to the window. Pan had weaved out of the way to avoid his feet and then she stared at the floor, back to her usual moping expression. The boy crossed a leg over one knee and tilted his head sideways at her. "Want to sleep in the rec room tonight?"
The girl's face instantly brightened and she smiled sheepishly. "Okay," she nodded.
"Cool!" The boy jumped down from the window and then straightened next to her. "Let's get X to smuggle us some cakes from the kitchens."
Pan gave another smile, but it was much smaller. "Okay," she said softly.
Laurel Borealis let out a cry of surprise, as he was suddenly pulled into a headlock and knuckles were rubbed roughly across his scalp.
"You little, jerk face!" Aurora growled, not quite affectionately, down at the boy. "You haven't visited me in weeks!"
"Merlin's Mustache, Rorie—" the boy struggled out of the young woman's grasp and then hopped backward from her several paces. "I have school work!"
His sister suddenly narrowed her eyes at him at the expression he'd used. "You've been hanging around Xavier again."
"What's wrong?" Laurel asked with a mischievous grin. "Jealous?"
"No," she said shortly and spun on the spot to fix a hospital bed that didn't need fixing. "I just think you should hang out with others your own age."
The boy walked forward, hands behind his back and posture tall, even though he was incredibly short. "Hmm..." he thought aloud. "I have Pan. I need no one else."
Aurora threw a condescending scoff over her shoulder. "Marzipan Samael? Why are you hanging out with her, anyway? Did you forget what her cousin did?"
"Did you forget she had nothing to do with it?" Laurel retorted evenly.
The woman narrowed her eyes again and straightened up from the bed she'd been bent over. "How do we know that?"
Laurel rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and then crossed his arms, fixing his big sister with more condescension than she ever could. "I sense misplaced guilt, Aurora..." he spoke quietly. "Have you talked to someone about it?"
The woman's face flushed red and her anger boiled her blood instantly. "What the hell do I have to be guilty about?"
"Nothing," he said softly. "So, why are you punishing yourself?"
The blood in her face deepened. "Oh, what, are you all-knowing and wise now, Laur?" She spat and stomped past him. "If you're going to act this way, then just go back to class."
"Better yet, why are you punishing X?" The boy continued, following her with his arms still crossed. "He didn't do anything."
"What's he been saying to you?" She whipped around and snapped. "If he has something to say, he can come and say it!"
"Nothing," he repeated in his same calm voice, eyebrows raised patiently. "He has never spoken to me about you."
She slowly turned back around, face still marginally angry. "Yeah, whatever..." she muttered.
"I thought you were going to talk to him when you came back this year." The boy continued to follow her, as she headed toward the Hospital Wing office. "You said you were too mean last year and you were going to make things right."
"Oh my god!" Aurora looked over her shoulder at him with bewildered skepticism. "When the hell did I say any of that?"
"When you were drunk at mum's birthday party this past summer."
The young woman's eyes went wide, as she stared at her brother. Then her gaze drifted somewhere off into another dimension and she whispered, "Holy shit, that was real?"
The boy's wicked grin returned. "Sooo..." he teased. "Does that mean you're going to be nice to him now?"
She was silent for another moment, silvery eyebrows lowering into a somewhat confused look and then she shook her head, turning back around to go into the office. "I haven't not been nice to him."
"Yeah, you just haven't spoken to him, at all."
Aurora sighed and sat at the desk in the office, restacking a few of the papers there. "You're going to be late for class. Go on."
Laurel narrowed his eyes at the young woman and then lifted his brows in a quick jump. "If this has anything to do with Gabriel's recovery, then I really don't approve, sister."
Aurora's hands froze on the stack of papers, but she didn't look up. "What do you mean?" She mumbled with a sudden chuckle. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Well, considering you were selfishly snogging a boy while Gabriel was being burned alive..." Laurel said unapologetically, with a hand flourish. "I'd say it has a lot to do with your feelings of guilt, regret and misplaced blame."
