Felix
The cold was beginning to seep through Felix Rosier’s clothes, which was quite unpleasant. It wasn’t that he minded the cold, but more that it provided an unwanted discomfort. He looked around.
Felix had missed Hogwarts, to be honest. He had missed its towers, reaching towards the sky; he had missed the lake, with no ripple on it due to the layer of frost that covered it; he had missed the snow-covered rooftops; he had missed the warmth of the common room after a day spent outside hanging out with friends; he had missed studying with Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs,Gryffindors and Slytherins for a large exam, everyone stressed and laughing and passing food around; he had missed the sense of community which came with being a student here; he had missed-
“Bloody hell, why is it so cold here?”
Felix turned to the boy next to him.
He was younger, definitely, and he wore an old and ragged cloak that looked as if it belonged to a dead person, but there was something about him that Felix quite liked. His hair, perhaps. It looked like blood against the snow, making a contrast that Felix found pleasing to the eye.
Red had always been his favorite color, anyway.
“It’s winter.”
“No shit, Blondie.”
Blondie. Why did he have to use Blondie, of all possible nicknames?
Memories flashed before Felix’ eyes. An older boy, green hair, a grin on his face and too many tattoos and piercings, calling Evan’s name with more love than Felix had ever thought possible, tracing the outline of Evan’s tattoos with an unspeakable devotion. Felix couldn’t remember the boy’s name, but he knew what the boy had called Evan: “Baby”, “Love”, and ”Blondie”.
Felix wondered for a brief moment whether that boy was still alive or if he too had been a victim of the war, along with too many others.
“First of all,” Felix began, “never call me ‘Blondie’ again. Second of all, stop complaining. I graduated three years ago and yet I’m here, freezing my ass off because of a stupid ball that Dumbledore’s holding for students and alumni. I’d rather be back home in Romania, but no. I have to listen to a kid complain about the cold. Amazing.”
The blood-haired boy’s eyes widened, and, for a naïve second, he believed the reason to be that he’d intimidated him.
“You live in Romania?”
“Why is that the only thing that you got from what I said?”
Felix sighed, a cloud of white breath escaping into the cold air. The boy was damn annoying. Why had Professor Dumbledore even paired them up? They were a terrible match. What did they have in common?
“Cause dragons.”
Oh. OH. That was why. Felix had never met another dragon enthusiast (apart from at his job). Excitement filled him to the brim, and all sense of being cold was forgotten.
“Dragons interest you?”
“I’ve been fascinated with them ever since I opened an image book at an old book store in Wales, at six years old. I still remember the colorful illustrations, stretching across the old pages, and how I begged to get it. It’s been on my bookshelf ever since.”
No. No way. No fucking way. Colorful illustrations? An old book? Dragons?!
Holy shit.
“Wait. Is it Scales and Claws by Winter Raven?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
Felix nearly squealed out of excitement, and explained to the boy why that book was so precious. One of a kind and dating back hundreds of years? Part of a collection that Felix had nearly entirely collected after years of effort? Written by the first dragonologist ever?
“What’s your name?” Felix asked, curious as to the boy’s identity. He’d definitely seen him around Hogwarts. Such a pretty boy didn’t go unnoticed. Especially not with hair the color of freshly spilled blood.
“Charlie. Charlie Weasley. You?”
“Just Felix. That’s it.”
Felix hadn’t spoken his family’s name for a long time now. He couldn’t bear it. Too many memories. Too many deaths. Too much grief.
“Weren’t you head boy?” Charlie asked.
A sudden memory of a young boy dancing through the air on a shabby broomstick, hair like a trail of blood behind him, laughing, as Felix silently watched from a tree, his book forgotten, came to him.
“Yes. Do you still play quidditch? You were quite good, I recall.”
“Yeah. I’m captain of the team now. You have a good memory.”
Absolutely not. Felix only remembered what he deemed worthy of remembrance, and that usually only encompassed school and dragons. Actually, he was quite surprised that this shining boy had been engraved into his memory in such a vivid way.
