➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟕 “𝙋𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙨”
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Was Cedric trying to make things awkward? Because it feels like it.
Cedric’s constant gazing was normal. His constant presence was expected. And their inner language was only natural.
But last week had been just… weird.
Is there a way to measure looks? Because somehow and for some reason, Cedric’s eyes have felt heavier on him. More… scrutinizing? Dissecting, perhaps? Almost… studious. It felt as though Cedric was trying to discern every inch of his face each time his eyes fell on it.
Last night had been more than obvious.
Nicolás arrived a little late after spending some time talking with some of the house-elves in the kitchens. By the time he entered their dorm, only Cedric and Alec were up, with Alec discussing a new Quidditch tactic he found on the library.
The thing is, once Nicolás started to take off his top, he felt the weight of Cedric’s eyes on his back. And it wasn’t bad per se, but it made him feel very self-conscious out of the blue. Like, was Cedric searching for something on him? On his body? On his skin?
Because, well, Nicolás had some acne in numerous parts, and he’s never given a single thought to them, but all of a sudden he’s very aware of a particularly painful pimple in the small of his back. And well, there wasn’t much else to see, Nicolás wasn’t the athletic type, his body was simply… thin, with rather adorable small love handles.
But for some reason, and for the first time since the start of term, he felt the need to walk straight to the bathroom and change there.
Thankfully nobody seemed to need the bathroom, as Nicolás stayed there for at least an hour. And he felt… weird. Not necessarily bad, just… weirded out.
He still felt the weight of Cedric’s eyes, but they were just… confusing. They didn’t feel judging, but rather… welcoming? Somehow. And it still didn’t take away the fact that Nicolás was suddenly very aware of his acne, and suddenly, not so sure he didn’t care about it.
He’s seen pimples spur on his face, his chest, and his back, and it was never a big deal. He’s seen so many people with them, and he knows they are only natural, especially for a teenager. But at the same time, suddenly, he’s also very aware of how flawless Cedric’s fair rosy skin, or Alec’s, or Caleum´s, or Dorian’s were.
“It’s only natural, love,” his mother said after he asked why he had things spurring out on his forehead.
“And why doesn’t Caelum have any?” Nicolás asked in a small voice.
Her smile seemed to falter, “there’s… sometimes there’s not an answer for all our questions, love, some things just happen how they are supposed to happen.”
“And what do we do about it?” he asked.
“What we can change, we change it, and what we cannot, we learn to live with it,” she said.
And suddenly, the overwhelming need to hide his face and every part of his body grips to his brain like a ruthless octopus with its tentacles filled with vicious suckers.
Back then, when his acne first started, he couldn’t help the shame he felt about it, even if nobody ever mentioned it. It felt like… like it was his fault, but he had no control over it. The one that helped him the most was probably his father.
“What do you think of this?” his father asked, taking one of Nicolás’ hands to trace the biggest scar on his face: the one that crosses from side to side, over his nose bridge. Nicolás’ favorite.
“I think they’re cool,” Nicolás half whispered, looking at all the scars decorating his father’s face. There was another one on the right of his forehead, another three, smaller ones, on his left cheek, and Nicolás could see a few on his neck, and he remembered the other on his arms, back, and legs.
“And I spent years thinking they were the worst thing about me,” his father said. But furrowing his brow, Nicolás wasn’t about to let Remus Lupin kick himself.
“But they make you look like an ancient warrior,” Nicolás said in amazement, making his father chuckle. “And it’s not your fault you’re a werewolf, I know it, sometimes Moony feels more like Moody,” he tried to joke, but his father knew better.
“And you think your acne is your fault?” he asked. Nicolás shrugged. “Well, it’s not, mi Sol, some people simply are more prone to it than others, and that’s it. I spent years ashamed of my face, but look around, this life, this family, it was still built with my scars. And I know pimples here and there on you won’t stop my son from anything.”
But he shook his head, remembering the words he said last year, still jeweled in his brain.
