Phoenix Song

WARNING: This story contains strong language and strong situations. If you are under the legal age of consent for your state, province, territory, or country, or if scenes of violence and strong language offend you, turn back now!

LAWYERS NOTE: I do not own the Harry Potter characters, only my own. If one or all of the characters desire to return to J.K. Rowling's universe, they are welcome to do so at any time.

SIX

As with all dreams, the passage of time was enough to wash away the urgency of Aidan's nightmare as other, more tangible concerns took precedence. Aidan's lessons in spellwork were overseen by the Headmistress herself, and she was a strict instructor who allowed for no outside distractions; she demanded focus. Aidan was somewhat relieved to discover his first lesson consisted entirely of the theory and history of wands and wandmaking, rather than any practical application of wandwork; he was afraid to even look at his wand, keeping it covered for the entire lesson. He dreaded having to use it again, not just because of the physical pain involved but because he feared he would be unable to control the results. He had not intended to produce the curtain of flame; the wand had merely done it, seemingly of its own accord, drawing on his power to feed the flames. He wondered if the wand was alive in some way; certainly anything seemed possible in the wizarding world. If it was, how would he be able to make it do what he wanted? There had to be a way, since no one else seemed to have a problem getting their wands to work. But Ollivander did say that his wand was not ordinary…

"Are you paying attention, Mr. Hayes?" McGonagall inquired with one raised eyebrow, having failed to get a response from him after making the pewter goblet on her desk float over to his with a wave of her wand. "Or are Levitation charms so commonplace in your experience that we need to proceed at a faster pace?"

"Er, yeah, sorry," Aidan said, snapping out of his reverie. "I mean, no," he added hastily as the second half of the question registered.

McGonagall did not look convinced. "The Levitation charm may be simple," she informed him, nodding at the goblet in front of him, "but it will be the first item we cover in your next lesson. Unless you have something else to suggest?"

Aidan shook his head quickly. "No. I just—are wands—how do you control them?" he finished feebly.

"Control comes with practice," McGonagall replied simply.

"Mine took me by surprise last night," Aidan admitted. "I didn't mean for it to do what it did."

"It took us all by surprise," the Headmistress told him. "But, as you will discover, the wand is a natural focus for your power. As a result, your power becomes easy accessible, and the way that power manifests itself depends largely on your internal state of mind. Your display last night was likely representative of how you felt at that moment."

"I was angry," Aidan murmured.

McGonagall nodded. "A strong emotion will produce strong results. Why were you angry?"

"Oh, just frustrated, I guess," Aidan replied evasively. He was not about to tell her about his confrontation with Blair Tiernan and his thugs; the last thing he needed was for everything to think he had gone running to the Headmistress, that he was unable to handle it himself. Nor was he going to mention his overall sense of aggravation at his inability to fit into the wizard mold, for the same reason. McGonagall would think he was whining. "You know," he added with a shrug, "lots of homework, not enough time to do it all."

The Headmistress was looking at him suspiciously, but apparently decided not to pursue the issue. "You have a lot of ground to cover before the fall, Mr. Hayes, and that necessitates a great deal of homework." She then assigned him a two-foot essay on the evolution of the wand before dismissing him.

Aidan trudged through the crowded corridors, keeping an eye out for Blair and his companions. He doubted whether Tiernan would try anything with the halls full of students, but he felt he should be on his guard in any case. There was also the matter of Ciarán; Aidan hadn't seen the dark-haired older boy all day, though he didn't know whether this was because he was frantically studying for his O.W.L.s, which began in three days, or because he was avoiding him. His conscience reproached him again, as it had the previous night, but he ignored it, repressing the twinge of regret he felt. There's nothing I can do about it now, he told himself, but he knew that was not true; the obvious course of action was to apologize. Yet, as he climbed the stairs toward Ravenclaw tower, intending to stow his bag in the dormitory before heading down to dinner, he couldn't imagine himself actually apologizing to the older boy. It was not because he thought he was in the right—he knew he wasn't—rather, his mind shied away from the thought and he became hot and uncomfortable when he tried to force the subject. What if I've messed up everything? he worried. What if he doesn't want to forgive me?

"You gonna stand there all day or you gonna give me the password?"

Aidan looked up, surprised. He had hardly been aware of reaching the top of the stairs, where the great stone gargoyle, carved in the shape of a fierce occamy, a kind of snake with plumed wings and two legs ending in sharp talons, guarded the entrance to Ravenclaw tower. "Er, 'Mons Mensa'," he said.