The woman stared up at the boy, eyes widened (almost frightened). Her jaw shivered slightly, as she asked quietly, "What did you say?"
The boy smirked, but his eyes were just a touch sympathetic. "You talk a lot when you're sozzled, Rorie..."
Jasper still breathed. It was labored breathing, but his chest still rose and fell. Lucinda put him to bed in her room, while she cleaned the blood off of his sheets. She worked automatically and without feeling. If she let herself sit for even a moment, she was going to lose it. She would completely break down. She already had her hour of panic and dismay. Then she got Jasper to bed and cleaned the blood off his face.
He'd told her before not to call anyone if he fell ill again. But she wasn't going to listen to such a ridiculous request. She found the name of a healer in Jasper's things and she sent for him. Thankfully, the old man seemed to be familiar with the apothecary owner's history of illness. He didn't seem surprised in the least and went calmly up to the room where the man lay unconscious. He closed the door behind him and Lucinda couldn't help but try and listen outside the room.
There was some rustling, some sounds of jangling bottles and after a few minutes, Lucinda was surprised to hear the rumbling of low voices.
Her heart swelled at the thought that Jasper was awake. She let the breath out she'd been holding and went back downstairs to mind the shop counter.
A good twenty minutes went by and the healer came back down the stairs. He was a bit of a heavyset old guy; bald head and slightly drooping eyes. He lumbered through the shop in his billowing purple robes and said, somewhat cheerfully, "You may go up and see him now. Let me know if anything changes."
Lucinda's eyes brightened at his back. "Thank you!" She called after the man, before he disappeared out of the front door.
The young woman wasted no time and raced up the stairs, into her bedroom. There, she found the apothecary owner sitting propped up against her pillows, a small flask in his hands. He gave her such a bashful look when she walked in, that she quickly ran forward and threw her arms around his neck. "Jasper..." she whined into his neck and tried not to cry.
"Forgive me..." he whispered—which was all he could manage, because his throat was so raw from coughing up blood earlier.
"There's nothing to forgive," she responded airily and impulsively placed a chaste kiss to his temple, before she straightened back up. "I'm sorry I sent for someone. I just didn't know what to do..."
Jasper shook his head and put a hand, palm side toward her. "S'alright," he barely whispered. "Just need rest."
"Can I get you anything?" She asked, concern in every ounce of her tone. "Some tea? Or soup?"
"Thought you... were leaving?" He really sounded like he was struggling to get words out and Lucinda felt shameful that she was still standing there making him reply to her.
"I-I was, but..." she chewed her lip and her eyes stared fretfully into his. "You're still ill, Jasper. You-you coughed blood everywhere. I'm terrified to even leave your side."
He was already shaking his head, as she finished voicing her concerns. "I'll be alright."
Lucinda's brows cinched tightly together. "I'm not leaving, Jasper," she stated quietly. "I'm going to take care of you. Now, do you want me to do anything for you, or bring you anything?"
Jasper gave her a weak smile and gently shook the flask at her. "Doctor's brew," he chuckled, but it was a mistake, because it caused him to go into a coughing fit and Lucinda had to hurry and take the flask from him, before he spilled it everywhere. When he'd gotten a hold of himself, she handed the potion back to him and sighed worriedly.
"Are you sure you'll be alright if I go downstairs?" She asked, as she watched him gingerly take a sip from the flask. "Should I close the shop for today?"
Once again, he was shaking his head before she'd even finished speaking. He swallowed the potion in his mouth and then said thickly, "Mind the shop... I'm going to sleep."
Lucinda wanted to protest, but she kept her lips together and simply nodded. She turned around to leave, but he spoke again, so she stopped.
"I won't be able... to move..." he whispered and then took a few calming breaths, "...until tomorrow... so..." He trailed off and motioned apologetically towards the bed.
