The sun shone brightly outside as the light filtered in the castle's windows softly; diffused through the dirty old glass. He was probably going to have to clean that.
Keith could hear the quidditch practice taking place outside, the Hufflepuff team having a friendly scrimmage against Gryffindor. He listened to their excitement, scowling at his reflection as he polished another trophy. He should be out there. He should be on that pitch practicing for the first real game of the season with the rest of them. But instead, Keith was here, in the Hogwart's trophy room, with the biggest pain-in-the-arse he'd ever met.
Okay, that wasn't fair. It wasn't entirely Lance's fault they had detention, but dammit if Keith wasn't going to blame him for it. He placed the trophy back and picked up a bronze plate, polishing it with the rag and scraping his knuckles on the raised edges, hissing in pain.
"HOLY SHIT! Mullet, MULLET, get over here!"
Ughh, Keith glared through the glass door of the cabinet and rolled his eyes. Who did Lance think he was? Why on Earth would Keith ever respond to Mullet?
"MULLET! Come on!" he called again and Keith angrily tossed the grey rag onto the floor next to the bottle of metal polish.
"No," he firmly stated, fishing in his bucket of now dirty water for the blue cloth. He rubbed aggressively at the wooden shelf, forcefully cleaning the dust off before placing the polished plate back in its place and closing the cabinet door, moving to open the other side.
"Ahh come on, Grumpy-Puss. Come check this out."
"No, Liam , I'm busy doing our actual detention and not whatever silly little thing you're doing to get out of cleaning," he chastised. If Lance was going to insist on not using his name, then he'd be damned if he called him by his.
Keith picked up yet another trophy from the case and once again switched rags, starting on the name plaque at the base. As he cleared away the dirt and grime, the inscription became clear:
Thace Marmora: Chaser
Gryffindor, 5th Year
The trophy was fairly simple, just a dark base with a (now) polished bronze plaque and a small figurine of a player riding a broom. The little bronze figure was leaning forward, their chest nearly touching the broom handle as their cloak billowed out behind them, showing the speed with which they undoubtedly flew.
Keith smiled at the small trophy, a confusing flurry of emotions grasping at his chest. There was pride for his Uncle's accomplishments. Excitement for potentially living up to them himself. Shame for the connotations of his maternal family name. Guilt for not telling his Uncle who he is. And resentment that he'd been denied the power and privilege of said family's lineage.
"Stare any harder and you'll burn a hole in it, Fire-Boy," Lance joked from much closer than he'd been before. Moving obnoxiously closer still, Lance leaned over Keith's right shoulder and took a good look at the trophy in his hand. "WOAH! Thace Marmora? As in Professor Thace? That's a cool find, man."
Ignoring him, Keith huffed and returned the polished trophy to the case, closing the door on Lance's inquisitive gaze in the process. But not without wondering what Lance could be playing at. Surely he'd heard the name 'Marmora' before? He must know the dark reputation of the family. So why would he think finding Thace's old trophy was cool? Unless he thought the dark arts were cool. Then again, that tracked; he was a Slytherin, after all.
"What do you want?" Keith asked, still not acknowledging Lance's physical presence and avoiding eye contact. He shouldered past him, picking up the bucket and moving on to the next cabinet.
"Uhh, to show you something cool I found, duh!" Lance replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm and exasperation. "Or did you miss me calling your name?"
"Oh, I definitely missed that," Keith snapped back, "all I heard was your annoying voice squawking away, calling for a fish."
That seemed to stump the poor lad, his face contorting in confusion as he puzzled out the meaning of Keith's remark. Finally, he got it. Keith could almost see an actual lightbulb clicking on in his head.
"HA, cause there's a fish called a mullet. I get it. Clever. But maybe leave the witty comebacks to Pidge next time."
Keith scowled at him, not wanting to dignify that with a response. He may not be in Ravenclaw but that didn't mean Keith was stupid.
Ugh, at this rate they were never going to finish this bloody punishment. There had to be a faster way. There had to be something they could do to speed up the process. Maybe there was a polishing charm he didn't know about. Keith could ask Pidge at lunch but - that would mean admitting she's smarter than him which would only prove Lance right.
Nope. He was going to figure this out or he was just going to buckle down and plough through it. The quickest way to get something done is to just apply yourself and push harder. Besides, if Lance was just going to flutter about instead of helping, then Keith would do his half of the room and be done with it, leaving Lance to finish alone.
"Accio polish," he called, outstretching his hand to catch the bottle as it shot over from where he'd left it by the previous cabinet.
"Dude, that almost hit me!" Lance whined and Keith rolled his eyes for what had to be a record number of times, even for him.
"Then get your arse back to work," he grumbled.
Honestly, Keith didn't understand why Nadia insisted Lance wasn't so bad. He was arrogant, self-assured, boastful, and always trying to be the center of attention. As far as Keith was concerned, there was a damn good reason Lance had been sorted into slimy Slytherin and not noble Gryffindor.
Lance huffed from where he was still standing by the previous cabinet. A queer look crossed his face, a sunbeam snagging in his blue eyes. But Keith wasn't looking at them. Nope, he was polishing! Gawd , Lance made it so hard to hate him with that stupidly infectious laugh of his and his stupidly beautiful face. Luckily he was a twat, or Keith would have a serious problem crushing on a Slytherin of all people.
"I don't get it, why don't you like me? I've only ever tried to be your friend." Lance said after a long pause. He sounded genuinely hurt but Keith ignored him. Slytherins were sneaky, it was probably a trick to get Keith to lower his guard so he could slip in undetected.
Ever since headmaster Kolivan had retrieved him from that orphanage, Keith had had to defend himself from small-minded pricks just like Lance. Proper arse-holes who'd grown up surrounded by magic, and the security of family and money and legacy. He knew who Lance was friends with, how could he not? James had tormented him all through his first and second year, only letting up when Shiro had come to his rescue.
Even after Shiro's intervention, the bullying never really went away. James still made comments about him; snide remarks about his blood status, jabs about him being an orphan, and jokes made at his expense. Living with the Shiroganes over the summer and during the holidays had helped Keith adjust to life in the Wizarding World and it had given him a support system for the first time in his life. But his foster family was far away, and Shiro's graduation had left Keith exposed once again.
He'd been lucky to make friends with Pidge and Hunk, having met Pidge through Shiro's best friend, Matt. And Lance was trying to take them away too. James had stripped Keith of his dignity, and Lance was determined to take his friends. Why did this school even have Slytherin House? They were all awful, foul, loathsome, slimy gits. Every last one of them.
Keith gasped as the bucket of horrendously dirty water was dropped over his head.
"Hey!" Lance warned, "calm your tits before you burn down the whole castle."
Keith blinked in confusion until the smell of burning wood hit him. At his side, the trophy cabinet smouldered, the scorched pattern on the stone floor radiating out from where he stood. Had he done that? Had his anger actually ignited the cabinet?
