Chapter 6
Magnus released a heavy sigh, lowering his head onto the cool wooden tabletop. Flickering candlelight reflected on the lacquered surface. He felt as though the last few minutes had aged him by a century.
For some reason, he couldn't get Alexander Lightwood out of his head. Magnus had resented him. Everything he did made his skin crawl, for no reason at all. Even the gentle curl of his dark hair and the hint of a wry smile on his lips made Magnus's hairs stand on end. How he had bent over the sink in the washroom on the train, deep concentration evident on his handsome features. His brooding demeanor in Professor Morgensterns class. The look of surprise on his face, when Magnus disarmed him on the Astronomy tower. As if he didn’t expect Magnus to be capable of such a feat. After his outburst, Magnus saw these moments in a different light. He was still annoyed, but perhaps he was just irritated with himself.
It dawned on him that he had made a terrible lapse in judgement. Now he barely recognised himself in his words and actions. Normally, the Slytherin got along well with most people. But now he had found himself judging Lightwood by his last name. Magnus had mistaken his calm, contemplative nature for arrogance. Denied him the right to have his own opinion and identity, punishing him for the sins of his parents. Headlines from various newspapers kept flashing in his mind, detailing the rise of Maryse and Robert Lightwood: Respected, Feared, Celebrated. Pushing laws against creatures and beings that didn't fit their narrow definition of pure. The darkness in those wide, hazel eyes, flecked with specks of green, held the answers to the enigma that was Alexander Lightwood. Magnus had always loved a good mystery and the handsome Hufflepuff seemed to be a particularly tough one.
He should never have agreed to Sebastian's bet. Absolutely not. He should have refused when Verlac made the offer on the Hogwarts express, after listening to Magnus’ complaints. Not even for the ten galleons, he had received in return. By Merlin, he needed the money. It was an art to look put together, when you could not afford to buy half of your school materials. He hated relying on Catarinas charity, but for now it would have to do. Magnus knew that he needed to get up. He couldn't let himself be cast aside like this. Besides, he owed Lightwood an apology, he reluctantly admitted to himself.
Cursing under his breath, Magnus scrambled out of the classroom to reach Alexander in time. The steady rhythm of his steps reverberated on the uneven stone floor. “Damn, he's fast.” Magnus muttered, panting. When he found the hallway empty, he rushed in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room. Luckily, no one crossed his path. But Alexander was nowhere to be seen.
He was about to give up, when he saw a tall figure round the next corner. “Lightwood?” Magnus called to the shadow, accelerating his pace. “Hang on a second,” the Slytherin said, fighting for his breath. “Not everyone is graced with ridiculously long legs.” Magnus mumbled to himself.
“What is it?” Alexander said, turning around dangerously slow. His lips pressed together in a stiff line, his jaw tight. Magnus' fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to straighten Alexanders’ crooked tie. “What more do you want from me?” Alec asked quietly. “I thought we'd both made our positions relatively clear.”
His arms were folded defensively across his broad chest. Something in his stance radiated an authority that Magnus hadn’t noticed before. Despite his attempts to hide it, his disdain for Magnus was obvious. A shadow fell over his pale face, accentuating the curve of his cheekbones. What was happening to him? He couldn't help but appreciate beauty when he saw it, that was only natural. But why did he care about what Lightwood thought of him?
“I…” Magnus gasped, trying to control his pounding heart. He really needed to work on his stamina. Standing before Alexander, his plan suddenly seemed laughable. How could he make amends for what he had done? It was too late for second guessing now. No time like the present. He was Magnus Bane. He would not let such a trivial matter throw him off his game. He knew who he was and what he wanted. And he got what he wanted, most of the time at least. His principles weren't something he would neglect for the sake of his pride. “I wanted to apologise to you.”
“Excuse me?” Alexander raised a dark eyebrow and seemed genuinely confused. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Magnus looked at him, expression thoughtful. Did Lightwood really think he would do such a thing? Well, maybe he deserved that. “You heard me.’ Magnus took a step closer, facing Alexander. He had to tilt his head to catch his gaze, damn giant. “I'm sorry,” Magnus repeated, meeting Alexander's hazel eyes. “You're right. I've been acting like an arrogant asshole and I'll admit I've misjudged you. I shouldn't have used your parents as an excuse to treat you like that. Merlin, I, of all people, should know better. It doesn't excuse anything, but the Lightwood family has caused me a lot of trouble in the past. I guess my frustration got the better of me. I'm sorry.” Magnus brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder and tried to push back the surge of melancholy that was seeping into his thoughts. “If you accept my apology, I'd like to make peace with you. Maybe, we could start over?”, he added with a faint smile, holding out his hand.
