YEAR 3

The year was well underway, and Andrew hadn't been shy in a long time, not around his friends. They rarely showered all together like in that first day anyway. Quidditch players had their own changing room, so Andre usually showered there. Talbott mostly kept to himself. Andrew had caught him once or twice eating breakfast in their dorm room, but he was usually up long before anyone else, and his curtains were always drawn at night, so honestly no one was even sure what sort of pants he wore, much less what times he showered. The other bloke he just tried to avoid. They didn't like each other and at this point they probably never would. That just left him and Rowan, most of the time, which should have been fine, except...

Rowan was a weird sort. Not that Andrew wasn't weird. Far from it, what made their friendship work was that they could be weird together, and they had been, all throughout years one and two, but even so, Rowan was a bundle of little contradictions: he was smart, but easily tricked; strong, but often pushed around; shy, but not bashful. They often showered together, and sometimes slept in the same bed as they studied long hours into the night. Andrew didn't mind. He liked that Rowan was earnest and sincere about everything. Maybe being raised in a farm did that to you.

Rowan had a little brother, he knew, and maybe Andrew, being short and scrawny (though he was growing, he was three inches taller than last year), reminded him of home. He sure acted like a big brother sometimes. For instance, he would always notice when Andrew was down, and always seemed to know just what to do. Sometimes it was hugging and fussing over him, other times it was simply staying at his side, and one time it was as simple as tickling him. Once, he'd gotten sick and passed out in class, and hours later he woke up to find Rowan on his bedside, holding his hand. Andrew smiled at the memory.

The point is, he liked Rowan. Secretly, he even liked that he was the one to protect Rowan from bullies. Rowan was his best friend. Yet lately, despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop staring, he couldn't stop noticing. Rowan was less built than he had been in their first year, probably he'd done less farm work and more studying over the summers. He had grown some too. Now he was taller than everyone in the dorm, and Andrew finally understood what people meant when they said teenagers were all arms and legs. Rowan wasn't a teenager though, was he?

It was worse with boys that weren't Rowan. In his first year, Andrew couldn't understand why the older students changed out of their robes between classes. He barely made it to class on time as it were. Now that he was a little older himself, though, he started getting antsy, staying in those stuffy robes all day. Herbology was the only class that permitted a quick wash afterwards, in the showers adjacent to the greenhouses, but the other classes didn't change their schedules to accommodate one, and he had to return to his dirty robes and itchy slacks afterwards unless he'd brought a clean set. Andrew longed to learn the Scouring Charm that his Prefect kindly used on him whenever he spilled juice on his robes during breakfast, but that wasn't due for another year, so in the meantime he'd taken to wearing jeans and changing out of them in whichever bathrooms were closest to class.

Unsurprisingly, lots of people had that idea, meaning he was now sharing bathrooms a lot more often than at morning and nighttime. Changing in front of boys from other houses was daunting at first, but after a while his concerns changed from preserving his modesty to just, well, watching. Gryffindor boys tended to be more athletic. Hufflepuff boys were pudgy, in a way that made Andrew want to pinch their cheeks. Slytherin boys were often lean and well groomed. Not that there weren't exceptions. There was a Slytherin boy who was all muscles, and whenever he had Potions with him, Andrew had a hard time focusing, which is dire when your professor is Severus Snape.

Try as he might, Andrew couldn't figure out what the problem was. Sure, he had noticed Rowan's muscles in their first year, but only because he envied them. Now, he was noticing things simply because they were there to be noticed. In time, it wasn't even the Slytherin boy's muscles he was noticing anymore, it was the way his chest puffed when he talked about the various creatures their ingredients had been harvested from, the way the water trickled down his jaw whenever he had a drink, and even how the light from the cauldron framed his cheekbones. Andrew was sure no one had ever stared at him the way stared at that boy, and other boys in other classes, and it made him feel things.

Still, even though he didn't know why he was noticing these things, he found he could deal with it in the privacy of his dorm.

Unfortunately, today would prove him wrong.