"Yes," Lance answered and Keith snapped his neck back in Lance's direction. He was certain, absolutely positive, he hadn't spoken. Lance rolled his eyes. "I'm a Legilimence," he explained as if that answered anything.
"So, what, you can read my mind?"
"Well, no, not really. But also kind of, yes?" Lance looked sheepishly back at him, moving his hand to rub at the back of his neck as Keith stood dripping on the floor. "It's not so much that I can 'read your mind'," he said with dramatic air quotes, "it's more that I can pick up on general vibes. With time and practice then, yeah, I'll be able to read minds. But for now, I just pick up strong emotions. Except whatever that was. You were practically screaming your thoughts at me."
"So you're solution was to throw a bucket of dirty water at me?"
"No - that was to stop the fire! Obviously!" Lance huffed, folding his arms across his chest as he mimicked Keith's stance, consciously or not. "I wouldn't throw water at you, Keith."
"Oh, so you do know my name." Keith scowled at Lance, his brow furrowing in frustration.
"Is that was this is about? Is that why you refuse to be friends with me? Cause I call you nicknames?"
Keith didn't feel like dignifying that with a response, so he just rolled his eyes and huffed, muttering "nicknames my arse" under his breath.
"I see," Lance said, staring back at him as his blue eyes sparkled in contemplation. "I thought we were, like, joking. You know, like back-and-forth bantering and stuff. I call you 'Mullet' and you call me some random 'L' name. It's our thing. If you genuinely don't like it then I'll stop."
"Me saying 'stop calling me Mullet' didn't give you a hint?" Keith pushed, "you must really be thick." He wasn't going to let Lance take the high road, he'd pushed Keith's buttons and now he was going to be the honourable one and step aside? Like hell he was. He'd probably go back to his common room and talk to James about all this, about how Keith had lost his temper and ignited a cabinet. They'd have a laugh, exchange jokes at his expense, and then … well … Keith didn't know what else they'd do cause he wasn't a slimy Slytherin git.
Ugh, to think he'd actually stood up for Lance with Thomas. What a mistake that had been.
"Would you shut up?" Lance yelled, tossing the second polish bottle at Keith's head. He had surprisingly good aim and if Keith's reflexes hadn't kicked in, the bottle would've hit him square between the eyes. Good thing he'd ducked. "I don't know where you're getting this, but I'm not going to talk to James about you. I wouldn't do that."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Prove it!" Keith yelled back, grabbing Lance by the collar of his Slytherin Jumper. "Prove I can trust you not to be a total prick and I'll consider the idea of not breaking your pretty little face, starting with your nose."
They stayed like that a moment, faces inches apart from one another, breathing heavily into each other's space with the ferocity of their anger. Keith's fists shook as they clenched his collar tighter. He wanted nothing more than to smash his forehead into Lance's perfect, tanned, face. Make him hurt like the other Slytherins had hurt Keith. But he refrained. Keith took a deep, calming breath and released Lance's collar with a slight shove. Patience yields focus.
"I'm calling it a night." He said through gritted teeth and made his way for the door, shutting Lance inside the trophy room as he stormed down the hall. A swirl of confusion in his head and an all too familiar feeling of betrayal and anxiety curdling his stomach. He might be sick.
Nope, scratch that, he was definitely going to be sick.
Okay, he should apologize to Lance. Or at the very least, Keith should smile at him at breakfast. What had gotten into him? He thought he was past this. The anger was a thing of the past. He'd spent the last four summers living with the Shiroganes. They'd been helping him handle his anger. Maybe he should start meditating again. Gawd, how was he going to face Lance after that? He literally burst an entire cabinet aflame.
"Keith, you comin, mate?" Ryan asked from the other side of their shared room. Keith nodded back, a noncommittal grunt leaving him as the only form of verbal communication he could muster. "Right, well, don't be late or you'll miss breakfast."
"KINKADE!" Alex's distant voice shouted, already halfway down the dormitory stairs to the common room. "Move your arse!"
"Come on, mate." Ryan urged Keith with one last look before he, too, headed down the steps, leaving Keith alone.
His last owl to Shiro had gone unanswered and Keith could really use his big brother's calm guidance right about now. With a groan of acceptance, he pulled himself out of bed and went through the motions of getting ready for class.
The Great Hall was nearly empty by the time Keith made it down for breakfast. With little time left, he settled for a quick cuppa and a single slice of toast with marmalade that he finished off in the corridors as he made his way to History of Magic.
"Laaaate," Nadia singsonged as he took a seat at their shared desk.
"Oh, shut up," he muttered and smiled mischievously, putting his whole hand on her head and playfully pushing her back, earning a genuine laugh.
"Ewww," she shrieked, "you got jelly in my hair!"
"Oh no, now your secret boyfriend won't want to run his fingers through it," he teased and this time she shoved him. Keith laughed, as she blushed.
"I don't have a secret boyfriend." She denied.
"Sorry, secret girlfriend, then."
"Oh, Ha Ha." Maturely, Nadia stuck her tongue out and Keith smothered a laugh behind his hands, not wanting to draw the attention of Professor Binns. "And anyway, he's not my boyfriend. We're friends, just friends. That's all."
"Mhm," Keith hummed at her blush, knocking their shoulders together.
"Besides, if anyone should talk about secret boyfriends it's you. When are you going to ask out Henry? You two have been flirting back and forth since last Christmas."
"I don't know, soon? never?"
"Miss Rizavi and Mr. Kogane, five points each from Gryffindor for not paying attention." Professor Binns grumbled from above them, his ghost hovering overhead. He passed through several students' desks, leaving them shivering in his wake as he returned to the front of the room to continue droning on about something boring; probably another Goblin war.
Ugh, Goblins, that reminded him, Keith still needed to finish that report on Pukeludgies, or whatever they're called. Professor Thace was going to be livid if he didn't do it. Maybe he could drop the "I'm secretly your nephew" bomb and get out of it? Unlikely, Thace would probably just come down harder on him, expecting more from a blood family member.
Keith groaned and opened one of the books he'd signed out from the school library: The Completely Incomplete Encyclopedia of Goblins. He wasn't going to be learning anything more in this class, so as far as he saw it, why not take advantage of this time to finish the project that's due tomorrow?
Scrolling through the index he finally found the entry for 'Pukwudgies' and set to work.
Not five minutes later, Professor Binns was changing the topic. Or, perhaps Keith had just tuned him out long enough to not realize what they'd been learning about for the entire duration of the class. Instead of Goblins, he was talking about one of the most feared groups in all of recent Wizarding history. Their reign of terror had bled out of Britain, spanning across Europe and even into the far east. No one had been safe from the dark magic of the Galra.
Keith closed his library book, suddenly fully attuned to the lesson. The Galra had done terrible things. High-ranking members of the various Clans had committed atrocities the school was forbidden to teach them about. But Keith had already learned it all. He'd been obsessed with the Galra after hearing of them in his first year; the Clans having been recently dismantled.
