The thing about Gavi is that he’s too reckless by half, even for a Gryffindor. He’s always making these dangerous bets on the Quidditch pitch, or in duelling club, or even in potions class, that sanest people would not even dream of making and then grinning like a madman every time he pulls one of them off. Which is most of the time, somehow.
The thing about Gavi is that he’s ridiculously cute and he knows it and weaponizes it on a daily basis. He uses it to get the younger students under his spell to fetch him things, to convince professors to give him extra time on assignments, and to have their entire friend group fall all over themselves to give the baby, what he wants. Sometimes he’s almost more Slytherin-like than Gryffindor Mikky, a Slytherin herself, complains even as she lets Gavi re-roll his dice in Wizard’s Folly, something that is decidedly not in the rule book, but one pleading, pouty look had done Mikky in. This is why Gavi wins most of the competitions between all of them.
The thing about Gavi is that to him everything in life is a competition, one he wants to win. He takes everything seriously: from his grades to his little experiments in potion-making to, perhaps most especially, the game of Quidditch. He doesn’t accept short-comings in himself, working tirelessly to correct anything he perceives as a flaw. It’s made him one of the most awe-inspiring students at Hogwarts, a virtual legend by his sixth year, when he was made a prefect to absolutely no one’s surprise.
The thing about Gavi is that he’s unbelievably empathetic and kind. He’d cried when they’d turned mice into teacups in transfiguration, until the professor had changed them all back. He steps in if he sees someone being bullied, he volunteers to help the house elves clean the dormitory and he sends his elderly grandma self-brewed joint-ease potions on a weekly basis. He never uses his competitiveness to bring others down, instead he uses it to motivate them to fight harder. He might want to win in the end, but he’s never looking for the easy out.
The thing about Gavi is that Pedri is in love with him. Has been for probably at least three years, he can’t be sure when it started, exactly. All he knows is that it’s really unfortunate, because Gavi is his very best friend. Also, his biggest rival. And he has never, not even once, hinted that what they have goes one step beyond friendship for him. And Pedri has spent the last few years trying to match that energy: to not betray how his heart starts beating faster when Gavi leans in close when they study together, how his smile gets a little too wide and star struck when he watches Gavi fly, how he can barely contain a blush when Gavi gives him a wicked grin and a wink before the start of every single official match.
He tries, but he’s starting to worry that he’s failed somehow, because just in the last few days, Gavi has started avoiding him. So now Pedri is in love and Gavi wants nothing to do with him, and he’s never been more miserable, hurt or confused in his life. And considering he comes from a muggle family who wanted very little to do with his magic initially, that was saying something.
It started three days ago in the great hall at breakfast.
Now, since Pedri is in Hufflepuff and Gavi is in Gryffindor, they aren’t supposed to eat together, technically. But since both Pedri and Gavi are personal favourites of at least half the staff, the professors tend to overlook it when Gavi inevitably slots himself in to the Hufflepuff table halfway through the meal to “catch up,” as if it’s been weeks instead of hours since they last saw each other. For his part, Pedri does his best to pretend that his heart doesn’t flutter every single time Gavi does it, no matter that it’s been that way for years.
And so, it was extra noticeable when Gavi didn't sit beside him, even when breakfast was almost over. Pedri had looked for him as soon as he’d entered the Great Hall, of course, his eyes inevitably drawn to Gavi anytime they are in the same room together. And usually, Gavi would already be looking back, maybe even throwing him a wink if Pedri is lucky. But not that day. That day, Gavi was in the Great Hall as usual, gossiping with some of his fellow Gryffindor’s, Fermín among them, but he was not looking in Pedri’s direction.
Though a touch disappointed, Pedri wasn’t too fussed about it at first, assuming Gavi just hadn’t noticed him come in. But when breakfast ended and Gavi still hadn’t made his way over, Pedri was a little concerned. A niggle of doubt sprouted in the back of his mind, a nasty, shrill little voice that reminded Pedri of Cornish pixies somehow, whispered in his ear that his worst fear had come true, that Gavi had finally noticed Pedri’s enormous crush and now wanted nothing more to do with him.
Pedri wrestled the voice down as best he could. Gavi wouldn’t do that; they were best friends. At the very least, Pedri was sure he’d be let down gently. Right? But it would change things between them, regardless. Maybe Gavi had realized and just wasn’t ready to face all it meant. Maybe he was disappointed in Pedri, for letting feelings get in the way of their friendship. That would be even worse.
In an effort to circumvent a spiral, Pedri approached Gavi himself as soon as breakfast ended. Gavi had probably just gotten caught up in talking with his other friends. There was no reason to draw such pessimistic conclusions. He timed it so that he’s heading out the doors at the same time as Gavi, brushing their shoulders together lightly in greeting just like he always did, only for Gavi to nearly jump out of his skin. Which was completely out of character, because Gavi loved touch.
When he recognized Pedri, a flash of panic had raced through his eyes, before he’d dropped them almost immediately. Pedri tried very hard not to read too much into that, with minimal success. “Hey Pablito,” he said gamely. “I was wondering if you wanted to work on our essays for Herbology later.”
“I can’t carino,” Gavi said immediately, not quite meeting his eyes still. “I already promised Fermín that I would help him with his potions homework.”
Pedri blinks. “Oh. Okay, then. That’s fine! Then, do you want to watch the Tornados with me and Ferran after you're done? They are playing against the Falcons”
“I shouldn’t,” Gavi says. “I’m going to practice for the next match. I need the extra practice; the Bludgers won’t hit themselves.”
“You’re literally the best beater in the entire school,” Pedri scoffed. “How much practice do you need?”
Gavi glanced at him then, momentarily caught up in Quidditch as they both tend to get.
