Chapter 2
Here come the waves - here comes the ocean -
How to decide?
What's there to risk? Why is the course so unclear?
Practical fact, foolish emotion,
Terrible pride
What's there to fear?
Take me from here!
Cecilia went to Professor McGonagall's office the next day between classes to talk to her Head of House about the points she'd taken from Reid. She tried not to blush as she told the Transfiguration teacher what had happened, though she kept it to a brief, “He’s been annoying me and he’s always wanting to kiss me even when I tell him I hate him.”
McGonagall was leaning forward over her desk, her brows contracted in a sharp V as she listened. When Cecilia had finished, McGonagall said, “Miss Fletcher, I am so sorry that you've been dealing with this. I wish you'd come to me earlier, I could have intervened between you and Mr. Akins.”
“Oh,” said Cecilia, feeling a little surprised and embarrassed, “but I don't need you to intervene, I just thought you should know because I took so many points-”
“The school does not take that sort of behaviour lightly,” Professor McGonagall interrupted. “The headmaster, as you might well imagine, takes a hard line on one student forcing their will upon another.”
This description didn't sit well with Cecilia. He hadn't exactly forced her, though she certainly wouldn't have kissed him of her own free will. She remembered grabbing him by the tie and kissing him. Maybe she did kiss him of her own free will. She stared at McGonagall and admitted in a whisper, “I might have kissed him first. Just a little bit.”
McGonagall stared back at her in silence for a moment. “Miss Fletcher, it is not my intention to meddle in your love life, but did Mr. Akins in fact force his attentions upon you or not?”
“Well, no, not really...” Cecilia didn't know how to explain. She didn't want Reid in serious trouble, and describing what had happened as him forcing himself on her felt horribly inaccurate given that she’d kissed him first, and escalated it too. She remembered sliding her hands down over his ass and blushed again. “I just want him to leave me alone, that's all.”
That didn’t feel accurate either, once the words were out. She didn’t like the thought of Reid actually leaving her alone. She liked feeling wanted by him, and she loved kissing him. She wished she hadn’t come up to McGonagall’s office after all.
“Very well,” McGonagall said slowly, and Cecilia had the uncomfortable impression that McGonagall could see more than Cecilia intended, that her soul was exposed. “If Mr. Akins bothers you again, please come to me immediately, and I will deal with him.”
“And the points I took?” Cecilia was already regretting having done that. Why hadn't it occurred to her to give him a detention? She was allowed to do that as a prefect, though she didn't much like it. But they were losing the House Cup, and Icarus's team wasn't doing well in the Quidditch cup, and she wished they had those points back now. She silently promised herself not to take any more points from Reid, no matter the provocation.
It probably hadn’t been fair to punish him at all when she’d kissed him first, she thought guiltily.
“They will stand, of course.” McGonagall arched a dark brow at her. “But try not to take any more unless it's absolutely necessary. We're behind in the House Cup, you know.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Cecilia said, looking down at her clasped hands in her lap.
*
She missed the next week's Quidditch practice, making it to the pitch as the team was heading for the locker room.
“I'll be right back,” Icarus said, lifting one of her hands and kissing it. “Wait for me?”
“All right.” She watched the team disappear into the changing room, then started to wander the lawn outside it aimlessly while she waited. She had walked in a slow circle around the building that housed the team locker rooms and was circling back toward the front again when a pair of arms snaked out from behind a shrubbery and grabbed her about the waist.
She was pulled into the shadows of the trees and shrubs and a familiar pair of lips settled on hers. She pushed Reid away instantly. Or at least, she meant to, but instead found herself clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Eventually he let her go and she remembered where she was, and that she was angry with him.
“What are you doing lurking in the bushes, you creep!”
“I saw you waiting and thought I'd give you something to do,” he said unrepentantly, and tried to kiss her again, but reality had already reared its ugly head for her, and she was hyper-aware that her boyfriend was just inside. Cecilia jerked her head back away from him and banged into the stone wall of the building.
Rubbing her head angrily, she glared at him. “Are you crazy? Icarus is right inside!”