Lucinda's eyebrows snapped up and she said, "Oh! That's alright. I don't mind, really..." She was just glad he was coherent. Who cared where he was sleeping? Although, she knew she wouldn't sleep in his bed without him, but especially not after his blood had been all over it... Surprisingly, the prospect of sleeping next to him didn't make her nervous. It just made her calmer, knowing she could watch him closely throughout the night.
x-x-x
"If you tell anyone I gave this to you, I'll throw you into the Black Lake, Borealis."
Laurel jumped his perfect, little eyebrows up at the young man who stood nearly a foot and a half taller than him. "Is that a promise, Mr. X King?"
Xavier Michael squinted at the boy and slowly took a bite of the red apple in his hand, as he studied his face. "Look at those puny specks," X muttered with a scoff. "You call those freckles? These are freckles—" he pointed at his own face with comically large eyes.
"I did not say anything about freckles..." Laurel deadpanned and the young man snorted.
They stood in front of the entrance to the kitchens and Xavier had just handed him over a cloth bundle, which Laurel then placed into the pouch over his shoulder.
"Seriously, though," the redhead said lowly. "If you get caught, you don't know me. You've never seen me before in your life."
"Understood, sir." The blonde nodded soberly. "Enjoy your evening!" He turned and started down the corridor.
"You, too!" X called. "Enjoy the time with the girrrl you liiiike!"
"I don't liiike girrrls," Laurel called back over his shoulder.
X paused a moment and then cupped his free hand around his mouth. "Okayyy theeen, enjoy the time with the boyyyy you liiiike!"
Laurel continued without a glance behind, but not before throwing a final declaration toward the other, "I don't like boys eitherrr..."
Xavier straightened and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Well, alright then," he said to himself and then noisily took another bite of his apple.
It was pretty quiet in the Room of Requirement—well, as quiet as a room full of random junk could be. There were still plenty of subtle noises, like the ticking and whirring of some various enchanted objects and the chittering noises from the little birds that had been conjured and forgotten about over the years.
Laurel walked slowly through the stacks of boxes; piles of old rugs and decorative pillows; cabinets and wardrobes and buffet tables; bottles of shivering potions and glistening liquids. The room was huge. It went on forever. It was a wonder you could find anything in a place like this, let alone a person.
The boy whistled a little as he went. The sound was like an auditory representation of twinkling lights. He walked casually, stopping here and there to lift a cloth that was draped over a table, or open a cabinet that looked too suspicious. He didn't concentrate too intensely, though, because then the game would be over too quickly. He only had to keep that subtle tug in the back of his mind and he knew where his feet needed to go. It was like following a warm spot in the air. It was a little hard to latch onto sometimes, but if he concentrated, he could practically see the path he needed to take...
As of now, the warm spot was lingering somewhere near a wooden barrel that he suspected had once been used to store mead. However, the barrel was now empty, because he could see that the cork had been removed from the side. Laurel smirked and slunk over to it.
When he lifted the lid, a pair of blue eyes gazed up at him, only slightly perturbed.
"Bugger," Pan whispered from her crouched position inside the barrel.
"You didn't hide well enough," Laurel laughed and then helped her out. She smelled like honey from the remnants in the container. "You were broadcasting like a lighthouse. I had to practically go brain-dead for several minutes just so I could refrain from finding you in thirty seconds."
The girl ran her fingers through the ends of her black curls and scowled, as they walked between objects. "It doesn't matter how well I hide... you still find me so easily."
Laurel smiled sideways at her and petted the back of her head. "And I always will..." he said with an air of mystique. Then he stopped suddenly and stretched his legs out; one in front, one in back. "Now," he said, settling himself into a 'runner's start position', "I put a cake on one of the stacks of books to draw out the pixies. What say we launch a surprise attack and get some exercise?"
Pan laughed quietly and then changed her stance to match his, waiting on his cue to run.
As Jasper had predicted, he wasn't able to move from the bed the rest of the day, not even to use the lavatory. Lucinda left a bedpan for him and then emptied it when he was finished. Thankfully, it was just urine, or else they would have had much more to be embarrassed about. He apologized to her extensively, but she just shook her head dismissively. She honestly wasn't even bothered. There was something maternal that formed within her while Jasper was ill. She could care for him without getting hung up on little details like embarrassment or anxiety.