Swarms of low-level thugs were brought in by ministry Aurors to face hearings, while the high-ranking Commanders were brought directly to Azkaban Prison to await trial. Whole family trees formed the different Clans, most notable of which were the Daibazaals, the Dolohovs, the Goyles, and the Marmora.
"Now, I want you all to write a two thousand word report on the impact of the Galra Clans during their height and how the effects of their influence can still be felt today." Professor Binns explained, doling out an assignment that Keith definitely didn't have time for.
Keith felt his entire mood sour at the thought. What was he supposed to write? That there were good people hidden amongst the monsters? Like that would go over well.
He'd always known his mother was innocent; it was one of the few things his father had told him about her before his death. There were three things about his mother that Keith knew for certain: he looked exactly like her; she was a smart, determined, resourceful, brave, and honourable woman; and she was innocent.
Alone, in the orphanage, Keith had imagined his mother admitting to her position as an undercover Auror and coming to retrieve him. But, as the years passed and no one came, he slowly gave up hope that she'd be okay, fearing the worst for her.
It hurt to come to the Wizarding World and find out he'd been right.
Azkaban was no place for an innocent woman.
The next few days passed in a blur. Keith attended class, he ate meals, and he was pretty sure he'd remembered to bathe. But he couldn't honestly say he'd mentally checked in.
Studying the Galra was like taking a magnifying glass to all the horrible things his mother had been trying to take down. She'd been so deep undercover that even the other Ministry Aurors thought she'd gone bad and followed in her family's footsteps. But Keith knew differently. His dad had told him the truth years ago and those stories, coupled with the few memories he did have of her, just didn't align with the image portrayed by the Ministry of Magic.
He could tell he'd been off, and when the haze finally broke, all the anger he'd felt for so long came bubbling back up. Keith lashed out at everyone who crossed him. It was like being back in his first year again. And he hated being this angry, so he threw himself into his schoolwork and sequestered himself away in the library.
If it weren't for Alchemy and quidditch, Keith probably would have kept hiding away in the stacks of old books, falling deeper into research as he worked to finish his report. But there was no way he'd miss his favourite class, especially since he now had to rebuild his rapport with Professor Honerva.
Keith had almost forgotten that Lance was in this class when he noticed the spot next to him being pulled out. Lance took his seat, opened his bag, and retrieved his books, all without saying a single word to Keith. He felt bad, he'd lost his temper with Lance over the thoughts swirling in his own head, thoughts that Lance had nothing to do with. Lance had been right, after all, he'd done nothing but try to be Keith's friend.
Sure, the name-calling had been mean-spirited, but he hadn't genuinely intended to hurt Keith. And some of their pranks had taken it a step too far. Like the time Henry had waved at him from further down the table, making Keith spill pumpkin juice on his shirt. Lance had transfigured his goblet into a sippy cup from across the room causing not only the Slytherins to laugh at him but the Ravenclaws too. Hell, even some Gryffindors had snickered, Henry included. All at Keith's expense. But no one got hurt, and technically Keith had it coming after he'd pranked Lance first; filling his ink pot with Weasley's brand never-drying ink.
Professor Trigel had not been impressed when Lance's parchment dripped all over her robes. Though Keith had found it funny at the time, he did feel bad when we caught sight of Lance on his hands and knees scrubbing ink off the stone floor of her classroom after tea.
"Well done, darling!" Keith looked up from his thoughts as Professor Honerva smiled warmly at Allura. The beautiful Ravenclaw practically floated back to her seat, every head turning to watch as she passed. Lance's head turned to follow her slight frame, his eyes glazing over in the same way as every single other person affected by her presence. Even some Professors made sure to keep their distance, afraid to get too close, lest they too be unwittingly drawn in.
Her melodic voice, soft and bright like bells, chimed from her seat. A small giggle bounced off the stone walls as she laughed at something her desk-mate said. Half the room sighed in appreciation; Keith rolled his eyes.
It wasn't her fault they were all enraptured. She'd had poor Shiro wrapped around her delicate fingers while he'd been attending too. And it was through poor, lovestruck Shiro that Keith had learned a secret about Allura. A secret she did not want to get out.
The Wizarding World was a majestic and fantastical place, but it could also be downright hostile if you didn't fit in. Keith was a half-blood, but everyone assumed he was muggle-born and treated him as such. Allura, seemingly a pureblood, was treated like royalty, a privilege that would turn on her in an instant if anyone found out who her maternal grandmother was. Or what her maternal grandmother was.
Keith had skeletons in his maternal line, things he didn't want getting out. But at least he was fully human.
"Would anyone else like to give it a go?" Professor Honerva asked to the silence of the room. No one wanted to be the poor soul to follow directly after Allura Altea, daughter of Alfor. It seemed the knack for alchemy ran in the family and Allura easily took to the new lessons they started, successfully completing each one in only a handful of attempts. Keith scowled at the back of her silvery blonde head.
Everything was so easy for her. She was naturally talented, came from a well-respected family, and had an inherent grace and elegance that made her immensely popular. Keith knew he could do this particular assignment with ease, he'd been doing alchemy-adjacent tricks since he was a kid; transforming the bland, watery broth the orphanage tried to pass off as soup into a delectable culinary experience using nothing more than a rock.
Keith had taken to holding a small piece of crystal clear quartz he'd found in a gravel pathway. He'd squeeze it between his palms until he could feel it warming in his hands. Then, he'd imagine a delicious soup, stew, or chowder, picturing it clearly in his mind from the colour and consistency, right down to the taste of it on his tongue. When his bowl of lukewarm broth would be placed in front of him, Keith would carefully drop in the stone and watch it change before his eyes.
It wasn't until after Headmaster Kolivan had come to meet with him that Keith had learned this was a rare, and difficult form of magic. Transfiguration without the use of a wand or any prior magical knowledge was incredibly uncommon. Keith had been proud of himself. Until he arrived at Hogwarts and was teased mercilessly for being "a strange little mud-blood orphan".
"Keith, why don't you try?" Lance said, kicking his foot under their shared desk and pulling Keith out of the memories he didn't particularly enjoy being stuck in.
"No," Keith hissed through tightly clenched teeth.
"Why not? I bet you could do it." He looked so genuine, his eyes not betraying any malice or ill intent and Keith wanted to believe this wasn't a setup, that Lance truly thought he could do it. But past experiences with pure-blood Slytherins had proven time and time again that he couldn't trust them. They always had an ulterior motive; Keith just couldn't think of what it might be this time.
So he stood firm.
"No," he said again, more forcefully this time and watched disappointment cloud over Lance's beautiful blue eyes. No, not beautiful - just blue!
"Alright, if no one else wishes an attempt, then you shall break into pairs and practice with your partner." Professor Honerva had barely gotten out the last words when some of the students jumped to their feet, hurrying over to friends they wished to pair with.
