Guilt
“Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you.”
-Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest
1944
“Thank you, darling.” Ixchel cooed, scratching gently under Hecate’s chin and she grabbed a piece of bacon off of Elis’ plate to share with the aging owl.
“Oy!” He grumbled with no real heat before replacing the stolen rasher.
Hecate gave the ‘kewick-kewick’ call of a tawny owl - as she was wont to do when pleased with an especially delicious treat - before pecking Ixchel’s hand affectionately and flying off back to the owlery to rest for the long journey home.
Moving aside her mostly empty breakfast plate, Ixchel spread the delivered post out before her. She deftly opened a letter from mum, sliding her butter knife under the hardened wax bearing their family symbol.
Mijita,
Tully and I miss you already. The house always seems so quiet in September - more so than any other month, and I always struggle to paint this time of year without hearing yours and Coco’s laughter in the house. I am glad you have quickly settled in but please make sure you are eating enough. There is very little to report here; more ships are anchored in the Channel, which unfortunately makes our beach less peaceful. However, watching their confusion as their instruments stop working when they venture too near has been quite droll.
The small orchard Tully has been tending has fruited beautifully, but I fear all my meals for the rest of the year will consist of some sort of apple dish! I have never eaten so much apple pie, apple crumble, or apple butter in all my life. If apples start turning up in supper I may have to begin knitting socks in front of him.
Rhys’ mother stopped me in London last weekend, inviting me to join her for tea. She asked what I’m sure she thought were subtle questions about courting and the future. She mentioned Rhys’ work as Junior Minister in The Department of International Magical Co-operation, your loveliness and wit,and how well matched you are. Be cautious, mija. I get the impression she and perhaps her son believe you two are more serious than you have shared with me. You know my feelings on marriage, especially as you are so young and clever, but you are a much older soul than your sister. I only want your happiness.
I have sent you a modello of my Archibald Crabbe commission for your thoughts. If you suggest it should be a nude again I swear I shall send you a howler!
More than words,
Mum
‘For Merlin’s sake.' She gave a prim, displeased frown. Rhys was lovely and charming but they had never discussed anything as serious as what his mother was suggesting. The past year they had gone on the occasional date in Hogsmeade where they shared kisses and laughs but she certainly wouldn’t consider them to be courting. Ixchel enjoyed their time together, though she had always assumed they were both free to see others. He had never made any mention of plans otherwise. In fact, now that he was no longer at Hogwarts she had expected their relationship to return to simple friendship only. However, according to her mum’s letter, friendship didn’t seem to be Mrs Warbeck's impression.
Suppressing the uneasy feeling at the idea that Mrs Warbeck was planning her life for her, Ixchel set aside the letter to pick up the thin envelope from Socorro. It was a photograph of Socorro beaming and waving to the camera as she and a small herd of alpacas wore matching, brightly coloured scarves. One of the herd began to nibble at her hair and Socorro squawked, scrambling away before the photo looped back to her grinning. Written on the back in Socorro’s hasty scrawl was ‘Peru is going great!’ She gave a mirthful snort and showed the photograph to the others at the table.
Her smile faded however when she opened up the muggle newspaper she still received. For once she was thankful their photographs were flat and still as she scanned the pages.
‘As Hitler’s armies advance, whole districts are being exterminated. Scores of thousands, literally scores of thousands of executions in cold blood are being perpetrated by the German police troops upon the Russian patriots who defend their native soil. And this is but the beginning. Famine and pestilence are to follow in the bloody ruts of Hitler’s tanks. We are in the presence of a crime without a name.’
She set aside the paper in disgust and didn’t even look at her copy of The Daily Prophet before she vanished it with a turn of her wand. She didn’t need to read the paper to know it detailed goings on of Grindelwald. Ixchel pinched the bridge of her nose, looking back to Socorro’s picture in an attempt to forget the state of the world around them.
“Are you feeling well, duck? You look a bit peaky.” Husna murmured over her cup, and pressed the back of her hand to Ixchel’s forehead.
“Just a bit of a headache.” She demurred, voice wan.
“Ixchel, I can always go to Duelling Club alone. Go back to bed if you need to.” Elis assured through a mouthful of toast.