“And you’re the best chaser,” Gavi says. “Bet you didn’t get that title by skimping on practice, either. Hufflepuff stands its first chance of winning the Cup in nearly a hundred years because of you. Not that I’m going to let that happen.” His eyes shone with a competitive glow and Pedri couldn’t help but beam brightly back. He loved this rivalry with Gavi almost as much as their friendship. It felt like safe, familiar territory. Surely he’d imagined Gavi’s avoidance earlier.
But then that same look of temporal panic flashed across his face and his eyes shuttered even more quickly than they’d sparked to life. “Anyway,” Gavi said, backing away, glancing away in a clear dismissal. “I need to get going, carino. I have potions next and Professor Arbogast hates tardiness.” He turned away before Pedri had a chance to respond.
“I’ll see you later, then!” Pedri called to his rapidly retreating back, a feeling of unease clawing at his stomach.
Gavi didn’t turn around, and he didn’t respond either, and Pedri went off to his own class with a sense of doom that he didn’t even have any real justification for yet, then.
But he does now, because that had been his last actual conversation with Gavi. Over the past few days it had gotten worse. Gavi was definitely avoiding him. He hadn’t come to see Pedri at breakfast, lunch, or dinner since, he’d clearly found a new spot to study because he was never in the library when Pedri was there anymore, and even on the Quidditch pitch he made sure to surround himself with so many people Pedri had no chance to try and talk with him. And this morning, Pedri had seen Gavi turn around deliberately and nearly run the opposite direction when he’d met Pedri’s eyes from across the hall, the same panicked look from before on his face.
It hadn’t felt good. It felt awful actually.
Which is why Pedri now finds himself crying on Ferran’s shoulder in the relative privacy of the Hufflepuff dormitory while Ferran combs his fingers through his hair, more than a little alarmed. Pedri is not usually a crier. He doesn’t know if he’s ever cried in front of any of his friends, actually. Except Gavi, once. And now he’s crying even harder because the one person he really would like to be his shoulder to cry on is the whole reason he’s crying in the first place.
“What is it, mijo?” Ferran asks, voice saturated with worry. “What’s the matter?”
“I think Gavi hates me.”
Ferran’s hand pauses his stroking in surprise. “Gavi could never hate you,” he says firmly, as if it’s some unwritten law of the universe. “What makes you think that he does?”
“He’s avoiding me. He hasn’t spoken to me in three days. He definitely hates me.”
“Gavi is avoiding you?” Ferran sounds surprised. “Why would he do that? Did you guys fight?”
“No! Nothing like that. I don’t know what happened. It was fine the day before. We went swimming in the black lake and Gavi was totally normal. Well, right up until the end when he kind of left in a hurry. Almost like he was running from something? It was a little weird, now that I think about it.”
“Huh? Why did he leave?”
“I don’t know,” Pedri sighs. “He didn’t exactly stick around long enough for me to ask questions. And we haven’t had a meaningful conversation since.”
He doesn’t hate you; I’m sure of it,” Ferran says with conviction. “I’ll get Fermín to talk to him; find out what his deal is. If he learns you’ve been crying, my bet is he’s throwing himself at your knees to beg your forgiveness by the end of the day.”
“You shouldn’t get Fermín or anyone involved,” Pedri says, lifting his head off Ferran’s shoulder finally and wiping at his eyes. “Gavi doesn’t do well with pressure… at least not when it comes to relationships and…. Feeling stuff. It’s best to let him come to you on his own terms.” He hesitates. “You… you don’t think it’s because he’s figured out I have a crush on him?”
“It bloody well better not be,” Ferran scowls. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, a big if mind you, avoiding you is no way to deal with it.” Pedri curls in on himself in misery and Taehyung backtracks quickly. “But I’m sure that’s not what it is! Gavi is nothing if not oblivious.”
“I don’t know what else it could be though,” Pedri says. “It’s not like he routinely just ghosts me. Something has to be going on. He’s upset with me and I don’t know why.”
Ferran studies Pedri’s no doubt tear-stained face seriously. “I don’t know for sure either. And I won’t get involved yet, since you asked. But if Gavi is still making you miserable by the end of the week, say, after the Quidditch match ends, then I’m sending Fermín on him. An ass-beating and a tongue lashing would be no more than he deserves if he lets it drag on that long.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around by then,” Pedri says, not really sure at all, but wanting to believe it. He rises from Ferran’s bed that they’d been sitting on and stretches with a groan. His knee throbs a little, a remnant of a Quidditch injury from last year and the twinge of pain actually helps bring things back into focus.
So Gavi hasn’t talked to him in three days. So what? He’s clearly working through something and he’ll come to Pedri when he’s ready. He always has before. He just needs to be patient. To be there for him, as a friend, like he always is. He can do that. He can do much more than that for Gavi.
Except Gavi doesn’t come to him. Not for the entire four days, 8 hours, and 27 minutes since Pedri’s conversation with Ferran and his ensuing decision to just wait it out. Not that he’s counting. The time in between somehow both drags and absolutely races by, as Pedri vacillates between agonizing over Gavi’s continued avoidance (he’d even missed their weekly trip to the kitchens to beg snacks off the house elves and then share them in secret behind a statue on the seventh floor for the first time ever but Pedri didn’t cry about it; he’s done crying) and trying to desperately juggle his classwork with the necessity for even more Quidditch practice. He’s the team captain, and Hufflepuff is in the running for the final for the first time in living memory so the pressure is on, and he’s pushed his team (and himself) pretty hard in preparation, to the point he’s falling into bed every night absolutely exhausted, too tired to even remember how miserable he is without Gavi there to bounce play ideas off of and generally haze about which of their teams would be taking the trophy. Well, almost.