"Do you need to take any more of your potion before you go to sleep for the night?" Lucinda asked in hushed tones.
The man didn't even incline his head towards her, but lay there on her pillow. Eyes closed, he shook his head. "In the morning," he whispered and then cracked an eye open to study her face a little. "Do you wish to sleep here?"
Lucinda was crouched next to the bed and glanced away from him uncomfortably. "I don't have to, if you'd rather I—"
"I'd rather that you were not afraid," he said softly, cutting her off.
She thought about it for a moment, still feeling a little out of place, but the feeling gradually passed. Then she fixed him with a determined look. "Then I'd like to stay in here... at least for tonight." She glanced down his face with that same worried expression that never really completely left. "So that I can make sure you're alright... Is that okay?"
The man slowly closed his eyes and then nodded.
A few minutes later, Lucinda was beneath the covers and lying on her side, her back against the wall and watching Jasper's profile next to her. The stubble on his face was verging on "beard" now and the hairs were half-frosted white; the salt and pepper of the locks atop his head were more salt than anything now. It made her suddenly ask a question she'd always wondered.
"Jasper, how old are you?"
The man wasn't asleep. He simply had his eyes closed. She watched his mouth twitch into a half-smirk and then he replied, "Twenty-five."
Lucinda raised her head up in surprise. "What?"
Jasper snorted once and then shook his head. "So gullible..." he muttered softly.
Lucinda narrowed her eyes at him, but then settled her head back down.
"I'm thirty-eight," he said finally, a linger of a smile still on his lips.
Lucinda scrunched her forehead up and mumbled, "Still younger than I thought you were..." Then she realized how that must have sounded and started to apologize, but the man just chuckled to himself and cut her off.
"It's alright," he said quietly and she was happy that he didn't seem to be struggling to speak anymore. "I do look older than I am. You can thank my frequent illnesses for that."
"I'm sorry, Jasper," Lucinda whispered, because she wasn't sure what else to say. "You're still very handsome, though."
The man seemed to mull over her observation, eyes still closed, before he finally said in a soft tone, "Thank you... but perhaps you shouldn't admit such a thing to me while we are in bed together."
The young woman's eyes widened. "I'm sorry—"
"You apologize quite a lot, Miss Morgan," Jasper said firmly and then opened his eyes a little to look at her, also turning his head slightly to do so. "Don't ever be sorry for voicing your honest thoughts. I was only teasing you. We are in bed together and you are... well, very attractive." Lucinda blushed and Jasper smirked mischievously. God, he was terrible. "But that doesn't mean I am going to seduce you..." He paused, holding her gaze for a moment, and then he rolled his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "Besides," he added thoughtfully. "I'm much too weak for that right now. Perhaps in a few days."
"Jasper!" Lucinda whined, feeling her embarrassment climbing up her cheeks in a heavy blush.
The man just snorted again and his body shook a little from the suppressed laughs.
Without thinking, Lucinda reached a hand out and swatted his chest.
Jasper flinched a little and said, "Ow—" but before Lucinda had a chance to regret what she'd done, that man was laughing again, covering the spot where she'd gently struck him with his hand, so as to shield himself from another blow. His body trembled with soft laughter and Lucinda smiled a little, despite herself and then turned away from him with her own snort.
"Whatever, old man," she teased and then pulled the covers up over her shoulder. "Go to sleep."
He got ahold of himself long enough to whisper a "Goodnight, Lucinda," and then he, too, fell silent.
A few minutes passed and they were both breathing steadily, sound asleep. Sometime in the night, Jasper was the one to seek out the warmth of her body, curling himself around her, some unconscious part of him knowing she was there and wanting that contact. However, neither were aware of it until they woke in the morning...