He should have heard the sounds of the shower as he undressed and picked up a clean set of pyjamas from his trunk, but Professor Flitwick had shared with him earlier that day that he planned for them—that is, for the Frog Choir, which Andrew was now part of—to sing 'Double Trouble' at the Halloween Feast this year, and he'd been eager to practise it since. He was relieved to find his dorm empty when he returned to the Ravenclaw Tower and, unable to contain his enthusiasm, Andrew started singing at the top of his lungs. He continued to do so even as the bathroom door opened and out came, towel in hand and wearing boxers with little bird pictures on them, none other than Talbott Winger.

Andrew dropped his pyjama shirt, which he had been using as an impromptu dance partner, and stood there slack jawed, feeling his face heat up and his stomach drop as he now found himself face to face with the boy no one in Hogwarts knew anything about.

Even now, he couldn't stop noticing. Talbott's hair looked strange wet, light caramel roots showing underneath the brown; his thick eyebrows and brown eyes were set into a frown even as tiny droplets of water trickled from the tips. His dark skin was glistening. Though his body wasn't particularly built, Andrew had the distinct impression he would be flattened should they fight.

Talbott inclined his head slightly, which Andrew correctly took to mean he'd stared for entirely too long, so he nodded and, blushing furiously, picked up his shirt from the ground and hastily put it on, watching from the corner of his eye as Talbott unconcernedly walked to his trunk and selected his evening wear. The first thing he did was retrieve a beautiful white feather necklace, which they both admired for a few seconds.

The silence grew tense as he waited. Andrew genuinely didn't know what to do. He was so embarrassed, and not just because of the singing. Part of him wanted to go to bed, close the curtains around him and not come out until the holidays, but he'd had so few chances to interact with Talbott the past few years, even though they slept in the same room. As fellow Ravenclaws in the same year, they shared a lot of classes, but somehow Talbott always managed to either work on his own in a corner or pair up with Penny Haywood, who seemed to be the only person he could stand. To someone as outgoing and friendly as Andrew, that was frustrating. They were supposed to be family! Of course, it wasn't like he was close with Andre either, but he still—

"Hey," said Talbott all of a sudden, breaking Andrew out of his thoughts so jarringly he thought he might get whiplash. Andrew looked over to him and saw that Talbott had a very neutral expression on as he buttoned up his shirt. Andrew caught sight of his chest one last time and flinched, because he wasn't supposed to be staring any more.

There were several seconds of silence before Talbott spoke again. "The song was... nice," he said haltingly, as though unsure of how to make small talk. "Were you practising?"

"It was more a spontaneous thing," Andrew admitted, feeling his ears burning, "but I'm going to at some point."

"Hmm."

More silence. Andrew got his legs working again and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for the other boy to continue a conversation he wasn't sure was even happening. In the meantime, Talbott calmly poured some cream on his hands and massaged his hair until it was slicked back, brown over caramel in a way that reminded Andrew of the owls that swooped down the Great Hall with mail during breakfast. That was a normal thing to think, right? Andrew decided it was. He fiddled his hands in his lap, thinking very normal thoughts such as what a fine name Talbott was and definitely not about the way Talbott's trousers stuck to his bum.

"I've heard you sing before, you know," said Talbott.

"In the Frog Choir?"

"In our room." Talbott raised his eyebrows, his lips curling into a smile. "These doors aren't as soundproof as you think."

Andrew would have turned a stronger shade of red, except he'd never seen Talbott smile before. It was... he was beautiful.

"You also sing in the courtyard fairly often," Talbott added casually.

What! There wasn't supposed to be anyone there those times, his mind protested. I checked!

"I'm, uh... sorry for disturbing you," Andrew said lamely.

"I never said you did."

Talbott finished styling his hair and unceremoniously jumped on his bed, procuring a book from Merlin knows where and sitting cross legged to read it, their conversation apparently finished.

Andrew didn't talk to him again that day, or any day for that matter. Talbott kept on being private and doing his work alone or with Penny, but every now and then Andrew would send him a nod and Talbott would nod back. This carried on until one day, months later, he heard the most interesting thing from Tulip:

"I heard Talbott Winger is brewing an Animagus Potion."