“I can make you something for that?” his mother said, pointing to a particularly nasty pustule on his forehead.
Nicolás nodded. Abu Angela taught her how to make a very effective balm to grow down those things, almost eliminating them.
“I can use a charm Madam Pomfrey taught me to—” she said, before Nicolás cut her off.
“Nah, this one hurts,” he pointed at his forehead. “So, I want it gone, the rest can be gone when they feel like it,” he shrugged, not really caring about the other small pimples on his cheeks, or the ones on his chest and his back.
“And you don’t feel bad about the others?”
Nicolás shrugged again. “It is what it is, Mom.”
With a smile, his mother hugged him, before leaving to do as she had said.
Okay, that was enough of self-pity. He’s known Cedric for four years now, and he likes to think he knows the boy. His friend, his roommate, his… yeah, friend. And Cedric would never hurt a butterfly, least of all be mean to anyone, it was simply not in his blood.
There has to be a reason for Cedric’s sudden intense attention to him, and he would have to figure it out another day.
When he returned to the dorm, the only one up was Cedric, who quickly moved to approach him.
“Hey, you okay? You were gone there for a minute,” he said, and his voice was so pretty with worry.
Nicolás scratched the back of his neck, smiling. “Yeah, just… looking at things, I guess.”
“What do you mean?” Cedric looked at him, his eyes filled with the same warmth as always, cementing in Nicolás’ brain that he was right at not worrying about something as vane and non-quintessential as teenage acne.
“Doesn’t really matter,” said Nicolás with a smile, before entering his bed. “Sleep tight, Mr. Captain.”
“Sure thing, Sugar,” retorted Cedric with a smirk and a quirk of his eyebrow.
Oh, well. Bloody hell, Nicolás thought, slamming close the curtains of his post as his face reddened. He heard Cedric laughing just a few meters away. Cedric certainly was a very good uplifter, even if he didn’t know how much Nicolás needed it.
Hold on. Wait a minute. Was that a competition now? The whole pet-name thing? Because first, he called him ‘Babe’—even if it was but a slip of the tongue—, and now ‘Sugar’—with full intention—, that had to mean something right?
Well, Nicolás would have to come up with something better than calling Cedric ‘his boy’ to make him blush.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
As Nicolás and Cedric walked out of the castle, it was ten minutes before eleven. It was a muggy type of day, even if the sky was mostly dark, and the slight rumbling of thunder could be heard. It was the type of day in which you would sweat from the humidity in the environment, but the breeze would make you feel cold.
They walked in a comfortable silence. Which was surprising, as the sunrise not only banished the darkness but also the unprecedented and confusing tension that enveloped them last night, after Nicolás’ unexpected insecurity panic.
Outside, Alec and the girls were already waiting for them, engaged in a very serious conversation about how to jinx the parchment for their next essay for Lockhart. Alec and Ruby agreed on making it explode, Lilith suggested something to make the man’s skin itch, while Amelia suggested something classier, like making the parchment freeze stuck to his hands.
“Nice scarf you have there, Beast Boy,” greeted Lilith with a teasing smirk, gesturing at the Gryffindor scarf around Nicolás’ neck.
Nicolás only beamed. “I asked my mom to send it. Also, your nickname makes no sense,” he stuck out his tongue at her.
Lilith faked mocking offense. “Of course, it does. You’re a boy, and you’re obsessed with beasts.”
“Yeah, whatever, Red Head.” Rolling his eyes but smiling, Nicolás grabbed Cedric’s arm and started dragging him towards the Quidditch Stadium, the rest followed.
On their way, between jokes and snarky comments about Lockhart, the group reached the entrance to the stands. there, where they found Hermione and Ron also entering.
“Hello, guys.” Nicolás greeted the pair.
“Hi, Nico,” greeted Hermione. (“Hey!” greeted Ron). “Nice scarf! Here to see Harry and Caelum?”
“Yeah! Dorian too, he knows I won’t be cheering for Slytherin, though.” Nicolás laughed.
