A/N: OH! Record timing! I was on an 18-hour train ride last night, and this was the result. Alfred was sacked out and snoring, and Dad and Papa... well, they disappeared to the private lounge for a while, and when the came back they were all sweaty... So, yeah, I kind of needed a distraction.
Beware: Written at 1:30 in the morning on a very bumpy train ride. Read at own risk.
Chapter Fourteen: Francis Hates Spiders
"So your parents don't know about what's been going on this year?"
Patrick had come back to Hogwarts earlier than everyone else by about a week, because the first thing Arthur had done once he'd been able to calm down that night was send an owl directly to his friends; Gil had written back with uncharacteristic swiftness that he wanted to talk about this the second he got off the train, and Patrick had actually come back to school early after much begging and explaining to his parents. Now the redhead sat across from Arthur at the breakfast table, wearing an extremely worried expression as he surveyed his friend, looking for an answer.
Arthur's green eyes wouldn't meet his, and he shook his head. "Patrick—I just couldn't tell them, okay? They've got enough to worry about as it is, and the last thing they need is to have to be wondering whether I'm alright. And if any of my siblings found out, they'd never sleep until I came home for the year." He looked up at Patrick earnestly. "I have to take care of them. Even if I can't be there, I need to do what's best for them..."
Patrick smiled, a little sadly. He knew that being the oldest had taken its toll on Artie, pressuring him to grow into a third-parent role far too early in life and forcing his mind to mature far beyond what it should have been. When they'd both been in only their first year here at Hogwarts, Arthur had already acted like he was fifteen years old. He'd even told Patrick before that he felt much older than his age. Patrick wondered how he could take it, living with all those siblings and having to get a summer job every year while everyone else talked about the amazing places they were going for vacation. But another thing that amazed him about Arthur was that he never complained about it; he loved his family above all else, regardless of how much they cost him.
"I still think you should write them," Patrick murmured. "But honestly, I wouldn't want to either. Just do what you think is best, alright, Artie? I trust your judgment."
Arthur smiled, looking tired and a little relieved. "Thanks, Patrick. I'm glad somebody does. And besides—" he looked around nervously, as though someone would overhear. "—they would probably make me come home. I don't want to leave Hogwarts."
"I don't want you to either, cher," interrupted a smooth French accent from just over Arthur's shoulder. Patrick looked up just in time to see Francis sit down beside his best friend, smirking a bit when he noticed one of the Frenchman's hands sneaking around Arthur's shoulders.
Arthur gave Francis a quick smile in greeting. "Hey, frog," he smirked.
"Oh, cherie, you wound me so!" Francis teased, rubbing smooth, warm circles into Arthur's shoulder with his thumb. "And here I thought you'd actually started thinking of me as Francis instead of a slimy amphibian..."
"You're definitely not slimy," Patrick added, trying and failing to hide a grin. He had to admit that the fangirls were right in their speculations—and in their fainting over the cute couple in denial. His grin widened evilly as he spoke. "Since Arthur clearly doesn't mind you touching him."
Although Patrick had expected Arthur to explode or at least blush at this comment, exactly the opposite happened; Arthur shrugged and actually smiled as Francis nuzzled him.
"You're right, Patrick—I don't mind."
Two girls behind them squealed loudly and collapsed in the middle of the floor. The blond one was madly snapping photos.
"But don't let that give you any ideas!" Arthur quickly added, tapping Francis's nose with each word. The frog smirked.
"Wouldn't dream of it, mon petit lapin."
"Good, because neither would I, frog."
"Doubt-ful," Patrick sang from behind his hand, trying not to laugh. Arthur glared at him.
"Patrick, have I woken up screaming lately?" he asked sarcastically.
"No..." Patrick answered, confused.
"Well then I obviously haven't been dreaming of Francis," Arthur smirked triumphantly.
"Because we both know why you'd be screaming if you were dreaming of me," Francis slunk in, smirking evilly. Arthur opened his mouth to reply with something snappy, then realized what that bloody fucking frog had just hinted, reddened, and smacked him full across the face.
Francis was still laughing when Arthur ran from the hall, face burning as red as one of Antonio's tomatoes.
