Lance had always been an open book. He'd never kept things hidden away; locked up tight in his mind and conscience. He shared everything with his closest friends and his familia. But secrets had come to define his time at Hogwarts.
Lance's feelings for Keith were a secret. The reason he was tutoring students was a secret. How he'd spent his Christmas holiday was a secret. How he truly felt inside was a secret. Everything was secrets, and Lance was drowning in them. He wasn't cut out for this.
Vest or sweater? Lance debated as he held each up under his chin, staring at himself in the floor-length mirror of his shared dorm room.
You'd think with a strict school uniform getting dressed in the morning would be the easiest part of the day. But it wasn't. Lance didn't know what kind of mood he was in yet, and choosing an outfit to best suit his needs was far too difficult a task for him at the moment given how quickly the weather could change in Scotland.
On the dresser beside his bed were the books he needed to return to the school library as well as a metal tin filled with slices of his Abuela's famous cake de ron , an irresistible Cuban rum cake and a Christmas tradition.
And okay, sure, Christmas was over and all that, but Lance wanted to share his culture with his friends, not just the American bits he'd picked up at Ilvermorny. Sharing his American NoMaj Halloween snacks had been great, but this was his culture and he couldn't wait for everyone to try it. Particularly Hunk.
Lance settled on the vest. He folded the starched collar of his crisp white shirt over the circling ring of his silver and green tie before tucking the length under the vest's soft grey knit. A black robe with green lining completed his uniform and Lance gave himself a quick once over in the mirror before grabbing his things and heading off to his first class.
Lance shoved the final book into his bag.
He wasn't making much progress on his Galra clan project and was starting to see why none of the other students had chosen the Marmora family to focus on. The crowd of sixth years surrounding Lotor had started to dwindle now that he'd answered most of their questions about his family. But Lance wasn't having the same amount of luck. Professor Thace refused to speak with him, Lotor's knowledge of the Galra didn't extend past his own family, and the library didn't have much information on the Marmora either.
What books he did find had been heavily redacted; almost any and all mention of the Marmora having been magically erased from the pages. It was really starting to make it difficult to do this bloody project and Lance was beginning to believe the Marmora had something they really didn't want anyone to find out.
Naturally, he was more determined than ever.
"Have you tried looking in the restricted section?" Simon asked as they walked between classes.
"He can't Sy," James cut in, answering on Lance's behalf, "it's the restricted section, you can only enter with a note from a Professor."
"Right, so get a note!"
"But Professor Binns just floats away as soon as class is over," Lance added, directing the statement to both of his friends.
"So? Go talk to Professor Blaytz, he's head of Slytherin house and will definitely help. Oh, OH, you could go ask Professor Thace, that would be hilarious." Simon laughed and clapped Lance on the shoulder, offering the worst suggestion possible.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm ninety percent certain Professor Thace hates me. He legit told me to give up and study the Dolohovs or the Goyles. Which, no thanks!"
"He actually said 'give up' to you?"
"Well, not exactly, but he heavily implied it. I mean, come on, he said "there's more information on the Dolohovs, the Goyles, and Daibazaals" Which is basically like saying give up."
"Riiiiiiight," Simon dismissed.
"I'll ask Professor Blaytz, thank you very much."
"Suit yourself, would have been bloody brilliant to watch."
Lance shoved Simon's shoulder playfully, sending his friend stumbling into a wall as he continued to cackle at Lance's expense. It was all in good fun though, and as much as it annoyed him in the moment, he had to admit it did give a sense of comfortable stability to their friendship. Lance would take Simon's advice; he would speak to Professor Blaytz after class.
Potions was anything but dull today.
Professor Blaytz stood at the front of the class, a selection of potions set out in front of him, some still simmering away.
"Can anyone tell me the difference between the Babbling Beverage and Veritaserum?" he asked the room without preamble.
Immediately, several hands shot into the air. "They're completely different things," one of the other Slytherin boys muttered under his breath to a few snickers.
"Wrong," Professor Blaytz interjected, "while they may have different effects and ultimately different uses, they share a common thread to their properties. Since you're so keen to answer, tell us what that common thread is or your disruption will cost Slytherin five points."
Philip stammered, unable to think of anything, and eventually lost their house the points. It was a Ravenclaw student who ended up answering the question, noting that both potions shared a desired effect; to force the drinker to speak.
"Correct, Babbling Beverage is a weak, harmless potion that results in uncontrollable and nonsensical speech. Veritaserum is a powerful and dangerous potion that creates an uncontrollable need to answer truthfully when asked a question. It is for this reason they are classed as 'cousin-potions'. Similar base properties, but not as closely related as sister-potions. Who can tell me what a sister-potion is?"
Again, the same Ravenclaw student shot up her hand, several other blue-clad arms following suit around her. Lance wasn't particularly gifted in potion-making, but he was smarter than people gave him credit for. Also, his potions class at Ilvermorny had already covered this.
Lance raised his hand.
"McClain," the Professor acknowledged, pleasantly surprised.
"Sister-potions share similar properties and effects, with their primary differences being strength, potency, and difficulty to brew. An example would be any of the various love potions."
"Excellent, five points to Slytherin," Professor Blaytz continued.
He expanded on Lance's example, comparing quick, easy potions such as Cupid Crystals and Kissing Concoction with more complex, powerful potions like Beguiling Bubbles and Twilight Moonbeams.
"And who can tell me the most powerful love potion of all?"
Immediately, and to absolutely no one's surprise, every single hand in the room shot up.
"Care to redeem yourself, Philip?"
"Amortentia, Professor," he answered with more contempt in his voice than Lance felt necessary. Professor Blaytz narrowed his eyes angrily but thankfully did not deduct them points. He didn't award any either, and to Lance, that was telling enough.
"Yes," he curtly confirmed, "Amortentia is the most powerful and dangerous love potion in existence. It is, for this reason, Amortentia has been deemed an advanced-level potion . As sixth-years I feel you are old enough to understand the danger this potion poses and practice extreme caution as we work with it."
Mutterings were heard throughout the room, some wary of the potent love potion, others excited to see it firsthand. For Lance, potions like Amortentia weren't worth the trouble they caused. Love was only valuable if you earned it and it couldn't be formulated in a bottle. Not real love, of course.
"Now, Amortentia does not produce real feelings of love but instead a very strong, almost obsessive infatuation," Professor Blaytz continued and Lance nodded along. He moved down the display table to a small cauldron still overtop a dull flame. The Professor paused only for a moment before he lifted the lid and steam began to rise out of the cauldron, lazily spiralling upwards before dissipating.
"THIS is Amortentia. Today you will be brewing a sister-potion called Cupid Crystals. Find a partner from your opposite house and turn to page 69 in your copy of Advanced Potion Making."