"No, no, you all miss understand," she continued with a sly smile, "Your partner is not your choice. You must be paired with someone who will challenge you, someone who thinks differently from you and will approach the task in a different manner. As such, you are not to be partnered with anyone from your same house, nor of your same element. Therefore, your partner will be your desk-mate. The pair that is able to work together and successfully complete the assignment first, shall receive a reward to be revealed upon winning."
She smiled sweetly at them all, meeting their scowls and frowns with polite indifference. "Best of luck!"
"Alright fire-boy, I want that prize!" Lance said as he squared his shoulders and turned to face Keith head-on. With a look of absolute determination, he began laying out a series of tests they would do, planning a step-by-step, goal-oriented trajectory to achieve the final result; transmuting lead into gold.
Finding time to work on their project was difficult. Between Keith's quidditch schedule, Lance's study group, and their shared detention, it was almost impossible to find time to sit down and work on transmutation.
Keith finally finished the ridiculous Pukwudgie paper and even got a fairly decent grade on it. In his studies he'd read up on Ilvermorny school and, if he was being honest, it did seem like a cool place; though Hogwarts was clearly superior in every way.
Keith and Lance were just starting to form a sort of mutual appreciation for each other's skill sets. Keith recognized that Lance was smart, talented, and a surprisingly efficient leader. While Lance seemed to respect that Keith was capable, determined, and daring.
They'd gotten into arguments regarding the best way to approach apparent roadblocks, and while Keith usually tried to brute force his way through, Lance would step back and reevaluate. Sometimes Keith was right and they'd had the best method from the start, only needing to try harder. And other times Lance was right and a different approach made it much easier to move forward.
Lance had yelled at him several times, calling Keith bullheaded and stubborn. Keith would respond with harsh words and raised tones of his own. Lance's need to plan their experiments for the day in advance drove Keith absolutely mental.
"You think too much!" he'd yelled at one point, throwing his hands in the air when Lance held him back, yet again, from testing a theory.
"Yeah?" Lance had sassed, "well you don't think enough ! You're going to blow yourself up, or worse, blow BOTH OF US up. There's a reason alchemy is so dangerous, we don't know how the metal is going to react."
"It could do nothing."
"Or it could explode! You can't just toy around with dangerous magic like this. You need to use your head. I know it's cool and exciting for you, but this kind of magic needs to be respected, Keith. You can't charge ahead with no regard for the consequences." Lance took a deep breath, steeling himself for something Keith was certain would be incredibly offensive. And he'd been right. Because, of course, he had.
"Keith, my dude, listen, I know you weren't raised to respect magic the way I was. And that's fine, different strokes for different folks, yeah know? But, like, surely even NoMajs know that it's important to take certain precautions when doing dangerous things. Like, I get that you find magic cool, but you can't lose that respect for it. Cause that's how you get hurt."
Keith would roll his eyes if he wasn't paralyzed from shock. The condescension, the arrogance, the - the - ughhhh ! "Piss off, Lance." Keith spat, turning and walking away.
Just as they were starting to get along, just as he was starting to think Lance wasn't like the others, he had to go and open his arrogant, elitist, Slytherin mouth and remind Keith that in his mind he's better than him.
So, yeah, Keith and Lance were just starting to find a mutual appreciation for one another but Lance had to go and ruin it all. Once again, Keith was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered walls, building them back up stronger, thicker, and more resilient to pretty boys with pretty smiles and pretty words.
The worst part was, after spending nearly a week together, he'd begun to genuinely like Lance. Which ultimately made this hurt more. When it had been James, Keith hadn't really liked him to begin with, but Lance was different, Lance made him believe that he'd cared. James was cruel; Lance was insidious.
Defence Against the Dark Arts class was moving on to another chapter. Finally, they had finished with the identification of magical creatures and beings, all reports having been presented.
Like the other students, Keith had no idea what they would be tackling next. Professor Thace had yet to mention any hint as to what they would be starting today. Which only made Keith more excited. He and Ryan had been speculating with Nadia for days, suggesting different topics that could require secrecy, and so far they'd come up with one; the unforgivable curses.
The four unforgivable curses, so named as the use of them was unforgivable, were only taught in the latter years of schooling. Typically they were introduced in sixth year and expanded upon in seventh year, where you learned to defend against them. The curses were: 'Avada Kedavra'; the killing curse, 'Crucio' ; the torture curse, 'Imperio' ; the mind control curse, and 'Sectumsempra' ; the slashing curse. All four were nearly impossible to block, deflect, or reverse and all four left their victims permanently affected by their casting.
It was rumoured that the fourth, and final unforgivable curse had been created by a former headmaster of Hogwarts while he'd been a student in Slytherin house. With the brutal nature of the curse, Keith didn't know if that was completely accurate or not. Though he wouldn't put it past a Slytherin.
However, upon walking into the DADA classroom, Keith was greeted by a sight he had not anticipated.
The desks had been removed and a long narrow stage had been set up in their place. It ran down the length of the classroom. A blue tapestry marking the phases of the moon in gold had been draped over it with decorative golden tassels nearly touching the floor.
Keith stared at the setup with awe, hearing some of his classmates whisper about duelling. He knew duelling was a thing but, as of yet, he'd never had the chance to participate in an actual, legitimate, wizarding duel. Keith was beyond excited.
"Gather 'round, class." Professor Thace announced from the head of the room. "As sixth years, you are now considered responsible enough to participate in Duelling Club. As such, I have arranged for a particularly qualified former student to return temporarily as my Duelling Club assistant."
Whispers spread through the room like wildfire, each and every student speculating who the Professor could be referring to. A movement at the top of the steps leading to Professor Thace's office caught Keith's eye, the fluttering of a cloak drawing attention to a figure staying out of view. Or at least trying to.
"Considering he has just this morning returned from Japan, where he'd been working as a Ministry Auror for the past year and is likely in need of rest, we will ease into this Duelling Club by going over the rules, etiquette, and fundamentals before any duels take place."
Professor Thace continued to talk about how this class would go, but Keith had mostly tuned him out, too focused on the figure waiting in the office. A former student who had become an Auror for the Ministry of Magic and had been sent to Japan for the past year to chase down a dark wizard? It had to be a coincidence, he couldn't actually be here … right?
As if reading his mind, Shiro stepped out from behind the door and descended the steps of Thace's office. Half the class squealed, the other half cheered, and Keith died of embarrassment.
"Right, everyone," Shiro said as he reached the duelling stage, taking his place beside their professor. "I hope you haven't forgotten me already, I did only graduate last year after all," his bright, friendly smile radiated off his handsome face as he winked, making Keith want to hide in his cloak like a turtle or punch him. Both were equally likely options at this point. "I must say I am honoured to have been asked back by Professor Thace and will do my utmost to help each and every one of you learn the essential skills necessary for duelling. This club will teach you to think on your feet, improve your reaction times, and perfect the art of nonverbal spell casting."