As they walked, trying to find empty seats, the Gryffindor team walked out. Cheers from almost everyone were heard, it was pretty obvious everyone was dying to see Slytherin defeated.
Harry walked right behind Oliver Wood, looking a little bit nervous, likely due to the high expectations for winning the entire school had. When he looked up at the stands, Nicolás eagerly waved at him. Harry seemed to smile, feeling a little bit more confident at his Gryffindor scarf.
After the captains, Wood and Flint, shook hands, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the fourteen players rose up in the sky. Harry and Draco, as Seekers, higher than everyone else.
It only took about ten minutes of multicolored red and green flying flashes, for something to become clear. Someone had tampered with one of the Bludgers.
Nicolás shook one of Cedric’s arms to catch his attention. In the close proximity of the space, he felt Cedric’s hot breath against the side of his neck. Swallowing, he spoke.
“I know I’m not an expert at Quidditch but aren’t Bludgers supposed to fly randomly. That one looks clearly tampered. It won’t stop chasing Harry.”
As the Bludger came to Harry, Fred appeared and swung mightily at it, sending it away. An instant after, the Bludger came again at Harry, prompting him to fly away as fast as possible.
It started to rain, and Nicolás had to balance his hands to hold, on the left one, his Omnioculars, to see better; and his right hand, with his wand up, to keep the large magical umbrella preventing all of them from being soaked to next week.
The match wasn’t looking nice for Gryffindor, like at all. Slytherin, making use of their superior brooms, were like Billywigs on the field. And with the rain, somehow in their favor, they were demolishing Gryffindor, who had zero, with already sixty points over them.
Nicolás doubted Harry knew the Impervius Charm to make his glasses waterproof.
Suddenly, Nicolás saw the twins gesturing something, and next thing, Madam Hooch blew her whistle once more, signaling a time-out.
As the Gryffindor team regrouped to discuss something, Nicolás could see Harry, and the boy looked pretty angry, arguing with Oliver. And Nico could bet anything it was to not stop the match. Caelum also was arguing, probably trying to dissuade Harry from playing.
The twins seemed to also be arguing with Wood by the time Madam Hooch went to talk with them. A few minutes later, the whistle roared again, and the match went on.
Once they were in the air once more, Harry made a bunch of different, and rather impressive, dives. He would go in one direction, changing at the last second, hanging from his broom like a monkey to its favorite tree, or simply upside down. It looked like he was just playing dumb in the air, almost like freestyling. Most of the stands were laughing at his display. Nicolás was simply confused.
“Brilliant!” muttered Cedric in a gasp. When Nicolás looked at him confused, he explained. “Harry is lithe, and fast on a broom, the Bludgers are quite heavy. Moving so fast, and changing directions, gives him the upper hand, because the Bludger can’t follow him at equal speed.”
For a minute, Harry seemed to be talking with Draco, too distracted. The Bludger came out of nowhere, hitting him hard in the arm, more specifically, his elbow. Nicolás, letting out a loud gasp, didn´t need to hear it up close, to know that Harry’s arm was broken.
As the Bludger came back to him, Harry moved towards Draco, who had the Snitch next to his head. In his own distraction, Draco moved out of Harry’s way, probably thinking he was going to be attacked.
And in a fast dive, Nicolás saw through his Omnioculars how Harry’s fingers—the ones from his good arm—closed around the Snitch.
But, as Nicolás stood up, making his way down the stands to check on him, Harry’s eyes closed, and he started to lose height.
Stopping in a hard halt, Omnioculars falling to the floor, Nicolás extended his right arm, wand pointing at Harry.
And he shouted, “Arresto Momentum!” and Harry’s frame ceased its descent abruptly, stopping around ten feet above the ground. With a soft downward movement of his wand and his left hand, Nicolás made sure Harry’s body fell slowly.
“Harry!” Nicolás called the boy’s name urgently, while softly patting his cheek. He could hear how many people started to make their way towards them, a small crowd quickly gathering.