"Partner," Pidge said from directly beside him, tugging on Lance's sleeve. There was no arguing with the finality in her statement and Lance smiled down at his small friend.
" Si, compañeros! (Yes, partners!) " He exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug despite Pidge's avid objections.
"Ugh, don't make me regret this," she complained, but Lance saw the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and ruffled the hair atop her head. "Knock it off!" she screeched and Lance laughed.
They set up their workstation, pulling out their textbooks and potion-making supplies. They used Pidge's cauldron because Lance hadn't properly cleaned his, Lance's stir sticks because Pidge only had two left, Lance's placemat, Pidge's brass scales, and Pidge's mortar and pestle. Pidge assigned Lance as their designated note-taker while she was responsible for monitoring the potion. He barely got past the first line when she took the job away from him, complaining that he wasn't writing down important information.
But Lance wasn't going to let that fly. Her penmanship was abysmal and Lance could barely make out what she had written. He took back his parchment and inkpot and stood his ground.
"Nope, nuh-uh, I'm not sharing notes I can't even read. If there's something you want added, just tell me," he argued and Pidge rolled her eyes at him.
"Fine, but be thorough, we need these notes for studying," she grumbled.
Lance dismissed her concerns with a flip of the wrist and began writing down his observations as the potion changed with each added step.
Halfway through the process, Professor Blaytz began to call each pair to the table at the front of the class. Lance watched as the other students spoke with the Professor briefly before leaning in to smell the brewed Amortentia. He couldn't wait for his turn, excited to learn what his ideal love would smell like. He imagined the sweet scent of strawberries and vanilla that clung to Imogen, the spices in the air of his home back in Cuba, the salt of the sea, and the distinct smell of cigar smoke that clung to Abuelo and Pop-Pop. There were so many smells that made Lance smile and brought with them a sense of comfort and familiarity that he couldn't narrow it down.
"Holt, McClain, to the front."
Pidge gave a nervous glance at their cauldron, their potion was at a stage where it needed to be stirred constantly and she looked apprehensive about walking away.
"Pidge," he said, pulling out his wand at her hesitation, "are you a Witch or not? Just cast a stirring charm." He pointed his wand at the glass ladle and muttered "Mobillarbus Circumage" as he moved his wand in a perfect circle, the magic dragging the ladle along with his movement. Lance returned his wand to his inside pocket and the ladle continued on its never-ending rotation, stirring the contents of their cauldron and preventing the potion from spoiling.
Pidge looked up at him with surprise. "I didn't even think of that," she said, lowering her voice in embarrassment. Lance shrugged and played it off, explaining that she clearly wasn't as brilliant as him. The feisty Ravenclaw rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder, scoffing as she walked off to the front of the room. Lance snickered to himself. It was common for NoMaj-born Witches and Wizards to first think of a physical solution to a problem before a magical one. As a pureblood, Lance naturally defaulted to magic and would sometimes overlook a simple, non-magical solution. Both had their advantages and disadvantages, but if you asked Lance, magic just made everything so much easier.
He scurried after Pidge and listened to Professor Blaytz explain the different love potions on the table. He asked them to explain the difference between the potions and allowed them to smell each cauldron, starting with the easiest and least powerful which also happened to be the one they were currently brewing at their stations; Cupid Crystals. It was a very light pink colour and smelt strongly of roses, the overpowering floral scent making Lance recoil. Each of the others carried an undertone of rose, though their main notes varied. One smelled like citrus and rose, another smelled of jasmine and rose, and another yet smelled of linen and rose. None of them smelled bad , it was just that Lance wasn't a huge fan of floral scents and they were all so overpowering.
Last was the cauldron of Amortentia and Lance stared at it nervously. Dios Mio, he hoped it didn't smell like roses too.
"Tell me about this potion, what sets its apart from the others?" The Professor asked and immediately Pidge launched into a long winded explanation of the properties and dangers, even going so far as to list some of the unique ingredients.
"Good," Professor Blaytz nodded, "now, remember that this is a very powerful and very dangerous potion so try to get a good sniff without getting too close," he warned. "Miss Holt, you first."
Pidge nodded and leaned in, taking a deep whiff of the potion and drawing the slowly spiralling steam to her nose. She let out a content sigh and smiled into the brew. "It smells like fresh parchment, Spag Bol, and …" she leaned in for another sniff, blushing slightly as he stepped back, "and barley."
It was finally Lance's turn and he stepped in front of the cauldron, excitedly peering into its depths. The potion swirled beautifully, its pearlescent sheen shimmering in the light and rising up in a softly swirling spiral. Lance leaned in and breathed deeply.
The first smell to hit him was wholly unexpected. He'd anticipated soft, sweet, energizing, or even floral notes but the depth of the smokey aroma was soothing. He felt it wash over his senses like a comforting hug and sighed at the thought of a gently crackling wood fire.
The next scent to appear was the distinct, luxurious smell of well-worn leather. Lance knew this smell immediately. He tried placing the rich scent as the furnishings inside the Slytherin House common room, or the leather of his book bag, but neither of these options seemed right. He knew this smell, he'd smelled it before, but nothing his memory could supply fit perfectly. It gnawed at the back of his mind as he leaned in for another sniff.
The final notes to make themselves known were also easily recognizable, though Lance didn't know how to place them either. He knew the fresh citrus scent with complex, spicy undertones to be bergamot but wasn't quite sure where he'd come across it. He pondered for a moment or two but failed to come up with anything of substance.
Lance explained his smells to the Professor and returned to his workstation with Pidge, still puzzling over the confusing revelations. How could he be attracted to scents he didn't even know how to place? He must have smelled them before and they must have held some meaning to him, so how could he not remember? How could he not know them?
Lance spent the remainder of potions class troubled by these thoughts.
He forgot to speak with Professor Blaytz.
Lance woke to the gentle sound of waves lapping against the window. In his sleep-addled state, he half expected to hear the accompanying squawk of seagulls and the annoyed screams of tourists who'd sacrifice their tostones in a bid to get away from the winged demons.
Unfortunately, the only voices he could hear were speaking in hushed English instead of enthusiastic Spanish. The room was dark and cold too, not the sunny warmth of his childhood home. Lance groaned and rolled over, pulling the silky sheets up to his face and burying his head in his pillow.
He didn't know where Blue had ended up, she'd been getting more and more comfortable with Hogwarts and had started venturing out of his room, occasionally startling a younger student when she'd appear by the fireplaces to bask in the warmth. Luckily she hadn't figured out how to leave the common room just yet because Lance was not looking forward to the day he'd find himself trolling the grounds of Hogwarts in search of her scaly butt. Too many times had he gone searching for her back at Ilvermorny, only to have one of the pukwudgies stomp up grasping her by the tail. Too. Many. Times.