"You will be graded not only on your percentage of victories but by the choice of spells you use and how you counteract those cast upon you." Professor Thace cut in. "This goes without saying, however, I feel obligated to voice it regardless. The use of ANY unforgivable curse will be grounds for immediate expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Depending on the curse used, you may be subject to a hearing with the full Wizengamot in the Ministry of Magic. Have I made myself absolutely clear?"
The students nodded, some giving affirmations, others silently terrified. But it seemed to be enough to satisfy Professor Thace. The man gave a single, curt nod before turning to Shiro and muttering something quietly between them. Shiro nodded in return and they each headed for a different end of the long stage.
Thace went over the etiquette of duelling, how one must bow to their opponent, the accepted combative positions, etc. While this was old news for the pure-blood students, it was entirely new information for Keith. He had never participated in an official duel and, though he'd practiced combative spells before, he'd never faced off against another person. Mostly, Keith would cast spells at an enchanted portion of a wall, attempting to deflect them as they bounced off, returning in his direction.
But facing off against a live opponent was an entirely different experience. He had no way of knowing what spell they would cast, how quickly they would engage, or if they'd be more offensive or defensive. It was all so exciting!
The first two students were called up to the stage, both Gryffindors. Keith watched as they went through the motions, taking their places and waiting anxiously for the countdown.
"You are to cast charms to disarm your opponent - ONLY to disarm. Anything else will result in detention." The Professor explained, "at the count of three … one … two … three!"
Two clashing voices shouted 'Expelliarmus' simultaneously as a bright red light flashed between them. Kieran went flying backwards across the stage, landing square on his arse and leaving Ryan the victor.
"Well done, Kinkade, well done indeed," Professor Thace said, as Shiro helped Kieran to his feet and off the stage. "Alright, who's next? Come on then, don't be shy. Ahh, Hart, how 'bout you, son?"
"With pleasure, Professor," Simon smiled brightly, eagerly climbing onto the stage to face off against Ryan. Keith cheered with the rest of the Gryffindors and caught sight of Lance and the other Slytherins cheering for Simon; hard lines drawn between the houses as the students gravitated to their respective sides.
Without being allowed to cast anything other than a disarming charm, the duel didn't last very long. Both boys cast their spells simultaneously, Simon's reaction time being only slightly better than Ryan's, resulting in his victory. He then faced off against James, who he absolutely shattered; Keith's former bully barely managing to move before the wand flew from his hand. Keith smirked at the look of betrayal on James' face, wishing it could have been him who'd planted it there.
Next up was Nadia, followed by Imogen, then Lance who finally managed to take out Simon. Keith would have been impressed if he wasn't still pissed off at the prick.
Said prick managed to survive two rounds before being bested by a fellow Slytherin named Aldair.
"Keith Kogane, you're up," Shiro called and Keith rolled his eyes at the professional tone. This was Shiro, Shiro! The very same twat who'd, just last year, stolen Billywig stings from Professor Blaytz's ingredient storeroom to brew Wideye potion in the Prefect's bathroom during his N.E.W.T. exams. Who did he think he was fooling acting like he was some sort of grownup adult?
Keith climbed onto the stage and took his place, facing off against Aldair.
"Right, you both know the drill. At the count of three: one … "
On "two" Keith saw Aldair begin to move his wand and immediately responded, swiftly disarming him before Thace could reach "three".
"KEITH!" Shiro called in his big-brother tone, seemingly forgetting that he was supposed to be an authority figure. "You were specifically instructed to wait until the count of three."
Behind him, Keith could hear James muttering to Simon and Lance about Keith's blood not being the only thing full of mud, that perhaps he could take a moment to clean it out of his ears from time to time. Keith heard the responding snicker and lost it. He whipped around so fast that the edges of his vision began to blur.
"YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY?" he yelled clear across the room as the blur crept in closer, his vision clouding over with an all too familiar yellow tint. Keith was losing his cool, he could feel it. The carefully cultivated patience he'd practiced with the Shiroganes was slipping away.
In the blink of an eye, Keith jumped from the stage and shoved James to the ground, hard. He had a few choice words to shout, most being unfit to utter in respectable society, but before he could get a word out, a surprisingly strong grip wrapped around Keith's wrist and dragged him out of the classroom.
"OUT!" Professor Thace seethed down at him. Keith looked back to find a complicated look in the man's eyes but didn't dare push his luck. He chanced a glance over Thace's shoulder to glare daggers at James before turning and stalking off down the hall.
With classes in session, the trophy room was the first empty space Keith had been able to find. It seemed weird to run to his detention spot, but no one ever came here, so at least he'd be left alone. Walking through the room, freshly polished brass and tin plaques shining behind the now clean glass cabinet doors sending spots of reflected light dancing across the floor, Keith felt a sense of peace and accomplishment.
He browsed the inscriptions on the plaques he passed, reading the names he'd previously uncovered as his cloth had washed away years of grime. Keith's side of the room was mostly finished, leaving only Lance's side to complete. Unfortunately for him, Professor Honerva didn't see it that way and insisted that neither of them were done until every. Single. Award. Sparkled.
Working with his hands had always made Keith feel better. It gave him something to do and left him with a sense of well-earned accomplishment. So Keith picked up the manky rag, nearly empty polish bottle, and frankly disgusting bucket of the previous day's water, and made his way over to the last cabinet Lance had been working on, picking up where the other had left off.
With each polished trophy, Keith felt his anger melting away. The corners of his vision returned to normal and he felt the weight in his chest beginning to lighten. He didn't need to fight. He didn't need to be the aggressor. He repeated this to himself again and again.
He didn't need to fight. He didn't need to be the aggressor. He needed to breathe. He needed to practice his patience because patience yields focus and focus would let him maintain control. And control was everything.
Keith took a deep breath, held it for ten seconds, then slowly let it release. Opening his eyes, he walked back to the bucket and as he did so, a portrait caught his eye.
It was an old group shot featuring the entirety of a House Quidditch team. As he stared he noticed a familiar face in the group. Keith had been told by his father countless times before his death that he looked just like his mother but it wasn't until this moment that he realized how accurate that statement was.
The stern young woman stared straight at the camera with a look of indifference that wouldn't be out of place on his own face. She was beautiful with her sharp features and fierce expression. The writing on the plaque listed the names of each team member and Keith searched until he found her:
Krolia Marmora: Seeker
Slytherin, 7th Year
Slytherin.
Keith stared at the photo; he couldn't take his eyes off her. She really was stunning, it was no wonder his father had fallen head over heels in love and why he'd pined for her long after she'd left them. Keith wondered if she thought about him still, if she'd even be able to remember him anymore after spending so long in Azkaban. He wondered if she knew of his father's passing, of his admission to Hogwarts, of the house colours he now wore.
Was it possible to miss someone you never really knew?