Felix remembered with an odd precision every detail from that day, when he’d found a person more interesting than his encyclopedia of dragons throughout the ages.
—
The sky had been gray, everything had been gray. The wind was biting in such a way that most people had gone indoors to shelter themselves, yet Felix had decided to stay outside, as the tree he'd climbed had provided a semblance of protection, and he’d made himself comfortable amongst the winding naked branches void of leaves in the beginning of winter.
And suddenly, just as he’d opened his book, something bright, something red, had dashed through the corner of his eye.
That something had rendered him unable to read, as he couldn’t really ignore it, so he’d decided to watch it rather than read.
It had taken some time for him to realize that what he’d decided to call ‘firefly’ was in fact a boy, and his jaw had then dropped.
The boy seemed to be playing with the wind, as if it were his friend and not a force of nature doing its best to make him fall and break his neck.
Two hours must have passed, although it felt to Felix like a mere minute, when the boy, the firefly, started rising and rising… before he suddenly let himself fall, holding his broom.
He looked like a wounded eagle, a king of the skies, stricken and plummeting towards his death.
Felix had not been able to detach his eyes from him. He remembered just how fast his heart had beaten, how he’d felt true fear for the boy, and how he’d pulled his wand out, ready to save the boy, how the boy had regained control just before hitting the ground, landing with a grace which Felix could only dream of.
—
“Eh, my memory’s alright, but not that amazing. I just specifically remembered you, that’s all. You’re quite a memorable person.”
“I am?”
Felix smiled.
“Bah t’es trop mignon, évidemment que je me souviens de toi.”
Felix really hoped that Charlie didn’t speak French, because he’d accidentally blurted out that he found him very cute.
“Excuse me? What did you just say?”
Relief flooded Felix. Charlie had not understood. Lying was the only option, now.
“Oh, sorry. I just wanted to say that your red hair is very recognizable.”
“You sure that you’re not confusing me with a brother of mine?”
As if. Now that he knew his name, he could recognize the firefly anywhere. Felix suddenly remembered another moment of glory of the firefly, before the tree and before the fall, when he’d first truly seen him.
“Why would I remember your brothers? Aren’t you the one who rescued a cat on the roof of the astronomy tower?”
Evan’s cat, Cthulhu, had been stricken by her master’s death, and had always avoided Felix, for some reason, which was quite impractical yet understandable.
“Oh, yeah, that was me.”
“It was mine. Never got to thank you, by the way. Too caught up in my applications for dragon sanctuaries, I s’pose.”
“You’re a cat person?”
Oh, never. Felix had always preferred reptiles. The warm-blooded had never interested him.
“Nah. It was my brother’s.”
It felt like a force squeezed his heart. After years, Evan’s death still terribly hurt, and a mere mention of him was enough to make it hard to breathe.
“So… what exactly are we doing here?”
“Didn’t Professor Dumbledore tell you? We’re s’posed to act as an escort to some important person. Should be here by now.”
“Why us, though?”
Why so many questions?
“A quidditch captain prefect and an alumni who used to be head boy and top of his year? Of course it was going to be us.”
“Oh. Wait. How did you know that I was a prefect? I didn’t tell you that.”
Felix had to refrain from sighing. He’d rather be talking about dragons.
“Professor Dumbledore did, didn’t he tell you anything about me?”
Charlie stayed silent for a bit, doing his best to remember what the headmaster had said.
“Oh, yeah. He said ‘You two will get along quite well, I should think’.”
Saying those last words, Charlie deepened his voice in such an amusing way that Felix couldn’t help but snort, a sound which, to his dismay, did not go unnoticed. Charlie’s gasp was too loud to be genuine.
”My lord, do my ears deceive me or did you snort?”
“Oh, shut up!”
A grin crept upon Felix’ face, and he pushed the boy in the snow.
He’d enjoyed that a little too much, to be honest.
“Hey! You little…”
Charlie immediately reached forward for Felix’ robes, and the older boy found himself falling, unable to stop his fall.