The hushed voices faded down the hall and Lance let his eyes drift closed again, just for a minute, then he'd get up and have breakfast. Probably take a shower and whatnot.
"-ance, LaAance, you up mate?" A voice said from far too close for Lance's liking. He cracked open an eye and found the room illuminated by the pale green light shining in through the Black Lake. Rubbing at his eyes, Lance yawned and rolled over to face his obnoxious waker-upper.
"Rise and shine sleeping beauty, it's nearly half twelve. You're going to miss quidditch practice," Simon said, pulling the warm cozy blankets off Lance's body and exposing him to the chilly air. "Come on then, chop chop!"
"I'm up, I'm up," Lance grumbled, rolling to his feet and scowling at Simon's far too-chipper smile. "I'll catch up,"
"Yeah, alright, I very much doubt that, Rip Van Winkle."
With surprisingly impressive aim for his half-unconscious state, Lance nailed Simon in the back of the head with his pillow. Unfortunately, this meant he couldn't lie back down. Which sucked.
Guess he was getting up after all. Which also sucked.
The quidditch pitch was draped in a thick layer of fog even though it was already well into the day. The sand under the goalposts had turned to mud and the grass on the knoll was all soggy and gross. Lance begrudgingly climbed the thousands and thousands of steps that brought him up the spectator towers, barely having the energy to lift his foot to the next. When he reached the top he realized, with no small amount of contempt, that he had climbed the wrong tower. With a sigh he resigned himself to climbing down, walking across to the next tower, and climbing back up. If only his escalator spell had been perfected and ready to use without inflicting serious bodily injury.
Slytherin was scheduled to play Gryffindor tomorrow night, and Simon was forcing the entirety of the Slytherin team to practice for the remainder of the evening. Their whole house was welcome to come out and show some support, which was Simon speak for "come, or be in the prefect's bad books". Lance was already the least-loved member of Slytherin house at the moment, he didn't need to make it any worse.
"Finally," James said as Lance slumped into the space next to him. "Thought we were going to have to come get you. Again."
"Ha, ha," Lance laughed dryly, not at all amused. He'd far rather be in bed. Tutoring all these students had him wiped. It was one thing to run the study group, and another to help Nadia on the side, but now Professor Smythe had him tutoring a total of four additional students. But it was okay, it was all okay, he'd wanted this; he'd asked for this. It would all be worth it when he earned back those points, propelling Slytherin to the head of the pack where they belonged.
A bright giggle sounded from behind him and mittened hands wrapped around Lance's eyes. "Guess who," Imogen said, the intensely sweet smell of strawberry and vanilla washing over him.
"Ummm … Assistant Professor Shirogane?" Lance teased, earning a bark of laughter from James and an indignant huff from Imogen.
"Funny, Lance," she pouted, coming to sit next to him and snuggling up against his side. "Where were you? I saved you a seat for breakfast AND lunch!"
"He was asleep til noon. Honestly, don't know how you do that!" James piped in and Lance was totally going to respond, he really was, but a bludger flew past their tower so closely it nearly took the tip of Lance's nose clean off.
Okay, so maybe not that close but still, he could feel the breeze! He mentioned this to James and the dick laughed at him, calling him dramatic. RUDE! Lance did not haul his ass out of bed and up a billion flights of stairs, twice, for this.
The practice dragged on and on and on and Lance found that he had been abandoned after having fallen back asleep. At some point the Slytherin team packed it in, allowing for Gryffindor to take over the pitch. On the bench next to him was a piece of intricately folded parchment held in place under a small rock, Imogen's delicate cursive clearly visible.
"Lance, you fell asleep and we didn't want to wake you. Gone for tea. Catch you in the common room xoxo - Gen "
With a groan and a large, full-body stretch, Lance stood up and prepared to make his way down the tower steps. Again.
"Hey, transfer student," someone on a broom called out, "you better not be spying on our practice. Even Slytherin wouldn't sink that low, would they?"
Lance glared at him, not bothering to respond, instead he rolled his eyes and gathered up his things. He must have been asleep longer than he'd thought. Broom-guy laughed cruelly and he flew down to the ground, dismounted his broom, and walked over to join the rest of the Gryffindor team as they packed up their gear. Lance just glared down at him, high enough in the stands that they likely couldn't even see his face.
The overcast sky broke and heavy, slushy rain began to fall down onto the benches around him soaking Lance to the bone in a matter of seconds. His bag and the parchment in his hands didn't fare much better. It was nearly dinner time and Lance did not want to walk down all those slippery steps, not in the slightest, especially soaking wet.
"Hey, Lance," a familiar voice said and Lance looked up to find Keith hovering outside Slytherin's green watchtower, his black hair dripping off his head. "What are you doing here? Were you watching the Gryffindor practice?" A strange slurry of confusion, excitement, and embarrassment emanated off Keith and Lance didn't really know what to make of that. He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks as he admitted to having fallen asleep and Keith giggled at him. GIGGLED. It was a cute sound Keith clearly hadn't intended on making as he immediately furrowed his brow and cleared his throat, but Lance didn't miss the blush he'd tried to hide. Which was also cute. Lance smiled at him.
"I should get back," Keith said, gesturing over his shoulder at the Gryffindor team who were already walking across the grounds back to the castle.
"Yeah, yeah, me too," Lance replied, "got a lot of stairs to descend."
Keith chewed his bottom lip and scowled at his broom handle. After a beat, he looked back to Lance, clearly having made up his mind. "Want a ride?" Keith offered and Lance snapped his head up in time to catch another embarrassed little blush darkening Keith's cheeks to an impossible degree. "I mean, I can give you a ride down. If you want. Might be faster."
Lance chuckled at him, "yeah, that would definitely be faster! Thanks, Mullet."
Keith rolled his eyes but shrugged out a "no worries," nonetheless. Carefully, he flew his broom into the stands where Lance was waiting. The overhead riser was short, not allowing for much clearance when flying in, and the wind-blown sleet had easily entered, soaking the benches and making everything slippery. But Keith was clearly a skilled flyer, he dismounted his broom in one smooth, fluid motion and landed on a bench a few levels above Lance, smirking as he looked down at him, and adjusted his leather gloves. "It's the least I can do after you stayed up helping me with my transfiguration. Honestly, Lance, I really do appreciate the help."
"What are friends for?" Lance beamed, climbing the benches to meet Keith eye-to-eye and pointedly ignoring the sour feeling in his gut at the mention of tutoring Keith.
Without a word Keith reached out a hand to help steady Lance on the slippery benches then remounted his broom, scooting forward to make space for Lance to hop on behind him. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith's waist and tucked his head into the back of Keith's neck. The response in Keith's emotions was immediate and Lance picked up a sudden spike with intense notes of nervousness and excitement. The combination seemed to be something Keith felt often around Lance and if he was being totally honest with himself, he always felt a thrill of excitement when he was around Keith too.