Magnus wasn't certain if he should get his hopes up. Lightwood had every right to never look at him again. In any case, Alexander deserved better. Something about him made Magnus feel strangely vulnerable. A feeling he wasn't sure what to do with.
Alexander's gaze flickered from Magnus’ extended hand to his face and back. After an awkward moment of silence, he took the hand, his grip firm and steady. Alec's skin was warm and calloused, his long fingers closing around Magnus's. There was no telling if the portable flames or his anger had warmed him up. Alec’s eyes were intently focused on him, the hard edge almost completely gone. No words could quite capture the essence of what Alexander's undivided attention did to him. A feeling of serene, crisp sunrises; the smell of freshly brewed black coffee; the soft rustling of old book pages. Startled, he shook his head and the moment evaporated as quickly as it had come.
“All right...thank you?” Alexander cleared his throat sheepishly and quickly withdrew his hand.
“You don't have to thank me, darling.” Now it was Magnus' turn to raise an eyebrow. “If anything, I should thank you for giving me a second chance.” He smiled encouragingly. “Thank you,” he said, reinforcing his words. “If I ever act this way again, I'll personally flush my entire glitter collection down the toilet. I promise.” Magnus wouldn't risk facing a punishment like that.
Alec nodded tentatively and pushed a strand of black hair from his forehead. Of course, Magnus did not pay this any mind. He winked at Lightwood. “Very well then.” He let out a sigh of relief and bent over to straighten Alexander's tie. His fingertips brushed across the crisp white fabric of the uniform shirt. Magnus was close enough to inhale the scent of old parchment and curd soap. “Yellow suits you.” he remarked, a flirtatious grin creeping onto his lips. “I owe you, Alexander. Let me know if you need me.” Maybe he was overcompensating his guilt, flirting shamelessly. Who could blame him? It was easier than facing anything painfully real.
As expected, Lightwood turned bright red, coughing violently. Red definitely suited him too, Magnus noted. Alexander’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his mouth pulled into a surprised ‘o’. Poor guy, he obviously wasn't used to this kind of attention. Perhaps a few compliments would do him good.
“Don't worry.” Magnus chuckled softly. “I'll only bite if you want me to. But before we get to that, you'll have to take me out for dinner.” With that, he turned on his heel and strolled in the direction of his common room. “See you in Potions,” he called to Lightwood, who stood rooted to the spot. Magnus chalked this afternoon up as a success.
*****
Alec cursed softly and wiped a dripping clump of hair from his forehead. Heavy grey storm clouds piled up on the horizon, gathering speed as they approached with an ominous roar. The once clear blue sky had opened its gates and decided to drown the world. As the ground greedily sucked up the water, the lush green lawn transformed into a mud pit, every step emitting a squelching sound.
“Well, you picked a hell of a day for tryouts, mate,” Andrew grumbled, trying in vain to shake the water out of his curls. He, too, was soaked to the bone, squinting, as he tried to make out the other members of the Quidditch team and the new candidates. Next to Adele Nightshade's small silhouette, Jordan Kyle looked like a hulking rock, staring grimly into the distance. None of them seemed particularly keen on spending this Friday afternoon on the Quidditch pitch.
“Stop being such a drama queen.” Alec gave a cautious smirk and patted his best friend on the shoulder. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, running down his cheeks like salty tears. “I offered to let you watch from the stands, so don't complain now,” the Hufflepuff retorted with a sigh. Alec hoped that he sounded less raw and uncertain than he felt. He had not been prepared for this situation at all. In his dripping cloak, he looked more like a sad bat than the captain of the Quidditch team. The lump that had formed in his stomach tightened, making it harder to breathe.
“No need to worry, Lightwood.” Apparently Underhill had noticed how nervous his best friend was, giving him a sharp look. “There is no better captain than you. We are all here to support you. Anyone who says otherwise will get their ass kicked by yours truly.”
Alexander couldn't help but chuckle and nodded gratefully. “Don't let Jace hear you say that. I fear his ego would be wounded forever." A warm feeling spread in his heart, giving him a glimmer of hope for the future. He cleared his throat and took a step forward. His hands were clasped behind his back as he took a deep breath: “Thank you all for coming today. I know the weather isn't ideal,” As if to prove him right, the sky was lit up by a blazing bolt of lightning, its tendrils piercing the dense clouds like the feelers of a parasite. “If you want to be part of this team, I expect hard work and punctuality. As you probably know, we are looking for two chasers and one beater this year. We have prepared a few tasks, which Andrew here will explain to you. But that's enough talking. Do your best and good luck.”
It was only now that he took the time to take a closer look at the new recruits. Behind a small group of fourth years, whispering excitedly, he could make out a lanky figure that looked strangely familiar. Alec almost choked on his own spit when he realised who was standing on the muddy Quidditch field. “Simon?” he exclaimed in surprise, even forgetting to use a thinly veiled insult to address him. “Simon Lewis?”