When Harry’s eyes opened, they fell on a figure behind Nicolás, Lockhart.
“Oh, no, not you,” he moaned. For a hot moment, Nicolás thought Harry referred to him, before hearing the most annoying voice from behind.
“Doesn't know what he's saying,” said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. “Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm.”
“No!” said Harry. “I'll keep it like this, thanks…”
He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.
“I don't want a photo of this, Colin,” Harry snapped loudly.
“Lie back, Harry,” said Lockhart soothingly. “It's a simple charm I've used countless times—”
Helping Harry up, Nicolás put one of the boy’s arms—the good one, obviously—around his shoulders, turning to Lockhart, with a hard glance.
“Move out of the way, Lockhart. I’m taking him to the Hospital Wing,” Nicolás growled. Caelum was pushing others, making his way towards them.
“I think I’m the professor here, Mr. Cardona,” argued Lockhart.
As Lockhart raised his wand, to perform his so-called ‘known charm,’ Nicolás raised his own in his direction. His heart was already hammering his way out of his chest. He was worried about Harry, but Lockhart’s insistence was making him frantic. He felt like his body was about to choose between his fight-or-flight reflex.
And, sensing his distress and anxiety, and acting in his defense—being true to its core of Thunderbird tail feather—the moment Lockhart opened his voice to recite the incantation, aiming in his direction, Nicolás’ wand fired a curse on its own.
A second later, Lockhart was ejected in the air, he flew back a few feet, and landed with a hard thud. Nodding to himself, Nicolás chose to better carry Harry in a bridal style to the Hospital Wing. Caelum and the Gryffindor team following behind.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Seeing as the others leaving in a haste, Dorian seized hold of the arm of Draco’s robes, dragging him towards an empty room.
The whole match had been a spectacle, a rather unpleasant one, and Dorian was furious in his feelings of betrayal and disappointment. His steps were forceful, and despite Draco’s confused struggles, his grip only intensified, never loosening, not a bit.
Once they arrived, Dorian closed the door, silencing them to the exterior with a swift wand flick.
“What the— Dorian!” Draco exclaimed, as Dorian let go of his robes.
“Tell me that I wasn’t you who tampered with that Bludger,” Dorian demanded.
“What—What are you talking about?”
“Don't play the fool with me, Draco. You saw it, I saw you laughing. That Bludger could’ve killed Harry!”
“Ki-killed?” Draco’s already pale face seemed to get even more ashen.
Dorian walked to stand in front of Draco. “Tell me that it wasn’t you,” he demanded, almost pleading.
“I-I swear it wasn’t me! I wouldn’t even know how to do it!” Draco’s voice sounded desperate, his words coming one after the other in a hurry.
Dorian looked him in the eyes for long seconds, before letting out a long and heavy sigh, taking a few steps back. “Okay… okay” Dorian started to take deep breaths, doing his best to calm himself. “What were you talking with Harry up there?”
Draco’s eyes fell to the floor, almost ashamed. “Flint told me to taunt him. You know, to distract him and stuff.”
Dorian looked at him almost disappointed. “And you listened to him?”
“But he’s the captain!”
“I told you to ignore him and focus on your play, Draco. Taunting him distracted you. The Snitch was right there in your face, and you didn’t even see it.”
“I’m sorry,” Draco grumbled, before looking up at Dorian with narrowed eyes. “Wait. I thought you weren’t talking to me anymore.”
Dorian let out a heavy sigh, passing a hand through his hair, unkept by the wind.
“Is not that I didn’t want to talk with you. I just needed space to think of the best way to approach you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I know you’re better than this, Draco. You were going to call Hermione a Mudblood, for Merlin’s sake.”
Draco’s eyes were cast down in shame once more.
“Don’t you see it? Most people only see you as a copy of your father.” As Draco opened his mouth, but Dorian silenced him. “And we both know you’re much better than he ever could. Draco, I’ve always seen it in you. I know you can be better than what your family will make of you, but you are so desperate for their approval, that you would waste all your potential. You’re brilliant in Potions, and not just because Snape is your godfather, but you waste so much of your time taunting and hating on them, that even Hermione can excel you.”
