This is very important. None of the characters, spells, or anything else really, belongs to me. If you thought it did, I'm flattered, and I wish it did, but it doesn't. It all belongs Diane Duane under copyright law, which I am technically breaking by writing this at all. Big disappointment. The song doesn't belong to me either. Credit is given where the song appears. I do, however, own the story.
A/N: This is a re-upload—I edited, took the suggestions I heard, and didn't look at this for awhile, so that I could edit with a clear mind. Thanx a mil to anyone who told me what was weird or off about this fic—you really are an author's best friend. Just as a recap—this was written during Algebra, so I dunno if it's my best work, but it was edited during lunch, so perhaps it's a bit better this time?
Mystery
And when you looked into my eyes I felt a sudden sense of urgency.
Fascination casts a spell and you became more than just a mystery.
And I think about you all the time.
Is this fate? Is it my destiny
That I think about you all the time?
I no longer pretend to have my hand on the wheel because:
I feel the magic all around you.
It's bringing me to my knees.
Like a wannabe
I got to be chained to you.
I feel the magic building around you.
—Savage Garden (Chained To You)
The words spill out of her mouth rapidly, but still gracefully. She never misses a beat. Neither do I. We are the ideal match. Our voices strike notes that harmonize perfectly, my part just a little lower.
She has such a beautiful voice. She thinks her voice is horrible, and doesn't sing often. When she does it is usually along with a tape or the radio. The only other time I get to hear her is when we are chanting a spell. That isn't quite her singing voice, but it's pretty all the same. A sweet alto. Her hair is blowing all around her face and neck. Sometimes a strand will get caught in the corner of her mouth or across her eyes, but she doesn't let it distract her, and eventually, it blows away.
Every day I think I know all there is to know about her. Everything about the was she looks, the way she dresses, her smile, the way she holds herself. Everything about her attitude—her deep commitment to wizardry, the kind way she usually treats others, and her warm heart, so easily overcome with jealousy. Although she won't admit it I know she hurts when she brings home a B paper in the subject she was failing, only to find Dairine received another 'A+' 'Way to go!' 'Awesome job!' Every day, I think I know everything she likes (horse books), and everything she doesn't (peanuts, although she isn't allergic). Every day, I think there is no more mystery left, and then she surprises me.
Sometimes it will be something small, like wear her hair differently, or study more than usual. Other times it will be something bigger, like the one time she punched Joanne back, rather than just putting up a shield. Sometimes it won't affect me at all, like when she changed favorite bands. Sometimes these changes will make me happy, like when she finally read Romeo and Juliet, an all time favorite of mine. Sometimes, though she often doesn't know, her mystery brings me pain, like when she flirted with a complete stranger (although she has little interest in boys) just to prove she could defy her father's 'no dating' order.
I notice these things, the little pieces of her personality no one else bothers to look at. I know when she does things, and I know why. She doesn't know it now, and maybe she never will, but we are more than just friends.
The wind dies down. We are successful. The spell works. She smiles, a smile that let me know, not everything is a mystery, and that somewhere in her heart, she knows what we really are. Maybe the kids at school, always accusing us of being 'together' are on to something.