He'd come back, because, despite his words and the way he'd acted, he couldn't leave things as they were. He'd overreacted. He realized that now, but it was still difficult to come to terms with what he'd learned; what he'd been faced with. Not only had she been sexually active with the scum, it was after she had been intimate with him. All they had done was share a few kisses, but... but it had meant something... hadn't it? And then she went back to Samael. Yes, he learned later that she'd only done it, because she was afraid of what the demon spawn would do if she didn't, but... but why did she have to sleep with him?
He didn't want to spiral again and completely lose sight of why he was going back in the first place, so he tried to put those details out of his mind for the time being. Perhaps he could work through it. It was still fresh in his mind, after all. But if he had some time to... talk more with her... maybe the past wouldn't sting so sharply. Maybe that pain would dull...
Even though she was gone, he wanted to speak with Jasper and wheedle the confession of her whereabouts from his lips. The shopkeeper knew where she was. He would tell him what he wanted to know, or he would make him tell him.
Severus went to the apothecary that next morning and was not surprised to find the door to the shop locked. Luckily, he knew how to... maneuver his way in. The potions professor glanced down the street on either side of him and then took his wand out. With a flick of the wrist, the keyhole clicked and the door swung in, allowing him entry. He quietly shut the door behind him, though the bell above him did jingle just a tad... Then he went in search of the man. He didn't smell smoke from the fireplace and he didn't hear any noises from the kitchen, so he headed up the stairs.
He went straight into Jasper's room and was startled to see the man not there; not that it was uncommon for him to be out of bed, but it sure as hell was uncommon to come upon his bed completely stripped of linens and subtle maroon spatters along the floorboards. Something was prickling at the back of his mind and he slowly backed out of the room. Once in the hall, his gaze snapped to the spare room. The door was standing ajar. Maybe Jasper was... cleaning the sheets; pulling the linens from both beds... Severus let a slow breath out and headed that way.
When he turned the corner into the room that he and Lucinda had been in together two nights ago, he was first drawn to the unmistakable shape of Jasper lying in the bed. His back was to him and there was increasing confusion rising in Severus' conscience, as he then noticed that Lucinda's things were still littered throughout the room. It was at that moment that he tentatively stepped further in and the young woman's sleep-addled head of waving hair came into view from the other side of the apothecary owner. She was lying, facing the wall, while Jasper's body was enveloping hers. The man's chest curved along the arch of her spine and his nose was buried at the nape of her neck.
Snape didn't know how long he stood there, just staring at them. Confusion and treachery were amongst some of the more prominent emotions now flooding through him. Yet, somehow, there was also embarrassment, shame, helplessness and...
...and weakness.
Weakness, because he couldn't stand to see her embraced so intimately by another man. Weakness, because, despite the possessiveness that was unmistakable in the forefront of his mind, he didn't do anything. He couldn't do anything... He backed quietly out of the room and left. He went back to the castle and locked himself in his quarters, and he didn't emerge again until that following Monday, to return to the Potions classroom to teach.
"How many times must I apologize, Lucinda?"
The woman sat perched rigidly on her chair by the fire and Jasper sat forward slightly, hands clasped tightly between his knees. She didn't answer him. Her jaw was set and her eyes were staring, unblinking and glaring at the flames in the hearth. She'd been able to help him downstairs after they were awake, but then she ignored him for nearly thirty minutes.
"I did not mean anything by it," he continued softly. "Please, look at me."
Lucinda swallowed and then did as he wished, but her glare only softened enough to reveal a hint of hurt in her eyes. Jasper actually felt shameful in that moment and it took a lot for him to feel such an emotion.
"It... it was a natural thing," he began, holding her gaze, "to search for warmth in the night. I promise I didn't do it on purpose." Then he added, eyebrows raised hesitantly, "Did you not do the same at one time?"
"I never spooned you, Jasper!" She suddenly exclaimed at him.
"Well, no..." he admitted, bashfully. "But you searched for a warm body to sleep next to in the night without realizing it. Is it so terrible that I just... took it a tad further?"