It had been a full week since Francis and Arthur had had the little... er, issue over breakfast, by the end of which their Christmas break had ended and normal classes started up again. Gil was constantly pestering Arthur for details of what had happened when he'd found the corpse in his dormitory, when all Arthur really wanted was to forget. The news of the incident spread like wildfire, when Arthur just wished it would go away. And Francis wasn't talking to him, but Arthur was too proud to go and admit he needed that frog more than he'd thought.
Overall, the week had sucked.
Arthur had been feeling sick and shaky since Gil's last questioning session just before dinner, remembering the horrible dead eyes, the gaping wounds torn clear through the body and blood leaking as shattered bones punctured through the skin of its chest. He swallowed hard, stomach churning and queasy, and suddenly the scent of the food in front of him made a sour taste begin rising in his throat.
"You okay, mate?" Patrick asked, looking at him with concern. "You look a little sick."
Arthur just nodded mutely, then forced his mouth to open. "Be back," he muttered, before quickly getting up and rushing from the Great Hall.
Only Francis Bonnefoy noticed him leave.
"Just a minute," he muttered to Gil, setting down his fork and rising from the table. He hurried after Arthur, breaking into a run as the Brit disappeared from his sight. A few minutes later he followed Arthur into the bathroom just in time to see the smaller boy stand up unsteadily, wiping his mouth. Oh, Dieu... Had he really been that sick? He looked pale and sweaty, hands shaking slightly as he leaned back against the side of the stall for support.
"Are you alright?" Francis murmured quietly. Arthur shook his head miserably.
"No," he whispered, voice breaking.
Francis felt his heart crack for the Brit and ran over to him, cuddling Arthur's quivering body against his own. "I'm sorry," he whispered into the messy blond hair. Arthur shook his head into Francis's chest, burying his face farther into the rose-scented fabric of his robes.
"Not your fault," he muttered shakily; and it wasn't. Francis held him close, warming him out of the cold sweat he'd broken into and helping him stand when his knees were weak.
They stood like that for a long time, before Francis finally felt Arthur stop shaking and pulled away.
"I-I needed that," Arthur smiled sheepishly. "Thanks, Francis."
"So I'm not frog anymore, am I?" Francis teased fondly as they made their way out of the bathroom, putting an arm around Arthur and smiling when he nuzzled into it.
"Nope," Arthur murmured simply, before breaking away and starting off toward the Ravenclaw dormitories.
"So you're sure no one went in or out of the common room except you and Francis?" Gil asked for what seemed like the millionth time that hour. He, Francis and Arthur sat side-by-side in the very back row of Potions class, completely ignoring their professor in favor of having the same old conversation over again for the sixteenth time and running. Yesterday Arthur would've felt sick again, talking about this, but with Francis next to him stirring their cauldron, suddenly it didn't seem so bad.
"I already told you, Gil, there was no one there but us, all day. We've been over this before," Arthur replied irritably, shaking his head. Gilbert sat with an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face, crimson eyes shut halfway in a determined glare. He finally slammed his face into the desk in utter, un-awesome defeat.
"Fuck this. I give up," he mumbled.
"Amen," Arthur muttered dryly, adding something to their cauldron and nodding approvingly as Francis stirred.
The frog just smiled.
The rest of the class passed uneventfully, save for a runaway tarantula scuttling around and alarming a good portion of the students. Arthur was amused to see Francis withhold a girly screech and delicately curl up in his chair, carefully climbing onto the desk when the spider rose on its hind legs to try and climb up to reach him.
"Get. That. Thing. Away. Now," Francis managed, staring at it with complete and pure terror. Arthur laughed, sitting back to enjoy the show as the spider leapt at the desk legs and Francis, in turn, squeaked in panic. He turned to Arthur, looking as desperate as though he were about to get his head bitten off by a dragon and the Brit was his only hope.
"S'il vous plait, mon amour!" he pleaded.
Arthur finally relented, smacking the thing flat with his Potions book and laughing when Francis still refused to come down until he was absolutely sure the spider was dead.