“I’m fine, honestly. I have a few new creations I’d like to try out though, so don’t partner up with me if you know what’s good for you.”
Elis perked up, always interested in her spell creation and modification. “Oh, stiff upper lip then, woman! Let’s get a move on.”
The Duelling Club was situated in a long and empty hall on the ground floor of the castle not too far from the Great Hall. The Hammerbeam roof was decorated with the crests of the Houses, and tall windows let the sun soak into the room. It felt too grand for a school, more like the halls of medieval witches and wizards but then again, they were in a castle.
The two meandered in with the steady stream of students, most smiling and sharing friendly conversation. Tom stood near the centre of the room, surrounded by his clique of Slytherin boys, his Head Boy badge nearly gleaming from where it was pinned to his pristine robes. Rolling her eyes a bit in fond exasperation she gave a playful wave but made no move to join him. Tom gave her a relaxed smile and left the others to walk to her.
She quashed her pleasure that he still chose her company over the others.
“Last time you showed you sent some poor Fifth Year to the Hospital Wing; ought I be concerned?” Tom murmured to her before he acknowledged Elis with a nod.
Ixchel replied airly, “Only if we’re partnered.”
“Avoid her mate,” Elis warned, “She’s here to practise some more of her nasty tricks.”
“Tricks?” Ixchel sniffed, “You’re simply jealous that I won’t share my notes.”
Tom laughed charmingly, but Ixchel frowned at its falseness. He was using his Head Boy voice and he knew how much she disliked it.
Professors Merrythought and Dumbledore who were moderating the club, stood on the dais chatting amongst themselves before Professor Merrythought cleared her throat and addressed the students milling about. “Good morning, welcome! I hope you have all come prepared, but duels are of course volunteer only. First and foremost, a reminder of the rules. All duels must be refereed by myself or Professor Dumbledore and must not continue outside the designated duelling area. Permanent damage intentionally caused to your opponent will result in your expulsion and you will be reported to the Ministry for investigation. The use of Unforgivable Spells will result in your expulsion and you will be reported to the Ministry for investigation. Now,” she said with a smile, “do we have any volunteers?”
Hands shot in the air and a handful of duels took place amongst the students. The matches were generally rather quick and good-natured, though Lestrange was given a stern rebuke and lost Slytherin 15 points for a vicious Furnunculus curse he flung at Mirabella Brown when her back was still turned.
After poor Mirabella was helped by a friend to the Hospital Wing - walking gingerly as she was covered in painful boils, Tom and Elis were called up to compete. The two stood before each other on the dais, Elis’ light brown eyes narrowed on his opponent whilst Tom appeared the picture of ease. They bowed and began. It was a fantastic, dizzying array of spell casting, Ixchel noted. Tom cast with a joy and adoration for magic, wielding spells she couldn't name and though Elis was a strong competitor he quickly began to tire under their dazzling power. The match between the two didn’t last long. About fifteen minutes into their duel, Tom sidestepped an electric blue coloured curse before slinging a dark purple spell of his own. Elis tried to dodge, but he was just a bit too slow avoiding it. The spell hit true and he was suddenly wrapped in rope, falling to the stone floor with a painful crack. Ixchel winced as Elis was taken to the Hospital Wing. Even the Gryffindors cheered Tom's victory as he stepped down from the duelling area, a small, bloody cut near his hairline and a smile on his pale face. He was the saviour of Hogwarts after all, and that wasn't forgotten by anyone there.
He took his place back by Ixchel, his breath a little heavy and the sheen of sweat on his skin now visible to her. “Sorry about your friend.” He bent down and murmured into her ear.
She gave him an unamused frown. “No you’re not. Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.” With a wave of her wand, the cut along his face knitted itself closed.
He chuckled lightly, and she stepped up to the raised platform for her own duel. There was a light murmuring that ran through the others as they argued amongst themselves who would face her and she was surprised when it was Alphard Black who joined her on the platform. He was a bit swaggering, but Ixchel didn’t mind the Slytherin nearly as much as she had his odious sister. Their interactions were brief at best, but it was a small school, and he had always treated her with caution rather than outright antagonism. The two both nodded to indicate they were willing to duel and Ixchel gave him a beguiling wink.