She looked like she wanted to strangle him. He quite liked the expression on her.
"Of course, it is!" She cried, appalled at his candor. "You also admitted that you woke up partway through and didn't bother letting go of me!"
The man pursed his lips in thought and then tried so desperately not to grin, so as not to anger her any further. Instead, he took a deep breath and then looked soberly at her. "You're right," he said gently, with a soft nod of the head. "I was out of line. Forgive me for my moment of weakness, Lucinda. It is... very difficult to resist such a..."
Lucinda raised her eyebrows at him, as he paused.
"Woman," he finished. "Such as yourself... But especially in the dark, in the fuzziness of sleep, in the warmth—"
"God, Jasper!" Lucinda slammed her hands over her ears. "Enough!"
The man smirked then and settled back in his chair. "Sorry," he sighed. "Blame the ailments for my lack of filter."
Lucinda just shook her head in an annoyed gesture and stared back at the fire for a moment. Then she glanced out the window at the brightening sky and gave a soft sigh. "Alright, I need to open the shop. Call if you need me." She started to get up and his voice stopped her.
"If you want to talk," he said honestly, "about what happened with Severus..."
"No," she said instantly and didn't look at him. "I... I really just want to forget about it... I'm embarrassed," she added a little quieter.
"Embarrassed?" Jasper questioned.
She nodded at the floor and her expression turned somewhat sad. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Then she took a quick breath in, as if deciding to blurt it out before she could change her mind. "I... I basically threw myself at him and... and he..." She subtly shook her head and then seemed to come to her senses. "Never mind,' she said quickly. "It's nothing. It doesn't matter." She stood and Jasper watched her with concern.
"Lucinda..." he said quietly. "If you change your mind and want to talk or... if I can do anything..."
She glanced towards the floor at his feet and then back up to his face. "There is one thing you can do."
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He said pleasantly. "Just one?"
She nodded again, albeit slower. Then she sent another sigh toward the open doorway to the hall and said, "If Severus comes back..." Which she wasn't sure he would at this point. He assumed she was gone and they'd also parted very unfavorably. "If he happens to find out I'm still here and decides to... I don't know..." She wasn't sure what she wanted to say.
"Decides to come crawling back on his knees?" Jasper offered helpfully.
Lucinda rolled her eyes (yeah fucking right). "Something like that," she said anyway and walked towards the doorway. "Just... tell him that I..." she paused and looked to the side. A shrug rolled through her shoulders and then she glanced back at him. "I'd just rather not see him, if that's alright?"
Jasper nodded and then watched her disappear down the hall. He sighed to himself and plopped his chin in his hand. Well, bollocks... he thought.
He'd heard some of the screaming once they were out in the hall, but having not heard the first part of the conversation, he still didn't know exactly what had set Severus off. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He did very clearly hear the words, "Is this how you truly like to be handled by a man?" But he wasn't sure what the context of those words were.
Jasper clicked his tongue, with a shake of his head. What an idiot. No wonder she was so keen on avoiding him. Severus never did know when to keep his mouth shut and roll with the punches. And considering the beginning of Lucinda's little confession...
I basically threw myself at him...
Well, suffice to say that he also rejected her sexual advances. Ouch. Jasper decided he was going to have to be very delicate from here on out...
Something changed in his last year at Hogwarts. It was as if six years of suppressed rage had finally caught up with him. He realized it when he watched Rorie sitting at the staff table and her mouth had pulled into a laugh. He never saw her laugh often, anymore. Especially not with him. Never with him, actually... She had continued to ignore him the entire first part of the school year. December was approaching and thoughts of Christmas were creeping up and suffocating him... irritating him... angering him.
Seeing her smile was nice, of course, but it was also so very annoying... He felt himself losing to those feelings; the resentment and the rejection... his inadequacy and loneliness and insecurity—
"X-Man?"