He kissed the back of Keith's neck and whispered "thank you," before tightening his grip as Keith shot out from the stands at a breakneck speed and then plummeted straight down to the ground of the pitch. But Keith didn't stop at the ground like he was supposed to, instead he lifted back up at the last possible moment, changing course and heading for the Black Lake.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING?" Lance yelled against the wind and sleet. He felt Keith's ab muscles contract with laughter and the psycho increased their speed, aiming them straight for the rocky shore. "OH nonono!" Lance panicked, "what are you doing? You're going to kill us both!"
"Shut up and trust me!" Keith shouted back, crouching low against the broom as he focused. Lance was terrified. There was no other way to put it. Quite simply, he was too young to die, he hadn't yet graced the world with enough of his presence and didn't want his shining light to be snuffed out in his prime. Oh, what horrors awaited the poor soul who'd find their mangled bodies, splayed out on the rocks and battered beyond recognition.
He closed his eyes tightly and waited for the inevitable. Would it hurt? Or would it be over so quickly he'd never know what hit him? Either way, Lance didn't want to see it coming. He didn't want his final moments to be one of fear and panic. Which it totally was already. So instead, he buried his face in the back of Keith's neck, breathing in the smokey smell that clung to him and squeezing tightly around his waist.
But the impact never came.
Lance cracked open his eyes to find them smoothly gliding inches above the water, way out in the middle of the lake. He loosened his grip and leaned back, looking over his shoulder to find the Hogwarts castle sitting small in the distance.
"This is about the edge of the school grounds," Keith began, "it's also the deepest part of the lake. I come out here to get away from everyone when it gets to be too much, you know? It's peaceful out here."
"Yeah," Lance breathed, "why'd you bring me here?"
Keith shrugged, "you seem tired; like you could use a break or something."
"Mmm," Lance hummed and rested his cheek on the back of Keith's shoulder blades, staring out at the open water and the sun sitting low in the sky. He didn't know what to say. Keith was right, it was incredibly peaceful out here and he did need a break. Lance was exhausted.
Keith muttered a spell under his breath that Lance didn't quite catch and spun around on his broom, turning to face Lance as they gently hovered in place. "Hey," he smiled shyly.
"Hey," Lance smiled back.
Keith stared at him for a while, content in each other's company to merely exist. They sat on Keith's broom, hovering with their feet inches above the calm water as the snow-heavy rain lightened into a gentle mist. In the distance the sun had begun to set, painting the sky in spectacular shades of purple, red, and orange. The light reflected off Keith's eyes and made them sparkle. Lance didn't understand Henry, how could anyone, anyone , look into these eyes and turn down this handsome boy? There was magic swirling in their depths, something deep and dark and powerful. Lance could feel it. Keith was powerful. Keith was beautiful. Keith was smart and talented and genuine and honest and brave and reckless and funny and kind and way out of Lance's league.
He watched as those amethyst eyes sparkled in the setting sun's dim light. They jumped between his own, searching for something as Keith's silent internal battle danced across his face. He must have settled on a decision. His gaze hardened and a look of utter determination came over him. He gave a curt nod to himself and met Lance's gaze with unrivalled intensity.
"I really like you, Lance," he said into the stillness between them.
It took Lance wholly by surprise, he'd expected Keith to say something about heading back, or commenting on him being so tired. Lance just stared silently, unable to think of anything to say in response. But it didn't matter because Keith wasn't finished.
"These past few weeks, the way you've been helping with my Transfiguration, they've really meant a lot to me. No one has ever taken the time to just help me. At least, not without ulterior motives, you know?" He smiled shyly at Lance through thick lashes and Lance felt his stomach drop. He did have ulterior motives. Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last time, Lance felt like absolute garbage as Keith smiled at him and continued. "The guys on the quidditch team help because if I don't pass all of my classes I can't be on the team. Pidge and Hunk try to help but sometimes they just make me more confused."
Lance awkwardly chuckled at his frustrated little scowl. "Yeah, Nadia said the same thing about Ina helping her."
Keith nodded along, clearly understanding Nadia's plight. "Honestly, I'm surprised Pidge and Ina aren't better friends. They're both basically robots."
Finally, Lance felt something other than guilt and he tilted his head in confusion. What was a robot? Was that some sort of NoMaj thing?
"What's a robot?" he asked and Keith looked at him with surprise before it was quickly replaced with fondness. A fondness Lance did not deserve.
"You know, for a pureblood who knows what a hashtag is, I'm genuinely surprised you don't know about robots," he chuckled. "We should have a Dr. Who marathon with Pidge, she would love that."
"Dr. what?"
"No, no, Dr. Who !" Keith laughed, obviously teasing him. But that cleared up absolutely nothing ! Lance looked at him with a puzzled expression, he still had no clue what Keith was talking about. "It's fine, you'll like it, trust me."
"I do," Lance whispered, not intending for it to be said aloud or so damn earnestly. But now that it had been he couldn't take it back, and even if he could he wouldn't, not after the way Keith's eyes had widened in surprise and an embarrassed smile crept across his cheeks.
"Lance," Keith said, matching the intimacy of Lance's whisper. He hesitated only a moment before he leaned across the gap between them and sealed his lips to Lance's. One of Keith's gloved hands gripped the broom between them for stability as the other came up into Lance's hair at the back of his head. It was a soft, gentle kiss that begged for more and Lance tightened his own grip on the broom handle to pull himself closer to Keith.
The moment he closed the space between them the passion erupted and Keith was kissing him deeper, harder, and more hungrily than ever before. Lance moaned into the kiss, parting his lips to let Keith take control and his hands left the broom handle in search of a warmer place to rest. They found Keith's back, sliding under his cloak and pulling him even closer yet.
A strong hand tightened in Lance's hair, pulling his head back as Keith's lips moved from his and began to travel across Lance's jaw and down his neck. Keith's other hand lifted from the broom, coming up to gently caress along Lance's lower lip, cheek, jaw, then neck; his thumb catching on the collar of Lance's shirt as he pulled it away from the flush skin. Keith's lips continued down, following the drips of rain and melting snow as they moved to newly exposed areas. Lance moaned again as Keith settled in at the crook of his neck, licking and sucking and nipping at the base of his throat and across his shoulder.
Lance's fists clenched, Keith's shirt pulling tight in his grip. He found himself gasping for breath and used his hold on Keith to remove any remaining distance between them, desperately sliding along the broom handle to entangle their legs and press their chests together. He buried his nose in Keith's soft but terrible hair, feeling the silky strands tickle his cheeks. Lance was practically sitting in Keith's lap at his point, not even enough space between them to grasp the broom's handle or steady himself in any way. But he didn't need to steady himself, they weren't moving. Keith's charm had them hovering in place over the calm water, the light rain misting around them, and the purple sky reflecting beautifully each time Lance opened his eyes.