Andrew seemed to have come to the same conclusion as well and glanced at Alec with amusement. “I can't say that I expected this.” But there was no doubt about it. Unless there was an evil doppelganger hiding behind the fogged glasses, who had decided to kill the weasel-faced Hufflepuff and take his place. Alec wasn't sure what was more likely. As far as he could remember, Simon had avoided any kind of physical activity since he started school and had burst into tears during his first flying lesson. Alec must have missed something important.
“The one and only,” Simon replied, blowing him a kiss. “Is there a problem?” he asked, confused, and raised an eyebrow. Immediately all heads turned towards him. Was he really oblivious to how strange his appearance was? Of course, Alec would give him the same chance as everyone else, even if he couldn't quite fathom what was going on here.
Maybe Isabelle had something to do with it, Alec wondered and then shook his head. “No, no... of course not,” he stammered, annoyed that he had stumbled over his words again. “I was just a little surprised to see you here," he tried to save face, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Finally, it was Underhill who broke the awkward silence. “Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get started.” He rubbed his palms together in obvious satisfaction and swung himself up onto his freshly polished Cleansweep 11. “You've got five minutes to warm up, then we'll start with the tasks,” he hollered at the candidates from his vantage point, fading into a colourful blur in the moist air.
A thought occurred to Alec. “Lewis, hold on.” he exclaimed, calling his sister's boyfriend over to him before he could mount his broom. He took his wand out of his pocket and let it twirl around between his long fingers. He pointed it at Simon's round glasses. He couldn't say that he didn't enjoy the horror in his big eyes. “Impervius,” he murmured softly and was pleased to see that the rain now simply rolled off the glasses. “That's better,” Alec announced and put his wand back in. “Now, off you go. We haven't got all day.” Although he didn't like to show it, he had grown quite fond of Simon.
Alec turned away and swung himself onto his firebolt, the smooth wood now slick with rain water. He pushed off from the ground, hurling bits of mud into the air. The rain pelted down on his cloak with such force it almost blew him off his broomstick, but he refused to let himself be deterred. Despite the bad weather, Alec felt a spark of excitement and joy. The familiar rush of freedom, or at least the illusion of it, took hold of him and brought a blissful smile to his face. Freedom: perhaps a naive, childish construct. And yet it felt as if he could leave the burden of his responsibility behind, if only for a short while.
Hovering in the air, Alec pulled a ballpoint pen and a small notebook from his robes. His parents would not have approved of this, writing with quill and ink was much more common and favoured in the wizarding world. Which made it even more exciting to use it. Alec sighed as he made a note of the applicants‘ names and manoeuvred his Firebolt so that he had a good view of the pitch. Finally, he signalled to Andrew that he was ready.
The Hufflepuff watched the players’ movements patiently taking notes every now and then. The red Quaffel sailed through the air and, to Alec's surprise, it was more often than not Simon who managed to shoot through one of the three goal rings. It seemed that he had completely underestimated Isabelle's boyfriend. In fact, he wasn't an outright disaster after all and was even proving to be fairly adept. Maybe Simon should be given a chance.
Alec smirked when Adele threw a bat to Frank who almost dropped it in surprise. The red-haired fourth-year laughed clearly embarrassed and flicked the club through the air moments later. “That'll get you minus points,” Alexander teased and slowly began to relax when Frank slammed a bludger towards the goal posts with a powerful hit.
Perhaps it was precisely this sense of calm that was his undoing. After a moment of distraction, he immediately realized the trajectory the bludger would take. Alec's eyes widened and he winced as he registered that the heavy, iron ball was heading straight for the unsuspecting Lavinia Whitelaw. He didn't have time to get his wand out. She wouldn't be able to get out of the way in time, and Alec didn't think she was capable of doing a sloth grip roll either.
In a split second, he made his decision, bending low over the handle of his broom. The firebolt swept across the field at full speed, and Alec could only pray that it would reach her in time. He could already hear the vicious hiss of the bludger overhead, as he pushed himself to an even faster pace. The blood pounded in his ears and his veins burned with adrenaline. Lavinia was almost within reach. His own terror was reflected in her green eyes.
Until now, he had not thought about how exactly he would move her out of the line of fire. With his utmost desperation, he sat up straight and threw himself in front of the girl to shield her from the impact. There was a brief moment of absolute calm and weightlessness. But the impact arrived in a flash. The iron bludger crashed into Alec's shoulder with the force of a cannonball. Sending a wave of searing pain through his body as his bones snapped like branches in a summer storm. A scream formed at the back of Alec's throat, darkness closing in around him before it could leave his lips.