“He doesn’t love you.” Reid looked disgruntled whenever Icarus was mentioned, and tonight it had a tinge of sadness to it that she hated. “Are you okay?”
His long fingers touched gently to the back of her head, feeling for injury, and she swayed toward him for a moment.
“He doesn’t have to love me, he just has to fancy me, and he does.” She was annoyed with herself for always responding to his touch. When they were alone, it was easier to feel for him what she had before the fireworks incident. “I’m not hurt, Reid, stop touching me.”
“I don’t ever want to stop,” he said, and then his lips curved in that cocky grin she loved and hated at the same time. “And you could grab my ass the way you did on the Astronomy Tower.”
“Twenty points,” Cecilia hissed, nostrils flaring. “And be lucky I don't hex your ears off.” She stalked off, and had reached the doors again when she remembered she hadn't been going to take any more points from him.
She stamped her foot angrily just as the team began emerging from the changing room. Icarus was the last to come out. Apparently she hadn't wiped all the anger from her face because he cocked his head at her and asked, “Everything all right, Cecilia?”
“It's fine, I was just... just thinking of how we lost our last match,” she improvised quickly. Icarus lived, breathed, and ate Quidditch, so it wouldn't surprise him at all to hear that's what she'd been thinking about.
“Nothing we can do about that now,” Icarus said with determined cheer, draping his arm around her shoulders. “All we can do is focus on the next one. And we're going to win it.”
“I hope so.” His body was still radiating heat from his shower, and she put an arm around his waist, letting him warm her as they walked.
He was everything Reid wasn't. Stocky where Reid was long and lanky, blonde and ruddy where Reid was dark. Steady and stable, polite and earnest, a school prefect, Icarus was the sort she could bring home to her mother and proudly say, This man loves me.
But he didn’t. And she didn’t love him. She was very much afraid that who she actually loved was Reid, that mad genius, who would probably do great things someday if he could stay out of trouble long enough. Her mother would hate him.
*
Cecilia made it through the rest of the week without kissing Reid or taking any more points from him, though the twenty she'd taken had dropped them below Ravenclaw in the House Cup standings, causing a huge dip in Reid's popularity. He got in a scuffle with Walter Campbell in the corridors, and she tried not to feel responsible for the animosity between Reid and nearly the entirety of Gryffindor, but she knew she was the cause, by several logical deductions.
If she hadn't taken those points… If Reid wasn't stalking her… If she could be alone with him without losing her head and plastering herself all over him…
And in every class, every time she saw him, Reid had that smug smile that said he knew she wanted him back. She took refuge late one night in the prefect's bathroom for a good long soak in a tub full of softly fragrant pink bubbles. The smell of roses, so like her parents’ house, was soothing, and she swam gently around the large tub. It was four feet deep and took up half the room, large enough to pretend she was in a swimming pool.
She knew she shouldn’t be kissing Reid when she was with Icarus, and should break up with him because apparently for one boy, she was just as much a chippy as Siobhan was. Why couldn’t she stop herself when she was around Reid? She wished he was here, floating naked in the tub with her so she could kiss him and feel their bodies press together with nothing to interfere.
Oh god, she really needed to break up with Icarus.
She was thinking so hard she didn't hear the door open at first.
The sound of footsteps brought her back to herself, and she called, “It's occupied!” before turning to see who was there.
“Hey, Cecilia,” said a familiar voice.
Cecilia let out a startled shriek and crouched down in the water so the bubbles hid everything except her head and neck. “What are you doing in here? How did you even get in, this is the prefects' bathroom!”
“I know secrets about the castle that you've probably never even heard of,” Reid bragged, and she wished her wand was closer so she could hex his big head.
He sat down cross-legged on the side of the tub, and grinned at her. “Need a towel? Or I could join you.”
Since she’d just been wishing for exactly that, she turned a fiery red in embarrassment and lashed out. “Why are you here, you git?”
“To see you.” The cocky look dropped from his face, replaced with desperation, with sincerity. This was the Reid she liked to see. The Reid who loved her, who wanted her, who would follow her to the ends of the earth to be kissed. The Reid she had loved.