"I was beginning to think you were a mute," the gargoyle growled, its serpentine tail undulating as it slid aside with a grinding noise to reveal a hole in the wall behind it, through which a winding stone staircase was visible. Aidan took the steps two at a time and emerged in the Ravenclaw common room. A few other students were already there, mostly Fifth Years sitting in the armchairs and on the couches, hunched over their books with intense looks of concentration creasing their foreheads. The Grey Lady was deep in discussion with a small knot of students in one corner of the room, but Ciarán was nowhere in sight. Sighing with disappointment, he climbed up yet another set of stairs to the boys' dormitory, flinging his bag down at the foot of his bed. Whether or not he wants to forgive me, I'm going to have to tell him I'm sorry. I hope he's not too upset with me, because…

But that thought led to a confusing place.

Pushing it aside, Aidan steeled his resolve. He would find Ciarán, apologize, and hope for the best. He hurried back down into the common room and down the spiral staircase to the tower entrance, nearly running face first into the stone wall behind the gargoyle, which had not opened for him. Aidan frowned and pushed experimentally against the rough stones. The wall was supposed to slide open when a student was leaving the tower, yet it remained motionless. He strained against it, running his fingers over the stone, wondering if there was a catch or a mechanism that had failed to activate for some reason, but he found none. Puzzled, he returned to the common room.

"Has anyone else been able to get out?" he called. "The wall won't open for me."

The various Fifth Years looked quizzically at him, momentarily forgetting their books. "What do you mean?" the closest one, a tall, raven-haired girl by the name of Shauna Walsh, asked.

"The wall won't open," he repeated.

She frowned and bit her lower lip uncertainly. "It should. You were able to get in, right?"

Aidan nodded.

"Let me see," she decided, rising from her chair. Aidan led Shauna down the winding stairs to the wall, which remained recalcitrant, even when they both pushed against it. A few curious Ravenclaw students, accompanied by the Grey Lady, had clustered curiously on the stairs behind them.

"It won't budge." Shauna turned and looked anxiously at the Grey Lady. "Has this ever happened before?"

"No," the Lady replied, shaking her transparent head. "The enchantment was placed on the stone when the school was first built, and it is reinforced every year. It has never failed." She glided toward them and placed a pale hand on the wall. "How strange," she murmured, pressing hard against it.

It took Aidan a moment to realize what he was seeing. "You're not sliding through it!" he exclaimed. The other students shifted uneasily. What could prevent an immaterial ghost from passing through a material object?

"Indeed," the Lady agreed. "Powerful magic is at work here. However," she added as she began to sink through the floor, "it does not seem to have affected the other surfaces." She looked up at the worried Ravenclaws as she vanished through the stone. "I will inform the Headmistress and return," she said.

Two of the older boys stayed behind at the wall to see if they could force it open, but the majority of the students climbed back into the common room, whispering nervously amongst themselves. Aidan felt a sense of foreboding return to him as he sat apprehensively on the first step leading to the boy's dormitories. This has something to do with me, he thought grimly. I was the last one through the opening. But how? And why now? Why not the first time he'd gone through? He could not come up with any answers.

Eventually, the two Ravenclaw boys who had remained at the wall returned, sweating, to collapse in the nearest free chairs.

"No luck?" Shauna asked, walking over to them.

They shook their heads.

"Maybe we could blast through!" one of them suggested.

"You can't," Shauna replied immediately, shaking her head. "It's protected against magical attack, to prevent someone from forcing their way into the tower."

"Besides, Ronan," said the other Ravenclaw boy, "d'you really want to be expelled for destroying school property?"

"No," the first boy replied, looking crestfallen. "I just don't like being cooped up in here."

"They'll find a way to get us out," Shauna said confidently.

"If we had Floo powder, we could get out," Ronan said sadly. "Too bad they don't let us have any."

"Don't want you sneaking off to Hogsmeade, I reckon," said the second Ravenclaw.

"Stuff it, Aaron," said Ronan irritably.

"We're just going to have to wait," Shauna said patiently, taking her seat. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to use the time to study. O.W.L.s start on Monday, you know."

"Provided we get out of here by then," Ronan muttered.

"Look on the bright side," Aaron said. "If you can't take 'em, you can't fail 'em, right?"

"I said, stuff it!"

Nearly an hour had passed before they heard the sound of stone grating on stone and they all excitedly descended the winding staircase to find the hole open once again, Ronan in the lead. McGonagall was standing there, along with the Grey Lady and Ciarán. Aidan ducked back up the stairs before the older boy could see him, remaining in sight of McGonagall.