“I’m sorry,” Draco’s voice came in a hurt whisper, almost choked out of his throat, and his eyes started to glimmer with unshed tears. Dorian sighed.
“I don’t need you to be sorry, Draco. I only want you to learn, to grow and be better, you know.”
“But I don’t know how,” Draco replied.
“Nonsense. Of course, you know how. You’ve been it. Every time you’ve been kind to Dobby.”
“You were always there,” Draco argued.
“And I’m going to be right now, and I’m going to be in the future.” Standing in front of him, Dorian cupped Draco’s face. “Do you remember back when you were five?” Draco nodded. “You told me I was your hero. Please, let me be your hero again.”
Nodding, Draco buried his face in Dorian’s chest, letting his tears fall, his body softly spasming.
“I won’t leave you alone, Little Dragon.” Dorian rubbed the boy’s back, and Draco held to him, desperate, and for the first time, hopeful.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
As Madam Pomfrey moved around the Hospital Wing, finding what she needed to heal Harry’s broken arm, the injured boy lay on one of the beds, with Nicolás and Caelum by his side, after the rest of the team left.
“Thank you,” said Harry, clenching Nicolás’ arm with his good one.
Nicolás looked down, smiling at Harry. “It’s okay, Little One. Who do you think tampered with that Bludger?” He asked, looking at both, Harry and Caelum.
Before Caelum could speak, Harry’s agitated voice won him. “It had to be Malfoy!”
“No, I don’t think so,” countered Caelum. “Since their argument, Dorian’s been keeping a close eye on him, even if he wasn’t talking to him.”
“Then, maybe another one of the Slytherins?” Nicolás offered.
“Probably,” Caelum shrugged.
As Harry opened his mouth to argue, probably adamant about Draco’s involvement, the door of the Hospital Wing was opened, and McGonagall entered the room.
“Cardona, to the headmaster’s office, if you please.” McGonagall’s voice was sharper and stiffer than usual.
“Of course, Professor,” Nicolás responded. He looked down at Harry. “Ron and Hermione are collecting your pjs and stuff, they should be back at any given moment.” With a last ruffle of Harry’s hair and a nod in Caelum’s direction, Nicolás walked out of the Hospital Wing, following Professor McGonagall.
The walk was fast, and McGonagall was in no mood for any kind of chat. It was pretty obvious what this was all about. As he walked, trying to follow the breathing exercises his mother taught him for his anxiety, Nicolás mentally cursed his wand.
It was no news that attacking a professor was against the rules, and Nicolas wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of the night he was expelled from Hogwarts. He tried not to give more material to feed his anxiety. At the end of the day, Castelobruxo would be more than glad to receive him back in its halls.
The headmaster’s office door opened in McGonagall’s presence. Inside, Dumbledore and Professor Sprout were waiting for them.
“Good night, Professor.” Nicolás greeted in general.
Dumbledore gestured for him to take a seat. As he sat, the man started to speak.
“Attacking a professor is no slight offense, Mr. Cardona.” Dumbledore’s voice was grave, even if a slight tinge of amusement could be sensed.
“Technically, I didn’t do anything,” Nicolás tried to defend himself. Under the scrutinizing eyes of the others, Nicolás extracted his wand from his robes, extending it towards Dumbledore. “You can check yourself, a simple Prior Incantato will show you that the last spell I used was an Umbrella Charm to keep myself and my friends dry during the match.”
With a pensive look, Dumbledore took the offered wand, checking it, and making the Prior Incantato spell. From the tip of the wand, a magical, semitransparent umbrella was projected.
“My wand’s core is in part Thunderbird Tail Feather, like the bird, they can sense danger, the only thing Lockhart could’ve done there was make things worse. He pointed his wand at us first, my wand fired on its own, defending us.”