“Get in,” she told him.
She didn’t watch, but swam away while she heard the gentle rustling of his uniform falling to the ground, and then a small splash as he slid into the enormous bathtub. He swam over to her and stopped a few feet away.
“Cecilia,” he said in a whisper. “Please talk to me. I need you to forgive me.”
She didn’t want to talk, in case he said something that made her angry. She didn’t want to think at all. She just wanted to feel. Reaching for him, she pulled herself through the water and wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him with open-mouthed fervor.
Reid groaned and held tight to her, wrapping one arm around her waist to anchor her to him, and reached up with his other hand to cup her breast. “Cecilia, baby-”
“Don’t talk,” she interrupted him in a murmur. “Just touch me.”
He seemed to know what he was doing, which was good because she didn’t, and soon his fingers were making her shudder against him while she cried his name over and over.
She let him hold her after, floating in his arms with hers wrapped around his neck. He kept giving her short, sweet kisses while he whispered his love, and she loved everything about being in the tub with him, until she remembered that she had a boyfriend and it wasn’t him. The shame burned through her, ruining the warm feeling of being with him.
She pushed away from him. “Oh, god.”
“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching toward her again. She moved out of his reach, covering her face with her hands.
“Icarus! That’s what’s wrong!”
He stared at her. “You haven’t broken up with him yet?”
“Oh god, you make me just as bad a person as you are.” She wanted to be back in his arms, being held and loved, but he was not the one she was meant to be with like this.
“That’s not fair,” he said quietly.
“Get out, Reid.” She turned her back to him, putting her arms up on the side of the tub and crossing them so she could hide her face on them.
He followed her, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted him to or not. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and whispered her name.
“Just go. Get out.” She couldn’t look at him or she’d do something she regretted. Cry, or throw herself at him, maybe both.
He went to the ladder and climbed out, and she kept her face hidden while he toweled off hurriedly and got dressed. She could hear him buckling his belt when he said her name again.
“Cecilia,” he whispered, “Please look at me.”
She looked up, but before she could say anything, he'd dropped down onto his stomach so his face was close to hers, put a hand on the back of her head to pull her closer, and kissed her thoroughly. She forgot again about everything: that she had a boyfriend, that she was a terrible person, and that she wanted to hate him. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, heedless of the splash of water she’d just given him, and the wet fabric of his shirt felt rough against her palms. She was just about to pull him back into the water with her, clothes be damned, when he pulled back abruptly and got to his feet.
“You love me, Cecilia,” he called as he jogged to the door. His school uniform was wet to the shoulders from his dripping hair and where she’d grabbed him. “You’re never going to convince me otherwise after that!”
The door closed behind him and Cecilia put her hands over her face for a moment, her mind churning with conflicting emotions.
“Damn him,” she said loudly.
*
“I love you, Cecilia.”
He was leaning over her, kissing her neck. She arched her back, and her eyes fluttered open. The curtains were drawn around her bed, and she could see the outline of his strong shoulders in the dim light. He was holding her, his hand running down her body, pulling her leg up to settle it on his hip, and she felt gloriously free under the weight of his body, loving the way he touched her and kissed her.
He was kissing her shoulder, and she was burning, his hands felt like they were burning her skin, and she wanted more, pulled his face closer to kiss him and stare into familiar dark eyes.
“Reid...”
She woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. She pushed the tangled hair away from her sweaty face, and put a hand to her hot forehead.
The familiar sound of Molly's genteel snoring told her she was still in her dormitory, and she could see she was alone in her bed, but she felt disoriented. It had been so real, she'd almost expected to find Reid's body draped over hers. She was cold now where the sweat was evaporating from her skin, and she huddled back into her blankets.
She'd been reading too many of those stupid Fifi LaFolle novels, that was all. It was just a coincidence that her dream man had looked just like Reid, sounded just like Reid, and kissed just like Reid. And her subconscious had only thrown up that name for the dream man because he was always in her face, getting on her nerves. Yes, that was all it was.
It had nothing to do with him, or what had happened in the prefects’ bathroom.