"Finally!" Ronan exclaimed, hurrying through the hole.

"Just a minute, Mr. O'Connell." The Headmistress stepped over the threshold, looking gravely at the group of students before her. "Can anyone provide any information on how this happened?"

The students shook their heads.

"Aidan was the last one through," Shauna said. Aidan shrunk backward, out of sight of McGonagall and the others, but not far enough away to avoid hearing the Headmistress.

"A word, Mr. Hayes?"

He slowly climbed down the stairs, feeling like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Ciarán was staring at him curiously. I didn't do anything! he reminded himself, but he still felt guilty for some reason. McGonagall eyed him with an inscrutable expression.

"The rest of you may proceed to the Great Hall for dinner," she said. The students eagerly crowded through the hole in the wall, their relieved voices echoing from the stairwell as they descended from view. Only Ciarán, McGonagall, and Aidan remained.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Mr. Hayes?"

"It's not my fault!" Aidan replied earnestly. She had to believe him!

"I do not think it is," the Headmistress responded evenly. "It would take magic of the most advanced kind to undo the spells protecting our common rooms. I would like to know, however, if you noticed anything unusual when you entered the tower."

Aidan shook his head. "The gargoyle was grouchy," he said. "But it always is. I gave it the password, and it let me in." He thought hard, trying to remember anything out of the ordinary, and something occurred to him. "Wait, you said 'common rooms'. Did this happen to all of them?"

The Headmistress nodded. "At almost the same time. Professor Flitwick is currently examining the charms on the various mechanisms."

At that moment, there was a roaring sound from just outside the opening and McGonagall and Aidan hurried through the hole to see the gargoyle stirring and yawning loudly, stretching its snakelike tail and beating its wings.

"It looks like it just woke up," Ciarán observed.

"What do you mean?" Aidan asked quizzically, momentarily forgetting that he was afraid to talk to the other boy.

"When I tried to get in, it was as cold and as still as a Muggle gargoyle," the dark-haired boy replied. "That was nearly an hour ago."

"That must've been about the same time as I was trying to get out," Aidan remarked, staring thoughtfully at the gargoyle.

The stone occamy blinked as it realized it was the object of scrutiny. "What?" it snapped.

"You've been asleep for nearly an hour," McGonagall informed it.

"What?" it repeated, but its tone was incredulous this time. "That's preposterous. I don't need to sleep. In over one thousand years, I have never so much as blinked."

"The fact remains that for an entire hour, you were unresponsive. Do you recall anything that happened before that time?"

"I let this one in," the occamy growled, nodding at Aidan. "Why don't you ask him? He looks guilty." Aidan started to protest, but the Headmistress held up a staying hand.

"I have already done so," she told the gargoyle smoothly. "I have no reason to believe he was responsible. Do you remember anything else?"

The gargoyle shook its serpentine head, looking uncomfortable. "No. Was I really asleep for an hour? What could cause that to happen?"

"I don't know," the Headmistress answered. "But I intend to find out." She turned to Aidan and Ciarán. "You two may go while I examine the enchantments in this area." The Grey Lady looked on with interest as McGonagall took out her wand and began waving it over the surface of the stone occamy.

The two boys turned and made their way down the tower staircase in silence. "What d'you reckon?" Aidan asked as they reached the landing.

Ciarán shrugged. "I don't know."

It's now or never, Aidan thought, screwing up his courage. "Look," he began. "I'm sorry that I bit your head off yesterday." He stared intently at a spot over Ciarán's shoulder, unable to look directly at the older boy for fear of what he might see. Anger, probably, or disgust.

"It's okay," Ciarán said. Aidan glanced at the other boy's face and saw none of these expressions, just a quiet, intelligent regard.

"Really?" he asked. Now why did I think that would be so hard?

"Forget about it." The light from the torches mounted on the wall glinted in Ciarán's eyes, turning them into deep, liquid blue pools. Something stirred in Aidan and he forced himself to look away. Definitely not what I want to be thinking about.

"Come on," Ciarán said. "I'll bet you're starving after an hour stuck in the tower."

Aidan couldn't disagree as his stomach rumbled loudly. He and Ciarán continued to the Great Hall, chatting easily, Aidan more relaxed than he had ever felt, even in the presence of the twins. He wondered briefly about that, but soon forgot as Ciarán recounted how Blair Tiernan had been discovered cowering in a corner, pale-faced and shaking, when the door to the Slytherin common room had finally come unstuck.