And now it’s the day of the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor match. Whoever wins this one will be in the final. Pedri's stomach is in knots for multiple reasons, and the Cup isn’t even the main one. Don’t get him wrong, he wants it, badly, but he feels that his team has prepared as much as they possibly could. Whatever happens out there, Pedri will still be proud of all of his team. No, even more than the Cup itself, it’s the idea of shaking hands with Gavi, meeting his eyes for the first time in a solid week and playing a match against him that would normally have made him tingly with excitement, with the adrenaline of what’s sure to be an amazing game, but not having Gavi’s signature pregame wink to look forward to, only uncertainty and avoidance and hurt, that has him rattled.
“You’re good right?” One of his teammates says uncertainly at breakfast where Gavi is once again determinedly avoiding him. “You look kind of sick?”
Pedri nods, forcing a smile. “I’m great! Ready to win this thing.”
“We’re definitely going to win,” the other Hufflepuff says determinedly. When Pedri doesn’t really respond, he adds, “Right?” tone more uncertain.
Pedri brings himself back into focus with difficulty. He can’t let his team down. He’s their captain. He grins back as confidently as he can. “Of course. We’ve got this.”
And Pedri really does feel like he’s got this, right up until Master Hooch, who is refereeing the game, calls for the two team captains to shake hands to kick off the match. Suddenly he’s in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, hundreds of eyes on him, standing facing Gavi. He feels a brief, foolish flash of hope that Gavi is going to acknowledge him, or at least look at him, finally, for the first time in a week. But Gavi shakes his hand quickly, stance awkward, eyes looking somewhere over Pedri’s left shoulder, and a slight red tint to his ears that he only gets when he’s annoyed or embarrassed. Pedri feels his heart sink right down to his feet at the idea that Gavi might find him annoying now. For some reason.
Pedri swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Good luck, Pablito,” he says instead. Gavi’s eyes flash to his finally, just for a second, surprise and maybe guilt and possibly some other emotion that Pedri can’t quite make out just behind them. Belatedly, Pedri realizes he still hasn’t let go of Gavi’s hand. He lets go and Gavi’s hand falls limply to his side, fingers twitching restlessly. Pedri closes his own hand into a fist.
He almost doesn’t hear Madam Hooch tell them to mount their brooms and he does so woodenly, wrangling his emotions under control. His team deserves his very best. When the Quaffel is tossed into the air and the whistle blows, Pedri is the first one to get his hands on it.
And it stays in his hands for what feels like most of the match. Pedri throws himself into the game of Quidditch with abandon, using it as a distraction from his muddled feelings of hurt and confusion as much as anything. Soon enough, Hufflepuff is leading 130 to 20 and of those thirteen goals Pedri had scored nine of them himself. It’s as he’s gearing up to make his tenth goal of the match, speeding towards the Gryffindor keeper so quickly that the crowd morphs into a yellow and red blur, that he hears it: a sudden screech of excitement from the red-clothed section of the audience, a collective gasp around the pitch.
Pedri doesn’t even get a chance to turn around before it’s already over. And there is the Gryffindor seeker, grinning triumphantly as he holds a hand high in the air, tiny gold wings beating futilely against his closed fist. The crowd explodes. Gavi’s expression is lit up with excitement, with delight, cheeks flush with leftover adrenaline, longish dark hair swept back by his time racing through the air with the wind. He’s beautiful. Radiant. Pedri’s heart pangs with longing he should have gotten used to long ago. But this time it’s a bit different. Significantly more painful, for one.
They lost. Hufflepuff would not win the Cup, is officially out of the running, and this was Pedri’s last year trying. The disappointment hits then and it doesn’t let up like it usually would with Gavi so obviously happy. If they were still friends, then Pedri could be happy for him. Would be happy for him. But he’s not so sure they are anymore, and so there being no buffer for the disappointment he feels, no reason to smile even though Gavi is, because after every win before today Gavi would inevitably aim that victorious grin towards him. But he’s not doing that now. He hasn’t looked at Pedri even once.
Pedri's broom sinks to ground as if it’s the stone in his chest that’s dragging it that way, until he can dismount with his disappointed teammates surrounding him. He tells them they did a good job, because they did, that they’ll be in the final for sure next year, because he believes they can, and all the while his heart feels brittle underneath his ribs. Above them, the Gryffindor team is doing a group hug in mid-air, laughing and cheering and slapping each other on the back, joy palpable from a distance if only Pedri could feel it, could share in it. He just happens to look up right as Gavi is looking down.
Their eyes meet. He watches, detached almost, as the smile slowly fades off Gavi’s face. He suddenly feels a little sick to his stomach. He’s not used to that. He’s used to the opposite, actually. He’d grown so used to being one of the reasons that Gavi smiled that he’d never really had to consider how it would feel to make that smile fade. Well, now he knows. He’s ruining Gavi’s mood just by his presence, clearly. His team had won fair and square. He didn’t deserve to have his high ruined.
Pedri tears his eyes away quickly and wishes he could simultaneously tear all feelings from his body. They hurt. He doesn’t allow himself to look back up, turning quickly to follow his teammates off the pitch. He imagines that he hears Gavi calling his name in the distance as he steps off the pitch, but that’s not very likely, is it? Gavi just won a major victory. The last thing he’s going to be doing is calling after Pedri. He resists the urge to turn around, just in case.
A heart can only take so much.
“Gavi thinks you hate him, you know.”
Pedri gapes at Frenkie in utter disbelief.
They are in the library, at a corner table with various star charts scattered across the length as they pour over them looking for alignments, when Frenkie speaks up out of nowhere.
“Why would he think that?” Pedri asks once he regains the power of speech. “He’s the one who’s been avoiding me. Well, until the last two weeks anyway. Did he tell you that? He’s actually talked about me? Do you know why he hates me?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” Frenkie comments. Pedri resists the urge to shake the much taller Gryffindor. Luckily, he doesn’t have to resort to that as Frenkie continues without further prompting. “Which one do you actually want the answer to?”