Before there was time to even blink after they completed their bow, spells were fired. Alphard cast a wicked Incarcerous that brushed past her upper arm as she dove out of the way and Ixchel aimed a strong spell at the floor before him. A thick layer of ice unfurled beneath, unbalancing him before he scrambled to vanish it. Taking advantage of his split-second distraction, she took a quick step forward and shot another hex his way, but he was able to parry, sending a strong Reducto at the suits of armour behind her. They exploded with a great peal, and through her startle at the thunderous noise, she dodged to the left and cast a filmy green shield.
“Very good!” She laughed from behind her shield, exhilarated. “Expelliarmus!”
He was quick and twisted away from the brunt of her spell, but it caught his shoulder. Though Alphard was tossed back, he managed to hold on to his wand, cursing in frustration. Aided by the diversion, Ixchel dropped her shield and cried, “Informes Volantes!”
The spell was a solid hit and just as intended, Alphard Black rose up to the ceiling, dragged up by his left foot only, bobbing and bumping along like a balloon released from a child’s grasp.
Alphard was red faced from the rush of blood to his head, and though he was upside down and his robes obscured his sight he tried to get his bearings, sputtering and cursing. Unthinkingly, he cast a Finite whilst still floating amongst the rafters and he dropped like a stone. ‘Hotheaded numpty’ Ixchel thought in frustration before quickly casting a spell to slow his descent. The ungrateful Slytherin used it as a chance to cast a ruthless curse her way and deeply annoyed, she let him drop the last five feet to the stone floor below and cast a quick full body-bind.
She stepped off the dais smiling as the others congratulated her, laughing at the earlier display, and clapping her shoulder. She was disqualified for using an unregulated spell of course, and 10 points were taken from Ravenclaw but she was pleased nonetheless and could see the begrudging amusement in the Professors’ eyes.
Tom stood next to her, too close. She could smell the scent of his cologne, and more than that she could feel him. Feel the heat from his body and the way his magic lapped at her like waves upon a shore. Ixchel raised her head and met Tom’s eyes; the weight of his gaze upon her made her shiver. He looked hungry.
Ixchel had quickly ducked out, hiding her fluster to visit Elis in the Hospital Wing. He was already sitting up in bed by the time she arrived, moaning to Husna that he was fine and couldn’t understand why Madam Jones was keeping him here to rest. The bruise paste smeared on his skin had already turned the goose egg on his jaw the yellow colour of an old injury. After sharing the details of her own duel she gave Elis a pat on the hand wishing him a speedy recovery or the ability to charm Madam Jones; whichever came first.
She stepped out into the corridors, intent on making her way to the Library to read up on Rune Theory for an assignment she had been putting off as it was dreadfully dull. She just needed to grab her satchel from her room and-
“Rhys?”
He beamed, his eyes warm, curls swept into a side-parting and he looked quite handsome in his woolen mulberry robes. “Ixchel!” He strode towards her, “I was looking for you.”
Ixchel gave a delighted laugh and hugged him tightly. He gripped her around the waist, lifting her up into the hug until only her toes were still touching the ground.
“What are you doing here?” She smiled up at him, pleased to see him. She could feel her smile falter slightly, thinking back to her mum’s letter, but she pasted it back on brighter than before.
“I was here for work. I had a meeting with old Dippet. I can’t stay long, but I thought it would be a nice surprise to take you to lunch.” He looked nervous, “it is, right? Nice that is.”
She cupped his cheek. “Definitely.” The tension in his shoulders dropped and he kissed her forehead before slinging an arm over her shoulder and she revelled in the wonderful simplicity of it. They walked out of the castle, slowly following the path down to Hogsmeade, Rhys draping his outer robe over her shoulders and casting a warming charm on them both.
As they weren’t exactly spoiled for choice in Hogsmeade, they stepped into The Three Broomsticks and found a small table tucked away by the fireplace. As was typical of the pub, it was loud, and a bit smoky, but cosy and welcoming.
Many a student greeted Rhys heartily - not just Hufflepuffs - happy to see him and Ixchel took relaxed sips of her butterbeer, quietly listening as they caught up. He was such a friendly face, and with Ixchel’s own friends it was like he had always known them, chatting cheerily and asking after them. Yet...she detested Tom’s counterfeit politeness around Rhys and the way his artificial smile would become more pinched around the eyes when he spoke to the popular older boy. She didn’t understand it and often kept the two away from each other.