A splash from below broke the pristine silence and sent a wave of water over them, severing their connection and sending both boys plummeting into the lake.
Lance hit the water with a less-than-graceful dive, but Keith hit with a hard slap. It seemed to knock the wind out of him and a disoriented Keith flailed in the dark waters. Lance swam up, gasping for air as he breached the surface and waited for Keith. And waited. And waited.
Something wasn't right. Keith should have made it up by now. With a large intake of air, Lance dove down into the cold, dark waters and found the worst sight he could have imagined. Keith was being dragged down into the depths by grindylows. Lance watched as Keith kicked and flailed in their grasp, unable to break free as they pulled him down, down, down, deeper and deeper into the lake.
Lance reached for his wand, pulling it from his cloak pocket and shouted " Relashio ," into the water, aiming directly at the grindylows swarming Keith. A jet of boiling water erupted from the tip of his wand, encompassing them all and causing the little demons to shriek angrily. They released Keith's ankles, hissing and spitting and scratching as they retreated into the darkness.
Lance swam down to reach an unconscious, sinking Keith. He pushed himself as hard as he could, years and years of swimming in the Ocean currents helping him maintain his breath as he struggled to catch up. What good was a water affinity if Lance couldn't even swim fast enough to save Keith? He focused all of his energy on reaching Keith as fast as possible and pleaded with the currents of the lake to push him down, down, down, or at the very least to slow Keith's descent.
Lance put to use the skills he'd been learning in Alchemy, how to manipulate his natural element, how to utilize it, how to control it, and found himself picking up speed. The currents pulled him down until he managed to catch the tail of Keith's cloak floating above him as he sank. Lance grabbed a fist full of fabric, wrapping it securely around his wrist and weakly called out " Ascendio" with the last bits of air remaining in his lungs.
As the spell took hold, Lance was propelled from the depths, pulling Keith along with him. He shot out of the water and draped himself over Keith's broom still hovering in place. Lance hoisted himself up onto the broomstick and dragged a still-unconscious Keith over the handle. Lance gasped for air, desperately trying to catch his breath as he righted himself on Keith's beloved cherrywood broom. Quickly, he took control and brought them back to land, being sure to fly them up a little higher, far out of reach from anything else that may want to snatch them.
Keith woke up six days later.
It was all anyone was talking about. Keith Kogane, the Gryffindor seeker, had been dropped off at the hospital wing unconscious and nearly half-drowned. His body was covered in blisters, scrapes, and bruises. No one knew what had happened, who had dropped him off, or why he hadn't returned to Gryffindor tower with the rest of his team.
No one, that is, except Lance. And Lance wasn't saying a damn word.
Madame Longbottom was mystified as to Keith's condition. His physical wounds healed alarmingly fast, yet he remained locked in an unconscious state. Some of the NoMaj-borns had called it a coma, others questioned if he'd been cursed into an enchanted sleep. Lance didn't know what was wrong, but he knew grindylows couldn't curse you like that, and his little spell wouldn't have brought about this reaction. It was strange and unnatural.
So Lance decided to do some digging.
He'd finally spoken to Professor Blaytz about accessing the restricted section and, to his delight, had been granted permission. Lance checked out more books than he could possibly carry, enchanting his leather book bag with an undetectable extension charm to manage them all. In the hoard, he had included several books referencing magical sleep, and anything that remotely resembled Keith's condition.
He spent hours each evening sitting at Keith's bedside, reading through text after text, searching for an answer. At first, Madame Longbottom had shooed him out, urging him to return to his common room and get some sleep, worried why a Slytherin student was hanging around the unconscious Gryffindor seeker. But Lance didn't care. The stupid house rivalries were stupid and pointless and counterproductive and, well, stupid! None of the Gyffindors were looking into the causes of spontaneous and prolonged unconsciousness. None of the Gryffindors seemed at all concerned with how Keith was doing. None of the Gryffindors questioned why Professor Thace had been lurking in the hospital wing that first night, leaning over Keith's still body.
But Lance did. He cared about Keith's progress and he cared about what Professor Thace had been doing. He just … cared. Period. So he visited every day, as often as he could, for as long as he could. By the third night, Madame Longbottom had come to accept his presence and even smiled at him as he took his unusual place on the floor at the side of Keith's bed.
The only other persons to visit Keith were Hunk, Shay, Pidge, Pidge's brother Matt, Nadia, and Shiro.
Lance had been startled the first time Shiro stopped by. He'd brought Allura along and though she didn't get too close to Keith, she did seem to care. The gang popped by a few times, staying only briefly before heading to the library, or the great hall, or their respective common rooms. But Lance had yet to see a single Gryffindor, aside from Nadia.
"Mate, you need to stop going to the hospital wing, people are starting to talk," Simon warned, nervously glancing around at students who paused mid-conversation when they walked by.
But Lance wasn't going to stop, Keith needed someone to find answers about his condition, he needed someone who gave enough of a shit about him to visit on a regular basis, even if he didn't know Lance was there.
"He's my friend," Lance replied, dismissing Simon's concern for his social status, "I'd do the same if it were you or James laying unconscious on a medical bed. Wouldn't you do the same for me?"
"Well, yeah, of course. And sure, you say he's your friend but how much do you really know about him?" Simon questioned.
"What do you mean?"
"James says there's something … off , about Kogane. He can't quite put his finger on it, but there's something about him that doesn't fit. James once told me that Leah told him that Lotor told her that Haggar told him that Keith had told her to go away."
Lance stared blankly at Simon. What? Who the hell was Haggar? And why was Keith telling her to go away big news?
"Haggar is Lotor's snake," Simon clarified, reading Lance's befuddled expression.
"Okay, so Keith doesn't like snakes and told her to move it. How is that news? I'd do the same if I found a rat in the hallway. Or a spider."
"She's a snake, Lance, she doesn't speak English. For her to understand what Keith said he'd have had to say it in Parseltongue."
"But only you and Lotor can speak snake."
"I KNOW! That's why it's a big deal."
"Maybe she just started to pick up what the English words sound like, and knows that those sounds mean go away ? You know?" Lance speculated, trying to think of a reasonable explanation. But Simon just shook his head.
"No, mate, she said he'd told her to go away, not that he'd said "go away". Those are two different things in parseltongue. It's hard to explain but there's a big difference. It's just weird, but then again Kogane's always been weird I guess."
"Maybe you just don't know him very well," Lance defended and Simon gave him a queer look. "What?" he asked.
"Why are you so quick to defend him?"
"Why are you so quick to condemn him?"
"It's just odd is all."
"Well, I don't like the way you're talking about him. You don't even know him."