Pedri doesn’t have to think about it, really. Gavi thinking Pedri hates him is fundamentally flawed and wrong. It can’t be allowed to stand. “Why does Gavi think I hate him?”
“You’ve been avoiding him since the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match.”
“He started avoiding me first though?” Pedri says incredulously. “I assumed he didn’t want to see me around. I honestly wasn’t even sure he’d notice, much less care.”
“He definitely noticed. Definitely cares,” Frenkie says. “Mikky and I have been getting an ear full of moping for an entire two weeks now. It’s ruining our couple downtime. We’re getting desperate.”
Pedri can’t help the way his heart gives a hopeful thump. “But… then why hasn’t he just come find me?”
“Did you miss the part where I said he thinks you hate him.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Pedri says desperately. “I could never hate him.”
“Might I suggest you tell him that,” Frenkie says delicately. “If he cries on me one more time…”
“He’s been crying?” Pedri is aghast.
“A bit pathetically, to be honest.”
“I don’t get it,” Pedri says. “He was definitely avoiding me. And then, after they won the match, he saw me and it was like all the thrill of victory got sucked right out of him.”
Frenkie looks vaguely constipated. He rubs at his temples. Opens his mouth, and then closes it again. Sighs heavily. “Look. I think it’s best if you talk this all out between yourselves. Gavi has some explaining to do, and you do too. You have been avoiding him too, after all.”
“I thought that was what he wanted,” Pedri mutters. He’s still so very confused. But maybe a bit more hopeful than he had at any point in the last three weeks.
“Well if you would both talk, then you would both know what you each wanted,” Frenkie says exasperatedly. “Now, doesn’t that sound nice?”
Pedri thinks it over. “Okay. I… I’ll talk to Gavi. Or try to. But not until after the match. I shouldn't distract him. It’s the final, after all.”
“As if anyone in this school would let me forget it,” Frenkie says ruefully. He´s on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and really doesn´t like the pressure, he´s under. His girlfriend being in Slytherin doesn´t help either.
“Oh hush, it’s almost over,” Pedri says, chuckling a little despite the weird ball of anxiety and hope nawing at in his gut. “I’ll talk to him after. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Frenkie sighs, rising from the library bench they’ve been sitting on. "I´m supposed to meet Mikky for a hopefully private lunch date. We´re hoping Gavi doesn't show up moping again." Pedri hums his acknowledgement, turning to his star charts again to distract from his convoluted feelings. “They don’t pay me enough for this,” Pedri hears Frenkie mutter as he walks away.
“Actually we don’t pay you anything at all!” He calls after him. He ducks his head quickly back down to his books when the librarian swings towards him with an angry hiss.
Under any other circumstance, Pedri would be beyond excited about the Quidditch final. Even though his team is no longer in the running, he still loves the game, loves the excitement, the adrenaline, the display of teamwork and talent. And then, Gavi is playing. Under any other circumstance, Pedri would be decked out in red and gold right now, cheering as hard as he could for who had, until a few short weeks ago, been his very best friend in the entire world.
But in the current circumstance, Pedri can barely drum up any excitement at all. Instead he’s a mess of nerves, and not the good kind. It’s the kind that makes him want to vomit, actually, or maybe run and hide. He’s already regretting agreeing to seek out and… talk to Gavi after the match. Gavi probably won’t want to see him. If he wins the match, he’ll be wanting to celebrate with his house. If he loses, well, the disappointment would have once meant that Pedri would be the first person he sought out for comfort. He knows that’s not the case anymore, though.
He’s scared of what Gavi might say when they talk. That Pedri had started annoying him, probably. That he’d noticed Pedri’s obvious crush and it made him uncomfortable, maybe. Both awful possibilities that make bile rise in the back of his throat at the mere thought. But the thought that Gavi might refuse to talk at all, might run from him like he’d been doing before Pedri had started running from him too, is somehow even worse.
He’s already explained away Gavi’s apparent tears to Frenkie and Mikky in his mind. Gavi is not a bad person. The opposite, actually. He’s the best person Pedri knows, and too empathetic by half. If he thinks anything he has to say would hurt Pedri, even if he no longer wants to be friends… well, that alone would be very difficult for him. Gavi once cried because he was having to break up with a “very nice girl” who he just wasn’t connecting with. He’d cried because even though he’d discovered she wasn’t for him; he still didn’t want to hurt her. And they’d only dated three weeks. Pedri and Gavi had been best friends for six years. It had to be even harder for him then, the idea of ending a friendship with Pedri. That’s probably why he was crying.
Pedri struggles with the sick feeling in his stomach as he watches the tiny figures of Gavi and the Slytherin team captain shake hands on the field. The crowd around him roars with excitement when the Quaffel is tossed into the air and Mikky beside him, decked out in the green of her own house, shakes her arm excitedly, which only makes the nauseous feeling worse.
The match passes in a blur that Pedri is mostly unable to focus on, the Quaffel changing hands almost more quickly than the eye could follow. His eyes mostly stay on Gavi, who is beating the Bludgers at the Slytherin chasers. He doesn’t want to look at Gavi, but his eyes are drawn to him inexorably anyway. They always have been. That’s why he’s the first to see when a Bludger goes into Gavis direction.
From then it all goes to the worst. He hears the sound of the broom cracking, which doesn´t make sense since the Bludger hit his head, before he can see Gavi falling with a high speed onto the ground.
Gavi is halfway to the ground before anyone other than Pedri realizes what happened. Pedri is frozen but his throat is raw, like maybe he screamed Gavi’s name. He’s standing then, grasping desperately for his wand in the pocket of his robes all the while knowing he’s going to be much too late, knowing he’s too far away to do anything anyway. A strange hush has fallen over the crowd. Or maybe it’s just that Pedri’s ears are ringing.
