Baz:
The dining hall was oddly quiet for a Saturday morning. The rest of the school had seemingly decided that now was the moment to develop a sudden and unprecedented interest in football, and had all disappeared to watch the ongoing match. The very thought made me bristle in envy. The Mage had revoked my, as he phrased it, 'Leisure Privileges', a few weeks ago, because of some minor infraction that I'd apparently committed.
What he really meant by that Fiona was rude to him at some point during his miserable existence, so he will now proceed to take all of it out on me.
Now I was condemned to sit, alone on a table (Dev and Niall had left too, the wankers), demurely sipping my coffee, and appearing to be deep in thought.
As well as ignoring the fact that Snow was staring daggers into the back of my neck, of course.
Being unable to see the appeal in watching people run about on a pitch for two hours, Snow had seated himself at the table just behind me, Bunce at his side as always, and hadn't broken his gaze from the back of my head for the last fifteen minutes.
I stirred my coffee and wondered idly how long it would take Snow to realise the lack of nefarious intent in my enjoying a warm cup of bracing coffee. The very idea seemed unlikely, considering the amount of times that Bunce had gently tried to coax him into leaving in the last five minutes.
A sudden vision of Snow stalking up to my table, kissing me on the lips, and telling me 'The truth is, Baz, I'm in love with you' arrived suddenly in my mind. I shut it down quickly, and stand up almost as abruptly, the legs of my chair screeching back across the stone floor. I turned, and leave the dining hall, grinding my thumbs into the palm of my hands. In the corner of my eye, I spotted Snow rising from his seat as well, and starting forwards as if to follow me.
I couldn't deal with a repeat of fifth year. I was too damn far gone on Snow to withhold from kissing him this time. Or biting him. (I wouldn't bite him. I would never be able to hurt him)
The very thought lead me to make sharp turns down corridors, suddenly descend seemingly random flights of stairs, and eventually dart into the deserted library.
A deafening clatter from behind me proved that my avoidance strategy had worked, and Snow had very probably crashed into one of the antique suits of armour on display in the various corridors of Watford (dented the whole thing to hell and back, most likely). From the crack in the door, I watched him dither for a moment, before turning around, and going back the way he came. A breath escaped me, and I slumped down against the nearest bookcase, dropping my head in my hands.
Why couldn't I just be left alone to stew in my unrequited feelings? Why did Snow have to fight me at every turn? Why did I always have to play the villain?
"I've given up on you ever loving me back, Snow." I muttered into the palms of my hands, my voice coming out cracked and muffled "But I don't think I'll ever be able to give up on you entirely. No matter how much I want to."
When tears threatened the corner of my eyes, I stumble upwards, and walk in blind circles around the library to calm me down. Nobody visited here much nowadays. There was barely any relevant information to magic to be seen, after all. Once The Mage had become headmaster, he'd decided that oversaturating us with magickal resources wouldn't be effective, and had instead opted to adorn the shelves with the likes of What Katy Did and War and Peace. Unsurprisingly, the majority of magickal books removed from the library contained spells used for attacks, and sieges. Wouldn't want his students knowing how to overthrow him, after all. Now the books even vaguely related to magic were below even a first year reading level.
It truly was tragic.
Running my finger down a collection of books that all, vividly, described how to turn the yolk of an egg the perfect shade of orange, I paused at the volume I reached at the end. Tucked away, in the most secluded corner of the library, half-hidden under a surplus of copies of Jane Eyre was a tome I vaguely recognised.
It had been in my house as a child, before The Mage appeared and confiscated it, declaring it 'Too dangerous'.
It was both forbidden, and powerful. I should have walked away, and gone down to the Catacombs, drained a few rats, and forgot about it.
Being the son of a Pitch, I instead reached out for it, and pulled it from the shelf, turning it over gently in my hands. I'd wanted to fall out of love with Snow for as long as I could remember. But there was no legal spell that would allow me to do it- at least permanently.
What if this book was the key to finally being able to hate Snow as much as he hated me?
A quick flick through the pages confirmed it. A time travel spell. I could go back to before my life went spectacularly to shit, and fix myself. Be free of the feelings that plagued me every time I looked at Snow's face, and was reminded of the sun.
I could finally be the person that my father expected.
I scanned the spell, skipping the description. I got the gist from the title.
Snapping the book shut, I pull off my sweater, wrapping it a few times around it, and cradling it to my chest.
Then I hurried back to Mummer's House, pushing Snow out of my thoughts until I could remove him entirely.
….
Simon:
I searched for Baz for maybe ten more minutes after he pulled his disappearing act, before eventually returning to Penny, and dropping myself down beside her.
"You know," She said, without even looking up from her book "I think it's about time you leave Baz alone."
"Leave him alone? Penny, he's plotting. Just letting him do it would be detrimental to the whole school."
"Mmm," She slowly closed her book "I don't think he is. Recently he just seems more interested in keeping his head down, and getting through school. Just give the guy a break?"
"I…guess…" I slowly enunciate, the words feeling foreign in my mouth "I just…I don't know Penny. Lately it just feels like I can't leave him alone. Why?"
Gracefully, she rose from the table, and tucked the book neatly between her chest and arms "I think you'll need to work that one out for yourself, Simon"
Then she glided out of the hall, leaving me to my own devices.
"Figure it out for myself?" I mumbled "How am I supposed to do that?"
I passed a few minutes tracing patterns on the tablecloth, before leaving the room myself. I should probably apologise to Baz. After all, he hasn't done anything evil lately. He's been uncharacteristically subdued. I think that's what sparked my concern. He didn't complain when I left the window open, when I yanked open the curtains early in the morning. All of my snide remarks just seemed to deflect off him.
As much as I hated to admit it, I was worried about the idiot.
Reaching the top of the stairs at Mummer's house, I reached forwards and tugged open the door. By the noises from inside, I assumed Baz was already back.
"Baz," I forced out, stepping into the room "I-"
I froze.
A dusty spell book, that bore no resemblance to the Mage approved books most commonly found, lay open on his bed. His arm was in the air, wand clenched in his fist. I could feel the magic about to pour out.
He looked at me, and gave what I almost imagined to be a tiny smile. Then he raised his wand once more, and clearly said "Back to the future!"
By the time I cried out, reaching desperately for him, he was gone.
….
Baz:
I woke up unusually warm. After a few minutes of gathering my bearings, I opened my eyes, and deduced that I was on a bed.
A very warm, and comfortable one at that, but not one that I could remember from the past. I scratched my head. Had I gone wrong somewhere?
As soon as I tried to sit up, I became aware of three very important facts.
One: There were arms wrapped around my torso, and an ankle hooked over my leg. That would be an adequate explanation for why I was so warm earlier.
Two: There was a man in the bed behind me. His hair stuck out from underneath the covers, and when he blinked his eyes open and sat up as well, he smiled at me affectionately.
Three: The man was Snow.
I observed him in faint horror, simultaneously very aware of the arms around my waist.
He leaned forwards, hair sticking up in all directions yet somehow still brilliantly handsome, and pecked me on the lips, eyes warm.
"Morning, love"
To say that I didn't react well would be an understatement.