But why couldn’t she have been dreaming about Icarus?
She pulled the blankets up over her head, but it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.
*
She was on edge the next day from the dream. The team had a Quidditch practice in the morning, and she was determined to attend to support Icarus, the man she was supposed to love. She got dressed hurriedly and didn't realize until after she'd gotten down to the field that she'd forgotten to brush her hair. She tried to scoop it up into a ponytail as she walked across the pitch to the stands.
A small crowd of Gryffindor boys were sitting in the stands to watch the practice, as they often did. Die-hard fans of the sport and their House team, they attended in order to dissect and appraise the team and their chances in the Cup. Normally it didn't bother Cecilia to listen to them, since they were what Icarus called 'armchair players' and he was quite fond of them.
But today the first conversation she'd overheard was Roddy Feltham complaining about Reid. No doubt they all thought she wouldn't care; after all, she'd been the one to dock Reid the points that had made him so objectionable to his friends. And she didn't care if they all hated him, of course. She hated him too. He was such a prat.
The team was on the pitch now, and she smiled at Icarus as he flew past, giving her a little wave before he returned his concentration to the game.
“Francine's flying well today,” Arthur Weasley observed. “Is that a new broom?”
“Looks like one of those new ones, what are they called, a Nimbus?” Dunstan Birtwhistle was squinting at Francine Allen's broomstick.
They discussed broomsticks for a while then, criticizing the Cleansweep Three that the burly fourth-year Julian Kirkpatrick, who was the team's Beater along with Thad Peabody, was flying, and admiring Francine's new Nimbus 1000.
Cecilia was just starting to wish they'd shut up about broomsticks when Roddy turned his attention to the team Keeper.
“Icarus seems to have improved a little, he isn't missing quite so many goals today.”
Cecilia's eyes narrowed.
“Well, his concentration has been shot the past couple of matches,” Dunstan said in an annoying drawl. “He looks like he's gotten back to his regular game now.”
“His regular game better be enough to save us from the Ravenclaws, that's all I'm saying,” Roddy remarked.
“If you think you can do better than him, I suggest you go get a broom and show us all,” Cecilia snapped at him. “From what I've heard, you couldn't block the Quaffle if your life depended on it.”
“Cecilia,” Arthur said reasonably, “we were just talking about the game, we're not insulting Icarus-”
“Well I'm tired of your bellyaching, the lot of you. None of you made the team, did you? All you lot do is sit in the stands, ripping into them as if you could do better. Obviously that's the best our House could field, so why don't you all just shut up about them already?”
They were all staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had. Maybe this was what madness felt like.
“What?” she snapped at them.
“Nothing,” Arthur said, looking nervous. Dunstan turned his attention to the pitch as if he no longer wanted to be involved with the conversation.
“You seem to have a lot of pent-up aggression,” Roddy said carefully. “Maybe you should try playing Quidditch. It might help.”
“Oh, shut up.” Cecilia folded her arms across her chest tightly, sitting back in her seat and wishing she’d already broken up with Icarus.
*
She attended a study session the next evening, against her better judgement. She felt like an elastic band that had been stretched out to its maximum capacity, and thought she might snap if anyone provoked her again.
Siobhan met her in the common room, and Petula caught them up in the corridor outside the library, her blonde ponytail swinging as she jogged toward them.
“Wait for me,” Petula gasped. “I couldn't find my Transfiguration text, I don't know how it got stuck under my bed, but-”
“We get the picture, Petula,” Siobhan interrupted her impatiently as they went through the library doors.
“What is he doing here?” Petula demanded when she caught sight of Dunstan standing next to the table where Molly, Hattie, and Arthur waited.
Cecilia rolled her eyes as Dunstan apologized gruffly to Petula, who didn't seem to believe he was sincere. Dunstan left then and Cecilia rolled her eyes at him as she settled into a chair next to Hattie.
“Well, it was more than I expected from a boy whose Patronus is a pig,” Petula said when Hattie tried to coach a pleasant response from her about the apology.
“There's nothing wrong with pigs,” Siobhan said.