“You’re a celebrity!” She teased when the last few students trickled back to their own tables.
“It’s a burden us old Head Boys and Girls bear with grace.” He said with mock grandeur. “Were you tempted to be Head Girl?”
“Merlin, no. I’m not made for responsibility. No, Husna thrives under it and she’s getting along swimmingly.”
They shared stories and jokes, and Rhys’ hand held her own on the table. “How was I to know she was his wife?! I thought he greeted all of the department with a kiss, he’s French! I was relegated to cauldron thickness inspection for the next month. It was horrendous, wipe that smirk off your face!” He complained, but was grinning as well as he told the story of his cultural misunderstandings his first week with the Ministry.
“Ixchel,” he said a bit more seriously than she was used to, and he leaned in closer to her, kind brown eyes lit by the flickering light of the candle on their table, “I know it’s a few months from now, but I was wondering if this term break you’d like to visit me in Wales, meet my family?”
She was a bit startled, and tried to hide it by looking down at her near empty pint glass, swirling the dregs. “Oh! Um..”
“I could come over to yours if you’d prefer, or we could do something together? Just us perhaps?” He backtracked quickly at her unease. “I’d like to see Thistledown, see where you live and grew up. Meet your mum. I know you don’t intend it in an unkind way, but you can be so aloof. I just want to know you.”
Her heart sunk, struck by how terribly ghastly she’d been and the guilt she felt because she knew now her mum had been right. This lovely normal boy wanted a lovely normal girl for a life she wasn’t sure she could give. And he was so wonderful and did all the right things, all the sweet, tender things she half longed for.
“I-” she took a sip of her now tepid drink, “Of course. It’d be nice to see you. Socorro is coming back home for a visit with a few of her teammates. Maybe we could all go out?” It wasn’t what he was asking for from her, but he accepted anyway.
He walked her back to Hogwarts, and under the shadow of the castle he dropped soft kisses to her forehead, then her cheeks, eyelids, and lastly her lips. She pleaded with herself to want more than this with him. As she said goodbye and lingered outside to watch Rhys walk from the grounds to apparate, she saw Tom striding back from the lake, studying her and Rhys with a stiff, sour countenance. She forced her eyes back to where Rhys had been walking. He was already gone.
That night she couldn’t sleep. Heart sick with guilt and uncertainty she yearned for her sister. After tossing and turning and punching her pillow harder than was strictly necessary, she wrote off sleep as a lost cause and pulled open her bed curtains. She was surprised to see she was not the only one of her roommates sleep eluded, as Olethea was putting on her slippers, a dressing gown tied loosely around her nightgown. Upon noting Ixchel was also awake, she shared a commiserating quirk of her mouth and gestured towards the door. Nodding, Ixchel stepped into her own slippers and joined her out into the Common Room.
It was empty and still, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and its soft orange glow reflected in Olethea’s hair, illuminating it a burnished copper. They both sat down on the chaise nearest the fire and Ixchel tucked her feet under her before placing a throw blanket over both their laps.
“What’s keeping you up?”
“Ach, nothing serious, just nerves before a game.” Olethea reassured. "You?"
Ixchel rested her cheek on the back pillow of the seat and looked out the windows of the Common Room. The night outside Hogwarts was deep, and the silver of the stars was scattered out against the black like they had been poured from a cup. Ixchel took a deep breath in appreciation, “I love the view here.”
"Are you alright?" Olethea asked, blunt as usual. "I saw you with your Welshman today."
She pursed her lips at the possessive and sighed. "Yes, I'm fine. He said something very true and he made me nervous." She toyed with the fringe on the blanket. "I feel so guilty, and a bit trapped. And guilty I feel trapped. He wants something steady and more real than I thought. I suppose it surprised me is all. I like him, I really do.”
“Ixchel, it’s not supposed to feel like this.”
She blew out a breath she didn’t even realise she had been holding.
“Anyone would be lucky to have Rhys’ attention. He’s terrific, it’s just-
"He’s not Tom? Look, we've all… thought about Tom. I'll be the first to admit it," Olethea giggled, "but I mean just look at the bloke."