Madam Hooch raises her wand finally when Gavi is barely ten meters from the ground. Arresto Momentum echoes across the quiet pitch and then Gavi hits the ground with a sickening thud. He doesn’t move.
But Pedri does. He’s already halfway down the stairs of the tower before anyone else thinks to move. Or maybe they do. He can’t be sure. All he can focus on is getting to Gavi. He won’t be… he can’t be…
Others must have moved, it seems, because by the time Pedri makes it out onto the pitch a small crowd has gathered around Gavi. Pedri can’t see him. Pedri can’t breathe.
“--Need to get him to the infirmary, now,” a voice says. Madam Hooch, his brain computes belatedly. If they are going to the infirmary, then that must mean that Gavi is alive, at least. Pedri fights off a sudden light headedness as Gavi’s prone form is suddenly airborne, head lolling and blood trickling out of one nostril as he’s levitated above the ground by Madam Hooch’s wand, who immediately takes off towards the castle at a near run.
Pedri feels a need to sit down, but the need to keep his eyes on Gavi easily overpowers it and he’s running behind Madam Hooch into the castle before he’s thought anything through at all. All he knows is that Gavi leaving his sight right now feels totally unacceptable.
It takes an agonizingly long time to get to the infirmary, and Gavi doesn’t move once the entire way. Pedri would have seen it; he hasn’t taken his eyes off of him. He can’t really tell if he’s even breathing, and as a result he feels like he can barely breathe himself, tears pricking at his eyes as he trudges after him. If Madam Hooch notices him following she makes no comment, never pausing until Gavi is deposited into a bed in the infirmary and Pedri collapses into the chair beside it.
Madam Pomfrey hurries towards them, no doubt already having been alerted of their coming. She ignores Pedri and Madam Hooch completely in favour of Gavi. A wave of her wand and a quick, muttered spell has Gavi taking his first noticeable breath and Pedri wilting into the chair in relief. His sigh draws Madam Pomfrey’s attention at last and her brow furrows, clearly preparing to tell him to leave. Before she gets the chance, there is a ruckus at the door to the infirmary as it seems like the entire Gryffindor team as well as Fermín, Ferran, João, Mikky, and Alejandro all attempt to fit through the door at the same time.
“Out!” Madam Pomfrey orders sharply even as all of the students approach the bed. “I cannot do my job properly with a crowd like this. Everyone must leave immediately."
“Will he be alright?” Fermín asks, face pale.
“What’s wrong with him?” Frenkie echoes, face even whiter if possible.
All of the students’ questions tumble over each other, echoing through the previously quite ward. “Silence!” Madam Hooch says, booming voice breaking through. “Everyone listen to Madam Pomfrey. We can’t answer your questions because we don’t know anything yet. So give her time to do her job. Out. Everyone out or house points will be deducted from every single one of you!”
Slowly, the room clears until Pedri is alone again with Gavi, Madam Hooch, and Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey brow furrows sternly in his direction and Pedri tenses, ready to argue. He is not ready to leave Gavi. Madam Hooch speaks up first. “Let him stay,” she says to Madam Martin. “If he promises not to get in your way. He’s Gavi’s best friend.”
The surprise must show on Pedri’s face because Madam Hooch’s face grows a bit amused, though she’s pale, too. “What? I practically live on the pitch the same as you. It would be weirder if I hadn't noticed.”
Pedri closes his mouth. If that were true once, he’s not sure it is anymore. Still, he’s not going to contradict Madam Hooch. Not if it means he can stay by Gavi’s side.
Madam Pomfrey sighs. “Fine. It might do him good to see a familiar face when he wakes up.”
“He will wake up, though, right?” Pedri asks, voice hoarse. He definitely must have screamed at some point.
“His injuries are serious,” Madam Pomfrey says. “Haven’t had a diagnostic spell come back this badly in my memory. Honestly, Quidditch should be outlawed.” The last part is muttered as she leans over Gavi again, wand waving a graceful arc over his body. Pedri can see Madam Hooch bristling in her periphery but he honestly couldn’t care less about Madam Pomfrey's opinions on Quidditch right now.
“There,” she says at last. “The internal bleeding has stopped. He’ll need a blood-replenishing potion as soon as he wakes though. He’s got several broken bones. But the head injury is the most pressing concern.”
“What do you mean?” Pedri asks. He’s holding Gavi’s hand now. He doesn’t remember picking it up, but he squeezes it tightly all the same, a lifeline.
“There is swelling on his brain. I can’t wake him up with magic. The brain is a tricky thing. It’s best he wakes when he’s ready.”
“What if he’s never ready, though?” Pedri’s voice shakes.
“I won’t lie and say it’s not a possibility. But I don’t think that will happen. However, he is very hurt. I’ve done all I can do for now. He needs time and rest.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Pedri says immediately. “I’ll stay with him until he wakes up.”
“You can’t miss your classes,” Madam Hooch says sternly. “You have NEWTs coming up.”
Right now, Pedri also couldn’t care less about NEWTs. But he knows he won’t win the argument. “Just for tonight then,” he pleads. “Just let me stay with him tonight, and if he doesn’t wake up by the morning then I’ll go to classes and come back.”
Madam Hooch softens. Pedri and Gavi have both always been two of his favourites. “Okay. Fine, have it your way. But Madam Pomfrey will kick you out in the morning.”
Madam Pomfrey nods firmly. “The bed beside Gavi’s is empty. You can use it if you want.” There is no way Pedri is sleeping tonight but he nods anyway, managing a shaky smile before his eyes immediately refocus on Gavi’s face, where they have been practically this entire time. “I’ll be up to check on him throughout the night, but come and get me if anything changes,” she adds, seemingly catching on that Pedri will not be sleeping. Pedri nods his understanding. It’s still hard to get his voice to work.
Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey leave soon after, and Pedri is left alone with Gavi. It’s already getting dark outside, the sun sinking slowly behind the trees outside the window and illuminating Gavi’s pale face in a buttery golden light. He’s beautiful and he’s Pedri’s absolute favourite person and what if he never wakes up? What if he never gets to see his eyes again, to hear his laugh? Even if they were no longer friends, a world without Gavi somewhere in it, laughing and smiling, feels impossible to comprehend.
He will wake up. He has to.
A draft comes through the open window and Pedri frowns. What if Gavi gets cold? He reaches forward with the hand not holding Gavi’s and places it on Gavi’s forehead. He does feel kind of cold. He lets go of Gavi’s hand, standing to go and close the window. He almost startles out of his skin when Gavi suddenly moves for the first time. It’s nothing big, just a slight wrinkling of the forehead, a slight furrowing of the brow. His lips form the tiniest pout and he mumbles something that sounds almost like an approximation of Pedri’s name.
Pedri immediately collapses into the chair beside him again, picking up the dropped hand and squeezing tightly. “Gavi?! Can you hear me?”
Gavi doesn’t respond, but his brow does smooth out the second Pedri takes his hand again. Pedri's heart squeezes. He’ll hold Gavi’s hand all night if it helps. But still, the open window…
Pedri lets go of Gavi’s hand and dashes to the window, closing it quickly before racing back. Gavi didn’t move this time, and Pedri sinks back into the chair gratefully. He’s exhausted. Emotionally drained from residual terror and physically drained from running across the castle behind Madam Hooch. He’s never felt this tired before, but going to sleep is out of the question. He’s not letting Gavi out of his sight, possibly ever again.
Pedri jolts awake with a start, a surprised squeak above him causing him to move too quickly, very nearly falling out of the chair. His entire body aches but his mind is racing, eyes immediately going to Gavi. He can’t believe he fell asleep in the chair, and while leaning half on Gavi’s bed. It must be late, too. The room is dark, the only light the torches flickering in the corners of the room, admittedly much brighter than they’d be without magic, but the room is still dim. That thought, along with all others, quickly flees his mind when his eyes meet the wide startled doe eyes, staring back at him.
“Gavi,” he breathes. “You’re awake?” Of course he’s awake. Stupid question. Still, Pedri can hardly believe it. Tears spring up in his eyes unbidden. Gavi’s widen in alarm.
“Carino? Why are you crying?” That is also a stupid question. But still it serves to open his tear ducts for real, and just like that the tears start a trail down his cheeks. Gavi is starting to look panicked. That’s not good; he probably shouldn’t be panicking right now.
“Are you okay?” Pedri chokes out. It’s the most important question. The one that should obviously be asked first.
“I… I don’t really remember what happened, but a lot of things hurt like a bitch.” He winces when he shifts in the bed, but his eyes are still very much alarmed.
“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey,” Pedri says immediately, jumping up. “She can help”
“Wait a second, hold on, carino,” Gavi says. “Are you okay?” The worry is clear in his voice, in his wide eyes. It’s almost like everything is back to normal between them. Maybe the fall has made Gavi forget the last few weeks that he’d been avoiding Pedri and vice versa. Pedri doesn’t know if that would be a good or bad thing.
“I’m a lot better now that you’re up,” Pedri reassures him. “Hang on, and I’ll get Madam Pomfrey.” Gavi calls after him but Pedri ignores him as he heads determinedly towards the nurses’ quarters. They can talk after Gavi gets pain medicine.
Madam Pomfrey seems surprised to learn that Gavi awoke so quickly, but hurries after Pedri to his bedside nonetheless. Gavi turns worried eyes to Pedri again, which is utterly ridiculous, because Pedri is the one who should be worried here. He watches anxiously from the side as Gavi swallows three separate potions, grimacing after each one and actually gagging after the last. “There has got to be a way to make this taste better,” he says, but his face is already relaxing, looking less pinched with pain, some colour returning to his cheeks.
“You’ll probably get pretty loopy here in a minute,” Madam Pomfrey warns him. “The poppy potion will do that.”
Gavi looks alarmed. “Will it make me talk out of my head?” He glances at Pedri somewhat anxiously. Pedro smiles at him reassuringly. Gavi doesn’t look reassured.
“It might,” Madam Martin says, shrugging. Gavi is looking vaguely panicked again. Pedri takes a step towards him uncertainly. But before he can say or do anything, Gavi’s face suddenly goes relaxed, almost dreamy looking. “Ah,” Madam Martin says. “Looks like it’s really kicking in now.”
Gavi is staring at Pedri and he looks both there and not there, a beatific half smile on his face. Pedri doesn’t know quite what to think of it. At least he doesn’t seem to be hurting now. He smiles back at Gavi uncertainly.
“Your smile’s really pretty, carino,” Gavi says suddenly. “Real pretty. Prettiest smile. Looks like sunshine. ’N your face is pretty too. I really like your face; it’s my favourite.” Pedri blinks, stunned. Madam Pomfrey’s lips are twitching with amusement even as she mutters more spells to examine Gavi. Gavi isn’t done, though, it seems. He’s on a roll, eyes trained earnestly on Pedri’s. “’N also, you’re like… so cool. Everyone likes you. As they should. You’re the best. You fly and it’s, like, the hottest thing ever. Didn’t even know flying could be hot. I want to be like that. I want to be like you. No. That’s not it. I just … I just want you.” He’s grinning as he says it and Pedri’s mind is a white, blank slate of pure shock.
‘That’s… um…” he stutters. He can’t help the hopeful, happy beat of his heart even as the logical part of his mind starts to try and downplay everything. He glances at Madam Pomfrey. “Uh. Does he know what he’s saying?”