"Apparently he's claustrophobic," Ciarán concluded, grinning broadly.

"I would have given anything to see that," Aidan replied with a grin of his own as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table. The conversation in the Great Hall was more animated than usual, owing, no doubt, to the unusual circumstances of the evening. "It's too bad that was the first door to come undone," he added. "It might've done him some good to stew for a little while longer."

Ciarán shook his head. "He probably would've gone mad. You wouldn't want that on your conscience."

"I think I could live with it."

At the staff table, Professor Aethera rose from her seat and tapped the crystal goblet before her insistently. The noise, magically magnified, echoed from the far walls of the Great Hall. All conversation quieted as every face turned in her direction.

"Good evening to you all," she said in her brisk, breezy voice. "I have one announcement to make before we tuck in. Most of you have heard of the failure of the four common room portals by now, and for those of you who haven't, I'm certain your classmates will enlighten you. Until the portals have been given a thorough examination and the cause of the failure has been ascertained, Floo Powder will be provided for each common room. It is only to be used," she said loudly over the sudden excited murmur that broke out, "in the event of another failure. Anyone who uses it for any other reason will be severely disciplined, possibly expelled." She eyed them all with a severe expression on her pointed face. "I needn't remind you that we can and do monitor the fireplaces within the school. It is our hope to resolve the issue quickly. That is all." She resumed sitting as the tables filled with food.

"I reckon Ronan'll be pleased," Aidan said, piling mashed potatoes onto his plate. "He was nearly going out of his mind himself."

Ciarán nodded slowly, looking distant. "Do you want to hang out?" he asked after a moment. "After dinner?"

Aidan froze in the act of ladling gravy on top of his mashed potatoes. "Hang out?" He suddenly wasn't hungry anymore; his insides had constricted too tightly to accommodate even the smallest breadcrumb.

Ciarán nodded again, causing a stray lock of dark hair to fall over one eye. He brushed it aside and smiled slightly. "Just to talk."

"O-okay," Aidan said uncertainly. "We could go now." Are you insane?! screamed a voice in his head. Where did that suggestion come from? "Um, I'm not—not really hungry after all."

"Neither am I," Ciarán admitted, "but they won't let us go just yet." He nodded at the staff table, where Professor Aethera was staring pensively out at the students while the other teachers ate and talked amongst themselves.

Whew. "Oh." Aidan picked absently at his potatoes, which had, a moment ago, seemed so appetizing and now looked positively revolting. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?"

"Not really." A sudden thought seemed to occur to the older boy. "But you have homework, don't you?" He looked disappointed.

"I've got the entire weekend to do it," Aidan replied quickly. "Besides, shouldn't you be studying for your O.W.L.s?"

"Same excuse."

"So we'll both be cramming on Sunday night, then," Aidan said dryly, hoping to cover his awkwardness with an attempt at humor.

Ciarán chuckled. "Probably."

Finally, dinner was over and the students were dismissed to return to their common rooms. The Ravenclaws made their way back up the tower stairs, but Aidan and Ciarán did not join them. They wandered the lower passages instead, occasionally coming across another ghost or student as they walked and talked.

"Should we be wandering the castle this late?" Aidan asked uncertainly as the Bloody Baron wafted by silently, his gaunt features and staring eyes sending a shiver down Aidan's spine.

"As long as we don't run into Filch, we'll be okay," Ciarán replied. Argus Filch was the crotchety old caretaker of the castle, and, even in his advanced years, he still could make life unpleasant for the unwary student. "Or his cat."

They turned a corner and found themselves outside of the deserted Transfiguration classroom. "In here," Ciarán said, opening the door. Aidan followed the older boy into the darkened classroom, the only illumination provided by the moonlight streaming in through the far windows. Various cages were perched on bookshelves or stands throughout the room, their occupants hidden by loose covers that had been draped over each cage. Occasionally, one of the cages would rattle slightly as the animal inside stirred.

Ciarán closed the door carefully. "I don't think we'll have to worry about Filch in here. Pull up a seat," he said, gesturing toward the empty desks. He picked one across from Aidan and sat on the edge of the desktop, his feet resting on the chair. "You remember that I said I didn't want to talk about anything in particular?"

"Er, yeah," Aidan replied, sitting on the desktop closest to him and letting his legs dangle freely in the air. He kicked them nervously, letting them fall with a thunk against the side of the desk. There was something about the secrecy of the dark room, the sense that they should not be here, the fear of being caught that excited him and made him edgy at the same time.