"Keith?" The heavy door creaked open and an all too familiar voice echoed in the dead silence of the room.
Footsteps drew nearer and Keith buried his feelings in the labour, aggressively polishing a completely illegible plaque from the shelf.
"Hey, Keith, I - "
"How did you find me?" Keith asked, cutting him off. He was proud of how steady his voice sounded. Without turning around, Keith continued to polish the plaque in his hand, scrubbing away the last of the dirt only to reveal her name yet again, this time commending her for being the Slytherin head girl.
"I asked my map," Lance stepped forward and Keith tensed. Immediately, Lance stopped, keeping his distance and letting Keith's shoulders relax slightly. "I'm sorry for the guys, they don't mean anything by it."
"Yes, Lance, they do," Keith said with finality, placing the plaque back on the shelf. With a heavy breath, he turned to finally face Lance, noting the deep frown of concern as it crinkled across his forehead.
"I've known James for as long as I've been at Hogwarts, so six miserable years. You've known him for six weeks. I reckon I know what I'm talking about." Keith continued.
"Look, I don't know what he meant by muddy blood, but I know an insult when I hear one and I know it hurt you. James is a good guy, he's only ever been nice to me. You just gotta give him a chance."
"Give him a chance? Are you kidding me? You're forgetting the biggest difference between us Slytherin . You're a pure-blood wizard, I'm not. End of story. James and all the others like him will never change, blood status means more than anything to them and you're no different." Keith spat the words across the space between them, the anger he'd felt towards Lance that day in this very room now bubbling back to the surface. "Just go away, Lance, leave me alone."
"No. I don't want to. I think you have it all mixed up. I don't care what your blood status is, that shit means nothing anyways. Most Witches and Wizards are half-bloods at the very least these days, and besides, I can name at least three NoMaj borns that could probably kick my ass, one of which being Pidge."
Keith huffed at that, "Yeah, she may be tiny but she's feisty."
"Right?! Not to mention Shay when she's in Quidditch mode." Lance snickered, his laugh infectious, and it made Keith smile. His voice conveyed such sincerity that it was hard to stay mad at him, even though Keith desperately wanted to. "Don't let James get to you," he said, "I think you're better than that. Be the bigger person, Keith."
"You sure you're not secretly a Hufflepuff?" Keith teased, finding himself still smiling.
"Nah, I'm much too awesome to be that humble," Lance winked and Keith couldn't help the tiny laughter that escaped him. He was still upset, James' words cut deep and it would take more than Lance's charm to heal those wounds, but he had to admit Lance had done a pretty good job of cheering him up.
He smiled up at Lance, his eyelashes still slightly damp from the rollercoaster of emotions he'd just been on and they stuck together as he peered through them. If he hadn't been staring, Keith may have missed the blush tinting Lance's cheeks.
"I know you're not much of a hugger, but I am, so, bring it in Keithy boy!" Lance announced as he pulled Keith in. While, normally, Keith avoided physical contact, he had to admit he could really go for a hug. He let Lance wrap his long noodle arms around him, and he let his wet eyelashes dry against Lance's warm shoulder. He smelt good; cologne hanging lightly to his robes with notes of seagrass, citrus, and mint. And his firm embrace was comforting as his soft hair tickled Keith's cheek.
Lance squeezed him slightly and whispered between them, barely audible even to Keith, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything."
"Neither did anyone else," Keith whispered back and felt Lance's arms tighten around his waist.
"They should have."
"Yeah, they should have." Keith felt the last of his anger slip away in that moment. That was exactly what he'd needed to hear, that someone should have stood up for him. But they never did. Not even his own housemates. But Lance had come after him, said all the right things, and made Keith feel like he wasn't alone. He had a long way to go before he fully earned Keith's trust, but maybe Keith really had misjudged him.
Two months of pranks and name-calling didn't magically go away with one much-needed hug. He may have misjudged Lance and taken his words as far more aggressive than Lance had intended, but that didn't change the fact that they weren't friends. They didn't get along.
But they could. A little voice said from somewhere deep in his mind. If Keith were to give him a chance, perhaps Lance would surprise him.
Keith pulled back from the embrace but let them stay connected, his arms around Lance's neck and Lance's hands on his waist. He met Lance's rich sapphire eyes and, not for the first time, wished he hadn't been sorted into Slytherin. He could feel Lance's gaze boring into him, his eyes jumping between each of Keiths. This moment could change everything. He could let go, he could give in to the look in those beautiful blue eyes, he could -
"Keith?"
At the sound of Shiro's voice, Lance and Keith jumped apart, guilty looks on both their faces despite nothing having transpired between them.
"Keith, you in here?" Shiro called.
The flickering light of the lantern pulsed in a seemingly predictable pattern. It danced to the left, then the right, back to the left, then wildly for a brief moment before calmly flickering to the left once again.
Keith had heard this entire speech before, down to the letter. He could repeat it in his sleep if prompted. Because of this, he found himself zoning out, listening but not, nodding in all the right spots, even throwing in the occasional "I know, Shiro" and "I'm sorry, Shiro". He was paying attention, but only on the most surface level.
Deeper in his mind, Keith was thinking about his mother, about Lance, and about himself. When he was young, Keith had heard such wonderful things about the mother his father so clearly adored. He'd always pictured her to be a brave Gryffindor, boldly facing the wild and unpredictable dangers of infiltrating her own family. Or perhaps as a fair, just, and selfless Hufflepuff who sacrificed her own wants for the greater good, risking her life to ensure the downfall of the Galra and bring justice to their countless victims. Hell, sometimes he'd picture her as a Ravenclaw wisely hiding her half-blood son with his father in muggle world where he wouldn't be found.
Keith knew most of the Galra Clans tended to be sorted into Slytherin, with some members ending up in Ravenclaw from time to time and the odd anomaly finding their way into Gryffindor. But never, not in a million years, had he entertained the thought that his own mother, the woman of whom he'd heard such fanciful tales, had been sorted into Slytherin house herself.
It forced Keith to face his own prejudices. Something that made him rather uncomfortable. Because, in all honesty, if his mother could be a Slytherin then he had to reevaluate his stance on the house, or at the very least a certain member with tan skin, blue eyes, and an American accent.
"Do you understand? I'm not saying this to be harsh, I'm simply trying to help." Shiro said, his kind eyes focused on Keith with empathy, patience, and understanding absolutely dripping from his expression. Shiro was an odd duck and exactly what Keith had envisioned his mother to be like.
He showed strong signs for each house. Keith hadn't been old enough to receive his letter when Shiro had arrived as a first year, but Keith had heard the stories of how his sorting had resulted in a hatstall. Shiro ultimately chose Hufflepuff house, but Keith had always pictured his mother in that same situation, her choice landing on his own house; Gryffindor.