“Hmm, maybe?” Madam Pomfrey shrugs. “We’ll know when it wears off.” Her lips are still twitching. “Well, Gavi is stable enough for now. I’ll leave you two alone.” She leaves quickly, almost too quickly, and Pedri turns back to Gavi slowly, brain still very much processing. Gavi is still smiling at him. He’s really missed Gavi’s smile.
“Hi,” he says nervously. Gavi’s smile widens. “Um. Thank you?” He responds belatedly to Gavi’s onslaught of compliments. He wonders if Gavi even remembers what he said. He hopes he does. Hopes it wasn’t just some potion-induced blathering that didn’t actually mean anything. But also, hope is scary. Gavi probably didn’t even mean it like that. He’s probably just confusing words right now. The compliments are a little bit harder to explain away but it’s not like Gavi has never told him he has a nice smile or that he’s cool before. ‘Pretty,’ was new, though. Still, Pedri is completely ready to ignore it all. It seems much safer that way.
But then Gavi speaks up again.
“Really want to kiss you, carino. Always want to kiss you. And the way you’re biting your lip right now it really… it’s something.” Pedri blinks rapidly. He can feel his face heating. He can feel his heart beating. Slowly, carefully, he settles in the chair beside Gavi.
He takes Gavi’s hand again and marvels at the way Gavi’s face immediately lights up. He meets his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Oh yeah?” he asks quietly. “Why don’t you tell me more about that?”
And so Gavi does, waxing poetic for a good ten minutes more about Pedri’s eyes and hair and also his legs, for some reason. Really seems to like his legs. Eventually his eyes start to droop again and he’s asleep a minute later, though his hand is still tight around Pedri’s.
Pedri studies Gavi’s slack face. There is a little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth and the fact that Pedri finds that endearing rather than gross tells him all he needs to know about his own feelings. As if there was ever any doubt. He doesn’t think he’ll be going to sleep again any time soon. His body feels wired, high on both adrenaline and the hope he’s finally stopped trying to tamp down. Because even drugged, if Gavi could say all of that… then surely he must feel something. Something a little bit more than friendship. Right? Pedri seriously doubts that he would be waxing that poetic about any of his friends other than Gavi even while drugged. And that’s because he’s in love. So by that logic Gavi must be… He still hardly dares let his mind go there but he feels light again for the first time in almost a month. Hopeful. Happy. If Gavi says all that to him again while not drugged out of his mind, then he’ll probably be the happiest guy in the entire world.
He squeezes Gavi’s hand again, marvelling in the fact that he’s okay. Or he’s going to be. Really, that’s a reason to be happy in and of itself. Gavi’s hand squeezes back and Pedri can’t prevent the smile that crosses his face. He settles back in the chair again to wait. Gavi still has some explaining to do, and for the first time, Pedri actually can’t wait to hear it.
Just as he predicted, Pedri doesn’t fall asleep again. He spends the time helping the house elf clean around the infirmary, feeling far too wired up to sit still. He can’t help but keep glancing back at Gavi every now and then, though, reassuring himself that he’s alright. He seems to be. He’s snoring softly and smacking his lips occasionally and Pedri feels like melting every time he looks in his direction. Even the house elf seems to notice, because she starts humming a classic Spellbound love song and glancing between the two of them knowingly as she cleans.
When morning comes, the house elf vanishes, and the light filtering in through the window, beaming directly onto Gavi’s face, finally has Gavi waking up, frowning and squinting against the morning sun. Pedri, who had taken up residence at his side again barely ten minutes before, leans forward. “Do you want me to close the curtains?”
Gavi startles hard, reminding Pedri a bit of himself, and his eyes dart to Pedri as if he’s seeing a ghost. A look of dawning horror crawls over his face and Pedri starts to feel a little concerned. “Oh, fuck,” Gavi whispers. “It wasn’t a dream at all, was it?” A bright red flush is already working its way up his neck, and his eyes are terrified.
Pedri hesitates. “Um. That depends on what the dream was, I guess.”
“The one where I…” Gavi stutters. “T-the one where— Do you really not know?” He’s starting to sound hopeful, like maybe it was a dream after all.
Pedri takes a breath. “The one where you said you wanted to kiss me, maybe?”
Gavi stares. He still looks terrified and the flush has reached his ears at this point. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That one.”
Pedri can feel his own face heating as well, now. “Oh. Well. No that one was not a dream.” He hesitates again. “It’s… it’s okay if you didn’t mean it, though, you know.”
Gavi’s expression freezes, like it often does when he’s processing something very important. He speaks up again slowly, carefully. “Do you… I mean… Do you want me not to have meant it?”
Pedri considers lying, but he discards the idea almost immediately. He’s never outright lied to Gavi, and he doesn’t want to start now. Plus, the hope is still there, beating in his chest. “I want you to have meant it,” he says, meeting Gavi’s eyes with more willpower than he knew he had in him. “More than that, I want to kiss you, too.”
Gavi’s face immediately flushes even deeper, if possible, but the terror slowly fades from his eyes, replaced by the same hope that Pedri feels expanding rapidly inside his own chest. “You do?” he asks. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Pedri says, a tentative smile forming.
“No. You wouldn’t.” Gavi’s eyes are shining now, and Pedri really wants to kiss him, but there are things they should definitely talk about first. Gavi seems to remember those things at the same time as Pedri does, because he groans suddenly, leaning back in the bed and throwing an arm over to cover most of his face. Pedri leans forward anxiously, worried he’s in pain, but the arm is gone and Gavi is speaking again before he can really make another move. “I’ve been such an asshole to you lately. I was stuck in my own head, but that’s no excuse. I’m really sorry, carino.” Gavi is looking at him earnestly, regretfully, and Pedri already knows he’s going to forgive him.
Still, he has to ask. “Why did you do it? Avoid me, I mean?”