In just a few seconds, he found himself on top of Charlie, way too close to his liking.
He hadn’t been this physically close to someone in years, and, to his horror, he realized that he didn’t dislike this proximity. In fact, he quite liked it.
Charlie’s lips were close to his. Very, very close. It would take no effort to gently kiss him.
What was going on with him? Since when did he yearn to kiss boys? To kiss people? He’d never dated anyone. Never had the time to, and no one seemed to be to his liking. Too loud. Too quiet. Uninteresting. Nothing in common.
But Charlie…
Talking with Charlie was easy, and Felix was surprised at how quickly they’d bonded.
And now here they were, Felix on top of Charlie, lying in the cold snow, cheeks red, and an odd desire in their eyes.
Suddenly, Charlie started laughing, it was the most beautiful sound Felix had ever heard. Perhaps his opinion was biased.
“Ahem.”
Due to its suddenness, the voice sent shivers down Felix’ spine, as if he’d been slapped back to reality.
Both he and Charlie got to their feet in an instant, terribly embarrassed.
It took only a second for Felix to recognize the man. One of his idols, Newt Scamander, was standing right in front of him.
Felix had dreamt of meeting the man for years, yet never had those prospects contained being seen on top of a boy, craving for a kiss even though they’d just met.
Charlie also seemed to recognize Newt Scamander, and he dissolved into excuses.
“No need to apologize. I just arrived, anyway. So, if I understood well what Albus told me, you two like dragons?”
Charlie looked extremely excited.
“Yes!”
Scamander smiled.
“I’ve always loved seeing young people just as enthusiastic and vibrant as I was at that age… So you two are Charlie Weasley and Felix Rosier, am I correct?”
Oh, how Felix hated his name…
He’d loved his parents, truly, but they’d never loved him back, always giving Evan and Pandora their full attention. Felix had worked hard in school, doing his very best, always desiring a compliment, but it was all for his siblings. He had the best grade in Potions? Pandora’s visions were hurting her, he had to get out of the way and stop being so selfish. He wanted to visit Romania? No, Evan wanted to go to Italy with his best friend and Felix could wait a little. He’d been an accident, born ten years after Evan and Pandora, and he’d always felt that way.
He’d never admit it, but Felix had always craved for someone to choose him over his siblings. Not that hard now. Evan’s dead. No one would pick a dead man, a dead Death Eater, over him. Felix got what he wanted in the end. Cruel boy.
Suddenly, Felix felt a hand in his, and turned to see a worried Charlie looking at him.
This wasn’t good. He couldn’t let someone get too close to him this fast.
Newt Scamander’s expression suddenly softened.
“Well I already know the way up. Do you two want to stay here? I’m terribly sorry if I interrupted anything.”
In an instant, Charlie had let go of Felix’ hand, leaving him with an odd feeling that something was missing, one he hadn’t felt at all before Charlie took his hand. This was dangerous. He couldn’t let himself grow any closer to this boy. However, despite his head’s warnings, he still wanted to take Charlie’s hand and hold it tight. He still felt a twinge of pain at how easily the other boy had let go.
A few pleasantries were exchanged, yet Felix couldn’t really fully concentrate. He participated in the conversation, yet his head was elsewhere.
Out of the corner of his eye, Felix noticed a horse-like beast, looking half dead and terribly ugly, and he recognized in it the species that had carried him away from Evan’s dead body as tears filled his eyes.
“Very nice looking Thestral you’ve got there, sir.” Felix said.
At those words, Newt Scamander’s expression darkened.
“You’re too young to know what a Thestral looks like. Wars are truly horrible things. people die, and children survive remembering it. You’re just a child, Felix. I know that everyone lost someone at some point, and I know that neither children nor beasts may avoid death, yet still it remains tragic to know that younglings suffer the woes of the older.”
Nobody said anything, afterwards, and they silently walked towards the castle.
Felix discreetly looked towards Charlie, and for a brief moment saw the firefly again.
That boy would be the end of him.