"I understand," he lied, well, not completely. Keith did understand, he'd heard this speech a thousand times and each time he heard it he understood what Shiro was trying to convey, he just didn't care. "I'll try to meditate more, work on my patience. Promise." He placated, repeating the same lines he'd always spouted.
"Yeah, I've heard that before," Shiro huffed dismissively. "Listen, Keith, I don't know what's going on with you, but it seems like you just don't care. The situation is getting worse, I've never seen you so emotionally charged."
"I know, I'm working on it."
"Are you though?" He asked. His voice held the same calm, understanding tone it always did and the lack of judgment brought Keith's focus back to him fully. Shiro was worried, the creases in his forehead growing deeper as he studied Keith's face. "The problem with a blood curse is that it only grows over time, Keith. You need to maintain your calm, stop feeding the curse."
"I'm trying to, Shiro, really. It's just so hard to fight it sometimes."
"I know, but you have to," Shiro pressed, placing his large hand on Keith's shoulder and giving a sympathetic squeeze. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the concern had only grown. Quietly, he spoke again, "I saw the colour creeping into your eyes today. You were so close to fully losing control and you know the risks, you know what could happen if you give in to it."
Keith turned his head and stared at the flickering light of the lanterns. He thought he'd seen yellow creeping in but chalked it up to paranoia when nothing else happened. He'd sequestered himself in the trophy room to calm down and, when nothing changed, he figured it hadn't been as bad as he'd thought. But James just had this way of getting under his skin like no one else and with his heart already beating frantically from the anger, it was no wonder he found himself at the mercy of his emotions when confronted with his mother's picture. And Lance.
He turned slowly back to meet Shiro's worried gaze, finding nothing but genuine concern there. "I know," he said, "I'll try harder." And he meant it. He really did.
Shiro's worried frown shifted into a soft smile and he squeezed again, pulling Keith into another reluctant, but much-needed, embrace. "I hope you do, little brother." He whispered into Keith's ear, hugging him tighter.
History of Magic, although admittedly much more interesting as of late, was dreadfully dull. Professor Binns had managed to turn the dark and dangerous tales of the Galra Clans into boring facts to be memorized. Honestly, Keith wanted to smash his head on the desk to feel something other than the mental numbness brought on by Professor Binns' constant monotonal droning.
By the time class was over, Keith had nearly fallen asleep and sluggishly pried himself from the desk. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Shay shaking Hunk awake and it make him smile.
Keith glided through the rest of his classes in a relatively good mood. His talk with Shiro reminded him of his responsibilities and helped him to practice his meditation more. Herbology was smooth sailing, Apparition had gone better than usual, and even Transfiguration had come and gone with little more than a stern look from Professor Trigel.
In Alchemy, Allura seemed to be in a fantastic mood; her voice even more bubbly and musical than usual. Keith wondered if it had anything to do with Shiro being back at Hogwarts and, when Allura approached his desk out of the blue, he was pretty sure he had his answer.
"Hello, Keith," she smiled sweetly at him, "lovely day today, isn't it?"
"It's been pissing out there since Tea yesterday." He replied bluntly, catching her off guard.
"Yes, well, lovely weather for a duck then," she giggled, but Keith wasn't having it, she wanted something from him and he didn't have the same infatuation with her that everyone else seemed to have. She needed to get to the point.
"I'm not a duck."
"Right, of course. I only meant -"
"What do you want Allura?"
She stared at him, assessing, her sharp Ravenclaw eyes narrowing fiercely as she took in his impatience. "Most people are more polite," she said, and though her voice remained light and bright, the condescending undertone was undeniable.
"Yeah, well, unlike most people, I know you."
Her eyes widened the smallest fraction of a degree, barely perceptible at all. But Keith saw it. Something dangerous flashed in her expression but she schooled it quickly, returning to the upbeat tone of voice, soft bells ringing through it as she spoke.
"I am wondering if you have spoken with Takeshi since he's been back?" She asked, jumping to the point and breezing right past his threat. "I had hoped to see more of him."
"He's busy helping Professor Thace."
"Oh, yes, I'm fully aware. I meant only, had you spoken with him privately?"
What was she getting at?
"What are you getting at?"
"Nothing," she chimed, smiling sweetly, "he worries about you. And anyone Takeshi cares about is someone I care about. I am merely checking in to be sure you are well."
Before he could respond, the seat beside him pulled out and an obnoxiously perky voice began speaking to Allura, Lance tripping over his words as he tried to impress the seventh year. Keith rolled his eyes and pushed Lance's chair slightly to the left, causing him to fall on his arse when he attempted to sit without looking. Keith snickered, as did some of the nearby Gryffindors, but Lance scowled up at him. Giggling brightly, Allura helped him up and turned back to Keith.
"Well, to be continued then, Keith," she smiled. With a tinkling wave, she bounced off to her seat.
"What. The. Hell. Mullet!" Lance seethed through tightly clenched teeth.
Innocently, Keith smiled back, "you know she's dating Shiro, right?" he said, bursting the Slytherin boy's bubble and watching his shoulders deflate in defeat, only to defiantly puff up his chest a moment later.
"That's cool, good for Shiro. Guess I'll just have to shift my full focus elsewhere," as he said it, Lance met Keith's stare head on, the threat, warning, or promise, hanging thickly between them. Keith swallowed the lump in his throat at the intensity in those cerulean eyes.
"Good luck," he managed without his voice giving him away.
Lance was … intense. If he'd only been receiving a fraction of his attention, Keith was genuinely worried about his self-control when the full force of Lance was aimed in his direction.
"Oh, challenge accept, Mullet," Lance grinned and Keith knew he was fucked.
"Alright, let's have ….. Griffin and …" Professor Thace stared across the sea of Gryffindors gathered on the opposite side of the stage from where the Slytherin students had congregated, scanning each and everyone to best pair them up. Keith would kiss Merlin himself to avoid being paired with James. Luckily for him, some other pour bastard was called up instead. "Kinkade, to your station." Professor Thace called, and the two teens faced off in the center of the stage.
Now that they'd all had a chance to practice disarming their opponent, the duelling club was moving on to, well, duelling. Keith was beyond excited. He could feel the anticipation flooding his veins and making his heart race. With one look at Shiro's worried expression, Keith knew he needed to be careful. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and willed his heartbeat to slow. He had to maintain his calm, he had to focus.
James and Ryan stepped off the stage (Keith having missed their duel entirely) and were replaced by Nadia and a Slytherin girl named Maggie. Nadia's defensive magic had really improved, her use of shield charms being the most notable. And though she was defeated, Nadia held her head up high, having lasted longer on the stage than Keith had expected.
"Well done," he whispered as she took her place next to him.
"Thanks, Lance is a phenomenal teacher," she waved at Lance from across the room, his beaming smile genuine as he gave her an approving thumbs up. "Honestly, Keith, without his tutoring I don't reckon I'd be able to pass my N.E.W.T level exams this year. At least, not for charms, anyway."
"McClain, Kogane, you're up."