“This is going to make me sound really stupid,” Gavi says. “And maybe I am. But. Um. That day we swam in the lake? And I left all of a sudden? I kinda maybe had an epiphany that I was more than a little in… like… with you. My best friend. I panicked. I thought you didn’t feel that way, and I needed some time to figure out how to be normal around you again. So I avoided you. And that hurt you.” He looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry I suck at this.”
“What on earth made you realize it then, at the lake?” Pedri asks. It’s the first question that pops up through the haze of wonder permeating his head.
“Well,” Gavi says slowly, smiling at him hopefully, “I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re kind of really hot carino. And at the lake somewhere amid the whole shirtless thing and shorts thing and laughing like sunshine thing I kind of realized none of the thoughts I was having at the time were things one usually has about their platonic best friend. It all just came to a head all of a sudden, and I ran. I’m really sorry I’m dumb, carino.” Gavi’s eyes are wide and earnest.
“You’re not dumb,” Pedri says, smile widening. “Well. If you are, I’m just as dumb. I’ve had a crush on you for years.”
“What, really?” Gavi is dumbfounded.
“I literally just told you I want to kiss you,” Pedri reminds him. Gavi is blushing again. He’d never really stopped.
“I know! Just, crushing for years is different, carino! With just wanting to kiss me, you could have just been attracted to me.”
“I’m basically in love with you,” Pedri counters, heart racing with the admission.
But the smile tugging at the corners of Gavi’s mouth is all the confirmation Pedri needs. “Oh,” Gavi says. “That’s … that’s a relief honestly, carino; I honestly did not have a game plan for if you were looking for a friends with benefits type of thing. Not that I’m not interested in benefits! But, you know, I want so much more than that? I want to, like, hold your hand all the time. And go on little Hogsmeade dates. And I—”
“Pablito,” Pedri interrupts. His heart feels close to bursting. “You’re rambling almost more than you did on pain potion. And I want to kiss you right now.”
Gavis mouth closes with an audible snap, suddenly rendered speechless. He nods his head hurriedly, then winces with the soreness.
But then Pedri is pressing his lips to Gavi’s and all other thoughts seem to leave Gavi’s mind. They certainly do Pedri’s. It should be a bit awkward, with Pedri leaning over the railing of the hospital bed, not able to properly close the distance like he so desperately wants. But none of that distracts from the feel of Gavis lips moving against his, the small puffs of shared breath between them, a simple press of lips that leaves his whole body warm and his heart aching for more even before it ends.
Pedri doesn’t go far when they break apart, breathing Gavi in, his mind struggling to process the magic of it all, a different kind of magic than the ones they learn in school. An even better kind. Gavis eyes flutter open to meet his and Pedri sees his wonder and joy, reflected back at him. He’s leaning in again without planning.
Gavi breaks off the second, deeper kiss rather abruptly, leaving Pedri’s chasing lips that are suddenly downturned in a puzzled frown. “Wait. Since our match, it’s been you that was avoiding me. Why was that?”
“Is that really what you were thinking about the entire time we were kissing?” Pedri asks wryly.
“No! Just… towards the end. Did I do something wrong? Other than the obvious.”
“You didn’t. Other than the obvious,” he amends. “I was just… in my own head, too. Kind of started thinking that you found me annoying. You didn’t look very happy to see me after the match.”
“We’d just beaten your team! And I’d been avoiding you. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. I thought I would make you feel even worse. I’ve never thought you were annoying carino. I’d never think that. You’re my best friend and even if you didn’t love me back, that would have always been true…. Why are you smiling like that?”
“You just said ‘love,’” Pedri points out. “It was ‘like’ a few minutes ago.”
Gavi blushes again. “Yeah, well, you’re older! You’re supposed to say it first.”
“I love you, Pablito.” Pedri makes sure he meets his eyes as he says it, the love in heart overflowing.
Gavis eyes widen and he’s so cute Pedri vows to give him at least a hundred more kisses as soon as this conversation is over. The smile he’s giving Pedri now is the best one Pedri has ever seen: soft and warm and joyful and devoted and lovely and all for Pedri. A magical smile. Pedri’s new favourite. “I love you, too, carino.”
Pedri leans in again for the first of those hundred kisses and once again it’s Gavi who ends it all too quickly. “We’re boyfriends now, right?”
Pedri can’t help but laugh. Gavi smiles back at him dopily. He pokes Gavi playfully in the side and Gavi winces. Pedri panics. “Oh my god, I forgot. I’m so sorry, amorcito—”
“Only boyfriends can call me amorcito,” Gavi interrupts, no longer looking in pain at all. “Is that what you are?” He doesn’t look scared or nervous at all as he asks the question. It’s a formality at this point, and they both know it.
Pedri runs his hand through Gavis hair in the way he knows he likes. “Of course,” he answers the question anyway. “I’m your boyfriend, amorcito.”
They move at the same time for a fourth kiss, this one lasting even longer than the first three. It's going to take quite a while for them to reach Pedri’s planned one hundred at this rate. Pedri is more than okay with that. It's Gavi who ends it again, still much too quickly.
"Wait, carino, oh my god. Who won the match?!"
"I... I'm honestly not sure," Pedri admits, grinning at Gavis dumbfounded expression.
Gavis eyes immediately zero in on one of his cheeks. He seems to be thinking over something very carefully in his mind.
"I suppose it doesn't matter," he declares at last, returning Pedri’s grin. "I won something much better, anyway."
"Better than a Quidditch cup?" Pedri teases. "I don't know who you are anymore."
Gavi laughs as he pulls him in again, Pedri still leaning awkwardly over the bed. His back is beginning to hurt, honestly, but he's not complaining. "I'm just a fool who's in love with you," he whispers.
Pedri’s cheeks are actually hurting at this point. "Okay," he says. "Then will you admit that I'm the better flier?"
"Don't push it."