"I didn't know you hated spiders," Arthur said offhandedly as they left the classroom, trying desperately to choke down a laugh.
Francis just snorted and shot him a glare.
"Remember Astronomy tonight," he reminded icily, before sweeping off in the direction of the Charms classroom, leaving the still-laughing Arthur to start off for Herbology.
Unfortunately, today wasn't a Friday; it was Tuesday, which meant Arthur wouldn't be able to sleep in tomorrow morning, to make up for missing the extra hour for Astronomy. All the same, he pulled himself groggily out of bed an hour early and trudged up to the Prefects' bathroom for the annual routine.
He slid into the warm water of the huge bathtub, sighing at the tingling, almost fuzzy sensation of the heat engulfing him, and almost immediately dove under to lie on the bottom and examine the rippling surface from below. It shone and flowed like a liquid mirror, reflecting his own face back and also letting him see the room beyond, lit by a warm golden glow.
Arthur blew a bubble, letting it float upward like a silvery sphere and then trying to grab it again, sealing his hands over the top of it. It still slipped through, rippling up toward the surface and bursting through in a shower of silver drops. Arthur swam up, following the bubble, and broke back into air again, gasping and smiling. There was nothing better than all this wonderful, warm water, all to himself. He filled his lungs with air and lay back to float free.
But suddenly the door opened, and Arthur jumped, quickly hiding up to his neck beneath the water as the blast of cool air hit him. He flushed brilliant red when he saw who it was, quickly curling into a tight ball.
"F-Francis!" he hissed, angry and embarrassed. What if the frog saw how skinny he was?
Wait—why would he care what Francis thought of what he looked like?
"What spell did you use?" Arthur spat, blushing even deeper when he saw that Francis wasn't wearing anything but his outer robe; his clothes were all tucked under one arm.
"The door was unlocked," Francis replied confusedly. Oh, shit. Arthur had forgotten to lock it behind him! Then the frog chuckled. "My, my. Fancy seeing you here, mon amour..."
"Don't you even start," Arthur threatened ominously. Francis smirked but fell silent, all the same. He moved to pull off his robe, and Arthur made a noise like a small animal being strangled.
Francis stopped. "Something wrong, cher?"
"You—me—no, bloody hell, no—" Arthur spluttered, curling up into a tighter ball. "You'll fucking rape me—"
Francis chuckled again and shook his head, pulling off the robe and letting it fall to the ground. Arthur quickly averted his eyes, face burning scarlet.
"Put it back on, frog! Oh, shit! I don't want to see—"
Francis strode to the edge of the pool and slipped in. "You have been skinny dipping with Patrick or Gil, non?" he asked, moving forward as Arthur scrambled back like a terrified animal.
He crawled back against the wall, cowering. "Well, yes, but—this is different—"
"How so, cher?" Francis asked, reaching out to trail a finger over Arthur's perfect jaw. The Brit shivered and smacked it away.
"Just—look away, I'm getting out."
"Oui," Francis sighed. "As you wish."
But that didn't stop him from watching through hooded eyes as Arthur quickly climbed out, scurrying to get on his clothes. Even though he didn't get to see much, Francis caught glimpses of some very nice, lean thighs and toned lower back. Arthur's shoulders were slim, but muscled. Overall, he had a very nice body. Francis didn't see why he was in such a hurry to hide it.
Finally Arthur was dressed, and Francis climbed out of the pool with absolutely no shame in showing himself off. Arthur blushed, stuttering furiously that he'd better get some clothes on now, or else. Eventually they managed to both be fully dressed and out in the corridor, heading up to Astronomy. Arthur was left to wonder why he'd felt himself getting a little hot, seeing Francis strutting about the bathroom, making a huge deal over finding each article of his clothing. He shook his head. It must just be that it was late, and he was tired, and...
Well, he wasn't about to go there.
A/N: Well, here's to another promise of end-of-the-year smut! God, I love Artie so much when he's being all parental and concerned over his little siblings. Idea credits for the last scene to Megan Lo Saurus, for planting the seed of pervertedness in my mind to begin with...
Reviews are always welcome! Any tips or constructive criticism, just chuck it my way!