Oh, bollocks!
Keith took his place across from Lance, meeting in the middle to pay proper respects to his duelling partner. As they bowed, Lance smirked up at him through those thick, dark lashes.
"Scared, Mullet?" he teased.
"You wish," Keith replied, maintaining his cool.
Professor Thace stood on the sidelines as Shiro counted them in. Immediately, Keith sprung into action casting ' Expelliarmus' however, much to his surprise, Lance was ready for him. With lightning-quick reflexes, he uttered 'Protego' , effectively blocking Keith's disarming charm. In the same breath, he followed up with 'Flipendo' , sending Keith flying to the end of the stage before he could even register that his spell hadn't landed.
The Slytherin side of the room exploded into cheers while the Gryffindors shouted encouragements to Keith, urging him to get up and fight. Back on his feet, Keith dusted off his robes and faced off against Lance's proud smirk. He shouted 'Incarcerous' and, as Lance began his shield charm again, Keith repeated himself, doubling down on the spell.
As predicted, Lance managed to successfully block the first casting but was unable to avoid the second, He slammed down hard on the stage, a magical cord of rope snaking its way around his ankles. Keith jerked his wand, dragging Lance toward the edge of the stage and preparing to fling him off entirely except, he'd forgotten one key thing; always bind the wrists!
With his hands free, Lance was able to retaliate. Though he struggled against the ropes, he managed to call out 'Rictusempra!' , hitting Keith square in the chest with a jet of silver light. Keith fought against the overwhelming sensation of the tickling curse, doubling over on himself and barely able to move from laughter. As tears streamed down his cheeks he stuttered out the reversal, finally allowing himself to breathe.
Unfortunately, Lance had bought himself enough time to get free, already squaring off and preparing his next blow and Keith was by no means ready for it. The force of his disarming charm hit Keith like a stone wall, knocking him back and sending his wand flying out of his hands. Lance raised his arm and caught Keith's wand out of mid-air, twirling it in his fingers as he smirked victoriously. Smoothly, he strutted across the stage until he was standing directly in front of Keith and, instead of gloating or mocking him as Keith expected, Lance put out his hand to help him up.
Keith sat staring at the snitch in his hands. Quidditch was something that had always come easily to him. He'd assumed his athleticism had been inherited from his father, who'd loved playing football and was a lifelong fan of Arsenal. Keith still had a poster of his father's favourite player safely tucked away in the trunk at the end of his bed back at the Shirogane's home in London, the athlete remaining still and unmoving in the muggle image.
But maybe that wasn't the case, or at least, not the whole story. As he stared at the snitch, its little golden wings fluttering softly now that it had been caught, he thought of his mother. According to the team photo, she too had been a seeker. He wondered if she'd ever sat in the Slytherin changing room, staring down at a snitch and pondering if her future son would do the same. Likely not.
Something brushed Keith's leg, pulling him from his reverie. He looked down to find Kosmo rubbing between his legs in a figure eight pattern, purring up a storm.
"Hey, buddy," Keith whispered, "you're not supposed to be here, go back to the tower."
The half-kneazle cat grumbled at him, clearly understanding his words but refusing to be told what to do. It was half the reason Keith had rescued the defiant creature from that shop in Diagon Ally. He hadn't even been for sale, the owner just threw him at Keith with a look of desperation, happy to be rid of "the pest'. But Keith loved Kosmo, he had a mind of his own and a temper to match. He had been the first real family Keith had had since his father's passing.
Kosmo's tail flicked over Keith's hand, deep black fur softly brushing against the snitch he was still holding. He should probably put it back in the box, leave it for their Professor to clean up, but he just couldn't stop staring at the shiny golden orb.
"Keith?"
Keith looked up from his snitch to find Pidge and Hunk fumbling through the fabric, trying to get into the changerooms they were not permitted to enter. Keith snickered at them but rose off the seat and made his way to his friends, back in his school robes once again. Exiting the tent, Kosmos hot on his heels, Keith made sure to grab Red. With the cherrywood broom (his pride and joy) tucked under his arm, he left to join his friends.
"Hey, mate," Hunk beamed at him clapping him on the back hard enough to send Keith nearly toppling over, "good game, good game!"
"Yeah, you did better than expected. Matt was taking bets again and most people were favouring Ravenclaw but I knew, statistically speaking, you were more likely to catch the snitch. The maths never lie. Made quite a few galleons tonight."
"Gee, thanks, Pidge," Keith replied, rolling his eyes and placing the snitch in his pocket.
"I don't think you're allowed to keep that," a voice said from behind as they began to cross the grounds back to the castle. Keith rolled his eyes but realized Lance couldn't see him and stopped to turn around and roll them again, earning a snicker out of Pidge that he'd have to grumble at her about later.
"Flesh memory," he explained, "a new one has to be used each game, so why can't I keep this one?" Hunk mumbled something about meeting him back at the castle but before Keith could respond both he and the gremlin were darting off in the direction of the great hall. Traitors.
"Hmm," Lance hummed, bringing Keith's attention to him.
"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be headed back to the dungeons with the rest of the Slytherins?" Keith asked, deflecting.
"Yeah, probably, but I wanted to congratulate you on your win, Keith."
Keith stared at him and blushed under his praise. Had he watched the game? Had he cheered for Keith despite being rival houses? Slytherins always cheered for Ravenclaw if their own house wasn't playing.
"Uh, thanks, I guess," he replied, "Ravenclaw has a good team this year, they'll be harder to beat next time."
"Simon said something similar,"
"Right," the silence stretched between them but Keith had never been good at these sorts of things, he didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he usually just let it be. He was content to continue in silence, though they really should be walking back to the dorms at the very least.
"Can I walk with you?" Lance asked as if reading Keith's mind and … wait, had he read Keith's mind? Keith narrowed his eyes at him in an accusatory glare. "Okay, okay, guess not," Lance grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long jacket and turning to walk past.
Keith reached out and grabbed his arm before he could get away. "I didn't say no, Lance."
"Your face did."
"That's just my face," Keith grumbled and Lance giggled at his remark, the sound light and effortless coming from him. Keith couldn't help but smile.
No! No, he wasn't smiling at Lance laughing. He couldn't - wouldn't - have a thing for the charming and handsome Slytherin. But even as he said this to himself, he could feel Lance worming his way in and setting up shop in Keith's mind. He'd begun to occupy a permanent space there as of late. Lance's eyes, Lance's laugh, Lance's smile, even the smell of Lance's cologne had started casually drifting in and out of Keith's thoughts. But he couldn't even be friends with Lance; Gryffindor and Slytherin's rivalry ran deep.
Still, as they walked back to the castle, he couldn't help but smile at the animated way Lance flailed his arms while talking. Or how his smile always seemed to reach his eyes, making them sparkle in the fading light as he gushed about his time as a Thunderbird Beater back at Ilvermorny.
Shit! Keith was in trouble here.