“It's a boar,” Arthur said half-heartedly. Cecilia raised an eyebrow at him. Dunstan's Patronus had always looked very clearly like a pig to her.
The topic of Patronuses was something of a sore spot for Cecilia, especially when she was already in a foul mood. “At least he has a Patronus.”
“Go on then,” Siobhan urged. “You haven't tried it in weeks. Give it a go.”
“Oh, what's the point.” Cecilia looked at her friend blankly then, as the memory of the prefects’ bathroom the other night washed over her. She could feel the heat of Reid's kisses and heard his whispered I love you against her bare skin, and she knew she could do the spell. She held out her wand. “Expecto Patronum!”
A large silver form erupted from the tip of her wand, and everyone stared at the panther prowling around. It opened its mouth in a silent growl, then disappeared. They all looked up at Cecilia, which she found rather gratifying, and smiled at her friends smugly.
“Well done, Cecilia,” Arthur said approvingly. He was a nice boy, and Molly loved him so. He was good for her. Even though they were annoyingly sappy at times, and had a bad habit of sneaking about the castle after curfew to snog, Cecilia was fond of Arthur and rather glad that Molly had him around. Constantly. Sometimes it seemed he and Molly were attached at the hip.
“What were you thinking of?” Molly asked, giving her a curious look. “Your face was so red.”
Siobhan had a knowing look. “You were thinking of Icarus, weren't you?”
“Icarus–” She had forgotten Icarus. How could she have forgotten Icarus? “He – I – I have to go.” She fled the library before they could ask any more questions, snatching up her bookbag as she left.
She ran down the hall, her books weighing her down as a suffocating feeling of indecision weighed down her heart. What was she going to do with Icarus? She didn’t want to hurt him, but she was increasingly sure that she didn’t want him, that getting with him in the first place had been a mistake.
Her pace quickened as she turned aimlessly down another corridor. Why did she have to keep thinking about stupid, arrogant Reid? Why couldn’t she love Icarus instead?
“Where are you going so fast?” a familiar voice said, and she stopped in her tracks.
Reid was sitting on a bench with a stack of books next to him, looking up at her in surprise.
“I – nowhere – go away, Reid.” Don't go away. Kiss me. Tell me you love me. Tell me I love you.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Go away? I was here first. Studying as innocently as a little lamb, and you came huffing down the corridor like manticores were on your heels.”
She laughed derisively, feeling a little steadier. “A little lamb? You?”
“That's right,” he said with a self-satisfied grin, and got to his feet. The corridor was deserted, and Cecilia found herself wishing both that someone would come and interrupt them so he wouldn't kiss her and that no one would ever find them so he'd never stop. She didn't know what she wanted any more, didn't know what to think.
She stood there as he approached, thinking that she should never have stopped, should have kept going past him in the corridor. He looked around and saw that they were alone, and grabbed her hand, gathering her close. She clung to him as he bent down to kiss her.
She knew she was kissing him back, knew she should stop, someone could see them and Icarus would find out, so she bit his lip. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make him let go of her.
“You do love me,” he said, stepping back a little.
“I hate you so much,” she said shakily. Kiss me again, kiss me again! What was wrong with her? “Stop doing that, Reid.”
“Stop doing what? Loving you? Shan’t, tried it already.”
“Oh god, kiss me again,” she told him desperately, wrapping her hand around the nape of his neck to pull him closer.
He kissed her again, holding her tight and occasionally murmuring against her lips between kisses.
You’re so beautiful… I love you so much… tell me you love me back…
She reveled in the feel of his hands on her body and his lips on hers, until the distant sound of footsteps in the corridor broke her out of the fever dream that was being in Reid’s arms.
She tore herself away and stalked off down the hall. She could feel his eyes on her back, and heard him sigh as she rounded the corner.
She stopped just around the corner and leaned back against the stone wall, trying to analyze her feelings, decipher what was going on inside her head. She wanted Reid to kiss her, to touch her, to tell her he loved her, could not stop thinking about it, and came to the conclusion that she needed to do something whether it hurt him or not.
She had to end things with Icarus.