The three adults shared looks, like communicating with each other. Finally, McGonagall spoke.
“And how can we know you didn’t just cast the spell in the Hospital Wing?”
“You can ask Madam Pomfrey,” was all Nicolás responded, feeling his anxiety give a little space to annoyance. “You can use Veritaserum if you don’t trust me, Professor, I’m sure Professor Snape will be most delighted.”
“I’ve seen your proficiency in Occlumency,” commented Dumbledore, extending the wand back to Nicolás. He had to make a hard effort to prevent his eyes from rolling at the audacity of the old man.
Nicolás limited himself to give him an incredulous look, letting out a heavy sigh; his heart’s rate was picking up once more as he took back his wand. “Professor, if you’re going to expel me, there’s no need to stretch the matter.”
Professor Sprout’s eyes widened, and Dumbledore gave him a funny look.
“Who said anything about being expelled, Mr. Cardona?”
“I’m not quite sure I understand.”
Dumbledore smiled, “It’s very late, you may return to your common room. Once the appropriate punishment for you is discussed, you’ll be informed.”
With a confused expression, Nicolás bid farewell to the three professors, quickly leaving the office.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
The atmosphere that Monday was weird.
Nicolás had woken up earlier than the rest of the students. He went outside, passing to greet Hagrid, and then, walking forward into the forest to see Ember.
He had spent from 5 to 7 playing around with Ember. With so much stress and anxiety bottled up in his body and his mind, Sunstripe was incredibly restless, trying to claw his way out at any given moment.
Usually, Nicolás would change, at the very least, once a day. He had never spent so many weeks without changing. But transforming into his Animagus form came naturally to him, and he transitioned effortlessly, falling on fours.
To finally feel his paws clawing at the dirt and feeling the texture of the ground beneath him; finally, being able to hear in a miles-wide earshot; being able to smell so many things in so much detail. It was truly a one-in-a-lifetime experience.
Curiously, Ember told him about the weird hissing sounds he had been hearing resounding in the castle. It started to make sense; the creature hidden in the Chamber of Secrets had to be some kind of snake, but which?
Nico had a theory, a pretty good candidate for it, but it sounded a little bit crazy, and the breeding of those creatures was strictly forbidden.
After Sunstripe spent all his reserved energies playing with the Wampus Cat, Nicolás finally changed back, and bidding farewell to Ember, left the forest, returning to the castle.
Near the Great Hall, Nicolas found Cedric talking with Caelum and Dorian. Not having been able to speak with anyone last night, Nicolás approached them. But the atmosphere in general felt very tense. It felt thick enough to be cut with a knife.
“Good morning, lads.” Nico greeted.
“Nico! Are you getting expelled?” said Cedric in a rather nervous voice.
“No! —At least I don’t think so—I mean, it didn’t look like it.” Nicolás tried to explain without giving much detail.
“That’s good, right?” Caelum tried to cheer up.
“I’m not sure, you can never be certain with Dumbledore,” countered Dorian in a more skeptical voice.
Cedric squeezed Nicolás’ arm. “I’m sure this will all work out just fine, they are probably deciding where in the Forbidden Forest to send you for punishment, eh.” They all laughed.
“What’s going on around? Everyone seems tense.” Nicolás inquired, looking specifically at the Gryffindor table, where some looked almost in panic.
“Not sure, I was thinking of asking Amara,” responded Cedric.
“Hmm, look there,” Dorian gestured with his jaw at the end of the Gryffindor table.
As if they were omens of bad luck, George and Fred Weasley approached them. Their usual mischievous smiles completely absent from their faces. They seemed a little pale, almost nervous, or rather shaken. Their whole demeanor and body language expressing a seriousness uncharacteristic to them.
“Just for the record, we don't quite enjoy being harbingers of bad news,” said Fred.
“What? What’s the matter?” Inquired Caelum.
“There’s been another attack,” said George. Nicolás felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
“Colin Creevey from first year,” completed Fred.
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