“It’s just something wrong with me.” She finished slowly.
Olethea rolled her eyes. “You’re either stubborn or blind. No one has ever held your attention the way he has and the thing is, he’s never even turned his head towards anyone but you. He can’t look away.”
Ixchel made a show of scrunching her nose but her mind raced as she thought of the way he had looked at her earlier that day. “I’m headed back up to bed. You should try to get some sleep too.” She murmured before kissing the top of Olethea’s head and returning to her room.
Tom was sitting in their courtyard, transfiguring the fallen leaves that dusted the ground into pearls.
Ixchel took a seat next to him, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Are those for me?”
He snorted, "Who else?" With a flick of his wand, he strung them in a circlet upon her head before casting a Finite. She sputtered as leaves fell into her eyes and tickled her nose, and he gave a lighthearted chuckle. Tom was seldom playful and the sound of his laugh was so warm she didn’t mind it was at her expense.
His amusement faded and they shared a gentle, comfortable silence as the sky darkened into evening and there was no sign of any other students.
“I should get back.” Ixchel sighed. She moved to leave, but Tom’s hand grabbed her own. She felt the shift in the mood and intent. He was so very close; close enough to see the faint smattering of freckles across his nose and the dark blue of his eyes.
“Wha-”
Ixchel’s breath caught as he moved her, and she set both hands on his shoulders as she was pulled into an alcove of their courtyard. Tom’s other hand caught her hip to steady her. Their faces were close and their breaths mingled for a long, heart-catching moment before she closed the remaining distance to meet his lips.
This was a different kind of kiss than those that she shared with Rhys. This was sensual and needful, and within moments, his body was pressed flush against her own, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. The hand not stroking her hip and running the dip of her waist was twining tightly in her hair as he deepened the kiss; his tongue glided across the roof of her mouth, and her hands slid over his shoulders to link behind his neck.“Tom..” his name leaving her lips on a sigh drove him on, and he groaned low. That deep sound of approval and knowing she caused it pushed her further. She pressed her breasts against his chest, her hips rolling forward against his. The effect was something she had never before felt; a white-hot stab of pleasure that seemed to liquify her insides. She didn’t know if it had caused a similar reaction in Tom, but suddenly he was holding her tighter and trailing heated kisses down her throat. Her head fell back as her body was racked with the most delicious shivers brought on by his mouth against her neck. She wanted that scalding sensation again and she gave in to the demand of her body by rolling her hips once more and his broken groan only fanned the flames.
His tongue traced a path down her neck, nipping her shoulder and placing open mouthed kisses to the décolletage exposed by the open top button of her blouse. At her gasp he parted her thighs with a knee, and his hand began a slow descent that left fire in its wake. His hand reached its destination, and his thumb pressed against her center over her knickers, dragging upwards, her skirt covering the lewd movement of his fingers and her thighs trembled around his hand. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, breathing in his scent, breath hitching into the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.
“Please …”
“Please turn to page 394.”
She woke up with a start and was immensely grateful she had the wherewithal not to loudly gasp and alert anyone else to her mortification.
She had fallen asleep in History, her chin tucked against her chest as she had nodded off to the drone of Professor Binns. She had dreamt… dreamt that she - her chair squealed loudly, scraping against the floor as she stood up and walked out the classroom door as regally as a queen. Ixchel ignored the stares of the others, shocked as no one had ever just left during the dreadfully dull lecture, but Professor Binns did not even seem to notice. She kept her slow and controlled pace, chin held high and posture perfect until she reached the loo, gripping the edges of the sink with a shaky exhale.
She looked in the mirror, taking in her flushed face and unsettled mien. “Well, that was unexpected.” Ixchel said to her reflection.
Uneasily, she transfigured a rather threadbare hand towel, wetted it, and pressed it against her neck and ruddy cheeks. She wasn’t unused to attraction of course; she was of wizarding majority, had touched herself in the quiet of night, and had done her fair share of snogging with Rhys, but he had never done that; never had done what Tom had.
'Tom didn’t do anything,’ she reminded herself. ‘It was your own twisted little brain.’
She squeezed her eyes shut.