"I lied." The older boy looked apologetic.

"You did?"

Ciarán nodded, impatiently brushing aside the lock of hair he knocked free. "I wanted to ask you something."

Aidan's heart was thumping loudly in his chest. "What's that?"

The dark haired boy across from him looked away, fidgeting nervously. "Are you--? Um, do you--?" he began, then shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I'm not sure how to ask. Sorry." He sighed. "Let me come back to that one." He looked up at Aidan. "What do you think of Hogwarts?"

"I don't know," Aidan replied truthfully, feeling something deflate inside him. What was I expecting? he wondered.

"You know why Hogwarts was founded?"

Aidan shook his head.

"A little over a thousand years ago, witches and wizards were frightening to ordinary people. So the ordinary people did the only thing they could think of: they started hunting them down and persecuting them."

"Why?" asked Aidan.

"Because they couldn't understand. Isn't that always the way it works? Anything people can't understand, anything different, is feared." Ciarán sounded bitter. "Hogwarts was supposed to be the refuge for persecuted witches and wizards; it was supposed to be a place where people could learn to appreciate their differences, to learn to use them for the good of themselves and others."

"And it's not?" Aidan asked tentatively, startled by the older boy's sudden vehemence.

"Do you think it is? After meeting people like Blair Tiernan and his thugs?" He smiled, but there was no humor in his smile. "Guess even wizards can fall prey to elitism, to shunning anyone who doesn't meet their standard of acceptable or normal." He stood up, running his hands through his hair and staring earnestly at the younger boy. "It's not like we're a majority, Aidan, that we can ignore the rest of the world like we do. Do you know how many witches and wizards there are on the planet?"

Aidan shook his head again, wondering where the conversation was headed.

"Maybe seven hundred million. Out of ten billion people."

"That's all?"

Ciarán nodded grimly. "We act like we're a major driving force in world affairs, don't we? We talk about how Muggles don't have a clue, we laugh at them as they try to figure out how to live without magic, call them lost—but the truth is, we're the ones who're lost. We hide from Muggles, we keep to ourselves, and our society ends up stagnating." He began to pace back and forth. "And what's worse, we become victims of the same sort of prejudice that forced us to hide in the first place."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Aidan asked after a moment, thinking, We've only known each other for a week and already he's spilling everything to me.

Ciarán shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't told anybody until now, and I guess maybe I thought you…" He trailed off and sighed heavily, seeming to withdraw into himself. "Bet I sound like a nutter, huh?"

"No. You sound angry."

Ciarán chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't think 'angry' is a strong enough word." He shook his head and sagged against the desk behind him. "I shouldn't've said anything. Forget it. I'm an idiot."

Aidan rose and went over to him. "You're not," he said hesitantly. What am I supposed to say? "You're thinking, anyway. You notice. I don't even know half of this stuff."

"Give it time. You're still relatively new to the wizarding world, but if you stick around long enough, you'll see."

"Why do you stick around?"

Ciarán looked sadly at Aidan. "Because I have to. Everyone else has families, homes to go to during the summer, during the holidays, but…" He broke off, shaking his head and grinning sheepishly. "God, someone must've given me Veritaserum. I'm sorry. I'll shut up and go, shall I?" He pushed himself away from the desk.

"It's okay," Aidan said quickly. "You don't have to go. Er, that is, unless you want to." His mind was floundering underneath a welter of confused thoughts and feelings. Clearly, the older boy felt comfortable sharing these things with him, and Aidan didn't want to ruin that for him. At the same time, he felt a kind of empathy for the other boy, as if there was some kind of connection between them that he couldn't begin to fathom. Maybe he feels that, too, Aidan thought. It was all bewildering and he stood, staring helplessly at Ciarán as the older boy turned to face him. Help me, he thought. Tell me what to do. He didn't know who he was imploring; whether it the handsome, dark-haired boy in front of him or someone else, and it didn't matter.

"About my first question," Ciarán murmured, moving close.