"Yeah, and whose fault is that? Kogane started some beef with James back in first year and, in case you haven't noticed, my loyalties lie with James. They always have and they always will, as should yours."
Lance stopped and took a good look at Simon. He was visibly upset, not just annoyed but actually angry. Lance had never, ever, seen Simon angry outside of the context of quidditch. He wondered what exactly had happened between Keith and James, and furthermore what had happened between James and Simon to instill this much blind loyalty.
"Keith is my friend and he deserves to be cared for and visited."
"Let his fellow Gryffindors do that."
"They aren't though."
"Lance, I find your loyalty to your friend honourable, I do, but you really need to take a step back and evaluate who you're friends are. I'm just trying to look out for you. I hear what people are saying behind your back and I'm worried about you. Kogane has a reputation for being volatile and unpredictable. I've heard rumours about him, things people have mentioned, and I don't want to see you get pulled down with him."
Lance didn't know what these rumours were but he knew didn't like them. "I appreciate the concern," he replied, genuinely meaning it. "I know you're just trying to look out for me but I'm fine. I have a pretty good judge of character and, being a legilimence, I can usually tell when someone has ill intentions."
Simon sighed heavily and shook his head. He placed his hand on Lance's shoulder and met his gaze with heavy, worried eyes. "I know, I'm just worried about you, mate."
"Don't be, I've got everything under control."
Everything was a mess.
Imogen was annoyed that he wasn't spending any time with her. Simon and James were casting him worried glances each night when he'd finally return to his dorm. Professor Thace was hovering over him more than usual. And Shirogane was popping up constantly. It seemed like everywhere Lance went Shiro was there as if he were following Lance. Which made no sense.
Right?
Lance closed the book in his lap. He'd found a family genealogy text tucked away in some dusty rack in the very far corner of the restricted section. Contained inside was a list of every member of the Galra clans, known and unknown, magically enchanted to include their name at birth. He had practically squealed with excitement at the discovery. The first section of the book contained the members of the Daibazaal family, all the way down to Lotor. It listed him as the son of Zarkon Daibazaal and his ex-wife Honerva Altea.
The second, third, and fourth chapters were the Dolohovs, the Goyles, and the Ranveigs respectively. The latter of which Lance hadn't seen mentioned often. There were a few names Lance recognized from History of Magic, and some strange anomalies he'd noticed in these chapters. For instance, some members had both parents listed, while others had only one. There were symbols beside the names denoting their blood status and everyone with only a single parent listed also had the half-blood symbol beside their name. Lance concluded that only magical people were included in the list when he found a line from a Bernitta Goyle that ended with no name at the end; a child that had most likely been a squib.
The fifth chapter listed the members of the Marmora family and Lance eagerly mapped the lineage. He quickly found Thace Marmora and curiously studied his direct relations. It appeared that he didn't have any children, but he did have a younger sister; Krolia.
"Lance?"
Lance's attention snapped up from the book at the sound of his name in Keith's raspy voice.
"Keith? You're awake!" He excitedly exclaimed. Lance shut the old book, hastily placing it on the foot of the bed as he turned fully to face a groggy Keith.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, cautiously resting the back of his hand on Keith's forehead.
Keith gave him a puzzled look and Lance awkwardly laughed off the action.
"I feel … fine, I guess. Kinda tired." Keith rasped, his voice rough from disuse.
"Well that's good, right?"
"Yeah," Keith agreed. His brow furrowed, knitting together in deep concentration as he pondered some thought. Lance could only sense a vague confusion and insecurity coming from him. "How long have you been here?" Keith asked and Lance smiled softly down at him.
"You mean today? Or in general? Cause I've only been here about twenty minutes, but it's been a total of six days."
"SIX DAYS?" Keith panicked and winced at a headache that erupted. "Ugh, I feel like I got hit by a train."
"So not fine then?" Lance teased and Keith smirked, rolling his eyes as he half-heartedly smacked Lance on the arm and earned a laugh out of him.
"Mr. Kogane, glad to see you awake."
Madame Longbottom crossed the large room with a gentle smile and began taking Keith's temperature, tisking as she cast a warming charm on his blankets while simultaneously placing a cool towel on his forehead. Keith sighed in comfort.
"Mr. McClain, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave now, dear."
Lance nodded and bid Keith adieu, kissing his cheek as he got up to leave. He grabbed his book bag off the floor and walked towards the corridor, hearing Keith's raspy voice whisper "Good night, Lance" as the door closed behind him.
Once awake, Keith made a remarkably quick recovery. He was back in class the very next day, angrily scowling at anyone who whispered about him loud enough for his sharp ears to catch. Nearly half of Hogwarts had been death-glared into silence by him before lunch.
Lance packed up his Alchemy books as class ended, preparing to head to the library for his spare period before supper to do some more research and finish looking through that genealogy book he'd found.
Keith startled him by leaning in closely across their shared desk. His hushed voice was rough and dark; rushed in an attempt to be secretive. "Meet me here after dinner. Seven o'clock." He commanded and immediately threw his bag over his shoulder before storming off to his next class, leaving Lance alone with the charged air around him.
Lance slipped through the courtyard on the first floor and tried to maintain a casual demeanour as he purposefully made his way to the Transfiguration room where his Alchemy class had been. He could run into a Professor or a fellow student at any time and be forced to explain why he was wandering about in this section of the castle at this time of the evening.
The door to the room was locked which was strange. Keith had specifically told him the exact time to meet and, since Lance was running a smidge late, he should already be inside waiting.
"Alohomora", Lance whispered, pointing his wand at the handle and watching with satisfaction as it lifted, popping the door ajar. He tucked his wand back into his robes and entered the empty classroom. Where was Keith? He should have been here already. Maybe he -
A firm hand slapped across Lance's mouth and a strong grip pushed him against the heavy wooden door, forcefully shutting it in the process.
"Colloportus," Keith whispered, pressing his hand on the wood beside Lance's head and casting the locking charm without the use of his wand. "Muffliato," he added, purple eyes locked onto Lance's blue. Whatever Keith wanted to say, it was clearly meant to be private.
Lance licked Keith's palm to remove it from around his mouth and Keith recoiled in surprise and disgust, wiping it on the side of his robes.
"Locked doors AND a muffling charm?" Lance asked, quirking his brow, "what's going on, Keith?"
Instead of words, Keith pushed their bodies closer, leaning his weight into Lance's slim frame and pressing him against the door. His hand came up to the base of Lance's skull, lacing his fingers in the curls of Lance's hair.
"Oh," Lance breathed and Keith smirked at him, sliding his thigh between Lance's legs and removing any distance between them. His lips crashed down on Lance's, capturing them in a possessive battle for control and Lance quickly surrendered. Keith seized the power he'd been given, directing the kiss as he saw fit and Lance allowed himself to be pulled with the current.