Benny was staring at him across the table. He'd lost weight over the last summer. He was almost not even Benny anymore. His cheeks were still rosy, but they were also thin and smooth. He verged on "pretty boy" now. It was like he wasn't the bumbling, lovable, boy anymore. Now he was getting his shit together. He was growing up and they were going to grow apart. He wasn't going to need him. He wasn't going to need to lean on him anymore...
"X?" Benny repeated, as he watched his friend stand from the table. "What's wrong?"
"Gotta get some air," he said with a sharp shrug; like he needed to shake off the unsettling feelings that were lingering there on his shoulders, weighing him down, making his chest tight.
"You okay?" The other boy started to rise from the table, as well.
"Stay put," Xavier snapped and then he jammed his hands into his pockets and stalked from the Great Hall. He didn't know what Benny's face showed behind him, but he didn't care, because Benny didn't care. He couldn't have cared. He didn't need him anymore. No one needed him anymore. He didn't need him, either. He just needed air. He needed to breathe in the cold air outside, maybe. He felt like he was sweltering in his own skin.
He tugged at his shirt collar and swallowed the roughness in his throat, as he went through the doors to the entrance hall. He was staring at his feet as he went and he bumped into someone just outside the door.
"Watch it!" came someone's miffed voice.
Xavier didn't even see who it was. He only knew it was male. And then his fist connected with soft tissue.
He couldn't even remember doing it afterwards. His mind went blank, like what they call a 'raged-blackout'. He just knew he was on top of someone and sinking his fists into their face. He vaguely recalled not being hit back, though. His wrists kept getting grabbed, trying to restrain him, but then he'd break free and throw another punch. It felt like it lasted hours, when in reality it was probably only a few seconds. Then he was hearing his name being called. The voice beneath him, thundering at him to stop. Calling his name over and over again, as the man tried to grab his wrists.
"Mr. Michael, stop!" the voice kept bellowing. "Stop! Stop! Xavier! CALM DOWN!"
Other hands were on him now. They were grabbing him, pulling him away from his victim. His vision was blurry and his head was dizzy.
"Mr. Michael!" came McGonagall's voice right behind him. He didn't know what was happening. Voices were all over him, pressing in on his ears.
"Xavier!" came Aurora's voice next and it was right in his ear. "What-what are you doing?!" He vaguely registered that she had her arms wrapped around his midsection, holding him against her lap on the floor. He saw Benny in his peripheral next to him, hands grasping his left arm and someone else had his right. He didn't know who, because then he was finally seeing what he'd done. He saw the man several feet away from him, bent over the entrance hall floor, hands and knees pressed into the marble, spitting blood from his lips.
"Shit!" he heard him hiss and then wiped his black sleeve roughly across his mouth. Then the man glared over at them. "Get him to Pomfrey!"
Then Xavier was being pulled to his feet, but they were too heavy, like he had cinderblocks for shoes. His eyes—although still a little unfocused—stared mortified at the man getting to his feet. Some students and staff were trying to help him and he shrugged them off.
"P-Professor—" Xavier managed to choke out, as he felt tears welling in his eyes, and the people holding onto him tried to move him forward. "Professor Snape—"
He couldn't have done that. It wasn't him. It was someone else. Someone else took over. Oh, god, what happened? He was a pacifist. He was a... He'd never do that. He would never hurt someone. It wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't him, it was his father. It was his father. He was turning into his father. It was hereditary. He was sinking. He was falling. Everything buzzed and vibrated. His vision darkened. He was deflating. There wasn't enough of him to fill the voids inside. He was shrinking. He was collapsing. He was diminishing into the nothingness within him.
Aurora's shoulder was under his arm, supporting him. She hadn't been near him since the year before. He'd ultimately surpassed her in height, after all. He looked at her, unaware of anyone else that was there, holding him up as they walked slowly to the Hospital Wing. His face screwed up in anguish as he watched her chin crinkle up every few seconds and the way she bit her lip to make it stop. His head drooped to the side and his forehead pressed to her temple.
"Oh, my god," he breathed unevenly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—" and then his tears were released.