Aidan nodded. "Y-yeah?" he whispered hoarsely. His heart was tap-dancing frenziedly in his head, his hands were clammy, his throat was dry—what was happening to him? He looked up fearfully as the older boy gazed down at him, the silver light of the moon reflecting from his pale eyes. Blue, Aidan thought, like the ocean. Like you could just dive right in and…what the hell am I thinking? Yet he could not help himself, he flinched slightly but remained otherwise motionless as Ciarán stepped even closer, so that their bodies were touching. He wanted to flee but his legs wouldn't move; his heart had abandoned tap-dancing in favor of break-dancing in time to loud bass rhythms and all the world seemed to slow to a crawl as the older boy leaned in cautiously, carefully, and their lips met. An electric surge traveled the length of Aidan's spine, he was terrified and at the same time he wanted this, more than anything. Unbidden, the image of Morgan rose up in his mind's eye; Morgan had wanted this, too, but Aidan had been unwilling then. He's not Morgan, Aidan thought, but the image of the older man would not disappear, and Aidan suddenly felt very dirty. I can't do this.

Someone cleared their throat loudly from the direction of the doorway.

Startled, the two boys looked over to see Headmistress McGonagall standing in the open doorway, staring at both of them with one eyebrow arched. Ciarán backed away to a discreet distance, leaving Aidan panting and trembling.

"I will not ask for explanations," the Headmistress said, "as I don't really want to know." She glanced reprovingly at Ciarán. "However, I should think you would already be familiar with the rules, Mr. Dwyer, after five years at Hogwarts." She turned her baleful gaze on Aidan. "All students must return to their common rooms no later than nine o'clock." She checked her watch. "As it is now thirty minutes past nine, thirty points will be taken from Ravenclaw."

"Yes, ma'am," Ciarán murmured, looking abashed.

"Sorry," Aidan said, his voice shaking slightly, carefully avoiding McGonagall's eye.

"I suggest you two return to the tower," the Headmistress said. "And I needn't remind you, I hope, that the dormitory is for sleeping?" She glared severely at them, but one corner of her mouth was twitching slightly. "Go," she commanded, stepping to one side so that the two boys could pass. "And don't let me catch you two 'studying' anything but your lessons!"

The two boys fled down the hallway, narrowly tripping over Filch's skeletal looking cat.

"We'd better hurry," Ciarán said, eyeing the cat with intense dislike. "Filch won't be far behind." They dashed through several halls and scrambled up the stairs to Ravenclaw tower to arrive, panting, in the common room. Several pairs of eyes swiveled in their direction. Aidan fervently wished he could disappear through the floor like the Grey Lady; he was certain the other Ravenclaws would be able to divine what had occurred by their flushed cheeks or by the fact they had arrived together. Wordlessly, he hurried up the stairs to the dormitory, leaving Ciarán to do the explaining, and threw himself onto the bed, wrenching the hangings shut, grateful for the isolation the sudden darkness brought with it.

His thoughts tumbled over themselves as his pulse raced. He lay back on his pillow, attempting to come to grips with what had happened in the Transfiguration classroom. Ciarán had opened up to him, but why? And why had he responded? Why did he feel weak when he remembered the closeness, the warmth of the other boy's body as it pressed against his, or the feather-light touch of his lips against Aidan's own?

He was not a fool. He recognized the inevitable conclusion that could be drawn from his reaction to Ciarán's advances. And though he told himself he was okay with it, he really wasn't, but he didn't know why. If Brendan or Brigid turned out to be…that way, he knew he wouldn't care, but when it was himself, he just felt unclean. Again the image of Morgan swam into his mind's eye. It's because of him, he thought. I'm this way because of Morgan, I'm following in his footsteps, becoming like him. That's why I feel so dirty. I am what Morgan made me.

He shook his head furiously to clear it, willing the image of his hated adoptive father to disappear. I won't do it, he thought fiercely. I refuse. He would suppress his feelings; he would restrict himself to his studies from now on. He would not allow himself to become twisted and perverted by Morgan's machinations.

But what about Ciarán? he asked himself, feeling guilty. Is he twisted? Is he perverted? No, he decided. No, Ciarán was different. Ciarán never forced himself on anyone. I can still be friends with him.

But what if he wants to be more than friends?

Then I have to draw the line, he thought sorrowfully. He might not understand, but I can't. I just can't.

Aidan heard someone come in to the dormitory and fervently hoped it wasn't Ciarán. He didn't want to face the older boy right now; his resolve was still too weak, he might give in upon seeing the older boy's face, his blue eyes filling with disappointment as Aidan tried to explain...

The person, whoever it was, stood silently for a moment. Aidan squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the urge to throw back the hangings and see who had entered the room. Tomorrow, he thought as the sound of footsteps retreating down the stone stairs reached his ears. I'll tell him tomorrow.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.