Electricity buzzed between them, thrumming through his veins as Keith's kiss ignited him. His heart raced in double time, triple time, quadruple time! He could feel his breath being stolen from his lungs, but still Lance hungered for more. He let Keith move against him, let him dominate Lance's mouth with his skilled tongue, and press him into the door so completely that Lance was certain he'd become embedded in the grains of wood.
Keith moaned into the kiss and moved his mouth from Lance's eager lips down his jawline to kiss at the nape of his neck. It was now Lance's turn to moan and Keith chuckled against his skin, sending shivers down his spine and making Lance's knees go weak.
"Keith," Lance tried but Keith carried on, kissing his way across Lance's collarbone before licking up the length of his throat. "Keith," Lance said again, his voice even shakier this time and Keith locked his lips to Lance's, swallowing any further attempts at speaking.
Lance lost himself in the moment after that, abandoning his attempt to reign them in and instead giving in to Keith and his clearly incredible plans. He wrapped his arms around Keith's neck and locked him in place. Though he'd never had a clandestine encounter of this sort, Lance was definitely open to new experiences. After all, he was a Thunderbird; adventure called to him.
After what felt like a blissful eternity, time having stood still while they were connected, Lance and Keith broke apart from their kiss, both boys gasping for air and breathing heavily in the heated moment.
"It's late," Keith finally said, his voice rough but his touch gentle. He caressed Lance's cheek and kissed him lightly before backing away every so slightly. "We should get back to our rooms before our Prefects come looking. We don't want to get caught out of bed if it gets any later."
"Mmmm," Lance hummed in reply, fixing his tie and hair. "Smart, smart, we've already lost our houses enough points," he chuckled and Keith levelled him with an annoyed glare.
"I know, I'd gotten in massive shit from Henry."
"The blond guy that turned you down for Halloween Ball, right?" Lance asked and Keith's mood soured.
"Yeah, he's also Gryffindor's Headboy."
"Oh damn!" Lance gasped.
"Oh damn indeed," Keith chuckled at Lance's surprise. "You're cute," he added, smiling at Lance and planting another light kiss on his lips.
"Cute?" Lance objected. "I'll have you know mi mamá says I'm the most handsome young man in all of Cuba."
"Well, we're not in Cuba, but you're definitely the cutest young man in all of Scotland," Keith snickered, pinching Lance's cheeks as he teased him.
"I'll take it," Lance laughed, leaning in to kiss Keith one last time. "Do we really need to go now?" Lance asked between kisses, neither of them making a move to fully separate as Keith hummed.
"Yeah. Meet me in the clock tower tomorrow before lunch."
"It's a date."
Lance groaned at his reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. How had he let this happen? Two weeks of sneaky makeout sessions with Keith had left his body absolutely covered in hickeys, bite marks, and bruises. It was only a matter of time before Imogen noticed.
Imogen. Dammit. Lance really needed to break up with her.
It was just so hard when he knew she'd ask for an explanation, a reasonable request if he did say so himself. Unfortunately, he couldn't provide a suitable answer without revealing how much he sucked. Honestly, he was a terrible person. Hunk, Pidge, Shay, and Keith all talked about how awful Imogen was but it was Lance that was awful. He hated how it tore him up inside but he couldn't give up his little affair with Keith.
¡Dios mío! He was totally having an affair with Keith. Kinda. Okay, so he wasn't, like, married to Imogen or anything, they weren't even officially dating really, but that didn't change how it felt. To him, it felt like an affair and Keith was the other woman, or man, or whatever. Ay , Lance really was a piece of shit, wasn't he?
He wondered what Miguel would have to say about this. Or his mamá ? Or, god forbid, his Abuela ? Nope, nope, Lance wasn't going to think about that, he was going to make this right. He was going to sit down and have a talk with Imogen to set clear boundaries for their relationship. They were friends, just friends!
So, Lance had a girlfriend. And a secret boyfriend. And an ulcer.
Ughhhhhhhh, why did everything have to be so hard? He didn't want to hurt her, but Imogen was hard to turn down. She'd asked if there was someone else and what was Lance to say? He couldn't admit to this thing with Keith, so he'd lied and said no. But all that accomplished was her trapping him in a line of questions that led to him having no valid reason to call things off. He did like her, he did find her attractive, he did enjoy spending time with her, he did not have another girlfriend, he did not have a justification that he could give. Those big doe eyes had batted innocently up at him and Lance just melted.
Keith was going to be pissed.
"You're an idiot," Rachel said, plopping down beside him at the Slytherin table. She requested a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, tucking in as soon as the food appeared.
" Hola a ti también (hello to you too) " he sassed and she merely stared at him, unblinking as she dipped her sandwich in the bowl. "Okay, what's up?" Lance asked.
"You have to break up with her. What you're doing isn't fair."
Lance choked on his pumpkin juice, his eyes quickly darting around the mostly empty table and Rachel rolled her discerning eyes at him. "Wha - how -"
"I figured it out. I promised mamá we'd keep an eye on each other and one of my friends has this ridiculous crush on you. She was devastated when you got a girlfriend but I was surprised because I saw the way you and that Gryffindor boy looked at each other over Christmas. Then I put the pieces together and concluded that you are an idiot."
"But, how did you - what makes you so sure?'
"Soy mucho más inteligente que tú, hermano mayor." ("I'm much smarter than you, big brother.")
Lance snorted at her but those sharp eyes never once wavered.
"I am. I know it, you know it, the whole of Hogwarts knows it. You can not argue with facts, Lancito."
Lance frowned and looked down at his cottage pie. " No soy idiota (I'm not an idiot), " he grumbled, absent-mindedly spreading the mashed potatoes around his plate.
Rachel sighed. She rested her hand on his wrist and gave an affectionate squeeze. "I know, Lance, but you have to admit this is pretty stupid. I know you had a reputation for getting around back at Ilvermorny, but you've never done this before. Why not just come clean? Just tell people you're seeing Kenneth and let the poor girl go."
Lance gasped at her. Rachel had always been better with books than people. "First off, it's Keith! And second off, I can't, Rach. Don't you think I would if I could? This shit between Slytherin and Gryffindor runs deep, so, so deep. You don't understand the pressure we're under. It's too new, we can't just -"
"Be honest?"
Lance stared dumbfounded his sister, Rachel having cut to the core of it in a matter of seconds and making everything seem so clear cut. "Well, yeah," he admitted, "we get enough flack just for trying to be friends."
"Honesty goes a long way, Lance. It may be hard but telling the truth, being open and honest, is always the best choice. I don't know when you got so comfortable with all these lies, but I don't like it. It's not you, it's not my big brother. Just be careful, idiota ."
Keith sat on his bed and stared at the delicate snow globe in his hands. The little figure of himself flew in circles, endlessly chasing a snitch it could never catch. Kind of fitting if you asked Keith.
He felt like he was running in circles trying to catch the one boy he'd never be able to pin down. Sure Lance had made it clear that he was interested but they both knew this could only ever be a secret thing. No one would understand; no one would support them. Hell, even Shiro was against him spending any time with Lance.
But they didn't know him like Keith did. Lance would never hurt him, he wasn't like the other Slytherins. Sure Lance was proud and full of himself, his arrogance being one of the qualities Keith liked least. But Lance was also sweet, kind, funny, mischievous, and sexy. So, so sexy.
Keith thought back to earlier that day and an embarrassed blush swept across his cheeks at the memory. They'd nearly been caught that time and Lance had been so mad at the deep red hickey Keith left on the side of his chest. But Keith couldn't help himself. He hated knowing that bitch was hanging all over Lance and the smell of her perfume on his jumper sent Keith into a fit of jealousy, stirring possessive urges. He wanted to mark him, to leave his kisses all over Lance's body like a brand; hell he'd pee on Lance's leg to make a fucking point if that wasn't just the weirdest thing imaginable.
Keith was a terrible judge of character. He was slow to trust but he'd always believed the best in people and he'd always been let down when their true colours came out. But Lance was the exception, just like Shiro had been. He had proven that he had Keith's best interest at heart. He was the reason Keith was doing so well in his Transfiguration class. He had pushed through Keith's walls and set up shop, challenging him in a way no one else ever had. And when the chips were down, Lance had risked everything to save him.
He could have saved himself but he didn't. He risked his life to save Keith from the grindylows, diving down after him, deep into the dark waters of the lake to bring Keith back to the surface. Without Lance, Keith would have drowned. Lance had not only pulled him from the water but had flown him straight to the hospital wing. He had saved his life that day and for it, Keith would be forever grateful.
But Lance hadn't stopped there. He'd come to visit Keith every day, sitting quietly by his bedside even though Keith had no idea he was there. He'd returned Red to Gryffindor tower, leaving her on the stairs heading up to the entry. He'd even earned the favour of Kosmo.
And that, to Keith, was the biggest proof of all. Keith may not be a very good judge of character, but his half-kneazle cat definitely was.
Keith smiled at the green and silver scarf peeking out from under his pillow. Lance had left it behind in the hospital wing and Keith promised Madame Longbottom that he would return it to him. But the scarf had yet to make it out of Keith's possession and he very much doubted it ever would. It smelled like Lance's cologne; slightly woody with notes of citrus and mint lightening it to a fresh, energizing scent that was so very Lance. Keith knew he couldn't let anyone see the scarf, so he kept it hidden under his pillow, flipping the pillow each night so he could be engulfed in the scent as he drifted to sleep.
It was weird, he knew that, but it was so comforting. Lance cared about him. He cared enough to help Keith pass his classes despite being in rival houses. He cared enough to save Keith's life when he was drowning. He cared enough to risk everything to hold onto their time together. And he cared enough to spend time with Keith even when he was unconscious.
The thing was, Keith may not have been fully conscious, but he wasn't fully unconscious either. There were moments, however brief, when he'd fight and claw his way to the surface, nearly breaking out of the fog enough to communicate. But he never quite made it, some force always pulled him back down into the abyss. Still, for a few fleeting moments, he had sworn he'd heard Lance speaking to him. Of course, he would have dismissed it as mere dreams if he hadn't seen Lance there himself immediately upon waking up.
There was one instance, sometime around the third night, that Keith had been the closest to breaking through. He'd managed to hear a voice, Lance's voice, as if coming to him through a thick fog. He heard the excitement in his tone as he cheered about something working. Keith had tried to speak to him, he'd even managed some noise but no actual words came out.
"You okay, Mullet?" Lance had asked, the sensation of hands on Keith's shoulders helped ground him as someone sat on the side of his bed. Keith had tried to reply but he couldn't make anything other than a garbling of incoherent mutterings. "Wow, poetry," Lance had dryly remarked. He'd continued speaking but Keith's energy had given out and he slipped back under the heavy fog, Lance's silky smooth Spanish becoming harder and harder to decipher.
But Keith now knew what he'd been saying. Lance had told him all about his research into magically induced sleep and how he'd tried to wake Keith. It hadn't worked of course, but that didn't make Keith any less grateful.
He knew how he felt about Lance, how could he not? That stupid batch of Amortentia Professor Blaytz had brought to class had opened his eyes. From the moment he'd smelt that potion he knew how he felt and Keith had given up trying to resist. It was the whole reason he'd flown up into the stands in the first place. When Henry had come down to tell the team about the "sneaky little snake up in the stands" Keith hadn't hesitated to fly up and see him. He hadn't even thought about what the others might say, he'd just wanted to see Lance.
And when Lance was on his broom, the wind whipping his hair around and enveloping Keith in a familiar coconut smell, it had been hard to resist pulling him close. So he didn't. And when Lance enthusiastically reciprocated, Keith had lost all control and fully given in to his desire. He wanted to eat Lance whole. Was that weird?
Damn that Amortentia. If it weren't for that bloody love potion Keith would have no idea how sweet the smell of coconut could be, how invigorating the distinct smell of Lance's cheap cologne was, and how comforting he'd find the smell of cumin. It reminded him of Christmas at the McClain home in London where he'd felt the love and chaos of a large family for the first time.
Sure, the Shiroganes had welcomed Keith into their home but it had never felt like it was his home. But Keith had only been inside the McClain's for a total of three hours and he'd felt more at home there than he had since the passing of his father; even with the language barrier.
Keith placed the snow globe back on the armoire beside his bed and lay down. His head was starting to hurt from all this deep self-examination. The more Keith thought about Lance, the more Keith kissed Lance, the more Keith touched Lance; the less Keith began to care about this stupid Gryffindor / Slytherin rivalry. He didn't want to see that bitch hold his hand, or kiss his cheek, or giggle at his jokes. He wanted to be the one doing that.
Kosmo jumped up onto his chest, purring as he settled in at Keith's side, his body weight pressing against him in a comforting way. Why did everything have to be so hard? Why couldn't Keith just like Lance and Lance just like Keith and the two of them just be together, the hell with what everyone else thought?
Keith sighed as he rolled onto his side petting Kosmo's head and scratching behind his ears. One of them was going to have to make the move and admit the depth of their feelings if they were ever going to progress beyond secret make-out sessions and groping each other in empty classrooms. Keith knew Lance's pride would get in the way, stopping him from being the one to say anything. Which meant if Keith wanted more, he was going to have to be the one to push. The question was, would Keith be brave enough to put himself out there like that?
Keith smiled to himself. He'd been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason.
Yes, yes he would be!